The throbbing in his head felt like a goblin was trying to tunnel its way out of his skull. He groaned, forcing his heavy eyelids open to a blur of muted colors and textures.
Silken canopy drapes, the deep gleam of mahogany carved with impossible detail, and the cloying sweetness of expensive incense – none of it familiar.
This wasn't his spartan room in the Royal Archives.
"What the..." he mumbled, the word catching in his dry throat. He pushed himself up, the world tilting alarmingly for a moment, the plush mattress sinking beneath him like a quicksand of feathers.
Cool, smooth sheets pooled around his waist as he sat on the edge of the impossibly soft bed. Moonlight, like liquid silver, spilled through an arched window, painting the room in shades of shadow and light.
Trembling slightly, his hands fumbled for a switch.
Click!
The warm glow of an antique lamp banished the shadows.
The intricate patterns on the tapestry, the glint of gold leaf on the picture frames, the subtle sheen of polished wood – details emerged from the darkness, stirring a vague familiarity within him.
He frowned, trying to place the feeling. Where had he...? And then it hit him, a memory from his youth, long buried under years of dust and denial.
This room, this opulence... it was like something out of his early days, after the exile, the years spent in the harsh wilderness of the Veridian Province.
"Am I dreaming?" he muttered, the thought echoing in the sudden silence. "A lucid dream, maybe?" A wave of dizziness washed over him, memories swirling and clashing like opposing currents.
He saw flashes of his childhood days, living a carefree life as a good-for-nothing young master. The fragmented memory ending with his sixteenth birthday, the lavish celebrations in the capital, the suffocating grandeur of his family's estate... and then the abrupt fall from grace, the exile, stripped of everything he knew.
He gripped the sheets, his knuckles turning white. Confusion overwhelmed him, his mind racing to make sense of the impossible situation. Pinching himself hard, a sharp jolt of pain confirmed he was indeed awake.
But how...? Had he somehow returned to the past? The idea was absurd, impossible, yet... here he was.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts. His lungs expanded without the familiar twinge of strain, his breathing was remarkably easy.
He flexed his fingers, then his wrists, rotating his shoulders in a smooth, fluid motion. The aches that usually plagued his joints, the stiffness that greeted him each morning, were gone. He felt... lighter, more agile, a stark contrast to the weariness that usually clung to him like a second skin.
If this was the past, then... He concentrated, focusing his will, attempting to summon the familiar blue glow of his status window, the interface that had been a constant companion for years.
Nothing.
He waited. Still nothing.
Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through the confusion, a shard of ice in his gut. What in the abyss was happening?
Ding!
A sharp, metallic sound pierced the silence, a sound he hadn't heard in... well, ever.
It was followed by a chilling message that appeared in his vision, stark and red against the backdrop of the opulent room.
WARNING: BUG DETECTED...
Tristan's breath hitched. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against his suddenly fragile bones. Bug detected? The words slammed into him like a physical blow.
Bug detected. The phrase echoed in his mind, almost a death knell. He knew what that meant. He'd seen it happen, witnessed the devastating consequences firsthand.
‘A bug can only be used once.’ That was the golden rule drilled into every person from the moment they logged in.
All systems had them – glitches, exploits, loopholes in the fabric of reality itself due to System Integration. And some players, driven by greed or ambition, sought to exploit those bugs for their own gain.
Like the infamous Ghost of Galado, who'd discovered a bug that allowed him to duplicate items in the marketplace. He'd amassed a fortune before the system admins caught on and patched the exploit, leaving a trail of angry mob in his wake.
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Or the tragic case of Seraphina the Swift, who'd found a way to manipulate the time flow within a dungeon, only to become trapped in an endless loop until the System Evolution.
The world's system had bugs too, though they were rare, well-hidden, and swiftly eradicated. But the consequences of triggering one... those were often irreversible.
Sometimes a person might gain a temporary advantage, a boost in stats, or a rare item. But there was always a price to pay. A backlash, a karmic debt that would come due, often with devastating consequences.
BUG FIXING ROUTINE INITIATED...
Bug Details: Datetime Insynchronization.
Future Datetime Detected.
A cold sweat broke out on Tristan's forehead. Future Datetime? He stared at the message, his mind reeling. "Did I really...reborn?" he whispered, the words catching in his throat.
CORRECTING USER DATA...
The screen flickered, lines of code scrolling past too quickly for him to decipher. Tristan crossed his fingers and waited, his breath caught in his chest.
INITIALIZE TERMINATION PROCESS
The words appeared, stark and final. A wave of despair washed over him, his stomach plummeting to his feet. Termination... that meant death.
What Death? he thought incredulously. I just got here! After all this time, after everything... I'm dying again? Before I even have a chance to figure out what's going on?' He slumped back against the pillows, his earlier panic replaced by a numb acceptance.
Then, a new screen flashed, interrupting the termination process:
FAILED: INSUFFICIENT SYSTEM AUTHORITY; COULD NOT TERMINATE USER.
Huh? Why can't the system just delete me? For a moment he couldn't believe his luck.
Earth's a mess because a hundred beings rose to stop the System Integration five hundred years ago. The apocalypse that should start with a System Integration was delayed for a thousand years ... creating a world where the presence of monsters became known, while the technological progression of the world stopped as well as the increasing numbers of dungeons appearing. The System was fragmented into multiple parts to better govern the region until the ley lines connected together in five hundred years.
ALERT
THE AGENT ./SYSTEM SX13c54h/ REPORTED AN ERROR 401 AND IS ACTIVELY TRYING TO TERMINATE ./PERSONAL SYSTEM 1HCpXwx2EK9oYluWbacgeCnFcLf/
DO YOU WANT TO GRANT IT ACCESS?
YES / NO
Tristan stared at the message, his mind struggling to comprehend the technical jargon. Stupefaction quickly gave way to a surge of desperate hope. Hell no!!
This... this was a chance! He didn't understand the details, but he knew one thing: he wasn't ready to die. Not again.
With a surge of adrenaline, he slammed his hand against the NO option, the force of it jarring his aching head. He watched, his heart pounding, as the system responded.
The screen blinked, and then the same alert flashed again, the insistent red text demanding a response. And again. And again. It repeated in a maddening loop, tens of times, each cycle chipping away at his resolve.
After a hundred Nos, the system finally changed the alert.
ERROR CATCHING ROUTINE STARTED.
CORRECTING DATETIME DATA.
DO YOU WANT TO GRANT THE AGENT ./SYSTEM SX13c54h/ ACCESS TO CHANGE DATETIME DATA?
YES / NO
He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then hit NO again. He had some inkling what this agent was trying to do, but he wasn't about to grant it any more power.
Was this some kind of security protocol? Or was the system simply malfunctioning, caught in a repetitive loop? Whatever the reason, the constant barrage of alerts was fraying his nerves. He couldn't take much more of this.
With a growl of frustration, Tristan slammed his hand against the YES option. If this was some kind of trap, so be it. He was tired of fighting against the inevitable.
DATETIME CHANGE FINISHED;
BUG FIXING ROUTINE TERMINATED;
RESUMING OPERATION;
The screens vanished, leaving Tristan in the dimly lit room, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was alive.
The tension that had been wound tight within him snapped, releasing a wave of exhilaration.
Tristan threw his head back and roared with laughter, the sound echoing through the opulent room. He'd done it! He'd actually survived!
He laughed until tears streamed down his face, the sheer absurdity of his situation hitting him with full force. He was alive, he was in the past, and he had a whole new life ahead of him.
Just as he was about to lose himself in another fit of laughter, a gentle knock sounded at the door, followed by a soft voice. "Young master, is everything alright?"
Tristan's laughter died down abruptly, his face flushing with embarrassment. He quickly wiped away the tears and composed himself, trying to appear as normal as possible. "Yes, everything's fine. Just a bit of... excitement."
He couldn't help but chuckle to himself, imagining what the maid must be thinking. 'A bit of excitement'? More like a full-blown mental breakdown. But he couldn't blame her. After all, he was laughing hysterically at nothing.
"The young master has much to celebrate! Your engagement to the most beautiful lady is wonderful news for the city," the maid chirped, her voice brimming with admiration.
Hearing the words, he was again stunned. Engagement? The word hit him like a bucket of cold water. His heart pounded, and an icy dread gripped him.
He racked his brain, trying to piece together the fragmented images of his past life, but it was like grasping at smoke.
As it was before he had his [ Edietic Memory ] skill, the period was a blurry mess, a jumble of emotions and half-formed recollections. Before he could sort out his memory, a new system window flashed before his eyes, diverting his attention.
Name: Tristan Von Astar
Level: 0
Class: ---
Race: [G] Human
Titles: Chrononaut
Abnormal Status: Locked System Functions - Stats, Skills. Awaiting User Awakening.
Authority: 1572
Nexus Coins: 0