The metallic tang of grief still clung to the air of the workshop, a bitter aftertaste to the retrieval of the cumbersome telescope. Two more vacant spots around the communal fire, two more names whispered with heavy hearts. Riku ran a calloused thumb over the worn wood of his shortbow, the familiar grain a meager comfort against the relentless tide of loss. Leading meant living with the shadows of those left behind. The mission had been a success, technically, but the cost felt astronomical.
Their next venture beckoned with the promise of ancient secrets, or perhaps just silent, dangerous decay – the abandoned ship of the dwarves, rumored to rest in the depths of the crystal caves. For this perilous descent, Riku had chosen two steady hands he trusted implicitly: the quiet strength of Ivan and the sharp-eyed agility of Aley. Preparations were underway, the scent of treated leather and lamp oil filling the small, cluttered room, a stark contrast to the fresh mountain air outside.
Riku was double-checking the coil of rope, mind already calculating descent angles and potential cave-ins, when it struck. Not pain, not at first, but a rupturing in his skull, a sudden, blinding white light behind his eyes accompanied by a deafening roar that wasn't external. It was information, yes, but it was alive, chaotic – a torrent of foreign images, sounds, and feelings that clawed at the walls of his consciousness. This wasn't learned knowledge; this was memory.
Memories that didn't belong to Riku, the young leader of a mountain village fighting for survival. These were the vibrant, overwhelming recollections of a completely different existence. A life lived in a world of towering metal and flashing screens, of endless streams of fantastical stories consumed through glowing rectangles. Memories of a boy named Rio, a twenty-year-old otaku whose biggest problem was which anime series to binge next.
Riku stumbled back, clutching his head as the two lives collided within the confines of his mind. The cacophony of conflicting realities was unbearable. He collapsed to his knees, the carefully packed supplies scattering around him, a ragged scream torn from his throat. The pain was excruciating, a physical manifestation of his very being being torn apart and stitched back together with alien thread.
Time stretched and warped in the agony. When the searing pain finally receded, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache and a profound sense of disorientation, Riku pushed himself shakily back onto his haunches. But something was fundamentally different. He looked at his hands – Riku's hands, scarred and strong – and yet, within his mind, he felt the phantom sensation of softer, unfamiliar fingers tapping on a keyboard.
It wasn't quite right to say he was just Riku anymore. Nor was he solely Rio. He was both. The stoic determination of the young leader mingled with the wide-eyed astonishment and meta-commentary of the otaku. He possessed the intimate knowledge of his village's struggles, the faces of its people, the weight of its survival, and the bewildering, impossible memories of vending machines, internet forums, and animated characters battling fantastical foes.
A wave of surreal disbelief washed over him. This was... this was insane. An otherworld? Reincarnation? A fantasy world with system elements? It was exactly the kind of plot Rio would have devoured in his old life, but experiencing it firsthand, as his life, was a reality too wild to digest. He looked around the simple, practical room – the rough-hewn furniture, the oil lamp, the well-used tools – and the vivid images of a bustling, hyper-technological city flashed unbidden in his mind. Which was real? Who was he supposed to be? Rio, who knew impossible things about this world's future? Or Riku, whose hands knew the feel of a bowstring and the sharpness of cold hunger? He felt like a single consciousness stretched thin across two parallel lives.
The crushing weight of the dwarf ship mission, looming just hours away, cut through the existential confusion. Time was a luxury they didn't possess. A cold, pragmatic part of his mind asserted dominance. This body was Riku's. These responsibilities were Riku's. The people who depended on him were Riku's people. Therefore, he was Riku, albeit one nowburdened (or perhaps gifted?) with the memories and knowledge of Rio. The how could wait. Survival came first.
He pushed himself to his feet, his muscles protesting the sudden exertion after the internal upheaval. He needed to rethink the mission. Rio's memories held secrets, warnings... and possibilities. He was just about to begin sifting through the mental clutter, trying to make strategic sense of these alien insights, when he noticed it. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer in the very edge of his vision, like a mote of dust catching the light, except it remained fixed.
Curiosity, a trait perhaps amplified by Rio's otaku tendencies for investigating strange phenomena, prompted him to focus on the anomaly. As he did, the shimmering intensified, coalescing into a crisp, glowing icon – intricate and foreign. His focus sharpened, and the icon expanded, dissolving into a floating, semi-transparent screen that materialized directly in front of his eyes, though invisible to anyone else.
[STATUS WINDOW] it declared in clean, stylized script.
Below, stats, skills, and other unfamiliar categories scrolled by. His breath hitched. This... this was real. A game-like system.
"No way... a status window? Does this mean I have more than one cheat code?" he muttered aloud, a grin, perhaps more Rio's than Riku's, spreading across his face, tinged with frantic excitement. The pain was momentarily forgotten in the sheer, impossible novelty of it all.
He spent the next five minutes, precious time he couldn't truly spare, pouring over the interface. It was complex, layered, and overwhelming, but the core mechanic became clear quickly enough. Missions. Completing them would unlock... something. A separate tab glowed enticingly: [GACHA].
The realization hit him with the force of a physical blow. This wasn't just a status screen. This was a system. A system that traded completed objectives for random, unpredictable 'pulls' from a cosmic lottery, promising 'powers of animes'. The otaku part of his mind recognized the term instantly, the fantastical implications both thrilling and terrifying in this harsh reality.
But the initial excitement curdled as he navigated to the Gacha tab and saw the condition for the very first pull. It wasn't a simple objective like 'defeat X monster' or 'collect Y resource'. It was tied directly to one of Riku's most deeply held principles, a line he had drawn in blood and loss.
For Riku, devices or tools that utilized spirits were inherently dangerous. They attracted unwelcome attention from creatures and races who preyed on such energies, posing an unacceptable risk to his secluded, vulnerable village. He had spent years ensuring his people avoided such things entirely. And the system demanded:
[MISSION: First Gacha Pull]
* Objective: Use a device/tool/equipment that utilizes spirits, inside the village boundaries.
* Difficulty: S Rank
* Time Limit: 2 Days
* Failure Condition: Detection by hostile external race while using the device results in critical mission failure and severe penalty (Village destruction).
The floating window seemed to mock him. This wasn't a 'cheat code'. This was a devil's bargain. The system was asking him to deliberately violate his most sacred rule, to endanger every man, woman, and child he was sworn to protect, simply for the chance at a power. And the consequences of failure were absolute: his entire world reduced to ashes.
He stood frozen, the initial exhilaration replaced by a cold, hard dread. The system clearly believed this was an impossible ask for someone like Riku, someone whose identity was forged in the crucible of village protection. And it was right. The old Riku, the one who existed just minutes ago, would have immediately dismissed this as a cruel joke, a trap to be avoided at all costs.
But the old Riku didn't have the memories of Rio. He didn't have the terrifying, invaluable knowledge of the future threats that loomed, threats that made the current struggles seem like child's play. He knew what was coming. He knew that their current strength, their current technology, wouldn't be enough. The system's gamble was enormous, but Rio's memories whispered of even greater perils that could only be overcome with unimaginable power. This S-Rank risk, horrific as it was, might be the only way to gain the means necessary to protect the village from the true dangers revealed by Rio's knowledge.
After what felt like an eternity, the internal debate raged and subsided, leaving behind a chilling resolve. He squared his shoulders, his gaze fixed on the glowing mission text, the weight of two thousand lives pressing down on him.
"Granted," he said, the single word heavy with unspoken sacrifice.
The system hadn't accounted for the desperate, future-seeing knowledge of an otaku thrown into a fantasy world. It thought Riku's bond to his village was an insurmountable obstacle. It was correct, for Riku alone. But Riku, armed with Rio's foresight, saw a terrifying path forward where this impossible gamble was the least dangerous option in the long run. He wouldn't have conceived of this madness otherwise.
Pushing the existential dread and strategic calculations to the back of his mind, he strode out of the preparation room, the heavy door thudding shut behind him. He spotted Ivan helping Aley with some gear adjustments nearby.
"Ivan!" Riku's voice was sharper than usual, cutting through the weary atmosphere.
Ivan looked up, surprised by the urgency. "Riku? Have you finished reviewing the routes for the dwarf ship? I was just..."
"Our plan has changed," Riku interrupted, his mind already racing ahead. "Go and find Neo. Bring him to the strategy chamber, immediately."
Ivan blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. Neo? While undeniably brilliant when it came to understanding complex maps, subterranean layouts, and geological conditions, Neo was... difficult on an expedition. His reaction speed was slow, his focus easily disrupted, and he often processed commands with a noticeable delay, making him unsuitable for the fast-paced, reactive environment of an expedition. It was precisely why Riku had always kept him at the village, utilizing his skills for planning and analysis before they left.
"Neo? But... why? He's not usually..." Ivan trailed off, sensing the unyielding resolve in Riku's eyes.
"Just go," Riku stated flatly, the double meaning of his current existence fueling a new, ruthless efficiency. Rio's memories told him Neo's specific skill set was about to become critical.
Ivan, respecting Riku's authority even when baffled, simply nodded and hurried off. A few minutes later, a slight, bespectacled boy with perpetually focused eyes followed Ivan back to the strategy chamber. Neo, brilliant mind trapped in a body that sometimes felt a step behind.
Riku wasted no time. He pulled out the detailed maps of the crystal caves, spreading them across the table. "Neo, I need you to cross-reference these geological surveys with the dwarf structural schematics Ivan retrieved last month. Identify any areas of significant instability, potential hidden access points indicated by unusual energy signatures – specifically looking for spirit traces, no matter how faint – and map out any natural or artificial choke points." He spoke quickly, clearly, presenting a daunting list of analytical tasks that would take Neo hours, maybe even days.
Neo listened intently, his head tilting slightly as he processed the cascade of instructions. "Energy signatures... spirit traces... but Riku, why are we focusing on those now? You always said..."
"Just do it, Neo," Riku cut him off again, the edge in his voice brooking no argument. He then delivered the bomb. "And I will be going on the expedition alone."
Neo froze, his slow reaction catching up to the statement. His eyes, usually scanning maps even when he wasn't looking at them, fixed on Riku with genuine surprise and concern. "Alone? Riku, are you... will you be able to do this alone? That ship is dangerous. There are traps, unknown creatures..."
Riku didn't offer reassurance, didn't explain the impossible calculus he had just performed, or the system mission now hanging over his head, demanding he perform a suicidal act within the village upon his return. He couldn't explain the two thousand lives that weren't just a number or a responsibility, but the very anchor that prevented him from being swept away by the madness of his new reality. He simply held Neo's gaze, a silent promise and burden in his eyes.
Neo searched his face for a long moment. Then, as if understanding the futility of questioning further, or perhaps simply trusting Riku's judgement despite the apparent recklessness, he turned his attention back to the maps, already beginning to trace lines and make calculations. The question seemed to dissolve into the demanding task ahead.
It was true. Riku wasn't a deity. He wasn't invincible. The Grim Reaper's sickle, a constant threat in this world, hovered just as closely over his neck as it did over any villager's. Death was an ever-present shadow. But that neck, Riku's neck, now felt incredibly heavy – hung with the collective weight of every man, woman, and child in the village. It wasn't just his life at stake anymore; it was theirs, tied inextricably to his survival, especially now that he'd accepted a gamble that could save them all, or destroy them completely. He had accepted the mission. There was no turning back.