The Freljord was a cruel place—where the wind howled like ghosts and the snow covered everything in its path.
A scream cut through the storm, sharp with fear, but the wind swallowed it up just as fast. A man ran, gasping for air, his legs aching. His clothes—thick leather lined with fur—were made to keep him alive in the cold, but they couldn't save him now. The smell of death followed him, carried by the beasts on his trail.
Ursine.
Monstrous things, twisted versions of animals, their bodies wrong in ways that made his skin crawl. They moved too fast, their growls deep and hungry, their claws digging into the ice as they chased him. He didn't look back. He didn't need to. He could hear them.
"Fuck... Fuck... Fuck!" he cursed under his breath.
His body was giving out. The rush of fear that had kept him running was fading, leaving only exhaustion. He searched for somewhere—anywhere—to hide, but there was nothing. Just snow and rock as far as he could see.
No escape.
"FUCK!" he shouted, anger mixing with fear.
He kept running, each step harder than the last.
Then, the snow gave way without warning. One moment he was running - the next, he was falling. The ice swallowed him whole, his body vanishing into the darkness below before he could even scream.
Above, the Ursine pack came to a halt at the chasm's edge. Their massive forms circled the gaping wound in the ice, claws scraping against frozen stone as they peered into the darkness. Their animalistic eyes scanning the depths for any sign of movement.
No sound came from below. No cries of pain. No satisfying crunch of broken bones. Just endless, echoing darkness.
The largest towering Ursine threw back its head and roared.
-------------
Deep in the frozen belly of the chasm.
There laid the man on a patch of snow, gasping for air.
The thick snow that fell with him to the bottom had saved him - barely. The pain is still unbearable, it was like all of his bone had decided to rearrange themselves.
Above, the distant roars of the Ursine echoed through the icy chasm, but they couldn't reach him.
For now at least....
And here we are, our protaganist - sprawled in the snow like a deer that was hit by a car on the highway.
You might be wondering how he ended up in this predicament.
Stranded in the frozen wastes, hunted by shapeshifting monsters, clinging to life by sheer dumb luck.
Well, it all started 30 minutes ago...
-------------
The apartment was a dimly lit cave of clutter with soda cans littered the desk, their logos glowing faintly in the light of the monitor.
His name is Edison Fletcher, well his birth name is edward, before he pestered his parents to change it after learning the existence of Twilight. So they renamed him Edison, which was somehow worse.
He's a 21-year-old with a lean, slightly slouched frame, his dark hair perpetually tousled for some reason.
His dark eyes, inherited from his Asian mother, contrast against his mixed Western features—high cheekbones, a slightly rounded jawline, and a complexion that hints at his dual heritage.
Standing at 5ft 8, he has the wiry build of someone who subsists on energy drinks and microwave meals.
He slouched in his gaming chair, fingers mashing his keyboard with the kind of desperation usually reserved for defusing bombs.
After a series of mashing his screen soon displayed the all-too-familiar sight of his character's corpse lying on Summoner's Rift, another victim of an enemy Shaco who seemed to exist solely to ruin his day.
"Oh, FUCK YOU SHACO!" he snarled, slamming his mouse down hard enough to make his half-empty soda can tremble.
-
thethicboi(Thresh): ?
thethicboi(Thresh): 2/7/3 fr?
HailHinter5(Kha'Zix): Nc feed
thethicboi(Thresh): bro just uninstall
LongSword69(Renekton): Dog
FakeFaker23(Annie): Reported
[All]NeoGoth8(Shaco): bot diff
-
Edison's eye twitched. Thresh hadn't used his W on him once this entire game. Not. Once. And now he had the audacity to spam question marks over his corpse like he was the problem.
Jungle don't gank and can't get a single drake.
And fuckin renekton is 1/6/0!!!!!
He clenched his ass and decided to respond in kind with a series to slurs until...
A sharp knock at his apartment door cut him off.
Edison froze.
No one knocked. Not anymore.
His parents had been the last people to ever visit him willingly, and that was—
(Don't think about it.)
Another knock. Harder this time.
Edison hesitated, then pushed himself up from his chair with a grunt.
The knocks weren't stopping, and now his curiosity was piqued—or maybe it was just the irritation of being pulled away from his losing streak. He shuffled to the door, his socks sliding against the cheap laminate flooring, and leaned in to peer through the peephole.
Nothing.
No one.
Just the empty hallway of his shitty apartment complex, the flickering fluorescent light casting long shadows.
Edison frowned. What the hell?
After a few seconds of hesitation, he unlocked the door and cracked it open, scanning the hallway again. Still empty. But at his feet, resting neatly on the worn-out welcome mat, was a plain white envelope.
No name. No address. Just… there.
Edison snatched it up, shut the door, and locked it behind him. He didn't believe in creepy horror movie tropes, but he also wasn't stupid enough to ignore the fact that someone had just knocked and vanished.
Back at his desk, he took a swig of the almost empty soda can, ignoring the AFK WARNING flashing angrily on his monitor.
His team could wait. Or, more accurately, they could suffer. He didn't care.
Fuck you Shaco.
He tore open the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper, the words printed in crisp, bold letters:
---
CONGRATULATIONS!
YOU ARE ONE OF THE GOD'S CHOSEN LUCKY FEW!
YOU WILL BE GRANTED ANOTHER CHANCE IN LIFE!
OR HAVE ANOTHER LIFE!
WHATEVER LIFE YOU SO DESIRE!
(OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT!)
---
Edison stared. Then snorted. Then laughed.
"Oh, fuck off," he muttered, crumpling the paper and tossing it into the trash bin under his desk. Some idiot's idea of a prank. Probably one of those stupid TikTok challenges—leave a creepy note on a rando's door or some shit.
He turned back to his monitor just in time to see the DEFEAT screen pop up in all its mocking, red glory.
"Great," he muttered, slumping back in his chair. "Just great."
Another loss. Another drop in rank. Diamond to Emerald, Emerald to Plat then Plat to Gold—soon he'd be back in Silver at this rate.
His jaw clenched.
"Any life's better than this," he muttered under his breath, half-joking, half-serious.
Then, because he was bored, because he was bitter, and because his brain had nothing better to do, he let himself daydream.
Another life? What was this, some shitty isekai fanfic? Some loser gets hit by a truck and wakes up in a fantasy world with a harem and a broken OP system?
"Yeah, right," he scoffed. But still, his mind wandered.
If he did get transported somewhere, what would he even want?
An OP system? Nah, that'd be boring.
A survival system? Maybe. At least then he wouldn't die immediately.
An anime world? Hell no. Half of them were either dystopian nightmares and the other half are slice-of-life snoozefests.
A game world? Now that was a thought.
His mental checklist began:
Doom? Instant death.
Witcher? Also death, but at least the scenery's nice.
Skyrim? Death, but with dragons. Could be fun.
Cyberpunk? Death, but neon.
Dragon Age? "Too woke now," he muttered. Pass.
Fallout? Death, but with radroaches.
Elden Ring? I wouldn't even survive the tutorial.
Mass Effect? Space death. At least I could bang an alien first.
God of War? Kratos would probably punt me into the Styx for looking at him wrong.
Genshin Impact? Nope. Just... nope.
Minecraft? Creepers. Enough said.
League? Still death but at least I know the lore...
"Heh. Imagine that," he said to himself, shaking his head. "Me. In travelling across worlds. Yeah, right."
He reached for his mouse, ready to queue up again, when suddenly—
A wave of dizziness hit him like a truck.
His vision blurred. His head spun. The room tilted, the colors bleeding together like a bad Photoshop filter.
"Wha—?"
Then—
Darkness.