Awakening in a Borrowed Body

"Forgot to bring the exam notice, huh? It had the rules in it, you know..." (Zoah)

It had been a while since Zoah began searching for other candidates to activate his ability. But the area was far too vast to find anyone easily. From what he remembered in the instructions, participants needed to collect enough points, which could be earned by defeating monsters. Additionally, candidates could steal points from others by defeating them or forcing them to surrender. Harsh indeed—but Zoah barely cared. In his mind, it would only take a little time to defeat everyone and pass the exam.

"Strange… it’s been unusually quiet around here." (Zoah)

No sooner had he spoken than a sudden strike shattered the silence—a massive mace swung directly into his side. The blow connected solidly, sending a jolt of pain surging through his entire body. Zoah was flung backward, crashing hard against the cracked wall of a ruined structure. The impact rang out across the empty space, and a thick cloud of dust billowed upward.

He trembled, forcing out words in a voice broken by pain.

"What… the hell… was that?" (Zoah)

Before him loomed a pitch-black monster, its glowing green eyes fixed on him with an icy stare. Towering in size, its hunched back slightly obscured its true height. In its grip was a massive mace, perfectly suited to its hulking frame. A memory from the exam instructions flashed through Zoah’s mind: there were four types of monsters released for this trial. The weakest stood only to his shoulder, the two mid-tier types were about his height. Which meant… the creature before him was one of the two strongest types.

He began to realize why he hadn’t seen any smaller monsters earlier—they didn’t dare wander near the territory claimed by this high-ranked beast.

"I’m screwed." (Zoah)

Forcing himself upright, blood dripped from his forehead as he squinted with one eye to get his bearings. The throbbing pain made each breath feel heavier. He no longer had the strength to run; his only option was to face it—using his wits.

In an instant, the creature vanished. Zoah guessed immediately it would appear in his blind spot—the same move most seasoned warriors would make. He launched himself forward, turning his head to glance behind. As expected, the monster emerged, slamming its mace down with a force that fractured the ground, sending another cloud of dust into the air.

Its towering figure emerged through the haze, making Zoah’s pulse quicken. His legs trembled; before he could decide on his next move, the monster charged, preparing a second strike. Zoah dove forward, slipping between its legs, and delivered a full-force punch to its back. The blow only staggered it slightly. It whirled around instantly, swinging its mace in retaliation. Zoah failed to dodge in time, the strike hurling him once again. He tumbled across the ground littered with weeds and cracked concrete, his body torn and battered from the impacts.

The pain was so overwhelming that his consciousness began to fade. The coppery scent of blood filled his nose, mingling with the swell of despair in his chest. But the creature wasn’t done—it charged again, raising its mace for a crushing blow. Zoah rolled aside, narrowly avoiding the weapon, yet the shockwave still sent him skidding across the ground. He staggered to his feet, searching desperately for cover, but his strength was gone. The chase dragged on; each moment only deepened his wounds, offering no chance to turn the tide.

As the monster prepared its killing blow, memories surged within Zoah.

"Didn’t I help you before? Then it’s only fair you help me now." (Zoah)

Silence was all he had ever received from those he called friends. The true owner of this body had faced every hardship alone—no one to aid him, no one to share his burdens. He had struggled and endured by himself, only to be met with indifference and gossip.

"You did it, huh? Wasn’t so hard, was it?"

Because no one had seen the grueling process, they assumed the results were simply natural. He had been insulted, wounded, abandoned after petty arguments. And now, once again, Zoah lay alone in a pool of blood, with no one to help him.

With that choking mix of rage and grief, his chest began to glow. From within, he drew forth a long, razor-sharp European-style sword—a weapon that had never before existed within him. The blade sliced clean through the monster’s arm, spraying blood in torrents. The creature shrieked in agony, stumbling back, fear flashing in its eyes at the sight of Zoah.

He rose to his feet, body trembling yet eyes burning. Looking at the weapon, realization struck: his ability could not summon weapons from his own body—but this wasn’t his body. It was someone else’s, a vessel he had borrowed. And so, the ability recognized the original owner, allowing him to extract a weapon from it.

Zoah let out a manic, pain-laced laugh.

The beast tried to flee, but with a single, clean slash, the sword cut through both its body and the wall behind it. Everything was split apart with effortless precision. In that instant, Zoah secured enough points to pass the exam.

"Damn it! This body hurts like hell." (Zoah)

The spectacular display had already drawn countless eyes from the surveillance screens.

But not everything was about to go smoothly. On his way to the finish point, a strange young man appeared in his path—his face hidden, great black raven wings unfurled from his back.

"Impressive performance," the stranger said, "but now it’s time you handed over all those points to me."