Ethan Hawke was a man who got things done.
He was a worker – pure and simple. Put him in any situation, and he’d come out on top. Ethan’s boss at the tax consultancy company he worked for knew this, and saw to it that his best worker was kept busy.
“Ethan! Make sure those reports are triple checked before tomorrow morning”
“Ethan – new trainees just joined up. Gonna need someone to run ‘em through the ropes and assess their skills. Make this your primary action objective for the day.”
“Ethan! Regional Manager’s on the way. Keep him confined to your stall. And get that manga bullshit off. Your. Desk!”
To all these requests, Ethan would oblige. He’d work day-in, day-out, never muttering a grumble of complaint, never casting a dark glance in his more lackadaisical coworkers’ direction.
At night, he’d get home and absorb himself in anime and manga, playing the occasional MMO, and wait for the dawn that heralded another dull day of his life.
And one day, he looked in the mirror and saw a tired clown staring back at him.
“Look at you,” he told his grizzled, unkept face. “Even the Gibdos from Zelda scrub up better than you do.”
There it was – the first joke of the day. The first of many mechanisms Ethan had invented to get through the drudgery of his 9-5 life. Taking this world seriously had ceased being an option for him a long time ago.
Oh, it wasn’t that he begrudged those who worked long hours for a living like him. It wasn’t that he hated his boss, his company, and the city he lived in. After all, he could just leave and move on, right? No – Ethan’s ennui went far deeper than that. The specific circumstances of his life were symptoms of a much greater problem that had followed him since his birth.
Ethan Hawke’s problem was that he had no control over anything.
As a kid, there’d always been someone telling him how the world worked. There’d always been someone who believed they knew better than he did who he was, and what his place in the world was.
“Stick in at school,” his father – a Stockbroker who brokered bottles more than stocks - would say. “Get a job. Work hard. Monitor your assets. Get married. Have kids. Tell them to do the same.”
His mother – when she wasn’t cleaning up his father’s drunken messes - would tell him how he could find a good wife that could make him happy. She was telling him the love of a good woman was all he’d ever need.
And Ethan, at 25 years of age, was now beginning to doubt that very much.
His mother, his father, his teachers, his backbreaking boss, his friends, and even the society he was living in itself – all of them seemed to Ethan to be nothing more than a council of ‘wise’ old Elders who told him what life he ought to live. The person he should be.
And today, as Ethan crossed the road towards his office building and his stuffy little worker’s cubicle within, a heretical thought suddenly occurred to him:
What about what he wanted to be?
He stopped, ignoring the oncoming traffic that swerved to avoid him as this thought occurred. It was like a jittery little imp was knocking at the side of his brain. It was a thought that brought a hoarse chuckle to his lips. The anagnorisis of the tragic hero, occurring in the middle of a congested main road at 09:00am. He’d simply…never thought about it before.
“What I want? Fuck,” he whispered. “I just wanna see what happens when I’m the one in control, for once…”
A barrage of lights threw themselves across his body, casting his thin silhouette across the street.
He heard the driver of the truck beep his horn. He knew – without exception – that he’d be able to leap out of the way if he wanted to.
And yet…he didn’t.
Without really knowing why, Ethan Hawke did the one thing that no one had ever told him to do: he stopped.
And he waited.
And the funniest thing was that when the truck finally did hit him, he barely felt any pain at all.
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Ethan woke up to the sensation of cold, hard ground beneath him. But it wasn’t just that—it was something worse. His body felt... different. No, not just different—wrong. He couldn’t feel his hands. Or his feet. Or anything.
The darkness eventually gave way to dust, and he awoke to a high ceilinged mine shaft filled with sparkling rocks and dripping water from above.
Where am I? The thought pressed against his foggy mind, but as hard as he tried to move, nothing responded. His body felt distant—like it wasn’t even there.
Panic surged through him, sending a shock of adrenaline through his mind. He tried to scream, but no sound came. He couldn’t even open his mouth.
What the fuck is going on?
A cold voice cut through the confusion, reverberating inside his mind like a gunshot in an empty room.
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[Welcome to Argwyll, Archon!]
[Initializing Consciousness: Ethan Hawke]
[Form Assigned: Legendary Hat (Demon Variant)]
[Objective: Survive]
[Loading Skills…Done!]
Possession (Rank F)
Skill Siphon (Rank F)
Appraisal (Rank F)
Transmogrification (Rank F)
[Loading Core Stats…Done!]
HP: SPECIAL
MP: SPECIAL
WILL: SPECIAL
PER: SPECIAL
STR: SPECIAL
SPD: SPECIAL
CHA: SPECIAL
Ethan watched these words appear before him in a little blue status window with a growing sense of dread.
Archon…Legendary…Hat? Ethan’s mind spun. His breath—if he even had breath—caught in his throat. None of this made sense.
It felt like a dream—a twisted, ridiculous nightmare. But something deep inside told him this was no dream. The pressure on his head, the helplessness—it all felt too real. He tried again to move, straining with all his might. Nothing. He was trapped, unable to do anything but think, and roll his single eye.
…
Wait a minute…
He looked down again, seeing the deep blue rim of a hat exactly where his feet should have been. Stitches, a little brown patch sewn into the side…yeah, it was a hat alright.
He was a hat…
This has to be a mistake, Ethan muttered to himself, though no sound came out. There’s no way I’ve reincarnated as a... hat.
A voice answered him back – the same one that had just read off his skill list:
No mistake, Archon. You’ve been selected for this form. Congratulations. You now possess the power to control others as a [Legendary Hat]—a rare privilege.
Every word reverberated off Ethan’s new consciousness like the beats of an obnoxious gong. It was way too sarcastic for Ethan’s liking.
Control others? He tried to process what that meant. Okay, what’s the catch? Why can’t I move?
Simple. You need a Host. Without one, you are immobile, and—well—let’s say it won’t take long for the creatures of Argwyll to make short work of you.
Wait—Host? You mean I’m just a hat until I find someone—or something—to control?
Correct. And as a [Legendary] Hat, your first priority should be securing a Host. Otherwise...
A screen appeared in front of his field of vision:
[Time until Bounty: 23:59:59]
The timer blinked, and Ethan’s heart—if he even had one in this form—skipped a beat. A bounty? What the hell did that mean?
Bounty? You wanna explain that?
Certainly. You have 24 hours before a bounty is placed on you. Once that happens, every creature in Argwyll will know where you are, and they will come for you. Given that you’re currently... well, just a hat, your chances of survival will drop to precisely zero.
I would strongly recommend finding a suitable Host.
Ethan’s panic turned to dread. This wasn’t just some game. If he didn’t act fast, he was going to die. And not in some metaphorical sense—really, actually die this time.
24 hours before the entire world was against him…
Come on, Ethan. Think. Breathe— No, wait. He couldn’t breathe.
He was a hat.
The helplessness was suffocating. He’d always been stuck in some way or another, trapped in the grind of everyday life, wishing for something to change. And now, the change he’d gotten was this—a cruel, cosmic joke.
But this wasn’t the time for self-pity. He'd worked under pressure before - it was practically his entire life.
Okay, Ethan said, his mind working overtime. So, how do I get a Host? What are my options here?
Look around. You’ll probably find something small—weak—that you can control. I suggest starting with whatever’s nearest.
He tried to move his perspective, and after a few seconds of straining, his view shifted. He could see now. He was in a mine—rocky, dimly lit by faint glowing moss that clung to the walls. The place looked utterly abandoned. It was cold, the air thick with the smell of damp stone and something else... something rotten.
And then, he saw it.
A rat.
A rat with a pair of beady little eyes.
Eyes that found the only other eye in the otherwise eyeless expanse of the mine.
Eyes that shone with mischief.
It sniffed the air and scurried towards him as Ethan tried his best to flop off the rock he was currently perched on and get away. Instead, he ended up falling right on top of the little critter.
Perfect! Hold still…
[Potential Host: Identified]
Possession Success chance will be determined by your Spirit Core strength vs the Host’s ‘Willpower’ attribute.
Attempt possession?
Ethan blinked as he felt the rat clawing at his hatty bowels, and yet he felt something else – a distinct sense that he could overpower the creature. A sense of…potential.
Alright! he screamed in the void of his mind. If it’s the difference between life and death…sorry, little guy, but I’m gonna have to take over here.
His consciousness shot out like a tendril, latching onto the rat. There was a moment of resistance—the rat’s mind pushing back, trying to maintain control—but it was weak. Too weak to fight him off.
Then, with a sudden jolt, he was in. He felt his hatty form shrink to fit snugly atop the rat's head, and now he was looking through its beady, unblinking eyes.
[Possession: Success!]
Rats Willpower: 0 vs Hat {Legendary} Spirit Core: 1
Rats are not strong willed. They have nothing but base, primal desires.
Congratulations! You have successfully possessed a {Rat, Lvl 1} .
Spirit Cores: +1
I can move!
Ethan felt the rat’s body jerk under his control. He could feel its tiny heartbeat, the twitch of its whiskers, the sharpness of its claws on the stone floor. His senses were hyper-tuned, his vision much lower to the ground, but finally, he had limbs again. He could move.
But then came the sound—a scurrying, scratching noise echoing from the deeper shadows of the mine. Ethan froze.
The rat’s instincts kicked in, and a deep sense of dread washed over him. He turned the rat’s head, peering into the darkness, and his blood ran cold.
More rats.
A lot more.
They swarmed from the shadows, dozens of them, their eyes gleaming red in the faint light. They weren’t like the rat he had just possessed. These were larger, their fur matted and black with grime. They moved with an unnatural hunger, their sharp teeth glinting as they poured from the depths of the cave.
Oh, come on! Ethan thought.
Appraisal: Success!
[Enemies Identified: Cave Rats (LVL 2-5)] x5
HP: 50/50
MP: 0
WILL: 10
Description: Swarming creatures that infest the lower caves of Argwyll. Not individually dangerous, but deadly in large numbers - and with much stronger Willpower.
Hey! he shouted in his mindscape. Look, whoever you are, you’re gonna have to give me some answers, here.
I can answer all questions that are not considered [CLASSIFIED], [Legendary] Hat.
But I think you have some more pressing matters to attend to now, don’t you?
Ethan’s eyes darted back to the party of rats staring him down – looking past their possessed comrade to the flappy hat that crowned his furry head.
And Ethan, his instincts kicking in, turned to the corridor of darkness that stretched out behind him.
Think you can outrun them?
Ethan grunted as he forced his rat Host forward, scurrying off as the army of rodents gave chase.
Only one way to find out…