Without wasting a single moment, Reever mentally selected the "Yes" option. He was done. Completely done with this hellish place that had tested him beyond all limits, drained him physically, and gnawed relentlessly at the edges of his sanity. Every step, every narrow escape, every battle that had demanded his body and mind to the extreme had left him fraying at the edges. He had grown stronger, undeniably so. His skills had developed far beyond what any rookie could hope to achieve. He could fight with precision, anticipate attacks before they came, and manipulate the battlefield with tactics that would have impressed seasoned players. Yet all of it had come at a cost. Every victory had chipped away at a part of him, and every encounter with the relentless hordes of bots had taken another fragment of his mind. The feeling of isolation clung to him, heavier than any armor, sharper than any blade he had wielded.
He was completely alone. There was no one to talk to, no allies to strategize with, no human players to gauge his growth against, to share a laugh with, or even just to feel the fleeting comfort of another mind in the same world. The only thing he wanted now was escape. To leave this place behind before it could consume the last pieces of his sanity. Perhaps he would glance at the Mythic weapons that had been set before him. Perhaps he might take one or two as a precaution, a safety net for the unknown journey ahead. But beyond that, nothing would hold him. Escape was his only goal. Survival came second, only because the two were inseparable.
Where he would end up was uncertain. Would the system return him to the white room he had been in at the moment of rebirth, or would he finally step into the real world, beyond the confines of this endless game, beyond the artificial intelligence that had haunted him, beyond the ceaseless flow of Zombots and traps? All of these questions would remain unanswered until the moment he left this place entirely, until his mind and body had passed through the last threshold that separated him from freedom.
So with a firm and unwavering resolve, he pressed "Yes."
Immediately, his body and mind were enveloped by the teleportation stream. The world around him dissolved into a sea of shifting green lights, stretching infinitely in all directions, stretching and folding upon itself in patterns both chaotic and hypnotic. The process was not instantaneous, never instantaneous, but this time the journey felt smoother, gentler in a strange sense. The flow of lights around him carried him forward like a calm, glowing river, rather than dragging him violently through a storm as it had once done.
Yet, as if fate had decided to toy with him, a message appeared, blinking insistently in the midst of the hypnotic glow. The sharp interruption made him tense, every instinct alert.
[ Warning!
Due to the system not having enough energy, an emergency stopover has to be made until full energy is restored.
All system units will be online.
All weapons, accessories, and gadgets will be operational.
Player can gather experience and rank up.
Lives refilled.
Total number of lives: 12.
Survive. ]
Reever froze. He had expected a direct path home, a seamless journey out of the nightmare, but now the system, the entity he had relied upon for survival, had admitted uncertainty at the worst possible moment. His mind flared with a rush of frustration so intense it made his chest tighten. How could it miscalculate at a time like this? How could it hesitate when he had endured every horror, every endless fight, and every night of relentless isolation just to reach this moment? The desire to strike the system, to vent his anger against the cold intelligence that had led him through so much, flared sharply, even though he knew it would not feel anything. The irritation cut like a knife, sharp and immediate.
Still, deep inside, Reever understood the truth. He could not blame it entirely. The system had kept him alive, had rebuilt his armor, restored his weapons, replenished his gadgets and lives, and guided him through circumstances that would have killed most human players outright. It was cold, calculating, and sometimes maddening, yet undeniably efficient. The truth was simple: without it, he would not be here. He had survived far worse than a system pause. He could endure this too.
With a long, slow exhale, he forced himself to focus. Patience was a skill in itself, and he had learned it in spades. This stopover, frustrating though it was, was simply another obstacle, another temporary halt before the path to freedom continued. The green lights swirled and shifted around him as he braced himself for what would come next, his thoughts returning relentlessly to one goal, the singular idea that had pushed him through every battle, every trial, every step of this journey: get out of this hell, return to his timeline, and leave every nightmare behind.
A few moments later, the journey came to a complete stop. He opened his eyes and found himself in a shipment yard. The air smelled faintly of oil and metal, and the distant hum of machinery echoed around the sprawling stacks of crates and containers. At first, he could see no enemies, and he took the opportunity to examine his status, to see if the stopover had granted him any progress.
The system responded immediately.
[ STATUS REPORT ]
Name: Bot-067
Alias: Reever
BotType: Aim Bot
Rank: Rookie IV
Level: 40
Class: Locked [Level up further to unlock class.]
System Interface: Unlocked
Skills: Target, Mirage
Unique Skill: None
Weapons:
Common – Slit Spear, Rifle, Mundane Knife
Uncommon – Falcon SMG, Ranger DMR
Rare – Specter Edge
Armor:
Rare – Phase Mirage
Gadgets:
DroneScout ×0
Flash Grenade ×4
SmokeBomb ×6
Reever scanned his inventory, feeling a familiar thrill rise in his chest. Although he had not yet leveled up enough to unlock his class, he was far from defenseless. His armor offered camouflage and enhanced survivability, his weapons gave him precision and lethal versatility, and his gadgets allowed him to manipulate the battlefield to his advantage. No player of his rank could hope to defeat him, and only those of Legendary rank might offer a challenge.
He already knew where he was in his timeline, somewhere in a shipment yard that bridged the years between 2017 and 2033. The environment was familiar, yet slightly altered, as though the system had chosen a plausible midpoint to place him. His intuition told him enough, allowing him to gauge his surroundings and prepare. Looking at his experience bar, he noted the ten thousand points required to reach Rookie III and pressed the thought aside. There would be time enough to gain that later.
Without hesitation, Reever summoned the game's system interface, signaling his intention to enter a match. He felt the familiar tingling pulse of anticipation as the countdown began. This time, however, the scenario was different. He was no longer alone. Allies appeared around him, silhouettes materializing from the green-tinged world as if answering a silent call. He checked his weapon loadout, equipping his sniper rifle with methodical precision, and waited. The timer ticked down, zero approaching like the drumbeat of a war that was about to begin.