Chapter Five

> Hello Aster Wright, welcome to your Ascension!

An uncanny voice rang out in the dark void, and Aster was thrust into light. He found himself suspended in the air, gazing down upon a massive continent below.

Formless and a floating soul, Aster observed from above. Despite his ethereal state, his mind felt quiet and calm, as if his confusion and worries were being smothered by an unknown force.

The land beneath him was shaped like a massive oval, surrounding what appeared to be a lake but was closer in size to an ocean. At the bottom, a peninsula thrust into the center.

From that spot, countless dark clouds spiraled outward, as if from the heart of some massive calamity, slowly seeping outward.

The clouds seemed to infect both the land and the sea, tarnishing the world with an aura of death.

Suddenly, the uncanny voice spoke again with grandeur. Aster felt compelled to purge his thoughts and simply listen.

> In 2052, humanity created the first soul game, "Soulless." It was an act of terror, a game that held one's very soul hostage, merging fiction and reality. The game was meant to tear us apart and instill fear in the technology that raises us up. Yet, humanity is far more resilient than those terrorists could have ever imagined.

> Since that monumental moment, we have taken the concept of soul games for ourselves, and pushed this genre to its absolute limits. Through it, we have created countless innovations in medicine, technology, gaming, and more.

> You are the elites, the best of the best, those who have conquered countless worlds, those who spat in the face of death, those who have proven themselves worthy to ascend. Now, we have provided your final stage, the world of Alurian.

The voice changed as it finished the introduction, now assuming a more informational tone.

> The world of Alurian has been rocked by calamity, abandoned by even the gods themselves. You have been summoned here as its saviors, tasked with putting an end to the ever-growing calamity.

> You will be provided with the necessary tools to grow stronger and face this evil. These tools include: an understanding of the common language, a familiar progression system, and the support of those already fighting against the calamity.

> From here, what you do is entirely your choice.

The voice shifted once again, speaking with grave importance.

> If you take anything from this introduction, it should be this. Alurian is your home now; there are no second chances, there is no returning to Earth. The advantages and connections you have built are meaningless now; the only one who can determine your future is you.

> Good luck, saviors, welcome to Alurian, and congratulations on your ascension.

A moment later, the world returned to darkness. Directly in front of him, an ethereal mirror appeared, showing a version of him that wasn't quite… himself. It looked like another him staring into the void, unresponsive and mannequin-like.

To the right of the mirror, a floating white menu appeared with large black text that read "Character Creation."

Aster stalled for a moment, reeling from his newfound circumstances, trying to remember anything about soul games.

He had never paid much attention to them in the past, despite his interest. Everything he knew was vague and uncertain to the point of being useless.

His mind wandered to his attempted death, his family, how a simple exit had turned so complicated.

The voice echoed in his ears… 'Alurian is your home now, there are no second chances, there is no returning to Earth.' He shook his head; for all intents and purposes, he had died in that chair. Nothing was different from a few minutes ago.

He had nothing but time, and there was no use dealing with those demons now.

Aster turned his focus back to the character creator.

He attempted to reach out to the screen, quickly realizing he was still bodyless. Despite that, the panel reacted as if reading his thoughts. It expanded, presenting five options to choose from:

> Race, Appearance, Location, Path, Payment

Not thinking much, he consciously reached out towards the "Race" option. The screen shifted, showing an uncountable number of fantasy races.

Aster scrolled through the list, noting familiar fantasy races like elves, humans, dwarves, and beastkin. Yet, the list was extensive, suggesting almost every race from this land was an option.

He started with humans. The preview was exactly as expected: average in every way with no strong or weak points. The image of himself didn't change, implying he would be 'as is' if this option was chosen.

Next, he looked at elves, the option that stood out most to him.

'And well… Who wouldn't want to be an elf?'

A small smile formed on his nonexistent face at the thought, and he selected the preview.

Nothing happened.

Aster selected the option again, emphasizing his intent strongly in his mind.

Once again, nothing happened.

Frustrated, Aster tried another race that caught his eye: 'dragonfolk.'

Yet again, he was met with nothing.

An invisible vein popped on his forehead.

'So that's how you want to play this, huh?'

-

An utterly defeated Aster stared at the race characteristics for humans and begrudgingly thought, 'Accept.'

He had tried to select every race on the list and explored every possible solution he could think of, but no matter what he did, human was the only option that reacted to him.

After far too many attempts at overcoming the brick wall of the menu, he had to face the facts: Aster Wright would remain human.

He moved on to locations and was met with a similarly long list of cities. Unfortunately, no information could be gleaned for each place without opening the preview.

Verdantreach, Maravale, Lorhaven, Paxhaven, Seraphara, Aurorath, Agnorium, Iridell, Elderbrook, Auburnshire…

Among all the options, only one seemed to react to him.

Harboridge, a small trading outpost turned village located on the continent's northeastern tundras. Situated within the "land of decay."

While the designation of 'land of decay' left Aster slightly worried, his frustration had mostly faded, replaced by resignation to the whims of the system. His own choices would be no better than guessing.

Typical, I guess I can't expect much on my free ride.