Lucas continued riding for a bit, until a thought crossed his mind.

"Hey, system", he said.

[What is it?], the system replied.

"How exactly did I end up in this new world? How did I get transmigrated? "

The system was silent for a moment.[ Are you sure you want to know?] He finally asked.

"Why? Is something wrong with it?" Lucas asked, shocked.

[Well...], the system said, [it's a really traumatic memory. I am going to try to suppress it as soon as you enter this new world. If you had prepared this memory, it could scar you for life.]

"How come", Lucas said. "Is it that bad, the night I have been brought away? Well, yes, but how did you know that you would even die in the first place? This is an isekai," Lucas said. "Well, if I had been an isekai, and I didn't die.Wouldn't that be a blatant injustice."

[Well, I guess so. I suggest you park your horse somewhere.]

"Of course, I don't wanna be easy access", Lucas said, he came off the horse, brought it to a shady bunch of trees on the side of the road.

Well, it wasn't a bunch of trees, it was more like a mini forest.

It was a short stretch of dense woodland rose at the edge of the plain. The trees were packed close together, their trunks thick and dark.

Branches interlocked overhead and formed a low, shadowed canopy that let only slivers of sunlight through.

He went inside, just far enough that anyone who was passing wouldn't be able to see him. Then he tied his horse and went to another tree and sat down.

"Okay, here I am now", he said.

"Okay, fine. Here is a memory", the system said.

[Done.] Lucas was standing in that dark room. And the only thing illuminating the room was the scream of a television.

A circular loading icon sat in the center of the screen, three‑quarters filled. The colored segment which was bright blue against a pale gray ring spun slowly clockwise, stopping just short of completing the circle.

And on the screen at the bottom was a number that said 70%. And in front of the TV was a huge big ass heavy fat man who was about 400 pounds or 500 pounds.

The heavyset man sat slouched in a worn chair, his weight pressing the cushions flat.

His round face was framed by thinning hair, and a faint stubble ran along his jaw. He wore a loose T-shirt stretched slightly at the seams and faded jeans that bunched at his ankles.

His hands rested on his stomach, fingers tapping absently against the fabric, and his gaze drifted lazily across the room. The chair creaked softly whenever he shifted, the springs groaning under his bulk.

"Is that me? Oh, that's it. Looking at the huge weight. It is." Lucas said.

The system said, [This is the last night you were alive.]

[You are seeing the memory from a third person perspective. So you can't interact with that version of you and he can't see you either.]

As soon as the system said this, the fat Lucas began to talk.

"Oh hell, this garbage game. How can one update be worth one terabyte of space? The whole game itself before this update was only around three gigabytes. Are the devs insane? And it's a good thing that I upgraded my internet. I got myself a new memory card before this. But this fucking thing won't hurry up and download. "

Before he lay back into his chair.

"Well, at least there is something." He sat with a shrug. The Lucas then began eating from what looked to be a bag of potato chips beside him.

"Was I really like this?" Lucas said, shocked.

[Yes, things happened. You really fell into a big depression and fell out of shape as well.]

"As well, well. So what happens? Do I just die from a heart attack?" Lucas said, teasingly.

[No, just wait and look what happens.]

The fat Lucas sat there for some more as the game continued downloading. And all of a sudden, a loud crash came from outside.

"What exactly was going on here?" The Lucas said. Suddenly, a scream could be heard from downstairs. It was the voice of a man.

And then a woman. Lucas jumped up. "Mom, dad, what the hell? What is going on?" The fat Lucas said, at the same time as the skinny one.

And without any further hesitation, he rushed out of his room and down the stairs. The skinny Lucas closely followed. Soon, they all ran to the floor.

They reached downstairs and were peeking around the corner. The single-armed assailant stood with a gun pointed at his parents.

He wore a simple, practical outfit meant to blend into the dark.

A black hoodie covered his head, the fabric thick enough to hide his features but thin enough not to snag on anything.

The sleeves were pushed tight around his wrists. His pants were dark cargo jeans with deep pockets, worn at the knees and faded slightly at the seams.

Soft‑soled sneakers sat on his feet, the kind that made almost no sound on floors. Thin gloves, matte, flexible, and snug covered his hands, leaving no fingerprints behind.

A small, worn backpack hung against his back, its straps adjusted short so it wouldn't bounce as he moved.

His parents were crouched on the floor and we're pressed close together with their hands clasped over their heads.

His father's face was pale and his mother's shoulders shook as she tried to shrink into herself, her eyes wide and darting.

"You idiots " he said, "I know you are rich as hell."

"You've got enough money to support that bum son of yours. Who doesn't have a job. So you've got well more than enough money to support me as well."

"Why waste your money on that bum when you can give it to someone in need like me?" He said.

Lucas could see the dad's eyes widened.

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