Now, the story really begins.

Slowly, awareness returns to the man, and with it, a burning question. How the hell is he still thinking? _The last thing I remember was that alley fight, and I thought I got shot in the stomach. No, I know I got shot in the stomach. I shouldn't be alive right now. I should have bled out on the concrete, and even I was rescued, I wouldn't be in this void. I'd be in a hospital bed. _A thought strikes the man, and he freezes, as best he can in this strange realm. Unless, I'm in a coma. Then, if that's true, what are my options? Wait? That sounds like a good way to go batshit crazy.

The man feels a presence arrive in this void, and it can only be described as overwhelming. Instinctively, the man knows that he is at most an ant before this being, and can be crushed into nonexistence at any moment. The fear of , true , fills him for a moment. An urge to cower, to beg for even a moment more of life begins to rise, and the man stifles it. He slowly centers himself, and would take a deep breath if he were able. Then as calm as he can be, he turns to face the presence, knowing that whatever actions he takes, he no real option but to bow to the whims of a higher power. There, before him, in a realm without color, he sees a beautiful woman. Her body is lush and pleasantly soft like that of a woman who knows only luxury. Yet, simultaneously, her body is hard and firm, as if she has fought in worked everyday of her life, and has truly earned all that she posses, while her dress is just as chaotic, never settling on any design. Her eyes fill with every emotion, simultaneously showing lust, motherly love, a deep abounding joy, truly wretched loss, and yet, there is also nothing, the cold apathy of a statue. But her voice, that is unmistakable as raw, unbounded power. Her every word becomes law, her every whim the desires of all who hear it to fulfill. "John Varyn, I, Statera Nitor, make you an offer. The world I hail from has fallen out of balance, and must be righted. Will you hear my offer?"

The moment that John hears her name, the meaning of it is seared into his mind. He will never, can never, forget that. With that knowledge of her name, and subsequently her essence, comes a feeling of wrongness about the situation at hand. That feeling grows with each word she speaks, until he will not ignore it. Words flow to his mouth from knowledge that he does not consciously know, but understands at an emotional level. "Statera Nitor, she of the balanced struggle, let us discuss the terms of the offer as equals, in accordance to your ways. Let us find an accord, through word or conflict."

With each word he speaks, a changes washes over Statera, diminishing her overwhelming presence, and stabilizing her appearance, until finally she feels like a true equal to him in the realm. Her body has centered itself, with the lush curves of her chest and rear, while her arms are toned and her legs seem to have a sleek grace, and her clothes settling on a simple white dress. She gazes with respect at him, and her voice seems to be that of an ordinary woman to him. "I am impressed, John. You are the first to act upon the knowledge my name brings, and center me so that I may once more be true to my name and origin. Now, as you said, let us follow my ways and discuss this as equals." Her gaze travels upwards, and the void is suddenly filled with color. Hanging in the black is a world of vibrant green forests, deep blue oceans, towering mountains covered in ice and volcanoes belching lava and smoke.

"This is the world of Maran, where I rule as the balanced struggle, and it is a world linked to the System. While Earth was not connected to that ancient power, there are examples of it in fiction, but for a few key differences. Hit Points are not a measure of a character's life, but instead the power of the shield guarding them. As such, being at HP zero does not mean that you die, but instead that you are without the shield. The usual statistics are involved in the system, strength, dexterity, endurance, intelligence, wisdom, and" here Statera grimaces, as if she has eaten something distasteful. "Charisma. And, here we get to the biggest problem with the system. HP scales with charisma, not endurance. This has had multiple effects on society, with the most detrimental being that leaders are now decided based on charisma, not actual ability. But that's not why I'm making you this offer."

The image changes, from the world of Maran, to a scene of a mountainside, with a towering castle built near the peak, and legions of dark armored men spreading forth from it's gates to ravage the world. When Statera begins to speak of the event, her voice is tinged with sorrow and regret. "Long ago, a king rose above the rest. His power was unmatched, and he was set to bathe the world in unending. There was only one thing I, and the rest of the pantheon could do to stop this. We severed the connection all males, of every species, from the system. Even with that loss of power, that foul King almost succeeded in destroying the world as vengeance for how he was wronged."

The scene vanishes, replaced only by the void. Statera looks John in the eye, her voice hesitant and uncertain. "That king died a one thousand years ago, and men have not yet been reconnected to the system. The pantheon was scarred by that dark time, and only barely voted to allow this option. John, if you agree to this deal, you will be the first male to have the blessing of the system since the disconnect. Your descendants will have that same blessing, and over time, all will be added back in. However, there are conditions, the biggest of which is that you must be a hero, the light of hope in a dark and twisted world. Should you ever stray from that duty, you will be struck down without hesitation.

Will you be that hero?"

NOTE: THIS CHAPTER WAS NOT PUBLISHED PROPERLY. I DID NOT FINISH IT BEFORE I ACCIDENTALLY PUBLISHED IT.