The System Within

It was Asura.

She wore her usual battle gear, a matte-black combat jacket layered over sleek armor pieces, her twin holsters glinting at her sides. Her blonde hair was tied back, and her tan skin had a slight sheen from training. She froze when she saw him—and their eyes locked.

Michael's heart skipped. She was standing so close, and he hadn't expected to see her here. His cheeks burned almost instantly.

Her voice was sharp, concerned. "Where have you been?"

Michael opened his mouth, unsure.

"And where's Micha? I haven't seen either of you since the boss fight—"

He cut her off, voice quiet.

"…Micha's dead."

The world seemed to pause. Asura's eyes widened. She raised her hands to her mouth in shock.

"No…" she whispered. "Oh my god… I'm so sorry. What… what happened?"

Michael looked down. "We were ambushed… by a criminal guild. The Reaper Squad. Micha… he died protecting me."

Asura's expression darkened. "The Reaper Squad… I've heard whispers. They've been popping up all over the lower floors."

Without hesitation, she stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry, Michael. I can't imagine what you're going through."

Michael closed his eyes and let out a breath, tension bleeding from his shoulders.

"Thanks," he said softly. "I'm still figuring it all out."

Asura gently pulled back from the hug, her eyes searching Michael's.

"Why are you even here?" she asked quietly. "You should be taking time to grieve."

Michael looked down for a moment, then met her gaze—this time with a quiet fire behind his eyes.

"Micha wouldn't want me mourning forever," he said. "He'd want me to fight. We made a promise—to reach the top together. I'm going to carry that out. For both of us."

Asura's serious expression softened into a small, proud smile.

"You're joining the guild?"

Michael shook his head.

"No. I'm staying solo. But I heard Rex controls access to the frontlines, so… here I am."

"That's bold," she said with a grin. "I like it. Maybe we can train together sometime."

Michael nodded. "Yeah… for sure."

She gave him one last warm smile, then turned and walked down the corridor, her figure fading into the torchlit halls.

The moment she was out of sight, Flash leaned close to Michael with a smug grin.

"Do I detect some chemistry between you two, or…?"

Michael rolled his eyes and pushed Flash back with a laugh. "Shut up."

"I'm just saying!" Flash chuckled, raising his hands.

Together, the two continued down the hall, their footsteps echoing off the stone as they made their way to the Dreadnaught Guild's command office.

The heavy double doors creaked open into a war-room-style office lit by floating orbs and a massive crystal map table in the center. The room smelled faintly of steel and parchment.

Behind the table stood Rex, arms crossed, eyes scanning tactical data on the crystal interface. His hulking figure turned as the doors opened.

"Well, look who it is," Rex said, his deep voice echoing across the room. "The hero of Floor Zero finally shows up again. Where's your partner?"

Michael's expression dimmed immediately.

"…Micha's dead," he said quietly. "He died protecting me. We were ambushed by the Reaper Squad."

Rex's smirk vanished. He stepped forward, solemn now.

"Damn… I'd heard rumors about that criminal guild, but I didn't think they'd hit this hard so soon."

Michael nodded, but his eyes stayed forward. His voice was steady—he was past breaking.

"They were targeting me. Micha got in the way… because that's who he was."

Rex exhaled, then extended a hand and clasped Michael's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, man. Truly. He fought like a warrior. We'll make sure he's remembered."

Michael gave a faint smile. "Thanks. But I'm not here for condolences."

"Oh?"

"I want to join the frontlines. I'm not joining any guild—I'm going solo. But I know you're coordinating the Floor Three assault. If I'm good enough, put me in."

Rex grinned. "You've got guts. I like that. Most solo players wouldn't dare step into the frontline rotations, but you're not most players."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes. We need strong players—guilded or not. You cleared a floor boss on Day One. You've earned it."

Michael gave a nod. "Then count me in."

Rex tapped a crystal on the table and pulled up a list.

"I'll slot you into Rotation A. Expect to see action by tomorrow. Level cap here's around 35–40, so gear up and watch your ass."

Michael's lips twitched into a determined smirk.

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

Rex chuckled and gave him a pat on the back. "Good to have you with us—even unofficially. We'll be watching."

Michael turned to Flash, who had been standing silently in the corner, arms crossed, nodding approvingly.

"Ready to get your hands dirty?" Flash asked.

Michael looked forward. "I was born ready."

Michael walked alone through the winding streets of Duskrun Hollow. The lights from the crystal lanterns shimmered against the jagged cave walls, casting reflections like stars in the dark stone.

He stood before a small, rounded structure carved into the cave wall—a modest inn called The Gloomrest Loft. The keeper handed him a key after he paid 10,000 Iron, and pointed him up the spiral stairs to a quiet, private room at the top.

Interior – Michael's Room

Michael stepped inside and dropped his things. The room was simple: a bed, a desk, a small window overlooking the glowing fungal garden outside. He sat at the desk, his gauntlets clicking against the polished wood.

For the first time since Micha's death… it was quiet.

He opened his menu, scrolling past the quest logs, inventory tabs, and guild requests… until his fingers hovered over something strange:

[ORIGIN PROTOCOL SYSTEM – Status: UNLOCKED]

Michael hesitated. His heart beat faster. This… thing had activated the moment Micha died. He hadn't touched it since. He didn't even know what it was.

He tapped it.

The screen warped—distorting like ripples in water—and suddenly a dark, circular UI pulsed onto his HUD. Sleek, unlike anything else in the game. At the center, a strange digital sigil rotated slowly.

Then it opened.

[ACCESSING: ORIGIN PROTOCOL: ZERO]

> All Class Barriers: Removed

> Skill Acquisition: Adaptive

> Weapon Affinity: Infinite

> Hidden Commands: Locked

> System Personality: Initializing…

Michael's eyes widened. He saw rows and rows of skills—sword techniques, magic channels, gunner specializations, martial arts, summoning commands, cloaking tech—all with grayed-out locks next to them. But some were glowing faint blue, ones he had subconsciously used during the fight with the Reaper Squad.

"How…?" he whispered. "Why me?"

Suddenly, the screen dimmed.

Then it spoke.

A calm, neutral voice—mechanical yet unmistakably intelligent—echoed through his mind.

"Hello, Michael."

Michael froze.

"…What?"

The voice continued.

"You have been selected. The Origin Protocol has chosen you. Integration level: 12%."

He sat upright, his pulse racing. "Chosen? Chosen for what?"

No response.

The HUD flickered again, and a new message scrolled across:

[To unlock further access, continue progressing across the Deadlink system. Your journey has only begun.]

Michael sat back in his chair, breathing slowly.

He looked at his reflection in the glass of the fungal-lit window. Something was changing in him. Not just grief, not just resolve. Power… and something deeper.

He clenched his fists.

"For Micha… and for everyone else trapped in this world."

He opened the system menu again.

"Then let's see what you can really do."