World Travel System

The night stretched on, the city alive with distant sounds of cars and laughter, oblivious to the cold reality that Arthur had almost faced earlier.

He pedalled silently, his clothes soaked through, the water seeping into his skin and making the chill all the more unbearable but he was used to it. The streetlights flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the wet pavement.

"What a waste of time," Arthur thought as he rode. The incident at the antique shop played over in his mind, a mixture of disgust and annoyance settling in his chest.

"Sixty bucks and a phone—that's what the old man's life was worth tonight." He gripped the handlebars tightly to avoid slipping on the road.

"This is what my life has come to… getting money off disgusting perverts just to survive."

The weight of the world sat heavily on his shoulders, but Arthur's face remained calm and expressionless.

There was no use in crying about it. He had learned that a long time ago.

His phone buzzed in his pocket—one of those old, outdated models, but it was all he could afford.

He glanced at it, expecting another spam message or a notification he couldn't care less about.

But what flashed across the screen made him pause.

> Mission Opportunity Detected: Accept? Y/N.

Arthur frowned, pulling his bicycle to a stop under a streetlight. The glowing text seemed out of place.

He stared at it for a moment longer, expecting the message to fade or glitch out. It didn't. The prompt remained, hanging in the dim light like a question hanging in the air.

"What the is this?" he thought, thumb hovering over the screen. He looked around, half-expecting someone to be playing a prank on him.

The street was deserted, save for the occasional car passing by, spraying water from the puddles onto the sidewalk.

The city lights blinked and buzzed in the distance, indifferent to his presence.

He clicked N, dismissing the message.

"It's probably just a random ad or one of those stupid scam pop-ups."

Arthur pocketed the phone and pushed forward on his bike, the wheels splashing through the rain-soaked streets.

But the phone buzzed again. He stopped, slightly frustrated.

Pulling the phone out, he saw the same message blinking across the screen:

> Mission Opportunity Detected: Accept? Y/N.

"What the…" Arthur muttered.

He clicked N again, more forcefully this time. His thumb had barely left the screen when the phone buzzed once more, vibrating in his hand.

The same prompt appeared, persistent, demanding.

> Mission Opportunity Detected: Accept? Y/N.

Arthur sighed, glaring at the screen. "Fine," he muttered under his breath, clicking Y.

He had no idea what it was or what it meant, but he figured the damn thing wouldn't stop bothering him until he did something about it.

The moment his finger hit the screen, the world around him changed.

A sudden pressure hit his chest like someone had grabbed hold of his heart and squeezed.

"Urghhhh!"

Arthur gasped, stumbling off his bike and falling to the pavement. His breath came in short, ragged bursts as the street around him seemed to warp, bending and twisting like the very fabric of reality was being ripped apart.

The streetlights flickered, the world growing darker. The rain stopped mid-air, droplets suspended like frozen crystals in the night.

Time itself seemed to come to a standstill. Arthur clutched his chest, trying to breathe, trying to understand what was happening.

His phone glowed brighter, the screen filling with swirling lights and cryptic symbols that danced before his eyes.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the pressure released. Arthur fell to his knees, gasping for air.

The world slowly returned to normal—the rain resumed its downpour, the streetlights buzzed faintly overhead, and the sounds of the city crept back into his ears.

But something was different.

Arthur stood shakily, wiping the water from his face. His phone was still glowing, but the symbols had changed. They now formed words—clear, precise, and unmistakable.

> Congratulations, Host. You have been chosen by the World Travel System.

Arthur stared at the screen, his heart pounding. "World… Travel System?" he murmured aloud, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before he could react further, the phone buzzed again, and new text appeared:

> Mission Briefing: Welcome to the World Travel System, Arthur. Your journey across worlds begins now. You will be tasked with completing missions in various realities, each with its own unique challenges. Succeed, and you will be rewarded with wealth, power, and abilities from that world. Fail, and the consequences would be dire.

Arthur's mind raced, a thousand thoughts colliding in his head at once.

"is this actually real? Is this some kind of game? A joke?"

He looked around again, half-expecting someone to jump out and yell, "Gotcha!" But the street was still empty. No cameras, no hidden pranksters—just him and the glowing phone in his hand.

Then, more text appeared:

> Mission Tier: 0 (Very Low-risk world, minimal combat) Mission Objective: Retrieve the stolen briefcase from Sector 7, Warehouse District

> Mission Reward: $500, Basic Combat Skill (Rank F) Time Limit: 12 hours.

Arthur blinked, his hands trembling slightly as he read the details. $500? Combat skills? He shook his head, trying to make sense of it all.

This had to be a joke. It couldn't be real. But the phone in his hand felt real. The rain on his skin felt real. The ache in his chest from whatever had just happened—that was definitely real.

Another buzz. The text changed again:

> Accept Mission? Y/N.

Arthur hesitated. He had no idea what this was. None of it made sense. But if it was real—if—then $500 was more than he could make in a week, and the thought of learning how to fight, of having some control over his life for once, was too tempting to ignore.

"I could finally improve our living situation." he thought, as his thumb hovered over the screen.

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