The rain had been relentless all evening, pounding against the grimy windows of Victor's tiny apartment like a warning he had ignored one too many times. Water dripped from the ceiling where a loose pipe had burst weeks ago, pooling on the floor in dark, muddy puddles. Victor sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at his phone. It was dead—its screen cracked in a jagged spiderweb that seemed to mock him.
He had just been fired Again.
His boss had called him incompetent, careless, unfit for the work, though Victor knew it wasn't true. He had given everything he had. Late nights, skipped meals, grinding until his eyes burned red. And still, it wasn't enough.
A thump on the door pulled him from his thoughts. His landlord's voice, sharp and impatient, rattled through the thin wood.
"Victor! Rent! Now!"
Victor rubbed his temples. The last of his savings had gone to last month's rent. He had nothing left. No job, no money, no prospects. No hope.
He sank onto the floor and let out a long, hollow sigh. In that moment, it felt like the world had closed in on him. Everything he had built—or thought he had built—was gone.
And then, as if mocking his despair, a small notification appeared in the corner of his vision. A faint, glowing blue icon, hovering like a hologram above the floor.
[Infinite Dimensional System Activated.]
Victor froze. His mouth went dry. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again.
The icon hadn't gone away. It shimmered, pulsing softly. Beneath it, words appeared:
Welcome, Victor Hale. You have been chosen to awaken your potential.
He laughed bitterly. "Chosen? By who? Some scam?"
But the system did not answer in words. It waited. Silent. Patient. Waiting for him to interact.
A soft chime sounded. A menu unfolded before him in midair, translucent, sleek, and impossibly futuristic. The words glowed with a faint neon light:
Survival Dimension: Active
Cognitive Dimension: Locked
Physical Dimension: Locked
Economic Dimension: Locked
Social Dimension: Locked
Underneath, a single button blinked: [Accept First Task]
Victor hesitated. His logical mind screamed danger. A system? Tasks? Rewards? This had to be a joke—or a trap. But his gut—a gut worn raw from years of scraping by—told him there was nothing left to lose.
He pressed the button.
A list of tasks appeared, three marked Minor Tasks:
Run 2 kilometers without stopping.
Prepare a meal using only available ingredients.
Approach a stranger and ask for directions without hesitation.
A single Core Task gleamed below them, locked, its details hidden.
Victor's stomach churned. This is absurd… He had been running from problems his entire life, avoiding strangers, avoiding confrontation. And now a system was telling him to do… what? Simple tasks, but in his current state, even these felt impossible.
He pressed the first task: Run 2 kilometers.
The moment he did, the room seemed to shift. Walls shimmered as if the city outside had bent into his apartment. A small, virtual track appeared under his feet, stretching into the distance. He blinked. His shoes were suddenly fitted with lightweight, cushioned sneakers, and the rain outside no longer mattered. He was running in a simulated reality—one that felt real enough that his lungs burned and his legs ached.
Twenty minutes later, soaked in sweat and panting, Victor collapsed onto the virtual track. A small window appeared before him:
Minor Task Complete.
Reward: +1 Physical Stamina, +1 Endurance.
He stared at the words in disbelief. This… actually worked.
The second task, preparing a meal with what little he had in his fridge, felt mundane in comparison—but the system had a way of making even simple things feel urgent. He chopped, boiled, and stirred with precision, the system evaluating his choices.
Minor Task Complete.
Reward: +1 Focus, +1 Mental Resilience.
The third task—approaching a stranger—made his stomach knot. Out in the rain, on a deserted street, he spotted a young woman looking lost near a convenience store. Victor swallowed hard, and with a shaky breath, walked toward her.
"Excuse me… um… do you know where… the station is?" he asked.
The woman glanced at him, eyebrows raised, and pointed. No smile, no word beyond a curt "Thanks." But as he turned to leave, a notification appeared in his vision:
Minor Task Complete.
Reward: +2 Confidence, +1 Social Awareness.
Victor stumbled back home, soaked and exhausted. His heart raced, his mind spinning. For the first time in months, maybe years, he felt… alive.
Then, the Core Task appeared, unlocked for the first time:
Core Task: Survive the Night Without Despair.
Victor blinked. His apartment, still cold and dripping, suddenly seemed smaller, more suffocating. But the task was clear. He had to make it through—physically, mentally, emotionally.
A soft chime accompanied the appearance of another notification, this one different from the system's usual text:
Warning: Failure carries consequences.
He flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. His chest tightened. Fear, doubt, and a strange thrill collided inside him. Is this… real? Or am I losing my mind?
Somewhere in the back of his thoughts, a voice—or maybe the system itself—whispered:
"Growth is earned. Power has consequences. Nothing is free."
Victor shivered. He didn't understand everything yet, but one thing was certain: his life, as meaningless as it had seemed, was about to change. And there was no turning back.
A knock at the door startled him. Before he could answer, a voice cut through the night:
"Hey… are you Victor?"
He froze. For a moment, nothing. And then, stepping into the dim light of the hallway, was a girl—eyes sharp, expression unreadable.
"Yeah… that's me," he said cautiously.
She studied him for a long moment. "I think… you're in trouble."
Victor blinked. Who is she? How does she know?
The system's interface flickered, highlighting a new icon above her head: Potential Ally Detected.
Victor swallowed hard. He didn't know if he was ready for this—ready for the system, ready for her, or ready for what came next.
But the night was only beginning.
And somewhere deep inside, a small spark of determination flickered.
Maybe… this is my chance.