The night was silent.
Ray lay in his small room—a modest space with a short bed, soft cushions, and a hanging lamp swaying faintly from the ceiling.
Peace. It was something Ray had grown to love here—because it was the complete opposite of life at the Academy. There, every day began with laughter… not his, but others'. Laughter drenched in humiliation. But here, everything was calm.
On most days, his body would collapse onto the bed, utterly exhausted from chores or from vomiting over the ship's railing. Sleep would pull him under like a wave. But tonight… tonight was different.
Even the soft cushions felt like thorns.
Ray tossed and turned, shifted his position over and over, trying every angle to lull himself into sleep—but nothing helped. His desperation only grew heavier, sinking deeper into his chest.
Every few seconds, he found himself glancing out of the tiny, porthole-like window, hoping to catch a glimpse of dawn breaking. Hoping that the night was finally ending.
But each moment crawled by like a century.
Eventually, Ray sat up, clutching his head.
'What is this restless feeling…?'
He couldn't explain it. But his mind was swarming with hundreds of thoughts, possibilities, and unanswered questions. They crashed and roared like a storm, threatening to burst his skull. His heart was sinking—deeper and deeper into some unknown darkness.
The harder he tried to calm down, the worse it became.
"Arrrh..."
A shaky breath escaped his lips as he tapped his chest, trying to slow it.
[Quest: Feed the Red Crystal from the Void Sea to activate system]
[Reward: Full system access]
[Punishment: System locked forever]
[System: Hello host, long time no see]
In this world, everyone accessed their system through items embedded with a System Core.
The Etherborn? Their systems activated through weapons or tools linked to their essence.
SpiritChain users? They could use anything—from a pen, a staff, even a beast—as long as it held a System Core.
And Corecrafters? Their systems were tied to crafting tools.
But Ray… Ray was different.
His system core was inside his own body.
During the Awakening Period, every student had been taken to ancient sites filled with core-imbued artifacts. They were meant to be chosen—or to choose. Ray spent six days searching. Six painful days before he discovered the truth: his core had always been with him.
It was within.
All he needed to do to access it was tap his chest.
This simple screen had always been Ray's lifeline. His only solace. It was proof—proof that he wasn't born broken. That he wasn't system-less. That he was waiting.
Not lost. Just… not yet.
He had stared at this same screen thousands of times.
"Hello host, long time no see."
He had read those words again and again. But never once had he replied.
Tonight, though, something stirred. A strange sensation.
Or maybe… he just needed something—anything—to distract his mind.
"Hm? I'm fine," he said softly, less to the system and more to himself.
He let out a deep sigh, head lowered, and went to tap his chest again—
Swish—Buzz
Ray's eyes widened as the floating screen flickered and changed.
[System: Why are you so dumb?]
"Heeennnn?! Are you kidding me?!"
His face twisted in disbelief. Two things struck him at once: First, the screen had actually responded. Second... it called him dumb.
[System: I'm not in the mood to joke with you.]
Ray jolted upright on the bed and immediately pressed himself against the wall like a startled lizard.
In his world, systems were like automated books. Cold, mechanical. They gave instructions, delivered rewards or punishments, and moved on. They didn't talk. They didn't feel.
'Imust be dreaming,' Ray thought with a sigh, letting his body relax a little. 'Just a dream…'
He crawled under the blanket and shut his eyes.
"Yeah… just sleep. I'll wake up soon, back in the real world. Haha, what a stupid dream I'm having."
He looked up at the floating system window and waved lazily.
"You almost gave me a heart attack, you know?"
[System: I want to change my host.]
Ray froze.
He slowly sat back up, hugging his pillow tightly.
"Tell me it's a dream," he whispered to himself.
[System: Yeah, it's a dream.]
The system mocked him.
Ray leapt to his feet, pointing at the screen with trembling hands.
"You idiot! Everyone knows you can't say it's a dream if it's actually a dream! You've just exposed yourself!"
The screen remained silent.
[System: Deactivating...]
"What?! Wait, you can't just deactivate like that!" Ray panicked. "You're my system! You follow my commands!"
No system could deactivate itself. No system should have moods or personalities.
Yet… the screen flickered once—and vanished.
Ray stood there in stunned silence.
It wasn't the fact that the system had a personality that hit him hardest. It was that it had ignored his command.
"It… deactivated itself… even when I told it not to," he whispered.
His voice broke.
He flopped onto the bed, sobbing into the pillow as his tears soaked through the fabric.
"How can it do that? I'm the master… I'm supposed to be the master…"
After some time, Ray wiped his face, sat up, and activated his system again.
The screen floated back in front of him.
[Quest: Feed the Red Crystal from the Void Sea…]
[Reward: …]
[Punishment: …]
But this time, the message underneath was gone.
Ray opened the window again. Then again. Again. Over and over.
Each time, it was the same.
No message. No response. Nothing.
He even tried talking to it—but silence answered him. At last, he flopped back down on the bed, arms spread wide, staring at the ceiling with the screen hovering above.
"Was that really a dream?" he muttered.
But deep down, he already knew. It wasn't.
Oddly enough, Ray's body now felt calm. Strangely so. As if the chaotic storm that had been raging inside him all night had found a place to rest—just by having that weird conversation with an absurd, back-talking system.
He didn't waste another moment. He closed the window, clutched the pillow tightly, and fell asleep.
When Ray opened his eyes again, the first thing he did was check the system screen.
It was the same as before—quest, reward, punishment. No extra lines.
Still no message.
Ray let out a small smile, remembering the back-and-forth he had shared with it. Then, rubbing his face with both hands, he rose from bed.
Dawn hadn't broken yet. The first rays of sunlight had not yet touched the surface of the sea.
"Everyone must be getting ready," he murmured, standing in front of the mirror, cold water dripping from his face.
But something felt wrong.
Outside… it was too quiet.
Ray grabbed a towel, wiping off the water, and stepped out.
"What's going on? Why isn't that annoying Rabbit bouncing around and yelling for food?" Ray muttered as he walked further into the corridor.
The silence was complete. Too complete.
He looked around.
No one.
The towel slipped from his fingers and landed softly on the floor. Ray's breath hitched. He ran to Robin's room.
Empty.
Then he checked the others—same result.
No one.
Gone.
"So… they left me."
Ray turned, staring out at the vast ocean. His mind went back to that red line across the map… and Sicilia's warning.
"You will die. If the guardian find you unworthy, you will die."
A cold, bitter smirk crept across his lips.
'So that's what they thought… they thought if they left me behind, I wouldn't dare to follow. They thought I'd be scared of dying…'
Ray walked toward the kitchen. His eyes fell on the board knife Jack used to chop vegetables.
He picked it up.
Then turned.
And walked onto the deck.
"Very well," he said under his breath. "Then I'll have no choice but to go alone."
A scrap of paper fluttered on the main sail. It was stabbed into the fabric with a knife.
Ray reached for it, but the blade was wedged in tightly.
"The hell… why is that woman so strong?" he groaned, bracing his foot against the sail. With a grunt and a slip, he landed hard on his butt—but the paper came free.
(DO NOT TRY ANYTHING FUNNY)
Ray squinted at the note, then scoffed.
"Since when do I take orders from anyone?" he said, crumpling the paper and tossing it behind him. "I'll do whatever I want. Stop acting like you're my mom."
He tucked the small dagger—left behind with the note—into his belt, then grabbed the board knife again.
"I'm sorry, but last night… my system called me dumb," Ray muttered, his eyes shining with fierce determination. "Now I have to prove that its master is none other than Raymond Lockwood. The same Ray who never backs down—even if death is what's waiting."