Kevin Ashford woke to pain.
It wasn't the usual throbbing ache of a bad night or a stubbed toe. This pain ran deeper, like his entire body had been shredded and stitched back together, each nerve screaming in protest. His chest felt hollow, his limbs heavy, and for a moment he couldn't remember where he was — or why.
Then it all came back.
The robbery. The gun. The blood. The sharp crack as the bullets tore through him. The sound of someone screaming. And then… nothing.
Now, here, in this empty, featureless box, he was alive again. Barely.
Kevin tried to move. His body protested violently. His clothes were soaked in dried blood, tattered, and stiff against his skin. He looked around: four plain, steel-grey walls, a ceiling low enough to make him hunch. No windows. No doors. Nothing.
A cold, mechanical voice echoed in his skull:
"Welcome, Kevin Ashford. You are alive by design. This is the Box. Obey. Survive. Fail, and you die. One life only."
Kevin froze, trembling. His throat went dry.
"You have no skills. No mana. No magic affinity. Human race: F20-. You cannot kill a slime. You cannot survive outside without completing daily tasks. Begin."
A glowing panel flickered to life before him, displaying three tasks:
1:Collect water from the southern leak.
2:Hunt small vermin for food.
3:Identify structural weaknesses in your surroundings.
"Failure will result in punishment: immediate relocation to a lethal survival zone for the night. Survive, or die. One life only."
Kevin swallowed. He was sixteen. Sixteen. Barely out of school, barely able to cook a meal, barely able to handle life itself. He had been a shut-in, hiding in his room playing video games while the world passed him by. And now he was supposed to… survive in this?
He shivered, forcing himself to move.
The first task seemed deceptively simple. Water. He had to find it. But the southern leak was just a rusted pipe in the corner, oozing brackish liquid. The smell was almost enough to make him gag.
He tried to scoop some into his hands. His hands shook violently. The water burned his skin. It was poisoned—not fatally, but enough to make him violently ill if he drank too much.
A red warning flashed on the panel:
"Task incomplete. Punishment incoming."
Before he could react, the walls seemed to melt away beneath him. He fell into darkness, screaming. The cold air stung his lungs, and he landed with a painful splash in a swamp. Black water clung to him like tar, the stench of decay overwhelming.
And then he heard it: growls. Low, wet, and hungry.
Creatures emerged from the fog — eyes glinting red, claws the size of his forearm, teeth sharp enough to tear him in half. He had nothing. No weapons. No skills. Just a desperate instinct to survive.
He ran. Screamed. Fell. Scrambled. Clawed at the mud for leverage. One of the creatures lunged, and he barely rolled out of the way, catching a sharp piece of broken branch. It was laughably small against the predator, but it was all he had.
Hours—or what felt like hours—later, the sun—or whatever light existed here—rose. The creatures vanished. Kevin collapsed, soaked in mud and blood, shaking from exhaustion.
The panel flickered green:
"Daily tasks partially complete. Survival: minimal. Progress: negligible. Reward: one consumable water filter."
Kevin gasped, barely able to breathe.
He was alive. For now.
But as he looked around at the swamp, at the endless hazards, at the creatures lurking beyond the fog… he realized the truth.
This world didn't forgive weakness.
And Kevin Ashford, human F20-, had every reason to die.