Today, a sudden question struck me: Why do I exist here?

In this city, I shuttle between high school, the cafeteria, classroom, and home—a monotonous triangle.

Sometimes, grades weigh on my mind, stirring quiet worries; other times, hazy dreams of the future spark a trace of longing.

Why am I pondering my existence here? According to quantum physics’ Uncertainty Principle, shouldn’t I simultaneously exist in countless corners of the world? Why *here*, of all places?

Truth is, my birth was a miracle. Every ancestor had to conceive the next generation at the exact right time and place—not a second off.

"Not a second off" even applies to cells, to genes.

Think about it: if any fertilized egg in my bloodline fused with a single wrong gene, my entire human lineage would’ve twisted beyond recognition.

I’d never have existed. Someone else would’ve taken my place.

So every one of us arriving in this world is a miracle.

Countless families like mine built our nation; their intertwined histories form our country’s story.

The histories of Earth’s 221 nations and regions weave together into humanity’s grand chronicle.

But Earth holds more than humans—animals, plants, insects, microbes. Their interplay with us, even before humans walked the planet, shaped life’s epic journey.

How did life begin? Theories abound. I lean toward lightning’s spark igniting organic compounds in primordial seas, kickstarting life’s first pulse.

Life hinges on Earth’s existence—and Earth’s birth was a fluke of flukes.

Orbiting at just the right distance: not too hot, not too cold. Perfect size. Magnetic field shielding its atmosphere.

Like a garden Eden crafted just for us.

We must cherish our blue planet—this sapphire is, so far, the universe’s only home for us.

From Earth, we trace back to the Solar System, the Milky Way, the Local Group, the Virgo Supercluster… all the way to the cosmos itself.

Yet one Big Bang shatters our logic completely.

What existed before the singularity? Which genius can explain where that point came from? No theory or evidence convinces everyone—yet.

But here we are: from nothingness, step by step, evolving into today’s advanced human society.

If forced to explain why we exist here? Time’s trial has etched truth into our bones.

…

Of course, some things defy nature. Force human will onto the universe’s laws, and even the most dazzling creations crumble.

Take the orange-grade weapon in my hand: *Elena’s Whisper*.

I naively thought its trait meant minimal mana cost for massive, instant healing. But as I hacked an adult raccoon bear down to half-health with a warrior’s short sword, my HP refused to budge when I activated the artifact.

One claw swipe from the beast drained a sixth of my health. Yet after reducing it to a sliver, my healing spells only restored me to *its* current health percentage.

This staff heals me to match the enemy’s health ratio. Mana-wise, I could spam it endlessly in a single fight.

So long as monsters don’t one-shot me, they can’t kill me. But when *I* try to kill *them*? Once their health drops below their attack power, my matching low HP leaves me unable to heal—and I die first.

*"The caster who wields this staff to mend wounds shall end all nearby strife."*

Now I understood. As a priest, if I only healed myself, I’d never fall in battle. But the moment I sought to kill? Death would claim me first.

I could never slay this raccoon bear. A normal staff’s healing couldn’t offset its claws. *Elena’s Whisper* let me drain it to one-sixth health—but at that point, my own HP would mirror its lethal threshold. No healing. Instant death.

"Tch!"

I halted my attacks, disheartened. This trait was useless beyond survival. Better to let it kill me, respawn at the newbie village, reclaim my pawned novice priest staff, and grind tiny raccoon cubs instead.

What a worthless orange-grade item. Why even mark it legendary?

"Just finish me off. Let me respawn and farm cubs. At least my mood won’t tank before exams."

I stared blankly at the prowling raccoon bear.

Then—a torrent of fire whooshed past my shoulder, reducing the beast to ashes in an instant.

*Honey Pomelo Tea, Lv.2 Mage, obtained: Raccoon Pelt x1, Raccoon Meat x2. EXP +10.*

*"Hehe, long time no see, Pastor Fish?"*

A familiar pink font popped up in chat.

Her mage character hopped right in front of mine.

"You again?! Stealing my mob?!" I typed furiously.

"Saw you failing with that sword. Did you a favor! Rewards are mine now, haha!"

Her pink words oozed playful arrogance.

"I tagged it first! What gives?!"

"Because you couldn’t win. Switching from rogue daggers on cubs to warrior swords on adults? Seriously? So hilarious, haha…"

Barefaced mockery.

"Which eye saw me losing? I’d beat it—and you—without breaking a sweat," I shot back coldly.

"Try me. I’ll send you back to town."

Still so brazen.

I chugged mana and health potions. No room for error this time.

*Elena’s Whisper*’s "useless" trait held a secret edge against low-mana, high-damage mages.

The mage lazily tossed a fireball—once an instant kill. It slammed into me, dropping my HP to a sliver. Recent EXP gains boosted my magic resist just enough to leave me clinging to life.

Unfazed, I activated the staff. Full HP.

"…No way."

Her shock bled through the chat.

I smirked, lunged, and slashed. A quarter of her HP vanished.

Mages had paper-thin physical defense. My confidence soared.

"How are you healing so much?!"

She didn’t know my weapon’s secret.

She guzzled potions, refilling her HP. Then came the storm: spell after spell reduced me to a thread of health—but I healed instantly each time, chipping away at her HP with my sword.

The foolish mage burned through health potions first. To maintain her health ratio for my healing, I stopped attacking.

"…This can’t be real."

Finally, her mana potions ran dry. No spells left.

She adjusted her mage hat, planted her feet wide, and gripped her wooden staff like a bamboo sword pointed at me.

"Don’t come closer…"

Fear crept into her words.

"Remember what I said? This is skill. And you dared mock me, fool."

I raised my slightly dull warrior short sword, its edge worn from use.

"Please don’t kill me… I’ve never died before…"

Chat flooded with cute, pleading emojis in pink font. She was wheedling.

"No."

I kept smiling.

*No girl plays MMOs like this. Some dude hiding behind a female avatar, pink text, and emojis? I hate posers like you.*

I swung my sword.

"*Aaah—!*"

Her chat window shook violently, mimicking agony.

Another swing.

"*Aaah—! No! Please…*"

"Get a grip. It’s just a game. You won’t die."

*What’s wrong with this guy?*

Such a fragile ego, yet so arrogant. Asking for pain.

…

For the final blow, my priest triggered a warrior’s execution animation—flashing and brutal.

I seized the wounded mage like a chick, drove my straight sword upward through her abdomen. She gasped, mouth bubbling crimson, then collapsed as I yanked the blade free. Blood gushed ten feet high. I tossed her corpse into a roadside ditch.

*Pastor Fish, Lv.1 Priest, executed Honey Pomelo Tea, Lv.2 Mage.*

*Recovered: Raccoon Pelt x34, Raccoon Meat x76. EXP +1000.*

*Congratulations, Pastor Fish! You’ve reached Lv.2 Priest!*

…

So existence *is* truth. It’s all about how you wield it.