Alarms shrieked in every military base across the globe. The living ship didn't just land; it latched onto the Earth’s outer atmosphere like a parasite. A golden wave, flickering with ancient-looking numerical code, began to creep across the sky. It expanded until it completely encased the planet, then vanished into thin air.

  The silence that followed lasted only a second.

  Suddenly, a glowing blue window shimmered into existence before every human being on Earth.

  CHOOSE YOUR CLASS.

  Selection will be based on your Personality, Morality, and Emotional State.

  Panic erupted. In the streets, people screamed or stared in catatonic shock. Some, thinking it was a game, reached out and tapped the air. One person gained a gleaming broadsword; another was granted a recurve bow.

  Then, someone chose "Werewolf."

  That was the moment the confused shouting turned into terrified shrieks. Within seconds, those who had chosen monster classes—thinking they would be the ones in control—realized their mistake. They weren't players; they were predators. The hunger took over instantly. They began attacking indiscriminately, and anyone who had chosen a "human" class became fair game.

  Meanwhile, a very depressed Marcy was jolted awake by the cacophony outside. Her apartment building sounded like a war zone. As she sat up, rubbing her eyes, the same blue window flickered into view.

  CHOOSE YOUR CLASS.

  Options are based on your Personality, Morality, and Emotional State.

  "Is this some kind of horrible joke?!" Marcy yelled at the empty room. Her nerves were already frayed from her terrible day, and this felt like a cruel hallucination.

  She looked at her choices:

  Low-Rank Soldier

  Merchant

  Harpie

  She thought of the failed test, the stolen bike, and Allan laughing with that girl. She had had enough of being pushed around. "I refuse!" she snapped, waving her hand at the screen. "I’m not choosing any of these!"

  The blue window flickered and bled into a deep, menacing red. A new message appeared.

  REFUSAL DETECTED. SYSTEM OVERRIDE.

  PUNISHMENT INITIALIZED: RANDOM CLASS ASSIGNMENT.

  Marcy’s heart dropped into her stomach as she read the new status screen.

  Name: Marcy

  Race: Bunny-Folk

  Height: 4’2”

  Class: Dragon Fodder

  Before she could even process the name of her class, the world blurred. She felt herself shrinking. The 5'5" frame she was used to vanished as her perspective of the room shot downward. It wasn't painless; her bones clicked and shifted, a searing tingle rushing across her skin.

  Pink fur, bright and garish as an Easter decoration, sprouted across her limbs. Her ears stretched and migrated to the top of her head, twitching at the sounds of screaming from the hallway. Her hands shortened, tipped with small but dangerously sharp claws. A soft, puffy tail popped out behind her, a final insult to her dignity.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The sheer agony and shock of the change were too much. As the "Dragon Fodder" curled into a small, pink ball on the floor, Marcy’s world went black.

  While Marcy lay unconscious on her floor, the party upstairs had taken a dark, predatory turn. One of the women, fueled by a lifetime of being overlooked and mistreated, hadn't hesitated when her screen appeared. She didn't want to be a soldier or a merchant. She chose Succubus.

  The music didn't stop, but the laughter did. It was replaced by a single, terrified scream as she took her revenge, the apartment above becoming a silent tomb of velvet shadows and broken bones.

  Hours later, evening fell. The city was eerily quiet-a silence so heavy it felt physical. When Marcy finally blinked her eyes open, everything felt wrong. Her weight was off. Her center of gravity had shifted.

  She lifted a hand and gasped. It wasn't a hand-it was a pink, furry paw with short, sharp claws.

  "It wasn't a dream," she whispered, her voice higher and airier than before.

  She scrambled toward the bathroom, struggling to coordinate her new, springy limbs. She had to climb onto the toilet just to see herself in the mirror. She stared at the reflection: she was small, fluffy, and-to her utter horror-disgustingly cute. She looked like a mascot for a candy brand.

  "What even am I?" she cried out, tugging on one of her long, pink ears.

  In response, a blue window shimmered into the air.

  RACE: Bunny-Folk

  CLASS: Dragon Fodder

  DESCRIPTION: A class specifically designed to be hunted and consumed. As a Bunny-Folk, you possess-

  "To be eaten?!" Marcy interrupted, her voice rising into a panicked squeak. "Are you serious?!"

  The System flickered, and for the first time, it shot back a snarky response:

  Well, that is what you get for refusing to take part in this glorious game! Actions have consequences, little morsel.

  Marcy narrowed her eyes, her pink whiskers twitching with rage. "I don't want to play your stupid game! Change me back right now!"

  INSUFFICIENT PERMISSIONS, the System replied, sounding almost pleased with itself. Once a class is assigned, it is permanent. Initializing 'Survival Mode.' I would get used to running and dodging if I were you, little bunny!

  Marcy felt her stomach drop. "You mean... I'm stuck like this?"

  She didn't get a moment to cry. Her shouting had drawn attention.

  The door to her apartment didn't just open; the doorknob was crushed flat as the wood splintered inward. Marcy's pink fur stood on end.

  Looks like this will be a short-lived joke, the System chimed in. Maybe you'll be a 'lucky' bunny.

  Marcy scrambled off the counter, trying to reach the door to slam it shut, but the intruder was too fast. A pale, powerful hand snatched Marcy up by the scruff of her neck. Marcy looked up and froze. It was her neighbor from upstairs, but she was transformed. Curved horns jutted from her forehead, and leathery bat wings flexed behind her back.

  The Succubus held Marcy up to her face, sniffing the air. Marcy trembled, her heart drumming against her ribs like a hummingbird's wings.

  The neighbor scoffed, a cruel smirk crossing her lips. "You're not even worth the calories," she purred. She dropped Marcy onto the floor like a piece of trash. "Too small. Too cute. Pathetic."

  With a flick of her wings, the woman turned and sauntered out into the hallway, leaving Marcy shivering on the carpet.

  Marcy's mind reeled. Did she have wings? Horns? The reality of the world hit her all at once. If that woman could crush a steel doorknob with one hand, Marcy's apartment was no longer a home-it was a cage.

  She looked at her small, pink paws. She had to leave. She had to find somewhere safe... if "safe" even existed anymore.