Raka Mahendra had one life principle he had held onto since college:
If you already have the data, there's no reason to panic.
That principle helped him earn his master's degree at 23. Helped him present in front of ministry officials without trembling. Helped him stay calm when a project worth hundreds of billions nearly failed because the contractor disappeared halfway through.
But that principle was completely useless when he realized that he was already dead.
It happened fast. Too fast to dramatize.
At 12:47 PM, Raka was standing by the side of Pasteur Street waiting for Bang Asep, his regular siomay vendor who had always set up at the same corner for the past seven years. Bandung's air wasn't too hot that day. A gentle breeze. Weather that was entirely undramatic to serve as the backdrop for someone's death.
Then there was a sound like a snapping cable.
Then a shadow fell from above.
Then Raka glanced up and read the words on the billboard hurtling toward him:
"YOUR DREAM HOUSING, THE BEST INVESTMENT OF YOUR LIFE"
And his final thought, very unheroic, was:
This billboard's structural frame clearly doesn't meet national standards.
Darkness.
Then light.
Then an overwhelming dizziness and the very real smell of damp soil for someone who was supposed to be dead.
Raka opened his eyes.
A decaying wooden ceiling stared back at him. Cracks everywhere. A small hole in the upper right corner showing a slice of orange evening sky. Outside, he could hear the wind, people speaking in a strange language he somehow understood, and the smell of cooking that was deeply unappetizing like vegetables boiled too long without salt.
He tried to sit up.
His body responded very uncooperatively. His muscles felt like they belonged to someone else bigger than he remembered, heavier, and there was soreness all over like he had just descended a mountain three days in a row.
Alright, Raka thought calmly. Gather data first.
He looked at his hands. Not the hands he knew longer fingers, paler skin, a faint scar on the back of his right hand that had never existed on his original body. He touched his face. Sharper jawline. More prominent nose.
In the corner of the room was a small mirror, cracked at the bottom. Raka forced himself to stand a process that took nearly a minute since this new body apparently hadn't moved for quite some time and walked toward it.
The face staring back at him was one he had never seen in his life.
A young man. Maybe 17. Slightly long, unkempt black hair. Eyes with dark gray irises that looked too old for such a young face. Objectively not unattractive, but there was a weariness therelike someone who had been carrying something far too heavy alone for far too long.
So this is what they call reincarnation, Raka thought.
He didn't panic. Didn't scream. Didn't punch walls or fall to his knees asking why this had happened to him.
He returned to the bed, sat down, and began thinking methodically.
First fact: I died from being crushed by a billboard.
Second fact: I am now in someone else's body.
Third fact: This is not my world.
First question: What world is this? What happened? What should I do?
He needed information. And the only source of information in the room was
"You're awake."
Raka didn't move. The voice wasn't coming from outside the room. Not from the mirror. Not from any physical direction he could point to.
The voice was inside his head. Neutral. Neither male nor female. Like someone very accustomed to delivering information without emotion.
"Who are you?" Raka asked in his mind. It felt a bit strange to question a voice in his head, but given his current situation, "strange" was too mild a word.
"Aegis. Advanced Evolution and Growth Integration System. Activated since the Host entered the Kraval region four hours ago."
"System." Raka nodded slowly. "Like in novels."
"Host is familiar with this concept?"
"Fairly familiar." Raka stood again, this time more stable. "So you'll give missions, I complete them, get rewards. Something like that?"
"Fundamentally accurate, though the mechanism is more complex than that description. Does the Host want a full explanation now?"
"Later." Raka walked toward the door. "I need to assess the field conditions first before reading the manual."
Silence for a moment.
"...Host is the type who doesn't read instructions before assembling furniture."
"And my furniture always turns out fine."
Kraval welcomed Raka with complete indifference.
He stood at the threshold of his hut and looked at the expanse before him, keeping his expression flat because otherwise, it might resemble someone who had just realized they bought property without surveying the location first.
This wasn't a city. It was barely even a village.
Wornout tents stood irregularly on ground that looked more like mud than soil. Wooden huts whose walls seemed ready to give in at the first strong gust of wind. No roads just hardened footpaths forming unofficial trails. No drainage system. No light sources except campfires being lit here and there to welcome the evening.
And everywhere, there were people.
But "people" wasn't quite accurate.
On the left were tall, slender beings with pointed ears Elves, Raka's mind automatically concluded sitting apart from everyone else, their expressions a mix of disgust and exhaustion. On the right, a group of short, stocky beings with thick beards weaving something in front of their tents while occasionally glancing suspiciously at the others. Dwarves. And on the outskirts, near the bushes, were figures with animal ears and tails that twitched nervously whenever someone passed too close.
Beastmen. Marginalized even in a place like this.
Raka observed everything for several seconds.
"Aegis," he called in his mind.
"Yes, Host."
"What's the total population of Kraval right now?"
"312 individuals. Consisting of 89 Humans, 71 Elves, 64 Dwarves, 58 Beastmen, and 30 Demons. Most Demons avoid contact, and their locations have not been fully identified."
"Food situation?"
"Critical. Current food supplies are estimated to last only 4 more days with already reduced portions. The last planting season failed due to farming techniques incompatible with Kraval's soil characteristics."
"Water?"
"One old well in the center of the settlement. Water output has decreased significantly. Within two weeks, the well will likely become unusable."
"Health?"
"There are 23 individuals requiring immediate care. No medical facilities. No one possesses adequate medical knowledge."
Raka exhaled slowly through his nose.
Alright. So this is what they call ground zero.
"First mission?" he asked.
Something lit up in the corner of his vision like a floating notification only he could see.
```
║ ⚡ NEW MISSION TIER 1
║ "Don't Let Anyone Go to Bed
║ Hungry Tonight"
║ Target:
║ ✦ Ensure all 312 residents
║ get dinner tonight
║ ✦ Deadline: Before midnight
║ Reward:
║ ★ Knowledge: Basic Modern Farming System
║ ★ 300 CivPoints
```
Raka closed the notification with a blink and began walking.
His first steps into Kraval were greeted by a smell that made him pause damp earth, wood smoke, and something he identified as extremely poor sanitation. He noted everything in his head. Every problem he saw was data. Every piece of data was a starting point for a solution.
He had only walked about thirty steps when someone stopped him.
An old man. Maybe in his sixties. Thin but upright, with sharp eyes behind deep wrinkles. He held a wooden staff that functioned more as an accessory than a walking aid his stance was too stable for someone who truly needed it.
"Lord Aldric," the old man said. His voice was calm the voice of someone who had seen too many hopes come and go to be surprised by either anymore. "I am Doru. Former healer. Now... whatever is needed."
Raka looked at him briefly. "You know Kraval's condition better than anyone?"
Mr. Doru gave a faint smile. "I've been here twenty years, sir. I know where every stone lies."
"Good." Raka turned, surveying Kraval once more from his new position. "Then we start with food. Everyone eats tonight. Tomorrow we talk about the rest."
Mr. Doru looked at him with an unreadable expression a mix of skepticism and something more fragile than that.
"Lord Aldric, many people come to Kraval with big promises."
"I didn't come with promises." Raka had already started walking again. "I came with questions. Where are the remaining food supplies?"
Silence for a moment behind him.
Then the sound of Mr. Doru's footsteps following.
That night, for the first time in two weeks, all 312 residents of Kraval ate.
Not a feast. Not a celebration. Just thin porridge made from leftover grains combined with tubers that Mr. Doru knew grew wild at the edges of the settlement tubers no one had bothered to collect before because no one knew how to process them properly.
Raka did. And he taught them.
As the central campfire dimmed and the people of Kraval returned to their tents and huts with stomachs no longer empty, a new notification appeared in Raka's vision.
║ ✅ MISSION COMPLETE
║ Reward received:
║ ★ Knowledge: Basic Modern Farming System installed
║ ★ 300 CivPoints received
║ NEW MISSION AVAILABLE ...
The knowledge came like a wave not painful, but like suddenly remembering something long forgotten. Crop rotation. Compost. Soil characteristics. Techniques for loosening hard land. In seconds, Raka understood why every farming attempt in Kraval had failed and how to fix it.
He sat on a rock near the dying fire, looking over the dark expanse of Kraval beneath a starry sky, and began arranging priorities in his mind.
Water first. Without water, farming is impossible. Mr. Doru mentioned something about a strange sound underground needs checking tomorrow.
Then food. That hard plain to the east the one people call dead land. But with this new knowledge, I'm pretty sure it's not dead land. It's lazy land. Just needs a bit of force.
Then sanitation. The smell alone already screams emergency.
Then
"Host."
"Yes."
"Does the Host plan to sleep tonight?"
Raka glanced at the sky. It was already past midnight.
"Later."
"Aldric Voss's body has not eaten properly today. And has not slept properly during the journey to Kraval."
"Noted."
"That is not the confirmation I expected."
Raka almost smiled. Almost.
"Aegis, one question before I sleep."
"Yes?"
"Why me? Out of everyone you could choose, why pick someone who died from a siomay billboard to be your Host?"
Silence. Longer than usual.
"That information is not accessible at the current level."
Raka nodded slowly. The answer he had expected.
He stood, looking over Kraval once more ruins and tents and huts and hundreds of people who did not choose to be here, just like him and took a long breath.
Alright, he thought. Enough data for tonight.
Tomorrow, we begin.
Deep beneath Kraval, at a depth no one had ever reached, water flowed in the dark.
Waiting.