My name is Daniel. Just your average 25-year-old guy—single, recently fired, and royally pissed off.

  AI took my job.

  I’d spent years studying, grinding through exams and internships, only for a startup to launch an artificial intelligence that does exactly what I used to do… for one-third the cost of a human. No breaks, no salary, no complaints. Just cold efficiency. So yeah, I was out.

  I packed what little I had left and went back to the small town where my family still owns an old house. It’s not far from the city—close enough to commute, far enough to breathe. With my savings almost gone, I figured I needed something, anything, to pay the bills while I looked for a “real” job.

  That’s when I bought the motorbike. Nothing fancy—a used 150cc enduro that could handle dirt roads and city traffic. Good enough. I signed up for Timber, the delivery app everyone uses these days. Register with your own vehicle, accept orders, drop them off, collect the pay. Simple. Normal. Perfect for someone in my situation.

  The house has a small garage. Looks completely ordinary… except for one weird detail.

  On the wall, pinned to an old corkboard, was a note: “Use the helmet when doing deliveries.”

  Next to it hung an enduro helmet. Matte black, full-face, aggressive lines. Way cooler than my cheap open-face one. I shrugged, figured why not, and took it.

  That first night, nothing happened. I went to bed early, nervous about my first shift tomorrow.

  The next morning started normal enough. Coffee. Jacket. Keys. I grabbed the mystery helmet last, right before heading out.

  The moment I pulled it on—

  Everything changed.

  A faint blue HUD flickered to life across the visor, like something straight out of a video game.

  “Say ‘Start’ to receive your first delivery.”

  I froze.

  In front of me—impossibly—appeared a glowing, rippling portal. Not a reflection. Not a hallucination. A literal hole in reality, hovering just beyond the garage door. Through it I could see a dirt road stretching into green fields under a pale sky.

  My heart slammed against my ribs.

  A minimap appeared in the top-left corner of my vision. A bright yellow line traced a path forward.

  I stared at it for maybe ten seconds.

  Then I thought: What the hell. Things can’t get much worse than right now.

  I kicked the bike to life, revved once, and rolled straight through the portal.

  The transition was instant. No nausea, no flash of light—just one world gone, another one here.

  The AI spoke.

  A calm, slightly synthetic female voice echoed inside the helmet.

  “Welcome, Delivery Agent. I am your assistant, designation B3A—from the XD series. You may call me B3.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  I nearly dropped the bike.

  Another AI. Of course.

  It continued like this was completely normal.

  “While wearing full delivery equipment—most importantly this helmet—you have temporary immunity to damage. The bike is registered as an extension of your presence in this world. It shares the same protection.”

  Invulnerability? On day one?

  I laughed out loud. It sounded manic even to me.

  B3 kept talking.

  “Each new world will be logged in the Guide. You can view world statistics, your current reputation, and unlockable skills or items based on how inhabitants perceive you. Main objective: complete deliveries. Optional: accept side quests from individuals, guilds, or factions.”

  “Time dilation rule: When you are absent from a world, time there remains frozen. If you spend one hundred years here and return home, only about one minute will have passed in your original timeline—within a small margin of error.”

  “Earnings from all worlds convert automatically to a universal currency: Goldcoins. Usable anywhere via instant exchange.”

  I was still processing when the scenery changed.

  Fields gave way to rolling hills… and then, in the distance, a castle. Real stone walls, banners snapping in the wind, straight out of a fantasy book.

  People stared as I rode past. Parents pulled children behind them. Farmers backed away like I was a demon on wheels.

  About a mile from the gates, ten knights blocked the road. Their captain stepped forward, hand on his sword. Behind them, twenty archers nocked arrows.

  “Halt, monster! State your business or be destroyed!”

  I killed the engine, swung my leg off the bike, and—following the glowing prompt on my HUD—spoke clearly:

  “I have a delivery package for King Alexis. Please allow me to pass.”

  One knight sprinted toward the castle. Four minutes later he returned with a sealed letter. The captain read it, face paling, then barked an order.

  The line parted.

  I walked the bike through. The engine’s low BRRRRR made several guards flinch.

  They escorted me—very carefully—into the throne room.

  King Alexis sat on an ornate throne, crown slightly crooked, eyes sharp with curiosity and wariness.

  “You are… the Courier?”

  I nodded. “Just doing my job, Your Majesty.”

  He studied me for a long moment, then gestured.

  A servant brought forward an elegant longsword in a jeweled scabbard.

  “Three years ago, our kingdom’s chosen Hero set out to slay the Demon Lord. He is still on his journey—two more years, perhaps. This blade is meant for him. Find him. Deliver it. One hundred goldcoins upon successful completion.”

  The sword vanished into my delivery backpack the moment I touched it. Magic inventory. Of course.

  I left the castle, mounted up, and checked the map.

  Destination: roughly one thousand miles away.

  B3 chimed in gently.

  “Recommended: rest at least twice during transit to avoid physical collapse. Sleeping is unnecessary in active war zones, but permitted—and often pleasant—in safe towns.”

  I twisted the throttle and took off.

  The wind felt good. The bike handled the dirt roads like a dream.

  Later that day I crossed a clear river. On impulse I stopped, killed the engine, took off the helmet, and jumped in. The water was cold and perfect. For a few minutes I was just Daniel again—not a delivery guy, not an isekai protagonist, just a guy cooling off.

  Back on the bike. Back under the helmet.

  A few hours later I rolled into a small town. Found a tavern. Ordered food.

  When I tried to pay with a goldcoin, the owner laughed nervously. “I can’t make change for that, traveler…”

  I waved it off. “Keep the rest. Good faith tip.”

  They asked who to thank.

  I smiled under the helmet.

  “Just thank my Lord Jesus Christ for it.”

  They blinked, confused, but nodded gratefully.

  I kept riding.

  Eventually I reached a much larger city. Neutral ground—no taxes, no wars, merchants from every nation. The guards registered my bike as a “summoned familiar” after a lot of staring and paperwork. They let me in.

  I found an inn with secure stables. Only after parking and locking the bike did I finally take the helmet off.

  “B3,” I asked quietly, “is it safe to leave my stuff here?”

  “Affirmative. Establishments within city limits are protected by the Neutral King’s Barrier. Any attempt to kill or seriously harm another inside a registered business results in instant arm severance. Wounds are healed immediately, but limbs remain detached until a mage reattaches them—within the expiration window.”

  I whistled low.

  “Harsh, but effective.”

  I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

  Fired by AI.

  Now working for an AI.

  Delivering packages across worlds.

  One hundred goldcoins for one sword.

  And invincibility as long as I wore the helmet.

  I laughed again—this time softer.

  Maybe getting replaced wasn’t the end.

  Maybe it was just the beginning.

  To be continued…