Thunderbolt

A human male, dressed in a linen-colored trench coat, sat numbly before the metal vending machine. He knew he must have fallen under some god's bewitchment; otherwise, how else could he have ended up here without realizing it?

As he sat down, he began to reflect on his life.

The first half of his life had been completely worthless, but the middle had gone exceptionally well. He had nearly achieved the pinnacle of achievement. At work, he was promoted gradually, and his salary increased by the day. He always had the upper hand in customer talks and made significant contributions to his company, eventually rising to become the third most important person in the entire organization. In fact, the company's recent expansion was largely due to his efforts.

During this time, he also met the love of his life. After a brief, passionate romance, they quickly married. His wife fell in love with him at first sight, and she was stunningly beautiful.

But soon, his life took a turn for the worst.

First, the company suddenly went bankrupt.

He was left holding the bag on the roadside, burdened with massive debts.

He was diagnosed with pneumoconiosis at the Medical Cultists' Association, where those burly, wide-shouldered cultists suggested opening him up to wash his lungs. The Association's methods were bizarre, but their diagnoses were always accurate.

To make matters worse, his wife had an affair—with an actual minotaur.

And during one of their intimate encounters, that minotaur rolled over and crushed his youngest son to death.

As if that weren't enough, walking down the street, he would randomly have steel plates or billboards fall on him, injuring him often.

Even without money, he would still be robbed by minotaur thieves. Fortunately, they didn't take his kidney.

And worse still, more retribution was yet to come.

With his life completely in ruins, he decided to spend the last of his money at the tavern and then jump into a filthy canal to end it all.

He knew why things had turned out this way—he had borrowed from the god of death. Though the requirements for the loan were minimal, the repayment came with brutal interest.

The God of Death, one of the supreme deities, controlled the value of life and death.

People with unfortunate or worthless lives who prayed to the God of Death would surely receive a response. When you receive that response, your life's value surges. In other words, from being a nobody, you suddenly become an elite, and just when you think you've reached the top, the abstract curses of death swiftly follow.

To reap the rewards, one must always pay in blood.

This man had once made a wish to the God of Death, asking to escape his worthless existence, even if it meant living only six more months, just so he could experience success. The God of Death had granted his wish happily.

And now, everything had turned out this way.

To others, his life seemed like a legend.

He had gone from being a nobody to reaching the pinnacle of life. But everything at the top eventually plunges into the abyss.

Everything he had gained through that wish was bound to face destruction.

The added value of life vanishes as death approaches, and the gap between the heights of success and the fall into death is the price the God of Death claims.

That's the price of borrowing from a god.

But no matter what, as long as you fit a god's criteria, they will always answer your call.

This man knew he had reached the brink of death. Looking back on his life, the man in the trench coat realized he, too, was just an abstract existence.

So, no matter what this glossy metal box in front of him was, he didn't mind spending his last few silver coins on it.

Perhaps in the final few hours of his life, this mysterious machine will offer him a glimpse of something new in this otherwise bleak world.

Everything from his past had merely been a loan from the God of Death. In truth, he had no real ability, and now that everything was crumbling, he finally understood that everything he had gained was an illusion.

But at least he had lived well once and reached the peak. He didn't regret it.

After all, this was the path he had chosen.

The man tried to console himself. If he could, he wouldn't want to die, but there was no resisting the price demanded by a supreme god. The only reason the god hadn't claimed him yet was that he still held some fresh death value.

The man in the trench coat followed the instructions on the machine, inserting one of his silver coins.

Immediately, dozens of shiny steel tokens tumbled out from a narrow slot in the machine.

Following the directions, the scruffy-faced traveler fed the tokens—called game coins into another slot.

Suddenly, lively and unfamiliar music echoed along the street outside the tavern, catching the attention of nearby passersby, including the noisy drinkers and the neatly dressed workers heading home from their shifts.

"What's that metal box?"

"Is someone actually using that thing?"

Curiosity piqued, more and more people gathered to watch.

The machine required coins to operate, and onlookers saw that depending on the value of the coin inserted, the machine would dispense a corresponding amount of game coins.

Most people weren't willing to spend part of their hard-earned wages on a strange, unknown machine. If it turned out to be a waste, that would be an unnecessary loss.

But if someone else was paying, it was a different story.

The crowd continued to grow.

They gathered behind the trench-coated man, their eyes glued to the colorful screen that had appeared, accompanied by the cheerful music. It displayed a bizarre, almost peculiar interface.

A small airplane appeared.

It was a triangular-shaped iron bird. No one in this world—including the trench-coated man and the onlookers—had ever seen an airplane before, so they didn't know what to call it.

The iron bird was red and blue, with text written in this world's language displayed in the center. It spelled out the name Thunderbolt.

There were various alternatives below the name. The scruffy man immediately chose the first option: Single Player Mode.

A red airplane appeared on the screen. With the lively music playing in the background, the first level began.

Music—there was music too.

The man stared at the screen, thinking, 'there is really music like this in this world?'

Though it wasn't the most beautiful melody, it was a welcome change from the world's usual five fixed tunes. The fresh sounds were a treat to the ears, and even his spirit felt slightly lifted.