I opened my eyes, yawned, stretched, and enjoyed the feeling—a pleasant warmth in every cell of my body. A full night’s sleep had finally brought back to feeling human, and damn, I missed it.
What a strange dream.
It felt so real. All those sleepless nights had taken a heavy toll on . I froze in surprise, realizing I couldn’t rember the last ti I’d felt this good. Guilt flooded , choking my throat, reminding why I hadn’t felt this good in ages. My hand moved automatically to rub the sore spot on my chest, grief waiting just below the surface. It was always lurking around the corner, ready to drag back down and remind of what I’d lost.
I sat up in bed to get up and froze. Sothing was alive in —a sense of being whole for the first ti, like a missing piece had clicked into place, bridging so long-broken gap I always carried. It felt like I’d swallowed sunlight, each cell alive with warmth, as though I’d finally stepped free of a shadow. Not a hum or a buzz, but a quiet current of life under my skin, steady and grounding. I ran my fingers along my arm, almost expecting the feeling to vanish at my touch. But it didn’t. Energy thrumd under my skin, grounding in reality and reassuring I wasn’t going crazy. It wasn’t so bizarre fever dream.
Part of resisted, ready to dismiss it as another ntal trick, brought on by grief and insomnia. But the sensation was undeniable, buzzing beneath my skin, daring to ignore it. A disbelieving laugh tore out of . My fingers tingled. I flexed my hands, feeling the energy pulse beneath my skin. For the first ti in months, the grief in my heart and mind faded, a little, replaced by sothing new, sothing alive and positive.
Frowning, I sat up and stared at the empty air in front of , half-expecting sothing to appear like it had yesterday. Nothing. I squinted, concentrating harder, trying to summon that strange red dot I’d seen in the corner of my vision. Still nothing. I closed my eyes and willed it into existence. There was only black with a faint light outline when I turned my face toward the window. Running a hand through my hair, I grumbled to myself, embarrassed. Maybe it was in my head, after all—a trick from a mind worn out by sleepless nights and grief. But after the last 24 hours, it felt worth another try.
I closed my eyes again, repeating the sa ntal ‘click’ I’d done before, focusing on the exact spot where the dot had been. Nothing. Determined, I mumbled, “Red dot,” then, a little louder, “Gate Traveler.” My field of vision stayed empty, like nothing changed in the last day.
I rubbed my face in frustration. Clearly, I was missing sothing. If the screen wouldn’t reveal itself willingly, I’d have to find another way to reach it.
I grabbed my phone, hoping to find answers online. Fingers crossed, I pressed the power button. The screen flickered to life. Yesterday, it had been dead as a doornail, but now—sohow—it worked, though the battery was on its last fus.
I typed ‘Gate Traveler’ into Google, fingers tapping impatiently as the results loaded. A list of links appeared, and I sifted through the first page, then the second, the third, and the fourth. Everything was about The Traveler’s Gate Trilogy. Not exactly the earth-shattering revelation I was hoping for. I read the book’s blurb, looking for anything that might hint at what I was going through, but it was all just fantasy, nothing close to what I’d experienced.
Oh well, keep looking.
Page after page, from garage doors to an electronic music piece on Spotify—each link felt more absurd and irrelevant than the last. I clicked, scrolled, and sighed as ‘Gate Traveler’ yielded nothing but dead ends.
I clenched my teeth, frustration mounting, and the helplessness struck that sa familiar nerve. Grief and anger had beco so intertwined I couldn’t tell one from the other, and now this bizarre quest for answers was doing the sa.
“Co on,” I muttered, gripping the phone. “You’re Google. You’re supposed to know everything! I an, you’re the almighty algorithm, right?” I argued, shaking my head at the absurdity. “Gate Traveler, other worlds… Co on, throw a bone here.”
The screen looked back, blankly oblivious, full of the sa useless results—pages and pages of noise and nonsense when I needed actual answers. I rubbed a hand over my face, even more frustrated. So many pages, and not one of them had what I needed. Just a tangled ss of automated gates, vacation sales, and novelty shirts.
“Useless algorithm,” I accused Google.
I typed “Gate to Another World” into the search bar, hit enter, and watched as the results populated the screen. Pages and pages of links to Goodreads and other sites with novels on the topic. I wasted half a day reading blurb after blurb, hoping one of them would have so kind of connection. But every book was just fiction—no hints, no factual information. Just more and more stories that didn’t have any similarities to my experience.
I kept digging and skimd through dozens of pages until references to old legends populated the screen. I clicked on every link and read stories about ancient portals, elven worlds, Asgard, and mythical realms, searching for anything relevant. All these stories were very far removed from my experience and offered no answers—another dead end.
What now?
My mind spun with the dead ends, and my stomach growled, reminding I needed fuel to figure this out. During dinner, I rembered I got a class, and there was a ntion of level 1 and points. It was worth a try.
Back at the hotel, I pulled out my phone, typed them into the search bar, and hit enter. Instantly, the results poured in—nurous links to learning institutions and gaming forums. I hesitated, staring at the wall of links to gar discussions. At 37 and having never picked up a controller, starting now seed a bit late, but there was nothing else to go on.
Gas it is. God, my life is weird.
The forums were a linguistic maze—‘tank,’ ‘DPS,’ ‘buffs,’ and ‘nerfs’ stacked like code. Each term sent back to Google for a definition, and every answer left even more confused. Five minutes in, I sported a killer headache. There were long discussions, but none of them connected to what I experienced. Another dead end.
A few pages in, I ca across sothing new: books in a genre called LitRPG. I’d never even heard of it. Curious, I pulled up Wikipedia, scanning for anything that might fit with what I went through. And there it was: ntions of class levels and stat points for character attributes. Ridiculous as it seed, I was ecstatic to find even a vague parallel. Maybe there was a grain of truth in fiction, after all. Part of was embarrassed to even go there. Previously, my life centered on work and married life, with a small ti allocation for hobbies. And yet, here I was—my eyes glued to the screen, a mix of excitent and disbelief dancing in my stomach.
Finally, I found sothing that matched my experience.
I sat back, fingers still hovering over the screen, as so of it sank in a bit more. Part of wanted to laugh; another part wanted to curl up, cover my head with a blanket like I used to when I was little, and pretend none of this had happened. Gate Traveler. Level 1. This was my reality now—a strange new truth represented by a title and a number.
I scrolled down and reached an Examples section. It had a listing of eight book series. Rather than chase more random Google results, I paused. Maybe these books held sothing valuable. I read sowhere that Jule Vern predicted our present life and technology, or sothing like this. So, maybe fiction was the answer. I closed the app and gazed at the ceiling for a mont.
Welco to your new reality, John.
I skimd blurb after blurb, hunting for answers but finding none. From tower climbing to dungeon crawling—whatever that was—and cultivation, another mystery entirely. Sure, they all sounded like a fun read, but I was here for answers, damn it!
Hmm, I need a different approach.
I typed “classes and levels” into Google, and the screen filled with results—mostly forums and discussion groups. Skimming past the endless gaming threads, I focused on the book forums instead. Maybe they’d be a little easier to follow. When I clicked into a discussion, I found the posts filled with acronyms and jargon that seed like code. The gaming forums had much to learn from the book forums—they blew them out of the water with a new language.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Every other word was a mystery, forcing to stop and Google acronyms or terms to make sense of a single sentence. After five minutes of this back-and-forth, my patience wore thin—it felt like trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing. With a sigh, I shook my head and left the forums, heading back to the search bar, still determined to find sothing that didn’t require a translator. I was way too much of a “noob” for this.
Hey, look at . I’m using the correct jargon!
After scrolling down for a while, I finally started seeing so promising results. I stumbled upon a promising series with a main character nad John—it almost felt like fate.
At the beginning of the book, the MC got a spirit helper.
I wish I had a spirit helper, an AI, or sothing to help navigate this strange situation. Or even Clippy from old-school Word. Anything that can guide through this madness would be nice.
I snorted. Wouldn’t that be sothing—a cheerful virtual assistant popping up in this bizarre setup?
Suddenly, I KNEW it was impossible. A chill ran through , shocking into stillness. I didn’t have to guess; I knew. The certainty sat there, solid and immovable, like it had always been a part of . I hadn’t figured it out through logic or reason. It was more like a mory surfacing, fully ford.
I took a breath, letting the strange knowledge settle in, trying to make sense of it. Where did this certainty co from? The only explanation that made sense was the Gate Traveler class. Sohow, it downloaded knowledge into my brain. It was extrely alarming, to say the least.
Can it control my mind?
The realization that now I knew stuff but didn’t understand anything was bizarre and quite disturbing. Truth be told, it was downright scary. Rubbing my face, I thought, That’s how split personality disorder starts.
After considering it for a while, I set it aside. I couldn’t change it or do anything about it, so why bother driving myself crazy? I had a book to read in search of answers.
The next thing I discovered was the “Status Screen.”
“Status Screen,” I said, hoping speaking aloud would trigger sothing. Nothing.
I frowned, trying again, a little louder. “Status Screen.” Still nothing.
That was annoying. “Co on, there has to be a way to access it. There was a ntion of stat points, so it has to exist, right?”
Still no answer.
Determined, I went back to my phone and scanned Google results and forums. Eventually, I found a few other nas that might work.
“Status,” I said. Silence.
“Profile,” I tried, tapping my fingers impatiently. Nothing.
“Character Sheet.” I released a slow, frustrated breath as I stared at the empty air. Still nothing.
“Alright, next up… ‘My Status.’” Silence.
“My Stats?” I said, feeling ridiculous.
“My Profile … My Character Sheet.” Each attempt fell flat. I even tried every option with “John’s…” at the start, becoming more irritated by the second.
I threw up my hands. “How the hell am I supposed to figure out my personal information?”
Text scrolled into view, appearing out of nowhere.
I froze, staring at the screen in disbelief as it blinked into existence before my eyes.
PERSONAL INFORMATION
Na: John Rue
Age: 37
Class: Gate Traveler Level 1
Gates to the next level: 0/3
Class Abilities:
• Conversion
• Travelers’ Archive
• Identify
Health: 1550/1550
Mana: 3000/3000
Strength: 17
Agility: 15
Constitution: 10
Vitality: 21
Intelligence: 15
Wisdom: 10
Perception: 8
Trait points: 5
Ability points: 1
And there it was—my Profile. Just hanging in the air, every line of text clear, as if sobody had typed it into reality. I blinked, half-thinking it might vanish, but it didn’t. I read each line slowly to let it all sink in. My na, my age, the class “Gate Traveler.” Abilities like “Conversion” and “Travelers' Archive,” and these weird numbers next to “Mana” and “Strength.” Each line was like a piece of so bizarre puzzle I’d stumbled into, making everything feel more real by the second.
A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up, equal parts dread and amazent. Sure, I’d expected to find sothing, but this… this wasn’t so made-up fantasy. This was , laid out in numbers, like I was a character in so wild ga. My stomach sorsaulted—excitent and pure terror mixed in equal parts, sprinkled with disbelief and a strong urge to run away. This was real. More real than anything I’d felt in ages. A big part of wanted to look away, to shut it all out, to pretend it never happened, but sothing deeper kept glued to the text box. I exhaled, both lighter and heavier, realizing this was my life now—mapped out in numbers, abilities, and a new reality I couldn’t ignore. This was my new reality, and I had to confront it head-on.
The energy thrumming inside suddenly made sense. A missing piece of information clicked into place. Mana. I had mana. The thought took a minute to sink in, and even then, I had to process it, one piece at a ti. All my life, I’d tackled things logically, analyzing everything. I’d never even bothered with fantasy stories—no Lord of the Rings, no Harry Potter, none of it. But here I was, sitting in a hotel room, looking at a screen that told I had mana. I let the word echo in my head, rolling it around like a foreign flavor. Mana. For a second, I almost laughed—a grown man staring at a screen with “Mana” spelled out like it was the most ordinary thing. But it was real, every word on that screen unmistakable, staring back at and challenging to ignore it.
! I thought, astonished and full of awe. Mana! I shook my head. Sotis, life is so strange.
For now, I scrolled past the Abilities section. I knew they would take a while to figure out, so I started with sothing that seed easier at first glance and zeroed in on my stats. So of it made sense, but other parts… I scratched my head, trying to make heads or tails of it. Strength and Agility I understood—those I got. Although I was the smallest physically by a large margin, I’d always been the strongest and fastest growing up, enough that the other kids kept their distance. Intelligence? That one made sense, too. I’d breezed through school. But the rest? Completely puzzling.
My Constitution was a ten. Sure, it was on the higher side, but it didn’t match my actual physique. I was of average height, lean except for a slight belly pooch, and not exceptionally robust. Even when I went to the gym in college, my muscles refused to grow.
And Vitality? That threw off completely. Vital? ? I’d never felt bursting with energy. If anything, I just wanted to be left alone with a good book.
Wisdom didn’t add up either. I excelled in the classroom and morized information but was mostly at a total loss in the real world. Reading people was a nightmare. Social cues flew over my head half the ti, and adapting to change wasn’t my strong suit. So, how the hell did that translate to “Wisdom?”
And Perception—well, that just confused the most. I could see and hear just fine and didn’t need reading glasses like a lot of my peers. So, how co it was my lowest stat? Did this system asure depth perception? Eagle-eyed vision? Sonar hearing? What?
I set aside my confusion and kept reading the book, hoping it would clarify everything. But as the story unfolded, it beca harder and harder to read. The protagonist had to fight stronger and stronger monsters, and this prospect filled with dread. Fighting monsters? That was the last thing I wanted!
I frowned, with my fingers drumming nervously on the screen. This “Gate Traveler” thing—if I decided to do sothing with it—sounded like exploring worlds, eting people, and visiting new places. Not slogging through dangerous battles with terrifying creatures. Just reading about it made shudder. The idea of fighting monsters had second-guessing even the slightest consideration of this whole… journey. I was involved in a few scuffles in my childhood and teens, but fighting monsters was a different ballga altogether.
Can I handle sothing like this?
I dropped the book and went looking for a different one. I needed sothing less scary and more encouraging. Another long and frustrating search on Google resulted in a new series. This one appealed to more: the MCs teleported to a world with ten different planets, where they unlocked stats, levels, and skills by doing things, not just fighting monsters. That felt right. Sohow, again, I KNEW this was how things would work for , too. It was a strange certainty. Another one of those flashes of knowledge I hadn’t precisely learned but just… knew. If that wasn’t tied to the Gate Traveler class, I didn’t know what was.
One section described looking ‘inside’ to examine the mana system. Ridiculous? Maybe. But worth a shot. I focused on different parts of my body, half-expecting to see sothing.
Nothing.
Not giving up, I closed my eyes again, this ti zeroing in on the places that burned when I crossed the gate. Initially, there was nothing. But sotis, I had a stubborn streak, and this case definitely justified it. It took a while. But then—there it was, hazy but unmistakable, a ntal image forming like an afterimage behind my eyelids. It wasn’t seeing in the usual sense of the word—more like ntal sight mixed with physical sensations. But I did see color, shapes, and motion.
My mana system looked different from the book’s description. Instead of the lines and gates it described, I saw three golden orbs, each swirling with energy streaks—one in my head, another behind my diaphragm, and the last at my navel, glowing like miniature suns suspended in the dark. From the orb in my head, lines branched out to my eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. From the diaphragm orb, they traveled down my arms to each finger. From the navel orb, the lines extended down my legs to each toe. More lines connected the three orbs, forming an intricate internal network.
Streaks of energy swirled within the orbs, and with each complete rotation, the orbs pulsed—first sending energy outward through the lines, infusing my body with warmth and a faint hum, then pulling it back into the orbs. It felt like a rhythm, similar to the circulatory system, but with distinct differences in how the energy moved and gathered. My fingers itched to reach out, touch the energy, and feel its motion, but I knew it was impossible. How could you touch sothing so internal? How could you touch your soul?
srized, I stared and followed the energy for a long ti. Sothing softened, and a distant ache quieted. The sight of those orbs cald sothing raw in , smoothed so of the edges. Grief, that ever-present weight, eased its grip a little, leaving oddly at peace. This energy—this new, humming presence—filled the emptiness I’d always carried. Connecting to the energy was surreal. Peace ca over —a peace I had never felt before. As the shock faded, I felt lighter, as though this energy had softened all my negative emotions, be it grief, anger, or hopelessness.
At that point, I stopped reading. The books were fun—a small chance at escapism into the world of fantasy—but I’d found what I needed. Anything more would just be fiction, while I was dealing with reality.
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