system overload, a litrpg

Five days ago, in the kingdom of Sylvaris.

Gnarros studied the freshly summoned saplings with mild contempt.

It hadn't even been a full day, and already some of them whispered of rebellion against the Great Forest.

No matter.

They would be the first to go.

Despite his disgust for these humans, a few caught his eye.

A pair of similar-looking ones bickered in the corner. One—chubby, cackling—until the slightly larger one punched him in the arm. Not hard enough to injure, but firm enough to silence him.

Nearby, a man dressed in strange finely woven leaves, spoke with authority. His voice, commanding yet steady, settled the younger boys.

Along the wall, where the lesser humans gathered, a woman moved among them, consoling the tiny ones.

And then—a presence.

A man, sitting in the farthest corner, avoiding Gnarros's gaze.

Almost too well.

But Gnarros was old, and he had seen many tricks before.

He would not be fooled so easily.

Satisfied with his assessment, Gnarros turned to leave—having already decided who among them would be allowed to live.

Then—a flicker of movement.

A boy, peering over his knees.

Long, stringy hair clung to his face. His dull silver eyes locked onto Gnarros with empty stillness.

An icy breeze whispered through Gnarros's leaves.

Indoors.

Gnarros stiffened.

That one.

That one will be the first to go.

...

SYSTEM OVERRIDE COMPLETE.

REBOOTING.

Before I could even finish reading the message, a gnawing pain tore through my skull.

I collapse to my knees, gasping. Each ragged breath burns as if I'm inhaling fire. Something claws behind my eyes—an unbearable pressure, as if my brain itself is trying to escape.

I roll onto my back, hands clutching my throat, desperate to stop the fire from spreading inside me.

One problem at a time.

The gnawing in my skull intensifies. I squeeze my eyes shut as a sharp beep pierces through the pain.

Then—relief.

The pressure fades, and the burning in my lungs dulls to a mere sting. I open my eyes cautiously. The silver screen flickers back to life.

REBOOT COMPLETE.

NEW SYSTEM UNLOCKED: GUIDANCE.

ERROR. MEMORY CAP REACHED.

EXCESS MEMORY DELETED.

Memory deleted? Mine? I try to remember.

Nothing.

I dig deeper, desperate for anything—any hint of who I was before. But there's nothing. Nothing before waking up on that pile of corpses.

I'm too exhausted to feel anger. Something deep down tells me those memories wouldn't help me here anyway.

A sharp beep pulls me from my thoughts. The screen flickers into my vision, shattering my focus.

What? I stare at the screen, confused. It flickers softly, waiting. "Uh… I guess?" I startle at the sound of my own voice. It's scrachy, and i think it carried too far into the fog. The text warps and glitches.

"What opportunity?" I glance around, searching for anything, but all I see is dense fog.

"Free you? From what? And why should I?" I feel my brow tighten. I won't blindly serve something I don't understand. I'd rather get eaten with the other corpses.

I consider that for a moment. If it's going to help me, it can't be all bad, I suppose.

"Fine. What do I need to do?" I stand, attempting to brush the muck from my knees, only to smear it further.

I glance down at my body. "Makes sense… Which way?"

I nod and start walking. "Thanks, I guess… So… who are you?" I pause, then ask the bigger question. "And what happened to my memories?"

"Why is your name censored?"

A moment of silence.

I nod, picking up my pace. I strain my ears. Nothing. Just my own footsteps.

A warbling howl echoes through the fog. Somewhere behind me. I pick up my pace—I don't want that thing getting closer. Several more howls rise in the distance. Thankfully, none ahead.

"What are those things?"

I roll my eyes. As if I didn't already know that. I keep walking for several minutes, the occasional howl echoing behind me. Each time, the distance sounds the same.

"How much longer do I need to—" My foot slips. The ground vanishes beneath me. I slide down a slope, slamming into something hard. A sharp crack. Pain flares in my leg.

I wince—but almost instantly, the relief sets in. My skill is already healing me.

I glare into the thick fog. Not my fault I can't see a damn thing. I squint, barely making out a massive silhouette at the edge of my vision.

I limp toward it.

Halfway there, my leg snaps again—and this time, I can put more pressure on it. At least one of my skills is useful.

"What is this place?"

I frown.

"Yeah, but what was it before that?"

I feel my eye twitch.

"Are you doing that on purpose?"

I sigh heavily. Not worth it.

I reach the crumbling stone wall of a building. There's no door on this side, so I start circling around. My fingers trail along the cold bricks. A chunk crumbles off and falls to the ground.

"Nope. This is basically my daily routine." I say sarcastically.

The screen doesn't respond.

I reach an old wooden door. The soggy wood buckles under my touch, collapsing inward. The hinges squeak softly. I step over the pile of rotted wood and into the dark building.

A bright silver light flares over my shoulder. I turn my head.

A glitching screen hovers behind me, its text a flickering mess of jumbled letters. But the light it casts is steady.

"Thanks."

I chuckle softly. Sure. If I believe that. The room is nearly empty.

A broken shelf filled with shattered clay shards. What used to be a wooden bed. A dusty old chest sitting at its foot. And a pile of bones slumped against the wall.

I try to open the chest. Locked.

Helpful as always. I press my hand into the wooden lid. Solid. But… there's a little give.

I slam my fist down. Crack. Nothing. I hit it again. Splinters. Again. My hand punches through the lid. Pain flashes through my fingers. I pull my hand back—watching as my knuckles twist and snap back into place. I'm going to enjoy this healing skill.

I tear the hole wider until I can see inside.

Cloth.

I reach in, pulling out a heavy, tattered robe. It stinks of mold. But it's better than nothing. I wrap it around myself, fastening it as best I can. It's too big, and there's a hole in the lower back.

"I'm gonna sleep first." I ease myself onto the bed. The rotting straw shifts beneath me. It's damp. I don't care.

The screen flickers out.

A gust of wind slips through the doorframe. A chill crawls past my robe. I pull it tighter.

As I drift off, a thought lingers at the edge of my mind.

The howls never stopped. But now, they're silent.