Marcus groaned as consciousness returned, a dull ache pulsing through every fiber of his being. His body felt like it had been wrung out and stomped on for good measure. Blinking through the haze, he found himself sprawled across jagged stone, the rough texture pressing uncomfortably against his back. Dim light flickered from above, casting eerie shadows across the cavern walls. The air was thick with dampness, carrying the faint scent of mildew and something vaguely metallic—like rust or old blood.

  Fragments of memory surfaced. The strange void. The enigmatic being, Kalo. A second chance. Magic. Survive and adapt.

  With a deep, steadying breath, Marcus pushed himself upright. His muscles tensed, but to his surprise, he felt... different. Stronger. More in tune with himself. It was as if his body had been fine-tuned, his muscles denser, his movements more efficient. He flexed his fingers, inspecting his hands. Gone were the rough calluses from years of boxing—his skin looked pristine, yet undeniably powerful, like a coiled spring ready to unleash force at a moment’s notice.

  "Alright... where do I start?" he muttered under his breath.

  As if answering his question, a translucent screen flickered into existence before him.

  Name: Marcus Elder.

  Race: Human.

  Class: Unassigned.

  Level: one

  Experience: Zero of one-hundred.

  HP: One-hundred of One-hundred.

  MP: ten.

  Ki: ten.

  Psycha: ten.

  Stats:

  Strength: eighteen.

  Agility: fifteen.

  Endurance: nineteen.

  Intelligence: twelve.

  Wisdom: ten.

  Luck: ten.

  Abilities:

  The Unseen One, Mythic, Hidden – Blocks bearer’s stats from intrusive minds.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Marks:

  The Perma: Universal Magic Affinity, Unique

  Marcus stared at the screen, his expression blank. He exhaled slowly.

  "Well... that’s neat."

  He clenched and unclenched his fists, rolling his shoulders. Whatever this “system” was, it was clearly integrated into this world. He didn’t have the full picture yet, but if it gave him an edge, he’d take it.

  He took a few steps forward, carefully navigating the cavern. The space stretched out far beyond what he could immediately see, the jagged walls lined with clusters of softly glowing blue crystals. The light they emitted wasn’t harsh but gave the cavern an almost ethereal atmosphere.

  Footprints littered the dirt floor. Some were small and vaguely humanoid, but others… weren’t. Large clawed impressions marked the ground, deep enough to suggest something heavy and predatory had passed through.

  "Monsters," he murmured, fists clenching at the thought. If it came to a fight, he’d have to rely on his instincts and whatever enhancements this body now had.

  A sudden noise shattered the silence. A rhythmic shuffling, accompanied by the faint clinking of metal.

  Marcus spun toward the sound, dropping into a loose stance. From a darkened tunnel ahead, three figures emerged. Tall. Broad. Green-skinned. Each carried a weapon—an axe, a bow, and a staff. Their features were distinct, with jutting lower tusks and strong, muscular builds.

  Orcs.

  The tallest of them, clearly the leader, raised a hand in caution. His sharp eyes scanned Marcus with a mixture of wariness and curiosity.

  “Who goes there?” the orc demanded, voice deep and gravelly.

  Marcus kept his hands raised, opting for a non-threatening posture. “I’m Marcus. No harm meant.”

  The shortest orc, a female with braided hair and a staff strapped to her back, narrowed her eyes. “What are you? You look like a dark elf… but not quite.”

  Marcus blinked. “Dark elf? No, I’m human.”

  The leader’s frown deepened. “Human? You’re a long way from Astoria.”

  Marcus sighed. “Yeah, no idea where that is. I just woke up here.”

  The female orc stepped closer, scrutinizing him. “You’re dark-skinned, tall, and… weirdly built. I’ve never heard of a ‘human’ like you.”

  Marcus let out a dry chuckle. “Pretty sure I’m not an elf. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  The third orc, a younger male with a bow slung over his shoulder, spoke hesitantly. “Maybe he’s an outcast? Or cursed?”

  The leader—Boruk—grunted. “Enough. If you’re lost, we’ll guide you out. But if you’re lying, I’ll put you down myself.”

  Marcus met his gaze evenly. “Fair enough. Lead the way.”

  As they moved, the orcs introduced themselves. Boruk led the adventuring party, Vira was a novice mage, and Ragn was their ranger and scout.

  “We were gathering materials,” Boruk explained. “Didn’t expect to find some lost ‘human.’”

  “Lucky me,” Marcus muttered.

  Vira side-eyed him. “Does your kind always wander into dungeons alone and unarmed?”

  Marcus shrugged. “Where I’m from, we don’t have dungeons.”

  Boruk gave him a skeptical look. “Where exactly are you from?”

  Marcus hesitated. “Far away. Still figuring things out.”

  The orcs exchanged glances, but before they could press further, a low, guttural growl rumbled through the cavern.

  “Stay alert,” Boruk warned, gripping his axe.

  A massive, wolf-like creature stepped into view. Matted fur, glowing red eyes, jagged bone spikes protruding from its spine.

  “Gorehound,” Vira whispered, fear evident in her voice.

  Marcus assessed the beast. It was at least twice his size, and judging by the scars crisscrossing its body, it was a seasoned killer.

  “Can we run?” Vira asked.

  "With you and the human, Not a chance,” Ragn said, trembling. “It’s too fast.”

  Vira was terrified. If they panicked, they’d all die.

  Marcus exhaled sharply and stepped forward. “I’ll distract it.”

  Boruk scowled. “You’ll get yourself killed, they travel in packs.”

  Marcus smirked. “Then let's get rid of this one before it gets help, back me up when you see an opening.”

  Before anyone could argue, he clapped his hands. “Hey, ugly! Over here!”

  The gorehound snarled and lunged—faster than he expected. But then… everything slowed.

  What the hell—?

  His mind raced ahead of his body, an odd sensation washing over him. I can see it moving perfectly.

  He forced his body forward, narrowly dodging. His right hook slammed into the beast’s ribs. The impact reverberated up his arm, but the gorehound barely flinched.

  “Damn, that thing’s tough,” he muttered.

  The beast swiped. Marcus ducked, countering with a quick combination of punches. His fists burned—no, glowed—as unseen energy pulsed through them. The gorehound growled in pain.

  Boruk snapped into action. “Ragn, flank it! Vira, magic!”

  Vira chanted, sending a crackling blue bolt into the gorehound’s shoulder. The monster staggered.

  Marcus didn’t hesitate. His next punch landed square on its jaw, sending it reeling.

  “Boruk, now!”

  With a roar, Boruk swung his axe, cleaving into the gorehound’s neck. The beast gurgled, then collapsed.

  Silence. Then—

  “Holy crap,” Ragn breathed. “The human isn't bad.”

  Boruk wiped his brow, glancing at Marcus. “That was reckless… but effective.”

  Vira stared at Marcus. "You're...agile for a human, what are you truly?”

  Marcus smirked. “Just a guy trying to survive.”

  Boruk nodded. “Then welcome to the adventurer’s life.”

  Marcus exhaled, nodding. This was only the beginning.