My name was Stephen. Emphasis on was. I was twenty-six, my posture was a question mark from years spent hunched over a keyboard, and my greatest achievement was holding the server-first title for clearing the 'Abyssal Spawn of G'narlok' raid in Age of Titans. It took my guild, 'Grind Til Dawn', three straight weeks of caffeine-fueled, sleep-deprived misery. My mom still thought I worked in "computer stuff." She wasn't entirely wrong.
The night it happened, I was on a supply run. Not for a dungeon, but for my own pathetic excuse for a kitchen. The fridge was a barren wasteland populated only by a jar of expired pickles and a single, lonely beer. The mission: acquire instant ramen and a two-liter bottle of soda that would rot my teeth. A noble quest.
I pushed open the glass door of the 24/7 mart, the little bell above it chiming pathetically. Fluorescent lights flickered, casting everything in a sterile, greenish glow. It was the kind of lighting that made you acutely aware of your own mortality and bad skin. I grabbed my loot and shuffled to the counter.
Outside, the rain was coming down in sheets, turning the asphalt into a black mirror reflecting the city's neon signs. As I stepped out, clutching my plastic bag of high-sodium goodness, I saw it. A kid, maybe seven or eight, chasing a red ball that had bounced into the street. He was oblivious, a dumb little NPC wandering into an AOE.
And then I saw the headlights. A delivery truck, the kind they call "Truck-kun" in all those trashy web novels I read between raid sessions. The driver was probably half-asleep, staring at his phone, or just not expecting some kid to make a suicide run for a piece of rubber.
My brain, which usually reserved its processing power for calculating DPS rotations and managing aggro, did something stupid. It didn't weigh the pros and cons. It didn't consider my own pathetic life versus his potentially less-pathetic one. It just sent a signal to my legs. One word: move.
I lunged. It was clumsy, not heroic. I shoved the kid, hard. He tumbled back onto the sidewalk with a surprised yelp, his stupid red ball rolling into the gutter. The plastic bag of ramen flew from my hand, scattering instant noodles like sad, rectangular confetti.
I had a split second to register the truck's massive grill. It was like a final boss, filling my entire field of vision. My last thought wasn't of loved ones or regrets. It was, clear as day: Well, this is a shitty way to respawn.
Then, nothing. A hard-drive wipe. Black screen.
I floated. Or maybe I didn't. There was no up or down, no feeling of my own body. It was just an endless, silent, pitch-black void. The kind of void you get when a game crashes to desktop without an error message. I wasn't scared. Mostly, I was just bored. I waited for a loading screen or a "Continue?" prompt, but nothing came.
"That was rather pointless, wasn't it?"
The voice was like warm honey. It didn't echo; it just was, existing in the space around me.
Slowly, light bloomed in the darkness. Not a harsh light, but a soft, golden glow that coalesced into a figure. If she was a character model, the artist who designed her deserved a raise and a corner office. She was tall, with hair like spun gold that floated around her as if she were underwater, and eyes the color of a clear summer sky. She wore simple white robes that did a terrible job of hiding a figure that would make a sane man weep.
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"Who are you?" I asked. My voice sounded flat, detached. It didn't seem to come from a mouth.
"You can call me Anat," she said, a smile gracing lips that were entirely too perfect. "I'm what you might call a goddess. A system administrator, if you prefer."
I processed that. "So, I'm dead."
"Very," she confirmed cheerfully. "Splat. Messy. The paramedics are still scraping you off the pavement. But on the bright side, you saved the kid!"
"Hooray for me," I said, my tone dripping with the sarcasm that had been my only reliable defense mechanism in life. "So what now? Judgment? Reincarnation as a dung beetle? Eternal damnation for all the stuff I pirated?"
Anat giggled, a sound like tiny silver bells. "Nothing so dramatic. Usually, souls like yours just get recycled. Wiped clean, rebooted, and sent back into the system. But yours was flagged."
"Flagged for what? Cheating?"
"For a minor act of selfless heroism!" she declared, striking a dramatic pose. "It's rare, you know. Most people just freeze. Or pull out their phone to record it. You actually did something. It wasn't grand, but it was genuine. And for that, you get a bonus offer."
This was starting to sound like a pop-up ad for a sketchy mobile game. "An offer?"
"A chance at a new life!" she said, her eyes sparkling. "In a new world. Avaris. It's one of my favorites. Swords, magic, monsters, dungeons... all the things you seem to enjoy."
My non-existent eyebrows would have been raised. "You've been watching me?"
"Your file is very detailed," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "Eighty-thousand hours in various MMORPGs. A deep and abiding love for grinding, min-maxing, and exploiting game mechanics. You're the perfect candidate, really."
"A world with game mechanics?"
"Exactly!" Anat beamed. "It runs on a System. Everyone has levels, stats, skills, classes. You kill a wolf, you get experience points. You read a book on blacksmithing enough times, you might unlock a smithing skill. It's all very intuitive for someone like you."
Okay. Now she had my attention. A second chance was one thing. A second chance in a real-life LitRPG was a whole other level of fantasy fulfillment. Still, there was always a catch.
"What's the fine print?" I asked.
"No fine print! It's a straight deal. You get a new body, a fresh start, and you get to keep your memories. And," she leaned in conspiratorially, "because you were flagged for that little act of heroism, I'm authorized to give you a small gift. A little head start."
"A cheat code?"
"Let's call it a 'boon'," she corrected gently. "I'm going to grant you a single, unique skill. It's called [System's Favor]."
The name sounded... lame. Vague. Not like '[God-Slayer's Blade]' or '[Infinite Mana Core]'. It sounded like a minor buff you get for donating to the cash shop. "System's Favor? What does it do? Give me a 5% discount at merchants?"
Anat's smile was enigmatic. "Something like that. It just makes the System... like you a little more. You'll figure it out. So, do we have a deal, Stephen? A life of adventure in Avaris, or a factory reset and a new life as a protozoa in a puddle somewhere?"
The choice was obvious. Even if the 'boon' was garbage, it beat being primordial ooze.
"Deal," I said.
"Excellent!" She clapped her hands, and the void around us brightened into a blinding white. It felt like a character creation screen was loading. "I'll handle the basics for your new body. Standard handsome, athletic build. Can't have you starting with your old posture debuff. Now, close your eyes. The transfer can be a bit disorienting."
I didn't have eyes to close, but I got the sentiment. The light consumed everything. My consciousness, my memories, my very sense of self felt like it was being compressed into a tiny file, then shot across an infinite, cosmic network.
My last thought before everything faded was a cynical one. System's Favor. I bet it just makes the loot drops marginally better. Fucking RNG-based skills.