It was another ordinary evening, or at least, ordinary enough for Raine to consider it painfully dull. He stood just outside the gates of his college building, the cool breeze tugging at his hair as he exchanged meaningless goodbyes with his friends.
"Aight see you tomorrow, Raine! Don't stay up too late gaming again," shouted Alex, while waving his goodbye.
"Bet," Raine replied with a half-hearted salute. "I'll just somehow magically fix my sleep schedule overnight."
His friends laughed, already walking away down their paths, leaving Raine alone to begin the dreaded journey home. His eyes felt heavy, dark circles underneath showcasing his love for MOBA games at night. Raine sighed, adjusting his bag over his shoulder, and walking toward the bus stop.
The streets hummed quietly around him, cars drifting past in the amber glow of streetlights. Evening rush hour mainly had died down, leaving the sidewalks calm.
"Another episode of 'Waits for the Bus for the next half hour'" he mumbled sarcastically, checking his phone for the hundredth time as if somehow that could summon his ride faster.
He reached the small shelter at the bus stop, glancing up at the sky. It was a comforting shade of purple blending into darkness, stars timidly beginning to peek out. Peaceful, boring—exactly the kind of normal Raine had grown painfully accustomed to.
"Could today be any more ordinary bro?" he muttered, leaning against the cold metal pole. But, as he will soon realize, ordinary had its twisted sense of humor, and today, it was about to play a joke on him.
Raine sighed again, lowering his phone slightly. Well, despite all his sarcastic inner monologues he always loved to do, he knew he didn't exactly have it bad. He wasn't lucky enough to be born into some wealthy family who could buy him everything on a whim, but he was also fortunate enough to not end up begging for spare change outside a convenience store. He had a pretty nice family with loving parents, an annoying younger sibling, and a dog that seemed to believe Raine was its chew toy. All things considered, life could be worse.
Yet, sometimes he couldn't help feeling different from others his age. It wasn't exactly something dramatic, just a quiet yearning deep down inside his own heart. When he was younger, his ambitions were endless like conquering the world, becoming a pirate king sailing across oceans, rock out in front of stadium-sized crowds like a true rockstar, be an astronaut who explored the farthest stars—basically everything cool and awesome. But here he was now, standing at a bus stop, his biggest achievement being the high rank in some online game.
"Congratulations!" he murmured sarcastically to himself, "you've unlocked the 'Master of Mediocrity' achievement."
He smiled bitterly at the thought, tapping his phone impatiently, while waiting for the bus.
Well, that was his usual routine—until today fate decided to switch things up a bit. As Raine scrolled through his novel, his eyes flicked upward, distracted by movement across the street.
From the dimly lit corner of the nearly empty road, he saw an old lady being cornered by a rough-looking guy who clearly hadn't showered in days—well from the look might even be weeks.
Raine squinted, feeling an uneasy knot twist in his gut. He couldn't make out what the guy was saying, but whatever it was, the woman was terrified, her trembling obvious even from afar.
Raine felt his heart racing slightly, but quickly shoved the hero fantasy out of his head. He wasn't some comic-book superheroes or some typical novel protagonist. He didn't have any damn plot armor, bullshit martial arts skills like Thundering Heavenly Strike that can help him, or even a conveniently placed baseball bat nearby. Going over there sounded exactly like something an idiot main character would do right before getting stabbed in chapter one.
"Yeah, sorry Grandma," he whispered bitterly under his breath, guilt gnawing at his conscience. "I'm not really in the mood for a knife to the neck today by some random ass druggie for someone I didn't even know."
Quietly, Raine dialed the emergency number, glancing nervously back and forth between his phone and the unsettling scene unfolding in front of him, silently hoping the police would get here before anything got worse.
As Raine spoke into the phone, his voice low and cautious, the sky above suddenly let out a deep, growling rumble. A second later, the clouds gave in, and rain began to pour without warning. Fat, heavy droplets splashed against the pavement, soaking everything in seconds.
He squinted through the curtain of rain, heart racing, as the scene across the street turned worse. The druggie, homeless, whatever—started raising his voice, his posture aggressive. Then, to Raine's horror, the druggie shoved the old lady hard against the wall. Her frail body stumbled, and she tried to shield herself with trembling hands.
"Shit...shit!" Raine hissed, pressing the phone harder against his ear. "Officer, that motherfucker might beat the shit out of that poor old lady soon!" his voice panicked and cracked a little.
He crouched instinctively behind the bus stop's metal shelter, peeking through the rain. His soaked phone nearly slipped from his hands as he whispered harshly, "There's no one around here! I'm the only one. How long will it take? What should I do?!"
The operator on the other end was calm, too calm for Raine's liking. "Stay on the line. Officers have been dispatched to your location. DO NOT approach."
He gritted his teeth. "Yeah, great advice," he muttered bitterly, watching helplessly as the rain poured down and the situation across the street kept spiraling out of control.
Then—that was it.
Raine almost dropped his phone right then and there.
Across the street, the guy pulled out a small pocket knife. A knife. The blade glinted even through the rain as he waved it toward the old woman, who backed into the wall with nowhere to run.
Raine's heart sank into his stomach.
"This fucking druggie is insane…" he muttered, voice shaky. "He might actually slit her throat over some cheap-ass dollars just to score his next hit."
Without thinking, legs moving on their own, Raine stepped off the curb and into the street, panic rising in his chest as he held the phone tight in one hand, trying to yell something to the operator—anything—but the words choked in his throat. His brain screamed a thousand thoughts at once, each louder than the last.
But then everything just… slowed.
The air thickened.
The rain, which had been crashing down seconds ago, now seemed to fall like soft drops of syrup. Raine turned his head and that's when he heard it.
The sound.
A sharp, screeching roar—brakes screaming against wet asphalt.
His eyes widened as his bus—the one he'd been waiting for this whole damn time—came barreling around the corner, wipers flailing uselessly, tires skidding uncontrollably on the slick road.
He saw the driver's face. Pure panic. Helpless.
And then…
Raine forgot everything—the old lady, the knife, the rain, the phone clutched in his hand.
All that existed was that moment. The bus. The cold. The slow-motion reality wrapping around him.
Boom.
The impact hit like a truck—well, like a literal bus. His body lifted off the ground, flung like a ragdoll across the street. Everything was slow, distant. He could feel nothing, hear nothing, only the echo of his heartbeat.
And in the blur of spinning lights and shattering pain, a single thought passed through his mind:
"This better not be one of those truck-kun moments, I swear to god."
As he laid there, cold and broken on the rain-slick pavement, blood pooling beneath him and soaking into his clothes, Raine stared up at the dimming sky, the edges of his vision flickering like a dying screen.
What a fucking joke, he thought bitterly. Is this seriously how I go out? Hit by my own damn bus?
The rain didn't care. It kept falling in heavy sheets, drenching his lifeless body like the world itself was trying to wash him away. His limbs felt distant, like they weren't even his anymore. No pain. Just a weird, numb nothingness. The kind of emptiness that didn't scare him—but made him feel small, like an afterthought in the grand scheme of things.
He gazed at the swirling dusk sky, the clouds thick and heavy with gloom, thunder rumbling somewhere far away. Funny how peaceful it looked from here. Distant. Unreachable.
Time seemed to stretch. His mind, maybe in its final act of rebellion, started playing memories like an old film reel unraveling all at once. Childhood laughter. The smell of his mom's cooking. Dumb inside jokes with friends. His little sister shouting at him through the bathroom door. It all came rushing in.
"If I knew I'd die today…" he thought, bitter and dry in his mind, "I would've at least hugged my parents one last time. Would've told my friends how much I appreciated them, even if I always made fun of them. Would've done more. Said more. Lived more..."
The regret wasn't heavy. It was hollow. Like an unfinished sentence.
"Would've…"
Then, everything turned black.
The world—the rain, the cold, the pain—vanished like a flipped switch. It was all just… gone.
No sound. No sensation. No weight. No light. Just pure, numb darkness.
But then he opened his eyes.
A soft hum, almost like static in a dream, filled his ears. A glowing blue panel floated inches before his face, its ethereal light pulsing gently in the dim air around him. Strange symbols flickered and twisted across it, rearranging themselves until, finally, they formed words he could understand.
[Please, kill the main characters.]
Raine's breath hitched. He stared at the message, brain still rebooting like a laggy computer.
"What the hell...?"
The panel hovered, unmoving, its strange glow casting faint blue shadows across a room he hadn't noticed until now. His surroundings were dim and unfamiliar—wooden walls, old wooden beams above, and a faint scent of dust and something unpleasant in the air.
His heart thudded hard in his chest. Not from fear, but something else—something sharp and electric.
A system?
He had seen this before—not in real life, but in the hundreds of web novels he buried himself in. The thing that turned nobodies into legends. That gave meaning to mediocrity. That broke the cycle of boring, ordinary life.
His mouth went dry. For the first time in forever, something different was happening.
He blinked rapidly, disoriented. Something felt wrong. Or different. This body—his body—didn't feel like the one he had a few minutes ago. His fingers twitched. His muscles ached like he hadn't used them in weeks—or years. Even his breath felt unfamiliar, like borrowing lungs from someone else.
Slowly, shakily, Raine reached out and tried to push himself up.
His palm met something firm. Not wet pavement, not a hospital bed—but rough linen sheets stretched across a wooden frame. A bed. A real one.
He sat up fully, the blue panel still glowing silently in front of him, waiting.
Raine stared at it again.
[Please, kill the main characters.]
He blinked in confusion.
"…Kill the what?"
Raine stared at the glowing panel, eyes wide, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.
"What the fuck is going on…?" he muttered, barely louder than a whisper.
His gaze dropped to his own body—and froze.
This wasn't his.
Gone was his hoodie, jeans, and beat-up sneakers. Instead, he was dressed in ragged, dusty robes that looked like they had been stolen off a background extra in a bargain bin martial arts flick. His sleeves were torn, the fabric itchy, and he could see his bony, unfamiliar wrists poking out like twigs.
He looked like some beggar character who existed solely to be stepped on by the protagonist during their dramatic power entrance.
He glared up at the floating panel like it owed him rent.
The screen shimmered again.
[You are currently in Silent Cloud Star, or a Xianxia world]
[This world is full of chosen ones.]
[Your mission: Kill them.]
Raine blinked. Once. Twice.
A second passed, and then he laughed. Not a joyful laugh but more like a dry "I'm losing my mind and everything is a joke now" kind of laugh.
"Oh cool, yeah. Great. Classic reincarnation setup. Hey at least I'm not a frog or a cabbage or something, right?" he mumbled, still laughing as he looked around the unfamiliar room with wooden walls and wooden beams.
Then he gulped.
Wait.
Wait.
This wasn't just any world. This was that kind of world. The kind with hundreds of main characters. The chosen ones. Reincarnators. Regressors. Sword prodigies. Physique geniuses. Pill refining monsters. Cultivation junkies who could split mountains before they hit puberty.
A universe overflowing with arrogant young masters, untouchable sect heirs, ancient beasts, forbidden clans, and immortal deities who could erase him—and probably the entire world—with their fart.
Raine slowly sat back down, his knees weak.
"So let me get this straight," he muttered to the glowing screen. "You're putting my stupid average-looking ass in this hellhole… and want me to kill the people who actually matter here?"
The panel, ever so helpful, didn't respond.
Raine buried his face in his hands.
"dawg…I want my bus accident back."
Raine stared blankly at the panel as new lines of glowing text began to ripple across its surface. His eyes scanned it slowly, his expression shifting from confusion, to dread, to outright despair.
[World Integration Complete.]
[Current Realm: Mortal Realm — Silent Cloud Star.]
[Warning: This universe follows the Grand Realm System.]
He frowned. "What the hell is a Grand Realm System?" he muttered.
Then more text followed.
[There are three primary tiers of reality in this universe]
1. The Unknown Realm — A plane beyond comprehension. Home to beings who have transcended existence itself. Concepts, forces, and entities on a multiversal scale. Anything lower than them is considered nothing more than insects.
2. The Upper Realm (Immortal Realm) — A vast reality composed of billions of worlds. Inhabited by immortals, deities, divine clans, ancient beasts, and powerful sects. Some are born here, blessed with divine blood and endless lifespans. Others clawed their way up, grinding through eons of suffering in the mortal realm to ascend.
3. The Mortal Realm — A fragmented dimension filled with billions of mortal worlds, scattered like grains of sand in an endless void. Each world differs in size and power. Your current location is within one such world: Silent Cloud Star. It is approximately 100 times the size of your Earth. Cultivation is the law here. Power is truth. Main characters thrive. Good luck.]
Raine slowly dragged his hand down his face.
The panel continued, mercilessly helpful.
[Silent Cloud Star contains multiple continents, empires, ancient sects, and hidden realms. It is considered a low-mid tier mortal world. Thousands of protagonist-tier beings are active here.]
Raine blinked at that last part.
"Thousands of protagonist-tier people?" he choked out. "You're telling me I've got to compete with one of those sword saints, divine phoenix reincarnators, heaven-defying alchemists, and seventeen-year-olds with trauma, destiny, and cheat items—on a single planet?!"
His voice cracked by the end. His body slumped.
He had read enough novels to know what this meant. He wasn't some blessed hero with a golden finger system and a loving master who appeared out of thin air. No ancient bloodline. No heaven-defying inheritance. No mysterious jade slip from a dying old man.
Just a guy in discount hobo robes, sent into the Hunger Games of Xianxia where everyone else had nukes and he barely had a fork.
Raine stared at the panel one more time, sighing heavily.
"How the hell am I supposed to compete with those fucking main characters?"
As Raine sat there, drowning in existential dread, a thought hit him like a rock to the face.
"Wait… most systems let you check your character info, right? then maybe..."
He tapped the floating screen cautiously, half-expecting it to electrocute him or explode. Instead, it shimmered and switched panels, revealing a new display
[Status Window — Han Yun]
Raine blinked.
"Han Yun…? Who the hell is Han...wait. I'm Han Yun now?!"
The screen scrolled downward, slowly revealing everything about his new 'glorious' identity.
Name: Han Yun
Age: 17
Race: Human
Realm: Mortal Realm — Silent Cloud Star
Background: Beggar Orphan / No Family Records / No Sect Affiliation
Cultivation: None
Talent Grade: Ordinary Mortal (Rank: F)
Physique: Average Human Body — No Known Mutations, Enhancements, or Physique Types
Lifespan: 52 Years (estimated)
Hidden Potential: None Detected
Bloodline: Human (Low Purity)
Heavenly Fortune Level: Negative
Fate Thread: Nonexistent
Raine stared.
Then blinked.
Then stared again.
"...Bro what."
He kept reading. He scrolled back up. Down again. Tapped to refresh.
Still the same trash stats.
"No talent, no background, no bloodline, no special body, no fortune, and only fifty-two fucking years to live?" he barked in disbelief. "What kind of expired character creation menu is this?!"
Even in the trash-tier cultivation novels he read, side characters had something.
Han Yun had jack shit.
"I'm not even cannon fodder," he muttered. "I'm just background noise."
The glowing screen did nothing to comfort him, hovering silently as if judging him too.
Raine—Han Yun—palmed his face again.
"…This is worse than being hit by a bus."
Just as Han Yun was contemplating whether throwing himself off a cliff would be faster than dying of spiritual malnutrition, the glowing panel flickered again, this time with a low chime—as if it had been waiting for his despair to ripen just right.
[System Directive Unlocked]
[You may obtain powerful rewards by sabotaging or eliminating Chosen Ones within Silent Cloud Star.]
Seize their opportunities. Steal their fortunes. Strip away their destinies.]
Upon encountering a Chosen One, detailed target data will be made available.]
Han Yun stared at the message like it had just offered him free pizza and a bomb.
"Wait. Hold on," he muttered. "You want me to what now? Kill the main characters? Why? They're the ones with fate armor, divine grandpas, plot protection, and cheat items falling out their butts. I'm a glorified beggar with 52 years of lifespan and the bone structure of a dried noodle."
The panel paused.
Then, slowly, a new line of text appeared.
[Query Registered. Answering...]
[The Chosen Ones bend the rules of reality itself. Their fates are anomalies—so powerful, so numerous, they disrupt the natural flow of the world.]
[A long time ago, an era emerged where countless main characters rose at once. Heroes. Villains. Saints. Demons. All of them destined. All of them unwilling to share the spotlight.]
[It led to catastrophe. A war of fate. An arms race of plot devices.]
[All of the realms nearly collapsed under the weight of so many chosen ones.]
Han Yun blinked. "…You're saying the world overdosed on MCs?"
[Affirmative.]
[Thus, the Will of Balance created a counterweight. A failsafe. You.]
A long silence followed.
Han Yun sat there, soaking in the absurdity. "So let me get this straight. I've been isekai'd into a hellhole filled with protagonist-tier monsters who can cut planets in half by sneezing too hard, and my job... is to kill them?"
[Correct. You are the anomaly to correct the imbalance. They are the overgrowth. You are the blade.]
He stared up at the ceiling, rain still dripping from some broken tile above, and sighed.
"…I was just trying to go home from school, man."
He looked back at the screen.
"Well... fuck it. If I'm gonna die in this world anyway, might as well trying to survive first."
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"Yo, Senior_Fentanyl here! This is my first story, so any feedback, suggestions, or critiques are more than welcome!"