Paxton slouched in his chair, his eyes fixed on the flickering screen before him. The soft glow illuminated his unremarkable features as his fingers danced across the keyboard. Outside, the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, but Paxton was oblivious to the world beyond his game.

"Just... one... more... level," he muttered, stifling a yawn.

The clock on his desk blinked 6:30 AM. Paxton had been up all night, determined to beat the latest video game that had taken the internet by storm. As the final boss fell to his relentless attacks, a triumphant grin spread across his face.

"Nailed it!" he exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air.

Reality came crashing back as his alarm blared, reminding him that it was Monday morning. School awaited, and Paxton groaned at the thought of facing another week of mediocrity.

Dragging himself out of his gaming chair, Paxton stumbled to the bathroom. The face that greeted him in the mirror was plain and forgettable – brown hair, brown eyes, and a smattering of acne that refused to clear up no matter what he tried. He was neither handsome nor ugly, just perfectly average.

As he got ready for school, Paxton's mind wandered to the day ahead. There was a student council meeting at lunch, and he had volunteered to help with the upcoming school dance. It wasn't that he particularly enjoyed these activities, but he had learned early on that being involved was the key to social survival in high school.

Paxton's outward enthusiasm and seemingly effortless social skills were a carefully crafted facade. In truth, every interaction left him drained, longing for the solace of his video games where he could truly be himself.

The drive to school was a blur of yawns and half-heard radio chatter. Paxton pulled into the parking lot, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. He trudged towards the main building, his backpack feeling like it was filled with bricks.

As he reached for the handle of his homeroom door, Paxton's sleep-deprived brain barely registered that something was off. The door seemed... different. Hazier, somehow. He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision.

"Must be more tired than I thought," he mumbled, grasping the handle and pulling the door open.

Instead of the familiar sight of desks and sleepy classmates, Paxton found himself face-to-face with a swirling vortex of mist. Colors he couldn't name danced within the fog, twisting and writhing in impossible patterns.

Paxton stood frozen, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. "What the...?" he whispered, reaching out to touch the strange phenomenon.

The moment his fingers made contact with the mist, Paxton felt a violent tug. The world spun around him as he was yanked forward, tumbling headlong into the swirling chaos. He tried to scream, but no sound escaped his lips as consciousness slipped away.

* * *

Darkness. That was the first thing Paxton became aware of as he slowly regained consciousness. The air around him was thick with the stench of decay and dampness, making him gag. His head pounded, and every part of his body ached as if he'd been hit by a truck.

"Ugh... what happened?" he groaned, his voice sounding strange and hollow in his ears.

Paxton tried to push himself up, but his limbs felt weak and unresponsive. After several attempts, he managed to get to his feet, swaying unsteadily. In the distance, he could make out a faint flickering light. Desperate for any clue about his surroundings, Paxton stumbled towards it.

As he drew closer to the light source – a torch mounted on a stone wall – the details of his environment began to take shape. Paxton found himself in what appeared to be a dungeon straight out of a horror movie. Gothic architecture loomed around him, adorned with grotesque gargoyles and sinister symbols. The walls and floor were stained with dark splatters that looked disturbingly like dried blood.

"This can't be real," Paxton muttered, reaching out to touch the rough stone wall. "I must be dreaming. Yeah, that's it. I fell asleep at my desk and—"

Stolen story; please report.

His words died in his throat as he caught sight of his own hand in the torchlight. Where he expected to see flesh and skin, there was only bone – stark white and gleaming in the flickering light.

With growing panic, Paxton looked down at the rest of his body. Gone was his typical teenage frame, replaced by a skeleton barely held together by some unseen force. He patted his skull, feeling the smooth bone where his face should have been.

"No, no, no," Paxton whispered, his mind reeling. "This isn't possible. I'm not... I can't be..."

A skeleton. Somehow, impossibly, Paxton had become a walking, talking skeleton.

As the full weight of his situation crashed down upon him, Paxton did the only thing he could think of – he cursed. Loudly and creatively, using words that would have made his mother wash his mouth out with soap (if he still had a mouth, that is).

"Damn it all to hell!" he shouted, his bony fists clenched in frustration. "What kind of sick joke is this? If this is some elaborate prank, it's not funny anymore!"

Just as Paxton was about to launch into another tirade, a voice echoed in his mind, causing him to jump (quite a feat for a skeleton).

"Ahem. Is this thing on? Can you hear me, Paxton?"

Paxton whirled around, searching for the source of the voice. "Who's there? Show yourself!"

"Oh, right. Sorry about that. I'm not actually 'there' in the physical sense. I'm communicating directly with your... well, I suppose it's not really a brain anymore, is it? Let's call it your consciousness."

The voice sounded apologetic and a bit flustered, like a customer service representative who had just spilled coffee on an important document.

"Who are you?" Paxton demanded. "And what the hell is going on?"

"Ah, yes. Introductions. How rude of me. I'm a representative from the Fate Management Bureau. And, well... there's been a bit of a mix-up."

Paxton waited for more, but the voice fell silent. "A mix-up?" he finally prompted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You don't say. And here I thought randomly turning into a skeleton in some creepy dungeon was just a normal Monday."

"Yes, well, about that," the voice continued, sounding increasingly uncomfortable. "You see, there was a clerical error in our office. Somehow, your fate got swapped with that of a low-level skeleton minion from this world – the Mist World, as it's called. We're terribly sorry for the inconvenience."

Paxton's jaw would have dropped if it wasn't already permanently fixed in a skeletal grin. "Inconvenience? INCONVENIENCE? You call this an inconvenience?!"

"Now, now, there's no need to shout," the voice chided. "We're prepared to offer compensation for our mistake. How does a quest system sound? You can complete tasks or defeat powerful creatures to strengthen your soul energy and upgrade your physical form. It's quite popular in other realms, I hear."

Before Paxton could formulate a response, he felt a strange tingling sensation in what used to be his head. Suddenly, he could see a translucent interface hovering before his eye sockets, displaying various stats and a list of available quests.

"There you go!" the voice said cheerfully. "All set up and ready to go. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of paperwork to file about this incident. Good luck, and please don't file a formal complaint!"

With that, the presence in Paxton's mind vanished, leaving him alone once more in the dank dungeon.

Paxton stood motionless for several long moments, trying to process everything that had just happened. Part of him still hoped this was all some vivid, twisted dream brought on by too many hours of gaming. But the chill of the dungeon air and the unfamiliar sensation of existing as a skeleton felt far too real to be a figment of his imagination.

Finally, with a sigh that sounded more like a rattle, Paxton decided to examine the quest system he'd been given. The first task on the list caught his eye:

"Defeat a slime and collect its soul essence. Reward: 10 Soul Energy points."

"A slime, huh?" Paxton mused aloud. "Classic RPG starter monster. Typical."

He was about to make another snarky comment about the unoriginality of his situation when a bone-chilling roar echoed through the dungeon. The ground trembled beneath Paxton's bony feet as something massive approached from the depths of the underground labyrinth.

Rounding the corner came a creature that made Paxton's non-existent heart skip a beat. It was a slime, alright – but not the cute, bouncy blob he was expecting. This monstrosity was easily the size of a grizzly bear, with acidic ooze dripping from its form and leaving sizzling puddles on the stone floor. Rows of razor-sharp teeth lined a maw that could swallow Paxton whole, and baleful red eyes glowed with malevolent hunger.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Paxton groaned, backing away from the approaching horror. "That's not a slime, that's a freaking kaiju!"

The slime beast let out another ear-splitting roar, shaking loose debris from the dungeon ceiling. Any thoughts of completing his first quest evaporated from Paxton's mind, replaced by a single, overwhelming imperative:

Run.

Paxton's skeletal legs carried him through the twisting corridors of the dungeon at a speed he never thought possible. The slime monster crashed after him, its gelatinous body squeezing through passages that should have been too narrow for its bulk.

As he fled, dodging fallen stones and leaping over chasms, Paxton's mind raced. How was he going to survive in this world? How could he possibly hope to grow strong enough to face creatures like that slime behemoth?

One thing was certain – his journey in the Mist World was off to a less than auspicious start. But as the sounds of pursuit faded behind him, Paxton realized that he had no choice but to adapt and overcome if he ever wanted to return home.

Little did he know, this was just the beginning of an adventure that would challenge everything he thought he knew about himself and the nature of reality itself.