First Mission

He took a deep breath, heart pounding in his ears, and clicked Y.

The moment he accepted, Arthur felt a strange pull, like his body was being tugged by an invisible thread.

The world around him blurred, the streetlights and rain warping into long, stretched-out lines.

The sensation of falling hit him hard, but he wasn't moving—at least, not in the normal sense.

It was as though the ground beneath him dissolved, and he was being transported through a tunnel of light and sound.

When the sensation stopped, Arthur found himself standing in a completely different place.

The air was dry, and the scent of dust filled his nostrils. He looked around and realized he was no longer on the streets of his city.

Instead, he stood in what looked like an industrial warehouse district. The buildings were tall, gray, and decrepit, their windows cracked or shattered.

The ground was littered with trash, and in the distance, Arthur could see shadows moving—people? Creatures? He couldn't tell.

His heart raced as he took in his surroundings. The phone in his hand buzzed again, showing a map with a blinking dot labelled "Objective: Sector 7."

"This is real," Arthur thought, his breath catching in his throat. "This is actually happening."

He pocketed the phone and steeled himself. If this was a mission, then he had to act like it.

He couldn't afford to fail. Not with $500 on the line—not when his sister needed him.

"Time to move."

Arthur moved cautiously through the warehouse district, keeping to the shadows. The place was eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of machinery and the occasional scurrying of rats.

He followed the map on his phone, making his way toward Sector 7.

He looked around, his mind sharp and attentive to detail.

"Focus," he told himself. "Get in, get the briefcase, and get out."

As he rounded a corner, he spotted it—a large, dilapidated warehouse with a faded sign reading

"Sector 7." The building looked abandoned, but Arthur knew better than to trust appearances.

His phone buzzed again, displaying a new message:

> Warning: Hostiles detected. Proceed with caution.

Arthur's stomach tightened. He had no weapons, no combat skills, nothing to defend himself with against the unknown, if things went south.

But he didn't have a choice. He had accepted the mission, and there was no turning back now.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur approached the warehouse, slipping in through a side door that hung loosely on its hinges.

Inside, the place was dark, the only light coming from flickering bulbs that cast long shadows across the floor. Stacks of crates and rusted machinery lined the walls, creating a maze of narrow corridors.

Arthur moved silently, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of movement. His heart raced as he crept forward, the weight of the unknown pressing down on him with every step.

And then, he saw it.

A group of men stood near the center of the warehouse, their backs turned to him. They were rough-looking, dressed in dark clothing and armed with guns.

In the middle of them sat a metal briefcase on top of a table, the very one Arthur had been sent to retrieve.

His pulse quickened. "That's it. That's the objective."

But getting to it wouldn't be easy. He had no weapons, no way to fight these guys head-on. He needed a plan. Fast.

As he crouched behind a stack of crates, his phone buzzed again, displaying new text:

> Newbie Gift -> Combat Skill Unlocked: Stealth (Rank F)

Arthur's eyes sparkled. "Stealth?"

Suddenly, his body felt different—lighter, more agile. It was as though his muscles had been tuned to a new frequency, and he instinctively knew how to move without making a sound.

Let's see what this can do, he thought, a small smile forming on his lips.

Using his new stealth ability, Arthur crept through the warehouse, keeping to the shadows as he moved closer to the group of men.

His heart pounded in his ears, but his movements were smooth, silent. The men remained unaware of his presence as he slipped past them, inching closer to the briefcase.

Arthur crept through the shadows of the dimly lit warehouse, his breath shallow.

His eyes flicked back and forth between the metal briefcase on the table and the men standing just a few feet away.

They were engrossed in their conversation, their voices low and conspiratorial. It should have been nothing more than a typical job—a quick in-and-out mission.

But something about the way they talked, the names they mentioned, felt… familiar.

"…We need to ensure this reaches Berlin," one of the men muttered, his voice gruff. "If this information gets out, the consequences could change everything."

"Berlin?" Arthur's ears perked up. His heart began to pound, but he kept his movements silent, edging closer to the briefcase.

He positioned himself behind a stack of crates, listening carefully.

"It's already a mess," another man grumbled, glancing around nervously.

"We're too deep in this now. The government knows someone's involved. If they trace this back to us, we're done."

The first man scoffed. "You think this is just about us? This is bigger than any of us. This briefcase contains the final reports on Operation Valkyrie. The world can't know what happened here, not the truth at least. We need to cover this up and deliver the evidence to the right people."

Arthur froze. "Operation Valkyrie." The name triggered something deep in his memory.

He wasn't a history buff, but he knew that Operation Valkyrie had been one of the most significant assassination attempts on Adolf Butler during World War II.

"But… that had happened decades ago." His mind spun as he pieced it together.

"This isn't just a mission," he realized, his pulse quickening. "I've been sent to a specific point in history. Or is it a parallel world?"