The First Avatar- Ivan Volkov

The air was warm.

Not burning, not frozen—just... warm.

Ivan blinked against the soft sunlight filtering through the curtains of a room that shouldn't exist. He shot up, his body drenched in sweat, and his eyes darted across the familiar walls. A poster of a half-naked anime girl grinned at him from the corner, while the smell of old books and deodorant wafted through the cramped dorm room.

"No… this can't be," he whispered.

His hands trembled. He looked down at them—no blood, no broken nails, no chains digging into his wrists. He wasn't starving. His bones weren't cracked. His mouth wasn't dry from days without water. He was… normal.

Ivan scrambled out of bed and stumbled to the cracked mirror near the bathroom door.

A nineteen-year-old boy with short brown hair and sharp grey eyes stared back. His skin was clear, his body thin but not malnourished. The bags under his eyes were from sleepless study nights, not from the screams of the dying.