I woke up with a strange tingle in my chest, but other than that, I felt... fine. I glanced down to find a bandage wrapped snugly around my torso. My combat shirt was hanging on a hook nearby, and I was lying on a cot in the middle of a dimly lit medic tent.
The last thing I remembered was everything going black, that bizarre simulation of “death,” and now here I was, patched up and apparently back in action. I ran my fingers over the bandage, half-expecting to find fresh pain, but there was only a dull ache. It was surreal.
[New Debuff Added: Freshly Revived - Dull Pain Added]
I sighed, spotting the notification in the corner of my vision. Freshly Revived—well, that explained the twinge in my chest. I flexed my shoulders, feeling the stiffness settle in, and shook my head. Of course, I thought, smirking to myself. Nothing like a +Dull Pain debuff to welcome me back to the land of the living.
“Eh you, you finally awake?”
I nodded to the left, “You were trying to cross—“ Right… the wrong response.
[Erin - Elf Necromancer - Level 20]
“You were killed by the 20mm autocannon,” she said nonchalantly, her voice light and melodic. “I’m just glad you went quickly—most people don’t get that luxury. Usually, it’s a drawn-out process, and they’re forced to experience the whole… let’s say, gradual disintegration.” She looked me over, her eyes bright with an unsettling curiosity. “Still, I think you’re a special case, Ain. Let’s see… you’ve got a touch of revival sickness, a bit of dull pain, and… perhaps some memory loss?” She raised a brow. “Anything else feels off?”
I just stared, too stunned to speak. In front of me was a real elf—a real elf, with emerald green hair, pointy ears, and an otherworldly aura that left no doubt she was anything but human. And a necromancer, no less. I was half expecting to wake up from this surreal scene, but here I was, sitting in a combat tent, being medically assessed by an elf with a casual attitude toward my recent brush with death.
I wasn’t remotely prepared for this—an elf, complete with pointy ears and green hair, decked out in tactical gear, casually assessing my “condition.” I mean, sure, I’d always been a bit of a fantasy nerd, but this? Elves in chainmail or robes? Classic. But an elf in tactical gear? That was a whole new level of bizarre.
"Where am I?" I asked, still trying to wrap my head around everything.
“You’re in Ludmilla,” Erin replied, matter-of-factly. “This is one of the starter bases—set up mainly to deal with the corrupted and the automatas if I have to say. Based on your current angel form, I think you’re fine. I see no sign of Aether corruption or anything else.”
“Huh?” I blinked, the words barely making sense, but the moment I observed my body, I was in my angel form.
She sighed as if explaining the obvious. “You know, those delightful folks responsible for your… recent death?”
I stared at her, still processing. Corrupted? Automatas? Starter bases? Being bombarded by information was an understatement, I felt like the whole information was slapped in my face, but in a somehow good way, I guess?
“Hmph, anyway, if you’re done,” Erin said, crossing her arms, “you should probably head over to the depot and claim your insurance. They’ll have most of your primary combat supplies waiting for you.”
“The depot?” I echoed, still struggling to piece it all together.
She gave an exasperated sigh like she was dealing with a clueless newbie. “Yes. From here, go out, take a left, and head to the biggest building. Can’t miss it.”
“Right… thanks,” I muttered, glancing toward the tent flap. Insurance claims, starter bases, an elf in tactical gear—it was a lot to take in, but at this point, I figured I’d just roll with it and hope I didn’t get killed by another autocannon on the way there.
I picked up the combat shirt alongside the tactical gear near the bed. It was easy to put all of these things on. I couldn’t help but wonder how much gear I could actually carry here. Realistically, probably not much, but hey, if I was in a fantasy/FPS hybrid world, maybe physics would have taken a back seat.
With my gear set, I stepped out of the tent, following Erin’s directions. The base bustled with a mix of soldiers and… well, fantasy characters, elves like Erin mingling with heavily armored bulletproof knights and a few cyborgs who looked right out of a Cyberpunk. Seriously, what the hell?
The depot was a small building, with a man sitting behind a bulletproof glass, waiting for me, hands on his hips. The first thing I noticed was his mustache—thick, precisely trimmed, and unmistakably styled in that classic WWI look. It was like he’d stepped straight out of an old wartime photo. He caught me staring and grinned.
“Yes, young angel, I know I’m handsome,” he said with a wink. “Now, you’re here to retrieve your insured items, right? Just remember—anything you pick up out there? Not my responsibility. I don’t insure battlefield souvenirs, capiche?”
“Uh, capiche,” I replied, still taken aback by his whole aesthetic.
“Alright, looks like you’re missing… a G36… and an ULACH helmet. That sound right?” the depot guy asked, eyeing me over his clipboard.
“Uh, yeah, I think so,” I replied, still getting used to this whole “supply retrieval” process.
“Good. Those are disposable items anyway, so don’t get too attached,” he said, setting the assault rifle and helmet on the table with a casual clank. I picked up the rifle, slinging it over my shoulder, feeling the weight settle naturally against my back. Just like before, the motion felt instinctual, as if the muscle memory had always been there.
I grabbed the helmet, giving it a once-over. It wasn’t anything fancy, but hey, anything for protection, I suppose.
[You can open inventory by thought, try it]
Ok…? I thought, and suddenly, a screen appeared in my mind's eye.
[Inventory - 10/25 kg] [1,000 UC]
* 120x 5.56x45 NATO
* 5x MREs
[Weapons][Vehicles][Armor/Equipment]
I squinted at the currency display. "What’s UC?" I asked aloud, clueless.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
The depot guy raised an eyebrow, giving me a look like I’d just asked what air was. “Universal Credits,” he replied with a slight smirk. “Currency around here. You’ll use it for supplies and repairs, maybe a Sukhoi fighter jet if you’re feeling ambitious, or a BMW if you’re feeling fancy. Not that I recommend it. And don’t even get me started on the mechs and spaceships some folks bring back—those things are a nightmare to insure.”
“Got it,” I muttered, mentally noting that I had a thousand of these “Universal Credits” stashed away, though I had no idea how far that would actually get me.
“Still, young angel,” he continued, shrugging as he sorted through more supplies, “you’ve got all the time in the world. You’ll live forever, so why not mix it up? Try being a cook, a merc, a guild receptionist, or… I dunno, whatever else you can think of.” He looked up, giving me a playful smirk. “After a few centuries, you might even invent a few new jobs yourself.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Yeah, maybe I’ll start with not dying again today, and work my way up from there.”
“That’s the spirit,” the guy chuckled, flashing a grin. “And hey, if you somehow end up broke, don’t sweat it—I can always hand you a few leftover Makarovs. Most people bounce back pretty quickly with those. If you have any loot, you can sell it off here, I’ll use the standard market price.”
“Much appreciated,” I replied, giving him a nod as I finally stepped out of the depot, feeling a strange sense of freedom wash over me.
For the first time, I noticed how light I felt—no hunger, no thirst, no exhaustion weighing me down. Just a pure, unburdened sense of purpose, like I was finally free to chase whatever I wanted. It was a blessing, a gift, and that singular desire to move forward filled me with an energy I’d never known.
Was this how a normal person thinks and feels?
I continued down the road, taking in the sights and wondering what exactly I was supposed to do next. Killing some things seemed like a solid start. If this world really was some kind of game, that’s how people usually leveled up, right? Besides, a bit of action could give me a better idea of what I was capable of.
Then my eyes caught sight of a large two-story building with bold letters across the top: GUILD BUILDING. If any place was handing out beginner jobs, it had to be there. Plus, maybe the guild could offer some direction on what kind of quests or “targets” were even out there to… “take care of.”
As I continued walking, I took a deep breath, surprised by the freshness of the air. Despite the heavy military presence—soldiers, armored vehicles, and all—the air was surprisingly clean, free of the usual diesel or industrial stench. Instead, it carried a subtle, calming scent of leaves, mixed with the warm hint of freshly baked bread wafting from somewhere nearby.
The village itself looked like something out of a postcard: cobblestone streets, quaint little houses with stone walls and wooden shutters, and old-fashioned lampposts lining the road. It had the charm of a European village frozen in time, blending perfectly with the surreal atmosphere of soldiers and the occasional fantasy character strolling by.
However, as I glanced to the right, it became clear just how bizarre this village really was. Occasionally, an F-15 would roar into the sky, or—get this—a dragon flying right alongside a helicopter. I did a double-take. A dragon escort? Was that really happening?
The airfield beyond wasn’t huge, but it was packed with an array of military hardware—jets, attack helicopters, and vehicles that had to cost millions if not billions. It left me wondering. Were those dragon riders and jet pilots other players? Or was this just… how this world operated? I had no clue, but the more I saw, the more questions I had. This place was a melting pot of everything from fantasy to modern warfare, and the sheer madness of it made my head spin.
Without realizing it, I just crashed against a steel pole.
“I truly apologize, young angel. Does it hurt anywhere?”
Or not.
“I’m fine, sorry,” I replied, looking up at the figure towering over me—a genuine ogre. His skin was a deep green, his face a bit intimidating, bald with two large tusks protruding from his lower jaw. Yet, despite his appearance, his mannerisms were almost… polite, refined even, a contrast to the fearsome exterior.
Shrek?
But what really caught my eye was his armor. Sleek, almost futuristic, with hints of hydraulics built into the joints. It was clearly a power armor, but one with a unique twist—on his back was a massive weapon, something like a minigun, but bulkier, and connected by thick cables to an ammo backpack. Whatever he was equipped for, it wasn’t subtle.
[O’k - Ogre Paladin - Lvl. 60]
“Are you new here, dear angel?” O’k asked, his voice rumbling with an odd gentleness.
“Kinda,” I replied, still a bit taken aback by his formal tone.
“I see. Then please, exercise caution as you navigate these lands,” he said, nodding with a grave sincerity. “It would be most unfortunate for one as young as yourself to encounter… undue hardship.”
“You too,” I offered, feeling an odd sense of duty to return his politeness.
Eventually, I arrived at the guild building, and as I stepped up, the door slid open automatically. Inside, a sprawling wooden table dominated the room, and seated behind it was a guild receptionist—a female goblin, no less, dressed sharply in a tailored suit. She glanced up briefly and pointed toward four terminals in the corner. “Quests are on the terminals. Just tap and scroll,” she said.
I walked over to the nearest terminal, and pressed the touchscreen. A list of available missions lit up the display, along with my current level and Combat Power, conveniently abbreviated as “CP.” The jobs were sorted by difficulty level, ranging from the simplest hunts to more dangerous missions. At the easy end, there were standard “Slime Hunts”—a bit of low-stakes monster cleanup, I guessed. At the other end, though, were the tougher ones: “Automata Hunts,” reserved for those with serious combat experience.
As I continued scrolling through the quest list, I noticed a separate section dedicated to requests specifically for healers. These varied from simple support assignments to more urgent rescue missions, where healers were needed on the front lines to stabilize injured fighters or retrieve wounded allies from active combat zones.
The requests were tempting—high EXP bonuses, and good UC rewards, and they seemed perfectly suited to my class abilities. But some of them sounded intense, with terms like “emergency extraction” and “high-risk zone” popping up.
I better get used to this world first, let’s just take it slow.
I took the slime subjugation quest. The reward was small, merely a 100 UC, but c’mon, it was slimes, I don’t really expect any bigger reward. The moment I accepted the quest, a new objective popped up in the top right corner of my vision.
[Kill 30 Slimes: 0/30]
“This should be easy,” I grinned.
I stepped out of the guild, heading toward the village’s gate. As I approached, the scale of security became even more apparent. Two massive APCs, each outfitted with 30mm autocannons, stood like sentinels on either side of the gate. A squad of soldiers, all clad in power armor and wielding heavy weapons, kept a vigilant watch over the area.
The moment I stepped out of the village gate, a notification appeared.
[Out of Safe Zone]
The road leading out of the village was a straightforward, no-frills concrete strip, clearly designed for minimal upkeep. It stretched across the open grasslands ahead, bordered by patches of wildflowers and swaying grass. It was peaceful, almost deceptively so.
In the grasslands beyond, I already had an idea of what I’d find: slimes. Predictable, squishy, and probably the least threatening creatures in any fantasy realm. This hunt wouldn’t be complex or glamorous, but I figured it would be a decent warm-up—something simple to get a feel for how things worked here.
I slowly took a deep breath, aimed my rifle at the slime, and pulled the trigger. The 5.56 bullet flew out of the barrel, piercing the slime right at its core, instantly disintegrating it, and the gelatinous creature splashed into the grass.
“That was easy.”
[+1 Gelatinous Substance]
Then, I moved my sight into another slime, took aim, and then shot. I then moved my sight to another slime, and the cycle repeated. The rhythm was almost satisfying in its simplicity: aim, fire, watch the slime explode into harmless goo. Each shot took down a slime in one hit—no resistance, no retaliation, just straightforward, effortless takedowns.
It wasn’t exactly thrilling, but it was… oddly relaxing. No wild monsters, no risk, just the sound of each slime bursting into puddles.
One by one, I worked my way across the field, clearing slimes like it was second nature, watching the counter rise with each squelch.
[Kill 30 Slimes: 18/30]
[Kill 30 Slimes: 26/30]
Finally, I aimed at the last few stragglers, and with three more pops, the job was done.
[Kill 30 Slimes: 30/30]
[Exiting Combat: +300 EXP]
[Quest Complete: +100 UC, +50 Exp]