Mathew sits in the classroom, arms crossed and face set in a stubborn frown. The air in the room feels thick, tense, like it could snap at any moment. Mrs. Henderson, his teacher, shuffles through the papers in front of her, her gaze briefly flicking over to Mathew's parents, who sit awkwardly beside him. His father looks frustrated, brow furrowed, while his mother wrings her hands, her eyes already slightly red.

"Mathew," Mrs. Henderson begins, her voice calm but firm, "we're here because your grades have been consistently dropping. If this keeps up, you're in danger of failing the year. We need to figure out why and how we can help."

Mathew stares at the desk in front of him, barely listening. They don't care. He clenches his jaw, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on his arm. He doesn't need this lecture. They don't know him, they never have.

His father sighs heavily and leans forward, hands clasped together. "Son, we've been worried. You used to be on track. What's changed? Why are your grades so bad?"

Mathew's lips twitch into a sarcastic smile, but he doesn't respond. His eyes dart toward his mother, who looks at him with a mixture of concern and guilt. For a moment, there's a flicker of something—something like regret, but he pushes it down, unwilling to let it show.

"Mathew, sweetheart," his mother speaks softly, leaning closer, "we've noticed you've been distant... We're here to help. We want to be more involved. Maybe we haven't been, but we can change that."

Now? Mathew almost laughs. Now you want to care? He can feel the heat of anger creeping up his neck, his heart beating faster. They want to play the role of concerned parents now, but where were they before?

His hand slams onto the desk, and his voice comes out sharper than he intended. "You don't care. You're only saying that because my grades are dropping. You think this is about school, don't you?"

His father opens his mouth to respond, but Mathew doesn't give him a chance. He stands up abruptly, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape. "You just want me to do better so you don't have to deal with it! You don't actually care about me! You never did."

His mother looks stricken, her hands trembling slightly. "That's not true, Mathew," she says, her voice breaking. "We should have been there more, I know that, but it's not about your grades. We miss you. We want to spend time with you—really."

Mathew narrows his eyes, his frustration boiling over. "Yeah, right. Now you miss me? Now you want to hang out? Where were you when I actually needed you? When I wanted to play with you? Watch something together? You two never bothered, and now, because I'm failing, suddenly you care?"

His mother shakes her head, tears forming in her eyes. "It's not about that... I'm sorry, Mathew. I didn't realize—"

"You didn't realize?" Mathew cuts her off, voice rising. "I've been on my own this whole time! You didn't care then, and now it's convenient for you to show up because I'm making things harder for you!"

His father's face tightens. "Mathew, that's not fair. We've always wanted what's best for you, even if we didn't show it the right way. This isn't just about your grades. We're trying to fix things now."

Mathew's hands ball into fists, shaking with pent-up rage. "You're only doing this because it makes your lives easier! You don't get to swoop in now and pretend you care!"

His mother reaches out, as if to touch him, but hesitates, her voice pleading. "Please, Mathew... we're trying. We know we've made mistakes, but let's talk about this. Let's figure it out together."

Mathew backs away from the desk, shaking his head furiously. "No. I don't want to figure anything out with you. You don't get to fix things now."

Before they can respond, Mathew bolts for the door, the pressure in his chest unbearable. He can hear his mother calling after him, her voice thick with emotion, but he doesn't stop. He slams the door behind him and breaks into a run, the hallway blurring as his feet pound against the floor. He pushes open the school doors, letting the cool air hit his face as he sprints into the open, his breath ragged and heavy.

They think they can fix it now? His mind races, overwhelmed with anger, frustration, and a deep sense of betrayal. It's too late. It's always been too late.

Mathew runs, ignoring everything around him, until his legs start to burn. He finally slows, coming to a stop in the middle of a deserted street near the edge of town. He bends over, trying to catch his breath, hands resting on his knees.

That's when he feels it—a strange, tingling sensation beneath his feet. He glances down, frowning. The pavement under him begins to glow, and a soft hum fills the air. His heart skips a beat, his anger momentarily forgotten as his eyes widen in disbelief.

A circle of light, filled with swirling, glowing runes, appears beneath him, spinning faster and faster. The ground seems to pulse with energy, and before Mathew can react, he's engulfed by a bright, blinding light. His body feels weightless, as though he's being pulled through space.

The world warps around him, his surroundings distorting into flashes of color and light. Then, with a sudden jolt, the sensation stops, and he collapses onto solid ground.

Mathew gasps, disoriented, his heart still racing from the sudden shift. He blinks rapidly, pushing himself up to his knees, trying to make sense of what just happened. When his vision clears, he looks around—and freezes.

He's no longer on the quiet street near his school. He's surrounded by towering trees, their leaves rustling in the wind. The air feels different—thicker, older, as if this place has existed far longer than anywhere he's ever been.

He pushes himself to his feet, still unsteady. In the distance, just beyond the trees, he sees a massive city sprawled out beneath a dark, imposing castle. The spires rise high into the sky, casting long shadows over the landscape.

Mathew's eyes widen as recognition floods his mind. The Empire.

His heart skips again, this time with excitement rather than fear. He knows where he is. He's in the Akame ga Kill world.

A familiar ping rings in his ears, and a transparent window pops up in front of him.

Welcome, Gamer.

A slow grin spreads across Mathew's face, the anger and frustration from moments ago melting away. He's no longer bound by the world that didn't understand him.

Here, in this world, he's in control.

Mathew stands still, heart pounding with excitement as the world around him begins to settle. The towering trees rustle with a quiet wind, and the city in the distance looms like something out of his wildest dreams. But right now, his attention is on the small window in front of him—the Gamer System he had only ever fantasized about.

The stats flash up before his eyes:

Name: Mathew Yancy
Level: 1
HP: 100/100
MP: 50/50
Strength: 10
Dexterity: 10
Endurance: 10
Intelligence: 8
Wisdom: 6
Luck: 12
Skill Points Available: 0

A slow grin spreads across his face as he reads the familiar numbers. Strength, Dexterity, Intelligence... It's all there, just like in the games and fanfictions he'd spent hours obsessing over. His fingers twitch in excitement as he moves through the menus, checking each one in turn. He's finally here, in the world he's always wanted. Finally in control.

But as he scrolls further, something feels off. His grin fades slightly as he moves down the list, his eyes narrowing. Where's Gamer's Mind? He searches the screen again, thinking maybe he missed it, but it's not there.

"Okay..." Mathew mumbles, a small seed of unease sprouting in his chest. He opens up his Skills menu, eyes darting through the list. Inspect and Inventory are there, but there's no Gamer's Mind, no automatic calming effect that would let him face anything without fear or panic. Where is it?

Mathew's fingers twitch faster now, tapping through more menus with growing urgency. He checks Gamer's Body next, and to his relief, it's there. His body will heal quickly, like a character in a game. Physical wounds won't be permanent. That's something, at least.

But as he moves to the Inventory tab, his stomach sinks. It's completely empty—nothing but a blank grid of slots waiting to be filled. No weapons, no potions, no equipment, no items. Nothing to help him survive in this world. The vast inventory that was supposed to give him an edge is as barren as the system itself feels.

He clicks back to his stats, his heart starting to race for a different reason now. Where is Gamer's Mind? Why isn't it here? He swallows hard, trying to keep the rising tension at bay. This doesn't make any sense. I'm supposed to be calm. I'm supposed to have control.

But the more he thinks about it, the more his chest tightens. The missing Gamer's Mind isn't just an inconvenience—it's terrifying. Without it, he's... he's vulnerable. He's scared.

A shiver runs down his spine as the reality of his situation begins to hit him. His breathing quickens, the cold air stinging his lungs. This isn't a game. I'm really here. I'm in the Akame ga Kill world. The same world where death is real, where people die gruesome, violent deaths. He thought this would be cool, that he'd be like the heroes in the fanfics, but now, standing in the middle of this strange forest, surrounded by the distant silhouette of the Empire's capital, the fear starts creeping in.

He tries to push it down, clenching his fists at his sides. "No... no, I can handle this," he mutters to himself, but his voice wavers. Without Gamer's Mind, his emotions surge—fear, doubt, frustration. It's overwhelming. His heart pounds in his chest, faster and faster, the once-exhilarating rush now turning into a pit of anxiety.

His hands shake slightly as he pulls up the menu again, desperately searching for something, anything, to give him control. But the Inventory remains empty, and the absence of Gamer's Mind taunts him. I'm not supposed to feel like this. I'm supposed to be in control.

Mathew backs up a step, his legs feeling unsteady. The quiet forest suddenly feels far too big, the towering trees looming over him like silent giants. The Empire's capital in the distance, once a symbol of excitement and adventure, now looks dark, imposing... dangerous.

A sharp breath escapes him as his fear spikes, and for the first time since arriving, a sliver of panic begins to worm its way into his thoughts. What if I can't handle this? What if I'm not ready for this world?

"No!" He shouts, louder than he intended, the sound echoing back at him through the trees. His fists tighten, nails digging into his palms as he tries to force the fear down. I'm not weak. I'm not some scared kid.

But the truth gnaws at him, raw and undeniable. I am scared. I don't know how to do this.

He thought this world would be different, that he'd be the hero, the one with the power. But standing here, alone, without the calming influence of Gamer's Mind, he realizes just how real everything is. There are no do-overs, no retries, no respawns.

Mathew takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself. The Gamer System is still there. He still has his stats, his skills, his abilities. But now he knows—this isn't a game. This is real. And without Gamer's Mind, he'll have to fight through the fear on his own.

Slowly, his eyes open, and he forces himself to look out toward the Empire's capital again. The city is waiting for him, dark and looming in the distance. His fists unclench, his pulse still racing, but now he feels something else stirring beneath the fear—determination.

I have the system. I have power. He swipes the menu away, his breath steadying slightly. I can make this work. I have to.

With one final glance at the empty Inventory and the missing Gamer's Mind, Mathew starts down the hill, toward the unknown.