Max first accessed the space backpack to test its limits, only to be met with utter disappointment and sheer disbelief.
The backpack's capacity wasn't defined by volume or weight but by the number of specific items it could carry. According to the system, he could store:
One 1-litre water bottle (no brands), 200 grams of food (again, no brands), One handgun, One melee weapon, And one final slot greyed out with no explanation—locked, perhaps, or reserved for something unknown.
However, the instructions also made it clear: these items could be banned if the world he entered deemed them unacceptable.
"This is practically useless except for emergencies," Max groaned, brushing the interface window aside in frustration. The backpack's unpredictable limitations made it unreliable at best.
'If it's a survival mission in a jungle, I might not be allowed to carry food or water. And if it's an ancient civilization, firearms might be banned,' he reasoned grimly. The system wasn't designed to make things easy.
Not to mention non branded tag caused more confusion.
Sighing, he concluded, "This thing is barely helpful. Looks like I'll have to rely on myself for everything."
This wasn't the kind of system he'd read about in web novels or heard about in stories. No quirky AI falling in love with its user. No god-tier templates were handed out like candy. No status panel with infinite power-ups. No overpowered skills.
"What a troublesome system," he muttered under his breath. "It expects me to work hard."
Frustrated, Max opened the desk drawer he'd checked earlier that morning. Inside was a Glock pistol and two magazines. He examined it briefly before slotting it into the weapon section of the space backpack.
"I doubt I'll find a proper melee weapon in this house," he said while shaking his head. Standing up, he headed toward the kitchen, hoping to find something remotely usable.
To his relief, the kitchen was empty.
"Good. No one here," he mumbled. "Otherwise, I'd have to—"
"Master Max, what are you looking for?" a voice asked suddenly.
Max nearly stumbled, but he masked his surprise quickly. Turning around, he saw maid Lily standing behind him, as silent as a shadow and just as sudden.
"Oh, nothing! Just...could you get me a 1-litre water bottle and a couple of packets of cookies?" he said awkwardly, regaining his composure.
Lily gave him a strange look—he wasn't exactly the snacking type—but wisely kept her questions to herself. If the young master asked for something, it wasn't her place to pry.
She gathered the items with practised efficiency and handed them over.
Max nodded with a polite smile. "Thank you. Also, let the others know not to disturb me for the next hour or two. I'll be in the study."
With that, he quickly made his way back to the study, heart pounding with anticipation.
Seated at his desk, Max carefully packed the items into his space backpack, rubbing his hands together in excitement. The sheer thought of venturing into another world sent a thrill through him.
Taking a deep breath, he tapped the Travel option on the interface.
Immediately, the screen began to load.
===
Finding World...
World Found: Resident Evil
(Tutorial Task – First world)
*Time in the home world will not accelerate—not even by a few microseconds.*
If otherwise, the system will issue a warning regarding time disparity or other risks.
Prepare Yourself: 5 seconds remaining.
===
Max stared at the screen, speechless.
"Resident Evil?" he echoed mournfully. His eye twitched at the word tutorial.
"In what universe is Resident Evil considered a beginner world?" he grumbled, feeling personally insulted.
He knew this franchise—zombie-infested, filled with bio-weapons, and an alarmingly high mortality rate. Survival wasn't just hard—it was nearly impossible, especially for a regular guy like him.
'At least time won't move in my world,' he thought, clinging to the one piece of good news. 'And I won't be troubled by disappearing for some time. No missing reports for me.'
Giving the system a sarcastic thumbs-up, he smirked. "You're not completely useless."
Refocusing, Max double-checked the backpack's contents. For a world like Resident Evil, the food and pistol were definitely necessary.
He couldn't help but feel a small surge of confidence. He'd seen the movies, especially the first one. The Umbrella Corporation's strike team, the Red Queen, the Hive—the entire sequence played in his head like a memory.
'I've got future knowledge on my side,' he thought, clenching his fist. 'Just follow the team, stay out of the way, and never—and I mean never—step into the laser hallway.'
He wouldn't play the hero. Not for Alice, not for anyone. Future superhuman or not, that wasn't his concern. Right now, survival was the only thing that mattered.
'The cure was on the train all along,' he recalled. With that kind of edge, he felt prepared. Whatever the system threw at him, he could handle it—probably.
A small smile tugged at his lips. "Maybe that's why it's a novice mission. I was stressing out over nothing," he chuckled to himself.
But the smile quickly faded.
'Still... it won't be that simple. There'll be dangers. I'll just use those security personnel as my meat shields.'
Not exactly a noble plan—but a practical one.
As the countdown reached one second, Max rubbed his hands together, anticipation bubbling in his chest.
"Alright, let's see what this system throws at me."
Suddenly, his vision darkened—and faintly, in the distance, he thought he heard the ominous click of steel doors sealing shut.
….
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