Lily's footsteps crunched softly on the gravel as she hurried back from the house, clutching the old wind-up alarm clock to her chest. It was heavy, the kind with brass trim and twin bells on top — the kind that didn't need batteries or power. She'd wound it three times already, just to be sure.

"Three minutes to twelve," she said breathlessly as she returned to the others. "It's still ticking."

Bell didn't even look away from the cube. She sat cross-legged in the dirt, staring at the faint shimmer of energy that marked the dungeon's surface. Her knuckles were white where she gripped her Bow. She hadn't moved from that spot since Zane went inside. Not once.

Kai stood nearby, leaning against a fallen tree, his breathing steady and calm again after nearly an hour of meditation. His mana was back to full — he'd made sure of it. "If he's hurt, I'll be ready," he said quietly, almost to himself.

Bell gave a small nod but said nothing. Her eyes were red from crying, though she would never admit it. Every few minutes, she'd whisper something under her breath — a half-prayer, half-plea for Zane to come back in one piece.

The air around them was heavy with expectation, the faint hum of the dungeon cube rising and falling like slow breathing.

They weren't alone.

Four police officers sat nearby under the shade of the trees circling the cube, hands still bound but no longer tense. The odd one out— Barry — had stopped struggling hours ago. His once-doubtful eyes had been fixed on the shimmering cube, same as Bell's.

He'd become a believer the moment Kai had placed a glowing hand on his shoulder and healed the ugly gash in his chest — something no medicine or first aid kit could have done. The wound had sealed before his eyes, smooth pink skin replacing torn flesh. That had been enough.

After that, Barry had listened. Really listened.

It had taken nearly two hours of arguing, shouting, and frantic explanations before Tarni had finally agreed to release him. The other officers were still tied, but Barry had been given his freedom — and a mission.

Tarni had made it clear: the town was in danger. Most of the population of town was only four kilometres away at the twins birthday bash, and if what they suspected was true — if monsters were about to appear when this "system" went live — then those people would need help. Real help.

Barry hadn't hesitated. He'd grabbed what gear he could and left at a jog with Tarni, promising he'd do everything he could to get people to safety.

The rest waited with baited breath. The only sounds were the faint tick of the alarm clock in Lily's hand and the low hum of the cube.

Lily sat down next to her mother, setting the clock between them. "Two minutes," she said softly.

Bell reached out, brushing her fingers over the smooth metal of the cube. "He's coming back," she whispered. "He promised."

Kai opened his eyes and looked toward the horizon. The world felt… wrong. Still. Like the air was holding its breath.

"I can feel it," he murmured. "The system's almost ready."

A faint pulse of blue light flickered across the cube's surface — once, twice — then began to glow brighter.

Lily looked down at the clock. "Thirty seconds."

The ticking grew impossibly loud. Each click echoed in her chest. Bell's hand trembled slightly as she reached for Lily's.

Kai stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as the ground beneath them began to tremble.

The still tied officers started to winch like they were being put under extreme pressure

The cube flared, brilliant light spilling out, illuminating their faces — Bell's tear-streaked determination, Lily's quiet fear, Kai's guarded focus.

Then came the voice. Not in their heads or in their vision, but out loud

Clear. Mechanical. Inescapable.

SYSTEM INITIALISATION COMPLETE Your world has been successfully integrated.

"Zane…?" Bell whispered. As panic started to set in. before a second announcement was made by the system, or was it the Black Cube?

Champion Return Imminent.

James could see the flight path of the local airport from where he'd parked his truck. Two large passenger planes had already come in for landing since he'd pulled up. A third was just descending into view when it happened—

The pressure of the world seemed to triple for a heartbeat. Every sound died.

The truck's engine, which had been idling happily, coughed once and fell silent. The radio went dead. Even the distant music and laughter from the school fair vanished mid-note.

James frowned, glancing around. "What the hell—?"

Then there was a ding—sharp and clear in his mind—and a wall of blue light filled half his vision.

SYSTEM MESSAGE

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Congratulations, James Evans. Your world (Earth) has been fully initialised into the SYSTEM.

A Random Skill has been selected for you. Due to the efforts of five champions, you have been granted 3 levels, and the following global integrations are now active:

Skill proficiency now increases through use

• Party system unlocked

• Map system unlocked

• Item drop rate increased

• Safe Zone created (future Safe Zones can be established)

• Bag of Holding added to loot tables

• Job Classes and Crafting Skill Sets added to Skill Tree

• Guild & Quest System unlocked

• Soul-Bond Companions (1 in every 100,000)

• Quality-of-life improvements to the System interface

You have 9 points to spend.

Class: Basic Human +3 Points per level Level: 3

Stats Strength: 5 Dexterity: 4 Constitution: 6 Intelligence: 7 Wisdom: 3 Charisma: 7

Titles: Nil

Skill: Commanding Presence — Active skill. For a moderate mana cost, increase Charisma by +2 for 90 seconds.

Gear: Nil

James stared, mouth dry. "It's real… all of it."

Lily hadn't been ghosting him. She'd been telling the truth.

The knot of fear and confusion that had lived in his chest for days simply—evaporated. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt alive.

Then the world screamed.

A terrible, rising whine that came from above making him look up—along with half the crowd gathered around the school fairgrounds. High overhead, the third descending passenger jet wobbled, dipped—and came down hard.

The impact was a rolling thunderclap. The explosion painted the sky orange. The shockwave hit seconds later, rattling the truck and throwing people to the ground.

"Holy hell…" James whispered. Then came the panic.

Parents screamed for their kids. Some bolted toward the gate, fumbling with car keys that no longer worked, yanking on doors that refused to unlock. The air was chaos—shouting, crying, the stench of burning fuel drifting from the crash site less than a kilometer away.

"Shit."

James's instincts kicked in. Those people couldn't leave. Whatever this "System" was, it wasn't done. The only safe place he could think of was here—the school grounds were fenced, enclosed, defensible.

He jumped back into his dead truck, slammed it into neutral, and dropped the handbrake. Without power steering, the wheel fought him every inch. The vehicle started to roll downhill toward the main gate, picking up speed faster than he expected.

"No horn, great," he muttered, muscles straining.

A parked car loomed to his right. He twisted the wheel with all his strength, clipping its bumper deliberately. The crash spun the car into the outer wall with a deafening crunch. People screamed and scattered as James hauled the handbrake back up. The truck skidded sideways, slamming against the opposite wall—blocking the gate completely.

Parents stared at him in shock and fury.

"Are you insane?!" someone shouted.

He sat in the driver's seat, chest heaving, trying to steady his breathing. Then his eyes flicked back to the glowing blue text still hanging in the air. His stats. His skill.

If this was real, then maybe—just maybe—he could control this.

James dumped all 9 points into Charisma.

Charisma: 7 → 16

The moment he confirmed the change, a strange warmth spread through him—a sense of certainty, of presence. Like his voice suddenly mattered.

He climbed out through the shattered window and stood on the cab roof, hands cupped to his mouth.

"Good people!" he called out, his voice cutting cleanly through the noise. "You need to listen to me!"

Heads turned. The crowd stilled, their shouts faltering.

"This—this is just the beginning," James said, sweeping his gaze across them. "There are dangers coming, things you can't imagine. We must stay together if we want to survive."

He hesitated for only a second, then added, "The plane crash—it wasn't an accident. There are armed men, bad people, coming this way. We need to stay hidden inside the school until it's safe."

The crowd wavered, glancing at each other, torn between disbelief and fear. He could feel them slipping—so he activated his skill.

Commanding Presence — Activated.

A subtle pulse radiated outward.

"Listen to me," he said again, and now his voice had weight—calm, authoritative, impossible to ignore. "If you do exactly as I say, I will keep you and your children safe."

Silence fell over the schoolyard. Even the crying stopped.

For the first time, James Evans wasn't just some guy, or the man everyone thought was losing his mind.

He was a leader.

And the world had just changed forever.

Zane ran.

Branches whipped past his face, stinging his skin as he tore through the undergrowth. He'd shoved both his machete and shield into the Bag of Holding minutes ago—anything to make him lighter, faster, harder to catch. His lungs burned, his legs screamed, but the sound behind him made everything else fade into nothing.

Boom.

The ground shook with every step of the trolls that thundered after him. He could hear them crashing through the forest—trees snapping like matchsticks, roots torn from the earth. The deep, guttural growls rolled through the air like thunder.

Zane risked a glance over his shoulder—and instantly regretted it.

They were close. Too close.

Huge silhouettes moved through the smoke and dust, green-grey flesh glistening under patches of sunlight that pierced the canopy. He swore he could smell them—the rot, the blood, the carrion stench carried on their ragged breaths.

"Come on, come on!" he hissed through clenched teeth, forcing himself to move faster. He leapt over a fallen log, ducked beneath a low branch—too slow.

The branch whipped across his face, slicing a line of fire just beneath his eye. Warm blood trickled down his cheek, but he didn't stop. Couldn't.

He had no idea how long he had to stay ahead—forty seconds? a minute?—just long enough for the system timer to tick over to midday. But with every pounding footstep, he could feel them gaining.

The trolls were faster than he'd thought.

The world seemed to blur, his vision narrowing to the path in front of him and the endless sound of pursuit behind. His heart pounded so hard it hurt. He wasn't sprinting anymore—he was fighting his body to keep moving.

Then—

A rush of air.

Something massive swept through the space behind him, and before he could react, pain exploded in his leg. His right heel caught a blow like a hammer. The impact sent him spinning through the air, crashing end over end until his body slammed face-first into a tree trunk.

The world went white.

For a second, he couldn't breathe. His ears rang, and blood ran into his eyes. When the haze cleared, he looked up—and froze.

The troll stood over him.

It was bigger than he'd imagined—easily fifteen feet tall, with arms as thick as small trees. Its skin was dark and leathery, its tusks yellow and cracked. One eye was milky-white, the other gleamed with cruel amusement.

It had stopped chasing. It didn't need to.

The creature's grin stretched wide, full of broken teeth. It leaned forward, the air thick with its foul breath, and reached down—massive fingers curling like roots around him.

"Not today," Zane croaked.

With the last of his strength, he rolled sideways, using his good leg to kick off the ground. The troll's hand slammed down where he'd been a heartbeat before, splintering the earth. Dirt and shards of wood flew into the air.

Zane hit the ground hard, rolled again, and came up half-crouched, gasping, his vision swimming. His hands fumbled for the Bag of Holding.

He didn't know how long he had before the next swing—seconds, maybe less—but he had to get to his weapon.

If he was going to die here, he wasn't going down unarmed.

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