The next thing Cade knew a roaring wind was screaming into his ears. He opened his eyes to realize, with a burst of adrenaline, that he was falling. Fast. Hurtling down through open air, clouds whipping past him in blurred smears of white.
His limbs flailed uselessly for a second before he forced himself still. Below him—stretched impossibly far beneath—was a vast landscape carved into four perfectly divided quadrants. The geometry was surreal, unnatural. The entire region looked enormous, a massive circle so large Cade's mind struggled to make sense of it. He shouldn't have been able to see this much detail from this high up. Even in freefall, even with a clear sky, that kind of visibility didn't make sense.
Magic, he realized. Or whatever passed for magic now. The System must be letting them see the full layout of the Tutorial on the way down, as if it wanted every new arrival to understand just how trapped they were.
It was like looking down on a colossal, color-coded game board painted across the land.
Each quadrant was a biome, perfectly distinct and unnaturally segmented, the boundaries too clean to be natural.
To Cade's right was a land of blackened stone and scorched earth. Ridges of twisted obsidian snaked across the terrain. In the center rose a jagged mountain, its summit split by a massive volcanic crater. Lava churned and spewed upwards in glowing arcs, lighting the dark landscape with bursts of orange-red. Smoke poured upward in slow plumes and then dispersed into nothingness.
To Cade's left, was winter. A white world of snow-covered plains and pine-covered ridges. At the center of that biome, a towering mountain rose like a silent sentinel, draped in snow and cloaked in evergreens. From this distance, the trees looked like scattered green brushstrokes against the white canvas of the slope.
Directly across from him was a desert. Vast stretches of golden yellow that shimmered under a sun too bright to be real. Dunes rippled outward from the center, where a single lush green oasis broke the monotony. At its heart was a deep-blue oval of water, bordered by dense vegetation like a living eye in the sea of sand.
And directly beneath him the land was green—vibrant, lush, and alive. Forests stretched endlessly, a carpet of treetops spotted with open water. But as Cade's descent brought him closer, he saw it wasn't a standard forest. Swampy patches of brackish brown water and winding rivers gleamed between dense greenery. And in the center of the quadrant below, nestled like a target, was a large circular lake with a single forested island in the middle.
Cade's awe at the unnatural beauty below was short-lived.
A shimmering point of light flared to life in the exact center where all four quadrants met. From that center, a blue dome began to emerge, translucent at first—like a bubble surfacing on water—then growing steadily more opaque as it expanded. The dome surged outward, rapidly claiming space. Within seconds, it grew until it spanned a quarter of the entire tutorial zone's radius.
Then came the walls.
Lines of shimmering blue light stretched outward from the edge of the dome, tracing precisely along the boundaries between the biomes. They reached the outer perimeter of the zone and surged skyward. As they climbed, they too became solid, opaque walls—sectioning the circle into sealed quarters. The biomes, once clearly visible, were now locked behind their respective barriers.
Cade was now clearly descending toward the wetlands quadrant.
The treetops drew closer with every passing second. Panic began to creep in. He looked around to find he wasn't alone.
Other dots were falling from the sky. Dozens of them, no hundreds, maybe more. Some were right above him, some much higher, descending slowly on more controlled trajectories. But he was clearly the lowest, hurtling toward the ground with no sign of slowing.
His stomach flipped.
"Okay," he muttered, "this is bad. This is really bad."
The trees were getting too close too fast.
"I'm gonna die. I'm gonna crash. They dropped me here and forgot to give me a parachute."
His thoughts spiraled as the wetlands rushed up to meet him. He could see individual leaves now. The surface of the large lake shimmered in the distance. The central island loomed beyond—but Cade was nowhere near it. He was heading toward the outer forest edge, somewhere near a clearing.
He clenched his eyes shut, arms flailed out trying to catch against air. "Shitshitshit—!"
Then, suddenly, his descent slowed.
It was as if invisible hands grabbed him and began gently resisting the fall. His body jolted, not painfully, but with just enough force to remind him he was not in control. The ground was still rushing up, but now the speed was manageable, like descending in an invisible elevator.
Cade opened his eyes.
"Thank you," he gasped. "Thank you, System, for not letting me die right away."
He floated the last hundred meters, descending toward a mossy clearing surrounded by tall, broad-leafed trees. The earth below looked spongy and wet. The clearing itself looked deliberate, flat, and open.
A landing pad.
He touched down with a soft squelch of moist earth—and promptly fell flat on his face.
"God—ugh—dammit," he mumbled into the wet dirt.
He pushed himself up, mud streaking the knees of his jeans. His palms were slick with moisture. His wrinkled T-shirt was already stained. Everything around him smelled like waterlogged leaves and damp moss.
Still, he was alive.
Cade grinned. "Alright. Step one: don't die. Nailed it."
Then he looked up and the smile faded.
Above him, more figures were descending. One in particular was dropping fast and angled toward the same clearing.
Cade stepped back, instincts buzzing. The figure landed roughly five meters away with a loud crunch of moss and damp leaves.
Amanda, the administrative assistant, landed with a stiff stumble, her boots squelching into the soft earth. She bent her knees to brace herself, leaning heavily on the wooden staff she clutched in both hands. For a moment, she looked like she might fall but her balance held.
Cade straightened as she looked up.
Her eyes locked onto his, and her brow furrowed in confusion.
She didn't say anything at first, just stared at him like she was trying to remember his name. Cade realized, with mild self-consciousness, that he was wearing the same jeans and wrinkled T-shirt, just now dirt-smudged from his graceless landing. Meanwhile, Amanda wore a light brown robe cinched at the waist with a knotted cord. The hem brushed against her boots, already damp with water from her landing. The staff she held was polished and slightly gnarled, clearly not a random branch she picked up on the way down.
Cade raised a hand and gave a tentative wave. "Hey, Amanda."
She blinked and tilted her head. "Cade? What are you—?"
She didn't finish. Instead, her eyes darted up again. Cade turned just in time to hear the sound of a voice cutting through the clearing—cheerful, loud, and unmistakably familiar.
"Woooo! This is amazing!"
Cade looked up.
Nadean descended fast but more controlled than either Cade or Amanda. She twisted midair pulling her legs beneath her and landing in a crouch that sent up a puff of mossy mist, then rose with a grin, her eyes immediately sweeping the area.
Like Amanda, Nadean looked like she'd been plucked from a fantasy novel. Her dark leather armor was close-fitted and clearly well-made, layered for flexibility. Twin blades—daggers or short swords, Cade couldn't tell from this distance—hung from each hip in sleek scabbards. Her boots were mud-splashed but clearly designed for movement. She looked cool, confident, and dangerous.
Her eyes landed on Amanda first. "Oh my god, thank the System it's you."
Then she turned to Cade and brightened even more. "Cade! You made it too! I was worried I'd get stuck with some random idiots I couldn't trust."
She practically skipped over, stopped beside him, and gave him a once-over. "Wait. Where's your gear?"
Before he could respond, another soft thud hit the earth behind them. They turned.
Professor Sanders landed with the grace of someone who'd done this before, though Cade doubted that was possible. His outfit looked oddly grounded: brown leather pants, a linen shirt, and—strangely—a white lab coat, pristine and out-of-place, complete with colored pens stuffed into the chest pocket. He held a black leather-bound notebook in one hand and touched down as if descending the final step of a staircase.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He blinked at the three of them. For the first time in Cade's life, Professor Sanders looked genuinely surprised.
His gaze lingered on Amanda and Nadean for a heartbeat before flicking to Cade and freezing.
Cade straightened unconsciously. There was no anger in the professor's eyes, just a glimmer of bafflement.
Professor Sanders walked forward, stopping beside Amanda and Nadean. "Well," he said, tone dry, "this is unexpected."
He gave Amanda a slight nod. "Ms. Blythe. Good to see you."
Amanda responded with a polite, "Professor."
"Nadean," Professor Sanders added with a bit more warmth. "Glad you're both in one piece, despite the strange circumstances with which we find ourselves."
He turned to Cade. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Good to see you too, Cade."
Cade nodded, uncertain.
Then Professor Sanders made eye contact and mouthed silently: We'll talk later.
Cade's stomach sank. Great. That couldn't mean anything good.
Before the awkwardness could deepen, a sharp voice cut through the canopy above, carried by laughter.
"This is insane! I love this!"
They all looked up to see the final figure descending—Sasesh. He came down slower than the others, riding the air with an odd drifting motion. In one hand he held a sleek, dark brown length of polished wood, just under a foot long, with faint ripples of stone-gray grain spiraling along its surface. A wand.
His robe was dark brown and embroidered with faint silver sigils that shimmered as he moved. His boots looked like something you'd find at a high-end store.
He landed with a controlled step, chuckling to himself.
"This… this is wild."
Then he spotted the others.
His smile widened when he saw Amanda. "Admin squad, huh? Not bad."
He looked to Professor Sanders. "Sir, I had no idea we'd be Isekai'd together."
His gaze settled on Cade last—and something in his expression shifted. A flicker of surprise, then smugness as he took in Cade's appearance, and finally amusement.
Neither of them said anything.
For a moment, the group just stood there, the five of them forming an awkward circle in the damp clearing. The air buzzed faintly. Static? Some sort of energy? Whatever it was, Cade couldn't tell.
Then, as if on cue, a faint chime echoed through the clearing.
A glowing blue pane appeared in front of each of them.
WELCOME, NEWLY INTEGRATED BEINGS, TO THE 111th UNIVERSE'S TUTORIAL
This Tutorial is a Survival-Type. The primary objective is simple: survive for 90 Earth-standard days.
During the first 30 days, you will be confined to your assigned quadrant. The containment walls will dissolve after that period, allowing interquadrant exploration.
Objective: Survive.
Optional Goal: Increase your Tutorial Score by performing actions aligned with your Class or Profession.
Rewards: Your final Tutorial Score will determine your rewards upon completion.
Note: Death within the Tutorial is permanent.
The light faded, leaving the group in silence. The only sound was the distant croak of something amphibious in the wetlands beyond the trees.
"Permanent death," Nadean repeated under her breath. "So like, we can actually die here."
Professor Sanders adjusted his lab coat, eyes darting back and forth as though analyzing the message for hidden variables. "It appears so. Which means we'll need to strategize. I suggest we establish information first. It's clear we're sharing a starting zone so cooperation is the rational first step."
Amanda nodded. "He's right. We need to know what everyone can do."
Nadean grinned, resting a hand on one of her twin blades. "Oh, we're doing the party intro thing? Fine by me."
Professor Sanders stepped forward, assuming his familiar lecture tone. "Very well. Since I brought it up, I'll begin."
He straightened his coat, then clasped his notebook behind his back. "The System offered me several options upon integration. I selected Profession: [Scientist]. The description provided was 'Analytical experimenter; identifies, tests, and exploits phenomena for practical advantage.' It seemed fitting."
"Of course it did," Sasesh murmured, smirking. "You're the only guy I know who would get isekai'd and still end up a scientist."
Cade resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Professor Sanders ignored him. "It seems my abilities revolve around observation and analysis. I can gather data on materials and perhaps unlock recipes or formulae. Useful, if not flashy."
Nadean stepped forward next, twirling one of her daggers before sheathing it again with practiced flair. "Alright, my turn. I got a Class: [Rogue]. The System called it an 'Adaptive infiltrator; observes, evades, and exploits openings through stealth and precision.'"
Her grin widened. "Basically, I sneak around and stab things when necessary. I wasn't sure what kind of Tutorial I'd get, so I went with the 'don't die first' choice."
Amanda gave her a small smile. "You always were quick on your feet."
"Damn right." Nadean winked.
Amanda took a step forward next. Her robe swished around her ankles as she rested both hands on her staff. "I chose Class: [Healer]. The System said its a 'Frontline medic; restores health, stabilizes wounds, and mitigates harm with efficient care.'"
Cade blinked. "Frontline? That sounds dangerous."
She smiled faintly. "I think it means I can heal faster if I'm near whoever's hurt. I wasn't given many options—mostly administrative-type professions—but Healer stood out."
Professor Sanders nodded approvingly. "An invaluable role. Having restorative capability will make survival far more probable."
Sasesh cleared his throat loudly, drawing everyone's attention. "Alright, alright, enough common talk." He raised his wand slightly, smirking. "I, ladies and gentlemen, was offered Class: [Tectonic Graviturge]."
Cade frowned. "A what?"
Sasesh gestured with his wand, making faint motes of brown light spiral in the air. "Terrakinetic caster who shapes stone while modulating local pull forces to pin foes or lighten allies. The System's words, not mine."
Nadean whistled. "So earth magic and gravity control?"
"Exactly." Sasesh's grin widened. "Rare-tier class, by the way. Guess the System knows talent when it sees it."
Amanda gave him a polite but unimpressed look. "And what can you actually do with it right now?"
"Well," Sasesh said, looking at his wand. "Not much yet. But it's rare. So, you know it has to have potential."
Professor Sanders sighed. "Let's focus. A scientist, a rogue, a healer, and a… tectonic graviturge. That gives us analysis, stealth, support, and elemental control." He turned toward Cade. "And you, Cade? What Class or Profession did you select?"
All eyes turned toward him.
Cade felt heat rise to his face. His throat tightened. He hadn't expected to have to say it aloud so soon.
He rubbed his neck, staring at the damp soil. "I… uh… I didn't get one."
A pause.
Professor Sanders frowned slightly. "You didn't choose one?"
"No," Cade said, quietly. "I didn't get the option."
Nadean tilted her head. "What do you mean you didn't get the option? Everyone gets one."
Cade forced a dry laugh. "Apparently not everyone."
Amanda blinked. "You mean…?"
He sighed, looking up. "I don't have a System Core. The automatic formation failed during initialization."
Silence. Even the insects seemed to stop.
Sasesh snorted—but one sharp glare from Amanda shut him up before it could turn into a laugh.
"That's…" Nadean began carefully. "That's not good."
"No kidding," Cade muttered. "The System said I shouldn't even be here. I was supposed to go to a 'safe' Tutorial for people without cores, but I got transferred here instead for some reason. No class. No profession. Nothing."
Professor Sanders' brow furrowed. "That doesn't align with the parameters the System described."
"Yeah, well," Cade said, giving a helpless shrug that clearly meant your guess is as good as mine.
Amanda opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. Pity flickered in her expression. Cade hated that more than Sasesh's smug silence.
He straightened, forcing a smile. "It's fine. Really. I'll figure something out."
Sasesh rolled his eyes but said nothing.
A heavy silence followed Cade's words. The only sound was the distant rustle of wind through the trees and the quiet gurgle of water nearby.
Cade stared at the ground, hands shoved into his jeans pockets, waiting for someone to say something—anything. He didn't know what he expected. Sympathy? Pity? More awkward silence?
Instead, Nadean broke into a grin.
"Well," she said brightly, "guess that just means I'll have to keep you alive with my super-fast daggers."
Cade blinked, startled, as she mimed a dramatic flourish of her blades.
He gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks but let's hope we don't get into any fights anytime soon."
"Oh, I fully plan to avoid them," she said cheerfully. "But just in case."
Amanda stepped forward, tapping her staff once on the damp ground. "She's right. We'll keep you covered. Besides, even without a class, you're still a human being with two legs and two hands. I'm sure you'll find some way to help out."
Professor Sanders nodded, though his expression remained thoughtful. "We'll adjust. Planning around each other's strengths is the key to long-term survival. Cade's lack of a core complicates matters, but it isn't insurmountable."
That was more support than Cade expected.
He cleared his throat and looked around at the group. "Okay, well, I might not have a class or profession, but I've read a lot of books. I played more video games than I probably should admit."
Amanda arched a brow. "You're saying fantasy novels make you an expert survivalist now?"
Cade shrugged. "That and my dad used to drag me out camping in the Everglades every summer. Taught me the basics. We're in a wetlands biome, it'll get cold and damp fast when the sun goes down. First night's the most dangerous in survival situations. We need cover. Preferably somewhere we can see anything coming."
Professor Sanders nodded. "Agreed. For now we should assume the artificial sun overhead gives us an approximation of Earth's day cycle. We likely have several hours before dark."
Cade glanced upward. The sun-like orb hung high and motionless, casting an even light. "Yeah, hard to say how long exactly, but better to move and scout out the area early."
"We should also look for other groups," Amanda said. "There are others in this quadrant, safety in numbers might be our best bet."
Sasesh, who had remained oddly quiet, finally spoke—eyes still locked on a System screen the rest couldn't see. "As long as they don't slow us down. Or try to take what we find."
Nadean rolled her eyes. "Always a ray of sunshine."
Cade sighed and took the first step toward the trees. "Let's get moving."
Cade trudged through the underbrush, boots sinking slightly into the damp moss with every step. The party had moved inland from the landing site, avoiding the lowest, slickest stretches of terrain where brackish pools reflected the sky.
The landscape reminded him less of the Everglades and more like a Louisiana cypress swamp that someone had fed mana until it bloated with magic. Towering trunks jutted skyward like pillars, their bark veined with soft luminescence. Some trees had roots thick enough to walk across, forming twisted causeways over the boggier patches. Others drooped with heavy moss that glowed faintly in the shade.
It would've been beautiful, if it hadn't felt like the forest was watching them.
Cade stepped over a gnarled root and broke the silence. "Okay, I've gotta ask. Why are you all so calm about this?"
The group turned slightly, but none of them stopped walking.
Amanda was the first to respond. "We already went through the initiation, didn't you?"
Cade raised a brow. "Initiation?"
"When the core formed," Professor Sanders added. "It wasn't just a physical implantation. There was… for lack of a better term, information. Data, compressed and uploaded into our minds. Fast, overwhelming. Like having a book jammed into your brain and forced open all at once."
Amanda nodded. "Same thing happened when I chose my class. It wasn't just names and labels—it felt like instinctual knowledge. I knew what the System was. I knew this Tutorial was real. There wasn't really room for disbelief."
"Huh," Cade muttered.
He didn't have a System core or a class. He'd been tossed into this place raw, eyes wide and clueless. But now, he wasn't sure if that was a disadvantage or a kind of freedom.
Is that mind control? Cade wondered. Or just forced acceptance?
He couldn't decide if he was disturbed or envious. He'd accepted the situation almost instantly—but that was because he'd wanted this. Secretly, selfishly, for years. Not just magic, but the premise of it all. The escape. The chance to do more than his old world had allowed.
But now that it was real?
He wasn't so sure anymore.
"Did the knowledge come with any side effects?" he asked, casually. "Emotional shifts? Compulsion? Changes in perspective?"
Professor Sanders gave him a sidelong glance. "Not that I noticed."
Nadean flashed a grin. "No weird side effects here but I wouldn't say no to an upgrade to my charm."
They kept walking, weaving through a patch of tall reeds that gave off a faint, cinnamon-sweet aroma. Somewhere in the distance, something let out a deep, throaty bloop.
Cade kicked at a mushroom the size of a dinner plate, half-submerged in the mud. "Alright. Since y'all have classes, what kind of skills did you guys get with your classes?"
The group slowed as the ground began to rise, forming a natural ridge where the mud gave way to firmer soil. The air grew cooler, less choked by humidity. Amanda swatted at a glowing insect the size of a hummingbird while Nadean jumped lightly between exposed roots ahead of them, balancing like she was born to move through uneven terrain.
"Well?" Cade prompted again. "Don't tell me the System gave you all those fancy classes without at least tossing in some starter abilities."
Nadean was the first to respond, flashing him a grin over her shoulder. "I got two. One active, one passive. The passive says it makes me less noticeable."
"Less noticeable?" Cade asked. "Like camouflage?"
"Not exactly," she said, tilting her head. "It doesn't make me invisible or anything. I just feel quieter. It's weird and I'm not quite sure how it works yet."
"Sounds like stealth," Sasesh muttered. "Every cliché rogue has a stealth ability."
Nadean ignored him. "The active skill is [Exploit Opening]. It's supposed to hit weak points for extra damage, but it doesn't explain how I find those weak points. Guess I'll have to practice."
Cade nodded. "Makes sense. Games usually hide that kind of thing. Probably the same here or something similar."
Amanda cleared her throat softly. "Mine's a little simpler. My active skill is [Restoration Touch]. I can heal wounds, but I have to be in physical contact. My passive skill is [Purifying Presence]. It increases resistance to diseases for me and anyone I choose that is nearby."
Cade's eyebrows lifted. "So, like, an aura?"
"I'm not sure," Amanda admitted. "The System didn't specify. I'll need to test it somehow."
An aura-based buff would be huge, Cade thought. Continuous protection with minimal effort for the one using it. That's the kind of passive you build teams around and it'll only get better as she levels up.
He kept the thought to himself, though—no need to start sounding like an obsessed gamer five minutes into the apocalypse.
Professor Sanders was next. "I received a passive skill called [Methodical Precision]. When I repeat an process under similar conditions, the variance decreases and my results become more reliable."
"That sounds pretty overpowered," Cade said. "I wonder if it's exponential or additive, either way any improvement through repetition has to be strong."
The professor gave a modest shrug. "I'm sure there are reasonable limits, yes. As for my active ability—[Analyze]. It lets me study an object, creature, or process in depth. The longer I maintain focus, the more information I obtain."
Cade blinked. "Is that like an inspection skill?"
Professor Sanders nodded. "Yes, though [Inspect] is a separate, more general ability. [Analyze] is more involved—it provides structure, composition, potential applications, even weaknesses if it's biological. But it takes time."
"You got three skills?" Cade asked, half joking. "Starting to sound unfair."
Amanda smiled faintly. "I have [Inspect] too."
"Same here," Nadean said.
Sasesh raised a hand lazily. "Yeah, me too. Seems like a default."
Cade exhaled. "Makes sense. The System probably gives everyone with a Core the skill by default. New world with unknown lifeforms—it'd be a mess if people couldn't tell what was safe to touch or eat."
"Or what might eat us," Amanda murmured.
Nadean's grin faded slightly. "Fair point."
Cade looked toward Sasesh, who had been uncharacteristically quiet. "Alright, your turn, Gravity Man."
Sasesh shot him a flat look. "You really want to know?"
Cade smirked. "Come on, you were bragging earlier. Don't clam up now. You've got a rare class—let's hear the goods."
Nadean crossed her arms and nodded encouragingly. Even Professor Sanders looked curious. Amanda stayed silent, watching Sasesh with patient interest.
Sasesh sighed. "Fine. My passive skill is [Gravity Veil]. It lets me modify my personal gravity to be lighter or heavier."
Cade blinked. "That explains why you landed last."
Sasesh tilted his chin slightly. "Exactly."
"And what about your active skill?" Professor Sanders asked.
Sasesh hesitated. "It's called [Earthen Shift]. It moves dirt. Not exactly thrilling."
"That's it?" Nadean asked incredulously. "You can move dirt?"
He shrugged. "That's what it says."
Cade grinned. "Come on, that's still huge. You could dig trenches, make walls, maybe even build a house. Sounds perfect for survival."
Sasesh waved him off. "It's not that cool. It says it costs a lot of mana."
"Still," Cade said, "you've got a rare class. That skill probably scales like crazy. You should practice. See how it goes."
Amanda nodded. "I agree. We should all test our skills before we actually need them."
"Yeah," Nadean said. "Show us what it can do."
Sasesh stared at the group, clearly debating whether it was worth it. Then, with a sigh that sounded more like a theatrical groan, he drew his wand.
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
"Fine," he muttered. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."
He flicked the wand toward a raised bank of earth a few meters away. The air shifted—Cade could feel it, a subtle static that made the fine hairs on his arms stand up. The wand's tip glowed faintly yellow. Then the ground bulged, slow at first, then faster, until a five-foot dome of compacted soil stood before them, smooth and solid.
The group stared.
Cade's eyes widened. "You call that boring?"
Sasesh looked mildly annoyed by the awe. "It's just dirt."
"Yeah," Cade said softly, "but you moved it. You shaped it with your mind. That's not boring—that's the coolest thing I've ever seen."
Professor Sanders crouched near the mound, running a hand along the surface. "Fascinating. The soil's been compressed but retains internal cohesion. The structure's stable, not just displaced."
Sasesh crossed his arms. "And it burned a third of my mana. So yeah—cool, but expensive."
"Still," Cade said, "you'll get better with use. You could build us a shelter if we can't find one before dark."
Sasesh said nothing, but Cade caught the faintest flicker of pride behind his calm expression. He didn't look drained. Not even winded. Which made Cade wonder if he was bluffing about the mana cost—or if the effects just weren't visible.
Before he could ask, Nadean froze mid-step.
"Wait," she hissed, raising a hand.
The others went still.
Her eyes darted toward the dirt mound. The faint hum of insects dimmed. For a long heartbeat, the forest held its breath.
Then came a scrape—low and heavy—from beneath the mound.
Cade's pulse spiked. "Uh tell me that was just the dirt settling."
Nadean shook her head. "That wasn't settling."
The earthen dome cracked with a dull snap, and a sudden bulge formed in the center of the mound. Everyone stepped back just before the mound erupted.
A geyser of mud sprayed outward as something tore through the packed earth. A massive creature—like a crayfish, but hideously oversized—thrashed free from the dome's collapsing lip. It landed with a wet thud, lacquered carapace glistening in hues of rust-brown and deep red. The body was over a meter long, armored in a hardened shell. One of its claws was disproportionately large—easily the size of Cade's torso—while the other was smaller, twitching rhythmically. Its eyes, beady and black, swiveled rapidly atop pale stalks.
The tail flicked up and fanned, launching a spray of stinking wet mud into the party.
Cade stumbled back, shielding his face with an arm as he fought back the urge to panic.
"What the hell is that!?" Cade yelled.
"Juvenile Mudburrow Crayfish—Level 1!" Professor Sanders shouted, his eyes clearly focused on a screen in front of him that none of them could see. "Give me a few seconds to [Analyze]!"
They didn't have a few seconds.
The crayfish surged forward, claws raised—and it was fast. Much faster than its bulk suggested. It scuttled toward Amanda, who was closest, legs snapping in rapid percussion over the mud-slick roots.
Amanda froze, wide-eyed.
No no no—
Cade moved before thinking. He lunged for the nearest thing he could grab—a thick, rotted branch half-buried in the muck. He wrenched it free, the bark soggy in his grip. In the same motion he sprinted between Amanda and the incoming crustacean and swung the branch.
The crayfish raised its massive right claw, ripped the branch from Cade's hands, and flung it in Amanda's direction.
The branch hit Amanda square in the chest and she shrieked and fell back hard from the impact.
Then a blur from the left.
It was Nadean.
She was in motion, silent and low. Her twin daggers flashed in the light, slicing toward the creature's side—its attention entirely fixed on Cade.
Its gaze hadn't tracked her at all.
Her passive made the crayfish ignore her, Cade realized.
She struck, one blade aiming for the creature's eyestalk. A shimmer pulsed through her arm as the strike shifted, subtly corrected by some invisible guide. It hit the base of the stalk—but only left a shallow cut.
The crayfish shrieked—if a thing like that could shriek— and flailed. Its tail swept, dragging a spray of sludge in a wide arc. Nadean ducked and rolled, mud streaking across her armor.
Amanda scrambled back onto her feet and pressed a hand against her own chest. A soft green glow flared from her palm as her breathing steadied.
Cade watched, stunned. She just healed herself.
"Burrow ambusher!" Professor Sanders called. "Lateral mobility is limited on firm terrain. Weak points under the tail and leg joints. The right claw is its main weapon—don't let it hit you!"
"Thanks for the warning!" Cade shouted back.
Sasesh, still a few steps back, raised his wand. The air shimmered—Cade could feel it again, the weight of the atmosphere shifted subtly. The dirt under the crayfish heaved, forming small mounds—micro-berms that boxed the creature in.
Its legs scrambled for traction, but the uneven terrain slowed it just enough.
Nadean capitalized.
Her left dagger slashed across the rear leg joint. A clean, deep cut. The limb spasmed and gave out. The creature's balance shifted awkwardly, and it sagged to one side.
It thrashed in response, but couldn't immediately regain its footing.
"Flip it!" Professor Sanders shouted. "The gill plates are underneath. The exposed soft tissue is a weak point"
Sasesh narrowed his eyes, flicked his wand again.
Part of the dome he'd created earlier slumped, collapsing at an angle. With a flick of his wrist, the slanted wall of mud pushed against the crayfish's midsection like a crude lever. The creature's legs slipped, lost leverage—and it tipped, landing heavily on its side.
Mud splattered all over Cade.
Nadean dashed forward.
Her daggers flashed again—quick, clean, and precise—driving straight into the narrow slits just behind the gill plates.
The crayfish convulsed once, then stilled.
Silence settled over the clearing. Cade's ears rang with leftover adrenaline.
Then—
Ding!
You have assisted in defeating [Juvenile Mudburrow Crayfish – Level 1].
Shared experience awarded based on contribution.
Another message followed immediately:
Race: [Human – (H)] has reached Level 1.
+1 to all stats.
A soft glow passed through Cade's chest, and for a moment he just stood there, blinking at the notification.
"Did—did anyone else level up?" he asked, looking around.
Nadean raised a hand with a grin. "Yep. Got a Class level and a Race level."
Amanda nodded. "Same here. One each."
Professor Sanders adjusted his glasses. "Indeed. Class and Race both advanced to Level 1."
Sasesh let out a bored-sounding sigh. "Yeah, yeah. Ding, ding, congrats to all of us."
Cade stared at them, confused. "So we all got experience from that? Even me?"
"You did step between Amanda and the creature," Professor Sanders said thoughtfully. "That act of distraction likely registered as contribution. The System may use a broader definition of impact than expected. Shared XP distribution implies all participants added value—direct or indirect."
Sasesh snorted. "Or it just gave out participation trophies."
Cade gave him a flat look.
"And you nearly took Amanda out with that tree branch," Sasesh muttered.
"Still," Professor Sanders interjected, his tone mild but firm, "the point remains: if the System awards shared experience, then it's tracking more than just damage dealt. That's worth studying."
Amanda stepped closer, wiping a smudge of mud from her cheek. "Well that was intense."
Nadean cleaned her daggers with a leaf, grinning. "Are you kidding? That was awesome. First fight, and no one died. I call that a win."
Cade flexed his fingers. "You were amazing. All of you."
"You didn't do too badly," Amanda said. "You distracted it."
"I hate to admit it but Sasesh is right. Amanda, you were hurt because of my actions."
"That overgrown lobster was coming straight for me, who knows what would have happened if you hadn't distracted it," she replied. "And besides, I had the chance to use my healing skill and I'm basically fine now."
Cade opened his mouth to argue, then stopped.
Her words echoed in his head and not just the reassurance. I had the chance to use my healing skill.
A thread connected.
Nadean used her stealth and [Exploit Opening] to hit the crayfish's weak points.
Professor Sanders used [Analyze] to find those weak points in the first place.
Sasesh shaped the terrain and flipped the damn thing over like it was nothing.
All of them had done exactly what their classes were designed to do.
And the System had rewarded that.
Increase your Tutorial Score by performing actions aligned with your Class or Profession.
That line from the System's first message came back to him now, clear as a bell.
They hadn't just survived. They had demonstrated their roles and been rewarded for their effort.
That must've been what triggered their Class and Profession levels.
Meanwhile, Cade hadn't done any of that. He hadn't healed, analyzed, ambushed, or cast a spell. He hadn't done anything class-specific because—well—he didn't have one.
But the Race level?
That was different. He'd still received that. He'd contributed, however slightly. And that meant everyone got shared experience from the creature's death. Race progression, maybe, was more about presence and engagement—while Class and Profession progression came from action, from fulfilling the expected purpose.
He rubbed his jaw, glancing between the others.
"Guys," he said slowly, "I think I get it. Why y'all got Class levels."
Nadean raised a brow. "Because we're amazing?"
"Besides that," Cade said. "You each did something that lines up with your class or profession. Amanda healed. Professor Sanders analyzed the creature. You found weak points and struck. And Sasesh used terrain control to literally tip the fight."
"So?" Sasesh said, folding his arms.
"So," Cade continued, "that's exactly what the System told us, well you, to do—to increase your Tutorial Score by performing actions aligned with your Class or Profession. That's probably what triggered your level ups."
Amanda's brow furrowed. "You think our actions contributed directly to Class experience?"
Cade nodded. "Yeah. The crayfish death gave shared experience, which explains the Race level. But the rest? It wasn't just about killing the thing. You each did your job—and the System noticed."
Professor Sanders gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "That would align with what we've observed so far. Targeted action, class-aligned execution. It stands to reason that the System is behaviorally reinforcing the function we each chose."
Nadean tilted her head, thoughtful. "So we get stronger by doing what we're meant to do?"
Sasesh shrugged. "So long as that means I can eventually toss boulders, sure."
Cade stayed quiet for a beat, chewing the inside of his cheek.
There was no "job" for him. No class. No profession. No role to fulfill.
Just… survive and hope he'll earn one eventually.
But another thought surfaced. Does it only count in combat?
Did Amanda have to heal under pressure? Did Professor Sanders need danger to analyze? Could Sasesh and Nadean earn progress just by training or using their abilities outside of a fight?
He was still turning that over when a voice broke through his thoughts.
"Hey," Sasesh called from near the crayfish's corpse, "looks like we got more than XP."
Cade blinked, pulled back to the present. "What do you mean?"
Sasesh crouched beside the broken carapace, nudging aside a thick layer of muck with the tip of his wand. Something clinked.
"Loot."
Sasesh crouched beside the carcass of the Mudburrow Crayfish, nudging one of the cracked gill plates with the tip of his wand. With a sharp twist of his wrist, something snapped loose from the creature's side—a thin, tapered tube, glistening faintly with mucous sheen.
He held it up to the light. The object was translucent and conical, a fan-like bristle array barely visible within.
"[Inspect]," he muttered.
Sasesh's eyes glazed for half a second. Then he exhaled, voice flat.
"Branchial Sieve Setae. Common item. A conical tube containing a fan of microscopic bristles from the gill chamber. Traps silt and microorganisms, purifying water enough to make it potable."
He didn't say anything else, but Cade was watching him closely. The slight downturn of Sasesh's mouth. The way his fingers lingered on the item for a moment too long before tossing it over to Professor Sanders. He'd been hoping for more—a weapon, a spell crystal, something flashy. Not a glorified water filter.
Cade caught the implication and bit back a smirk.
"That's actually a great first drop," Cade said aloud, stepping forward. "Clean drinking water's one of the top survival priorities. Especially in a place like this."
He gestured around them. The swamp pressed close on all sides—murky water, damp moss, glowing fungi clinging to tree trunks. "There's no way any of this is drinkable. Even with Amanda's aura, I'd bet the water here is brimming with magic-parasites or worse."
Amanda wrinkled her nose. "That's probably not inaccurate."
"My [Identify] skill says the tail and claw meat are edible once cooked," Nadean added, crouching near the body. "Doesn't say anything about status effects, but I'm not risking it without confirmation."
She glanced over at Professor Sanders. "Want to double-check me?"
He nodded and crouched beside her, adjusting his glasses. "[Analyze]."
A few seconds passed. "You're right," he confirmed. "The meat is nutrient-rich and technically edible, even raw. However, there's a high likelihood of parasitic contamination. Cooking will neutralize them."
"We should definitely cook it then," Cade said. "Too bad all the wood here's soaked."
Nadean tapped her daggers together. "I'll handle harvesting the meat. Just maybe don't watch too closely if you're squirmish."
She made quick work of it—precise cuts with unnaturally practiced hands. The meat came away in thick, veined chunks, still steaming faintly from residual heat. Cade turned to the underbrush, rummaging until he found another reasonably straight stick. It was rough, damp, and a little green, but it'd do.
He returned and held it up. "We can skewer it. I'll carry it."
Amanda looked skeptical. "It's going to stink."
"Yeah, well I stink already," Cade said with a smirk. "Might as well match."
He helped Nadean slide the meat onto the stick like a giant shish kabob. Once secured, he slung it over his shoulder. The moment he did, he nearly winced.
The thing was heavy.
Much heavier than it looked.
He gritted his teeth and bore it. No complaints. He didn't have a class. Didn't have a role. But if he could carry the meat, contribute in some way, then maybe they wouldn't have to keep watching him like he'd break at any moment.
The others were already moving. Cade adjusted the stick across his shoulder and followed.
One step at a time.
The next few hours passed in a blur of damp ground, buzzing insects, and brief flashes of violence.
They trudged deeper into the wetlands, moving between raised root paths and clusters of glowing fungus. Cade stayed toward the back, meat stick slung over one shoulder, trying to keep up. Each fight they encountered was small, manageable—insects the size of small dogs, small lizards with too many eyes, even a leech that tried to ambush by falling from a tree above them.
And each time, Cade found a new way to mess up.
In the first fight, he tripped over a root and knocked Amanda off balance. In the second, he mistakenly startled the creature, ruining their ambush. In the third, he managed to swing a stick directly into Nadean's path.
She didn't yell. None of them did. But each mistake was a quiet weight Cade added to his own shoulders.
By the time the artificial sun began its slow descent, everyone—including Cade—had leveled again.
Ding!
Race: [Human – (H)] has reached Level 2.
+1 to all stats.
Nadean was the one who spotted the hill.
"There," she said, pointing toward a rise in the distance. "It looks dry. Elevated. Should give us better visibility."
The group made their way toward it, boots squelching through muddy ground. The slope was gentle, but the view from the top was clear: a wide stretch of bog, treetops, and glimmering water around them.
Sasesh let out a tired sigh and looked around. "Give me ten minutes. I'll make us something."
He raised his wand and muttered under his breath. The ground trembled as soil thickened, then curved upward, forming a dome just tall enough for them all to huddle inside. A low wall circled it, chest high, with the dome entrance on one side and a small gap in the wall on the other.
"Offset openings," Professor Sanders said, nodding. "Clever."
"Don't compliment me yet," Sasesh muttered. "I'm down to fumes but there's still something it needs."
He knelt, hands spread, and pressed his palms to the dirt inside the dome. The floor rippled, compacting and smoothing beneath them until the mud was as firm as concrete.
"No surprises from below," he said, standing up slowly.
His eyes glazed over for a moment and he smirked.
"Level up," he announced. "Class level. Looks like you can gain experience outside of combat by utilizing your class."
Cade glanced at him, making a mental note.
The others began unpacking supplies. Cade wandered off briefly, eyes scanning the underbrush for anything usable. Eventually, he found it—a thin, brittle tree, long dead and stripped of bark by age and weather.
Dry wood.
He didn't get much. Just enough to fill his arms.
Back at camp, the group clustered inside the dome.
"Now we just need a fire," Amanda said, rubbing her arms to brush off the oncoming chill of night. "Any bright ideas?"
Nadean snorted. "Really, Amanda? Fire puns now? What, are you trying to spark some conversation?"
Professor Sanders chuckled lightly. "One more pun like that and I might combust from secondhand embarrassment."
"Actually," Cade said. "My dad taught me a few tricks."
He crouched down and pulled a shoelace from his sneaker.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
"We'll need a flat surface. Nadean, can you split one of those pieces of wood with your dagger?"
"Sure thing."
A few quick strikes later, and she handed him a slab of flat dry wood.
Cade fashioned a bowdrill with the lace, a branch, and the driest wood he could find. He demonstrated the motion once, then began the grinding.
Nothing happened.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
His palms stung. Sweat dripped. He cursed under his breath. He kept grinding the bowdrill for what felt like forever but it refused to make an ember. The wood smoked once, but it immediately halted when he stopped moving back and forth. His arms ached, and the shoelace was starting to fray.
Then he paused.
"Professor," he said. "Mind giving it a shot? Your passive skill might help."
Sasesh arched a brow. "You're really redefining 'burnout,' aren't you?"
Cade ignored him.
Professor Sanders took the drill, adjusted his grip, and began, clearly following Cade's example.
The first few attempts mirrored Cade's—slipping, awkward, slow. But then something changed.
His motions became smoother. More efficient. The spindle spun faster and faster as heat built.
A spark. A burst of flame and suddenly the wooden slab caught.
"Whoa!" Professor Sanders yelped, flinching back.
The bowdrill—and Cade's shoelace—went up with the blaze.
"You okay?" Cade asked.
Professor Sanders nodded, waving smoke from his face. "Fine. Just startled."
The group stared at the fire for a beat.
Then Nadean whooped. "We have fire!"
Cade grinned, feeding kindling into the base.
They cooked the crayfish meat slowly, rotating it over the flames. The smell was rich and a little foul, but it was food. Real food.
Cade took a bite.
It was gritty. Muddy. Like biting into the swamp.
But he didn't complain. It was the first thing he'd eaten since yesterday. He'd skipped breakfast that morning after waking up late and rushing straight to the lab.
"Hey," he said between bites. "Anyone check their Tutorial Score yet?"
That drew attention. Eyes glazed as each party member pulled up their respective System screens.
Cade did the same.
Tutorial Score: N/A
He frowned. It made sense, but it still sucked. He didn't have a class. No profession. No job to do. How could he earn points for something that didn't exist?
The others murmured among themselves, but no one shared details.
Cade's tone was quiet, almost resigned. "Mine just says N/A. I guess the System couldn't even be bothered to assign me a Tutorial Score, which seems about par for the course so far."
The silence that followed wasn't just awkward—it was heavy. No one looked at him. No one said a word, they just kept slowly chewing their muddy tasting crayfish meat.
Cade exhaled slowly. He understood. They had already shared more than most would. Secrets were going to happen.
He chewed another bite of meat and stared into the fire. What would he even choose, if the System gave him the chance? The possibilities were endless but right now, he just needed to survive.
After a long, crackling pause beside the fire, Sasesh cleared his throat, his voice slicing through the quiet like a knife. "We need a watch schedule."
No one argued. The fire's warmth did little to soften the chill settling in but it was better than nothing.
"Professor Sanders should sleep," Amanda said gently. "He's not exactly spry, no offense professor."
Professor Sanders opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it and adjusted his glasses instead.
"And I'll need full mana if someone wakes up missing a limb," Amanda added, a weak attempt at humor that didn't quite land.
Nadean cracked her knuckles. "I'll take the first watch. I'm still wired anyway."
Sasesh shrugged. "I'm always up before dawn. I'll take the last."
Cade raised his hand before anyone else could speak. "Middle shift's fine by me. I'll do it."
A beat of hesitation flickered through the group.
"I'll just keep watch," Cade said quickly, "I don't need a class to watch out for anything coming our way."
Amanda gave him a soft look, tired but sincere. "Just wake us if anything happens."
"Promise."
With nothing left to say, the group disbanded one by one, retreating into their makeshift dome.
The earth beneath them was uneven, damp, and smelled faintly of mold but Cade barely noticed.
Sleep took him fast.
A gentle nudge stirred him from the depths of sleep—fingertips brushing his shoulder with surprising care.
"Hey," Nadean whispered. "Your turn."
Cade blinked, sluggish and disoriented. For a moment, he didn't understand where he was but then the damp, mossy air hit him. The faint tang of woodsmoke. The low crackle of dying embers. The dome. That's right, he was in the Tutorial.
He pushed himself upright with a quiet groan, limbs stiff, mind slow to catch up. Nadean had already melted into her place in the shelter without another word. Cade rose, careful not to disturb the others, and stepped into the night.
He made his way to the wall entrance and settled near the base of the wall, the night sounds wrapping around him like a wet blanket—frogs croaking in uneven rhythm, insects buzzing just out of sight, distant ripples slapping against waterlogged roots.
The moon hung low and silver above the wetlands, casting soft light over the glistening trees and still pools. The perimeter wall stood tall behind him—Sasesh's handiwork, rough but sturdy.
Nothing moved in the clearing. No danger. No signs of life but his own.
With nothing else to do, he pulled up his status screen.
STATUS
Name: Cade Whitehollow
Age: 26
Race: [Human (H) – lvl 2]
Health Points (HP): 80 / 80
Stamina Points (SP): 45 / 70
Mana Points (MP): 80 / 80
Statistics:
Strength: 7
Dexterity: 6
Endurance: 7
Vitality: 8
Wisdom: 5
Intelligence: 8
Willpower: 12
Titles:
None
Quests:
None
He frowned at his stamina. 45 out of 70. He hadn't used any active skills—hell, he didn't have any. So the only explanation had to be exhaustion. Just existing here was enough to drain his stamina. It had probably been lower before his nap. Sleep must have helped restore some. He made a mental note to check again after his next sleep—see how much it really restored.
His gaze slid down the list. Two levels gained since arriving. Two points to every stat. A neat, balanced boost. On paper, he was better now—stronger, smarter, tougher. But it didn't feel any different.
No sudden burst of energy. No clarity of mind. He was still the guy barely keeping up.
Maybe the changes were too small to notice. He wondered if he'd feel it at ten points. Twenty.
His eyes caught on the "(H)" beside his race again. Human. Probably. But maybe not, maybe it stood for a rank, like a grade that could be upgraded.
Did other people have letters? He'd ask tomorrow—assuming he made it that far.
A soft crunch behind him made Cade tense instinctively but the silhouette that stepped into the moonlight was familiar. Amanda. Her hair was a little mussed from sleep, her expression unreadable in the silver glow.
"Didn't mean to startle you," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Cade let out a quiet exhale and gave a small nod. "It's okay. Everything alright?"
She eased down beside him, wrapping her arms around her knees. "Woke up and couldn't get back to sleep."
"Sorry if I disturbed you," he offered, glancing sideways.
"You didn't." She looked out past the perimeter wall, where the wetlands stretched into the dark.
Silence fell between them, broken only by the quiet hiss of the dying fire and the slow churn of insects beyond the dome.
Then, after a long beat, Amanda spoke again.
"I keep thinking about them. My husband. My little boy. He turns six next week."
"The System entity, it said they'd be okay. I wanted to believe it. I do believe it. Most of the time." Her voice wavered, hands tightening around her legs. "But then we get attacked by something that crawled straight out of a nightmare and my belief feels fragile."
She paused, blinking hard. "My husband was at work. My son was in school. If this whole thing grouped us by proximity, then…"
Her words trailed off.
Cade didn't need her to finish. The concern twinged with fear sat heavy in the air between them.
Moonlight caught the shine of a tear slipping down her cheek.
He waited, counting the seconds that passed.
When the silence stretched thin and he was sure she wasn't going to say anymore, he finally spoke. "I can't tell you where they are. Or what this System is really doing. But if they're out there then the best thing you can do for them is survive. Get stronger. Be ready for whatever's next because this is just the Tutorial, who knows what life is going to be like afterwards."
Amanda swallowed, then nodded slowly. "You're right. I hate it, but you're right. I can't control where they are. I can only control what I do here."
"Exactly." Cade looked at her, his voice steadier than he felt. "And whatever you need—I've got your back."
That pulled a small, sad smile from her.
Another moment passed.
Then Cade glanced back at Amanda. "When you heal someone—what's that like? What does it feel like?"
Amanda blinked, caught off guard by the shift in subject.
But after a second, her gaze softened. And she began to answer.
Remove
"I don't really understand how it works," Amanda said.
She sat cross-legged beside Cade, her eyes distant, voice low so as not to wake the others behind them. A soft wind stirred the swamp, rustling reeds and chilling them both.
"I just think about using [Restoration Touch], and it happens."
Cade studied her, then nodded. "So it's instinctual. Like flipping a switch."
"More like nudging one," she said. "It's hard to explain."
He leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. "Did anything else get uploaded into your brain when you picked your class?"
Amanda shook her head. "No it was just the basics. I knew I needed to touch someone for it to work. It won't activate on someone who isn't injured. And the worse the wound, the more mana it costs. That's it."
"Seems like the System gave you training wheels but no user manual," Cade muttered.
She huffed a laugh. "Pretty much."
There was a pause, long enough that the distant croak of a frog felt intrusive. Then Cade tilted his head slightly.
"Would you mind humoring me with an experiment?"
Amanda raised a brow. "What kind of experiment?"
"You haven't had a chance to heal anyone outside of combat. And we didn't take that many hits yesterday, everyone was careful. Too careful, maybe."
Her expression tensed. "Cade…"
He was already standing.
Amanda watched, her suspicion sharpening, as Cade walked over to the remains of the fire. He crouched, careful not to disturb the coals, and picked up a half-burnt stick. The tip still glowed with a soft, angry red. The other end was untouched.
"Cade, what are you—"
"I'm not asking you to hurt yourself," he said calmly, returning to her. "That'd be ridiculous."
Then, before she could stop him, he pressed the ember-end of the stick against the underside of his left forearm.
Just for a second.
A hiss of pain escaped his teeth as the heat bit deep across his skin. He yanked the stick away and winced, exhaling through his nose.
Amanda snatched the stick from his hand, glaring. "Are you insane?!"
"It's fine," he said, shaking out his arm. "I didn't hold it long. Besides, I used to accidentally burn myself all the time cooking for my sisters. This is nothing."
"Nothing?" she said, staring at the faintly blistering welt.
He opened his status screen.
Health Points (HP): 75 / 80
"My HP only went down by five points. That's basically a paper cut."
"You're definitely insane," she repeated.
Cade chuckled and offered her his arm, palm up. "Now you can try healing me. And this time, focus on the feeling. What's happening inside you. We need data and this is a safe way to gather it."
Amanda looked like she wanted to argue further, but instead she sighed, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Fine."
She placed her hand lightly over the burn.
A soft green glow bloomed from her palm, faint and warm, like sunlight filtered through leaves on an early spring morning. Cade felt the heat first—not the pain of the burn, but a new warmth that spread outward from her touch. Then the tingling started. Tiny pinpricks dancing across his skin. A second later, the glow faded. Amanda let go and he watched, transfixed, as the damaged tissue repaired itself—fresh skin knitting over the burn in real time.
Cade checked his health again.
Health Points (HP): 79 / 80
The burn was gone. Maybe a faint redness still lingered, but it was hard to tell in the moonlight.
"Huh," Cade said. "Healed. But I'm still missing a point."
Amanda shrugged, eyes on her hands. "Maybe small wounds don't register completely? Or maybe healing has a 'success rate' or threshold."
"Or maybe the System's stingy."
She didn't smile at his bad attempt at a joke. Her face was distant again, unreadable in the dim light.
"What did it feel like?" Cade asked. "Walk me through it."
Amanda was quiet for a long moment before speaking. "It's like something inside me rushes toward my hand. A pressure, maybe? Then it flows out. I don't control it exactly, I just—guide it, I guess. Like turning on a faucet."
"So you activate the skill, mana rushes to the target, and the effect takes over." Cade nodded slowly. "It's probably your mana moving through some sort of channel in your body. Your class must've formed a kind of conduit for the mana to flow."
"Maybe."
He leaned in slightly. "Do you think you could direct it differently? Heal without touching? Or maybe enhance it?"
Amanda's jaw tightened. "Cade."
He stopped.
"I know you're trying to help," she said. "Really. But this is a lot. Between the monsters, the survival, the... everything—this? You burning yourself just so I can heal your wound? It's too much."
Cade's mouth opened, then closed. He nodded once, slowly.
Amanda stood and dusted herself off. "I'm going to lie down. I need whatever rest I can get."
And just like that, she slipped back around and into the dome.
Cade sat alone, the moonlight colder now.
He hadn't meant to push her but he had. Maybe encouraging her to "get stronger" right after she opened up about her family wasn't just tone-deaf—it was callous. He was trying to help. To make sense of the System. But maybe she didn't need someone theorizing and analyzing. Maybe she just needed someone to listen.
He exhaled and leaned back on his hands, staring up through the wall's opening.
He felt like an ass.
Eventually, when the fire was little more than glowing dust, he stood and returned to the dome. Sasesh was already awake, seated cross-legged by the wall, his eyes half-lidded like he'd been meditating.
He looked up as Cade entered the dome and they exchanged a nod.
Cade lay down, the ground hard beneath him.
He shut his eyes but sleep did not come easily this time.
Cade woke to the sound of distant voices, muffled by the earthen dome walls.
For a moment, he didn't move. He stared up at the curved ceiling above him, trying to gather his thoughts. The fire was long dead. The light outside had shifted—brighter, warmer. Morning.
His body ached. His back especially. Sleeping on the packed dirt had left him stiff, his limbs reluctant to move.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
He groaned as he rolled onto his side and sat up. The dome was empty.
He heard quiet conversation just beyond the wall but he couldn't make out the words.
Cade stretched his arms overhead with a satisfying pop, then winced as his shoulders flared with soreness. Not quite enough for damage, but more than enough to make him miss the warmth of a mattress. He rubbed the sleep from his face and shuffled to his feet.
Outside, the others stood in a loose semicircle near the base of the hill. Sasesh had his arms folded. Amanda, Nadean, and Professor Sanders were clustered nearby, speaking in low tones. Their conversation stilled the moment Cade stepped into view.
He hesitated for half a second before walking over.
Nadean spotted him first and flashed a quick smile. "Mornin', sleeping beauty. We were about five minutes away from drawing a unibrow on you."
Cade managed a weak grin. "Appreciate the restraint."
He looked around, taking in the group. Something about the atmosphere felt shifted. Not openly hostile, not even cold, just a little too quiet. Too careful. Amanda gave him a polite nod but didn't meet his eyes.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was all in his head.
"Any idea what the plan is today?" he asked. "I saw an island," he continued, "back when we were falling towards the wetlands. It looked like it was near the center of this quadrant. If anyone else landed nearby, they might head for it."
Sasesh snorted softly. "Of course you saw it. Everyone saw it. That's where we're headed."
Cade bit his tongue. He almost shot something back—something about tone and teamwork—but thought better of it. No one had slept well, combined with the lack of food and the constant damp, morale wasn't exactly high.
Instead, he nodded. "Right. Sounds good."
"I'm ready when you are," he added.
"We all are," Amanda said, brushing dirt from her leggings.
Sasesh raised his wand and pressed it to the ground. With a few whispered words, the dome and its walls collapsed inward, folding into themselves like melting clay until all that was left was flattened earth.
Without another word, they set out.
Cade walked near the back of the group, one eye on the terrain.
As they traveled, he kept scanning for an opening—just one moment where he might pull Amanda aside, apologize, explain. But she was never alone. Always flanked by Professor Sanders, or Nadean, or even Sasesh. Cade wasn't sure if that was just coincidence or if it was intentional.
The sun hung low behind mist-veiled clouds, casting the swamp in a murky, washed-out gray. The air buzzed with insects and the ever-present stink of rot and damp growth.
It wasn't long before trouble found them.
The first came in the form of a lizard—sleek, mottled, and the size of a golden retriever. It darted from a bush with startling speed, jaws wide as it lunged for Nadean.
But Nadean was faster.
She ducked under its leap and rolled aside, drawing her daggers in one smooth motion. Her blades flashed—one stabbed into its stomach as she rolled, the other skittered across the base of its tail. The lizard hissed and twisted. Professor Sanders shouted something about its weak underbelly, and Sasesh followed up with a short, sharp burst of earth magic that disrupted its footing.
The fight lasted less than twenty seconds.
The lizard collapsed in a heap, motionless.
Cade hadn't moved.
He'd stayed near the rear, watching. Ready—so he told himself—to act if things got out of hand. But they hadn't. The others had it under control.
And the System didn't ping him for shared experience. No message about him assisting, no credit earned, nothing.
Cade clenched his jaw and kept walking when the others moved on.
The second fight wasn't so clean.
They were passing beneath a thick copse of trees when the buzzing started. Not the usual drone of swamp insects—this was sharp, shrill, and rising in pitch like an alarm.
Then they burst from the bark.
Cicadas. Palm-sized, translucent, and grotesque. Their wings shimmered like glass shards, catching the light. They poured out from holes in the trunk like living shrapnel, dozens of them, screeching and cutting through the air with gleaming mandibles.
"Shit!" Nadean hissed, ducking just in time.
The swarm scattered—some diving toward Sasesh and Professor Sanders while others veered for Amanda.
Cade swung wildly as a cicada latched onto his shoulder, its mandibles sinking in like twin needles. He yelped, flailing. Another smacked into his arm and bit down hard. He stumbled back, trying to swat them off, but more kept coming.
"Get low!" Amanda shouted.
Professor Sanders dropped. Nadean danced through them, slashing one from the air mid-dive. Sasesh raised a hand, shouted a word Cade didn't understand, and the earth itself rumbled.
A pulse of force rolled out from beneath their feet—then another.
The swamp churned. Mud buckled. In an instant, jagged chunks of stone burst upward, skewering half the swarm mid-flight with a loud crunch.
The rest scattered, buzzing away broken and disoriented.
Then the System chimed in Cade's mind:
You have assisted in defeating [Glass-Winged Marsh Cicada Swarm – Level 3].
Shared experience awarded based on contribution.
Cade panted, hands trembling, the stick he'd been swinging still clenched tight. His arms were a patchwork of shallow bites and bruises. Blood trickled down his sleeve.
Professor Sanders groaned nearby, nursing his forearm.
"They're easier to crush than I expected," Sasesh muttered, eyeing the shattered remains. "Once I figured out how they moved."
Professor Sanders knelt beside one of the corpses. "Fresh shells," he said after a moment. "Newly molted."
Nadean nodded, brushing bug ichor from her hair. "Good to know."
Amanda moved in a blur. She healed herself first—shoulder glowing briefly—then crossed to Professor Sanders and pressed her hand against his injury. A soft green light flickered between them.
When she looked up, her gaze found Cade.
She flinched.
"Y-you okay?" she asked.
Cade looked down.
His shirt was torn in places, sleeves soaked in blood and bug fluid. His arms and legs stung where the mandibles had bitten deep.
He brought up his health screen.
Health Points (HP): 35 / 80
That low?
He hadn't felt like it should be that low—not really. The bites throbbed, and he was sore all over, but he wasn't dizzy or seeing spots. Still, the number made something in his stomach tighten.
"I've had worse," he said, trying to sound casual.
Amanda didn't look convinced. She stepped in close, placed a hand on his chest near the worst bite on his collarbone, and whispered her healing incantation.
The glow flared to life again.
Warmth spread from her palm. A tingling sensation washed through Cade's chest and shoulders. The pain ebbed slightly.
But it only lasted a few seconds.
Then Amanda pulled her hand back and winced.
"That's all I can do for now," she said softly. "I'm nearly out of mana."
Cade glanced at his screen again.
Health Points (HP): 57 / 80
Better. Not full.
"Don't push it," he said quickly. "This is fine. More than fine actually, I'm nearly full now"
Amanda hesitated. "You sure?"
He nodded. "Really. Save the rest in case someone else gets shredded."
He was about to say more—about last night. About the burn and the way he'd disregarded her emotions for a chance to study magic. But he didn't get the chance.
Nadean froze, one hand raised. "Shhh."
Everyone stilled.
She turned her head slowly, eyes narrowing. "I hear something."
"What kind of something?" Sasesh asked.
Her voice was low, tense. "Something big and close by."
Then her eyes widened. "Voices. People. They're shouting."
And just like that, Nadean bolted into the swamp. She vanished into the underbrush like a ghost, blades tucked close as she darted toward the sound of shouting.
Cade didn't hear anything at first. Just the wet squelch of the ground beneath their feet as they tried to follow Nadean's path.
As they moved forward he caught it. Screaming. Yelling. Something hard slamming into something metallic.
The rest of the group surged forward.
Cade ran.
He was immediately behind Professor Sanders and Amanda, with Sasesh pulling ahead of all of them. Nadean had disappeared entirely, already out of sight among the dense trees and hanging moss.
The terrain didn't make it easy. Roots snagged his feet. Mud sucked at his sneakers. Every few steps, Cade had to catch himself from falling flat on his face. His breath came fast, shallow. Sweat clung to his brow and the inside of his clothes.
And still, the others pulled away from him.
Sasesh moved like the ground itself favored him. Amanda and Professor Sanders had the benefit of stat boosts, clearly. Despite his advanced age, Professor Sanders' stride was longer, more determined, more efficient. They all had something—they had roles. The System helped them, gave them stats Cade didn't have the opportunity to earn.
Cade just had his legs and his stubbornness to try and keep up.
He checked his stamina mid-sprint.
Stamina Points (SP): 21 / 70
Damn.
His legs burned. His lungs ached. But he didn't slow.
After a few grueling minutes, the trees thinned—and then broke completely into a wide, open bog.
And there, in the middle of the field, was chaos.
A massive crustacean loomed over the mire. It stood taller than a truck, armored in thick green-blue plates that glinted with wet sheen. Its claws alone looked like they could bisect a person with a single snap.
Nine people fought the creature in a loose formation.
Five surrounded it in close quarters, dancing around its legs. Two more flanked from a distance—one was shooting arrows that bounced harmlessly off its shell, the other was Sasesh who was trying to move the earth under the crab's legs. Cade spotted Professor Sanders and Amanda joining the rear line.
He could hear Professor Sanders shouting "It's a Fenbreaker Landcrab. The leg joints are weak, bring the legs down and it will be easy to finish off!".
Then Cade saw her—Nadean—under the crab's belly, twin daggers flashing as she slashed at the leg joints.
He tried to count how many legs the crab had. Eight? Ten? It didn't matter. Every time it struck, the earth shook.
Cade stumbled to a stop near Professor Sanders, heart hammering. He knew—instantly—that if he ran in, he'd die. One hit, and he'd be crushed.
So he didn't move. He just stood there, trying to catch his breath, as everyone else threw themselves into the fray. For the first time since entering the Tutorial he felt completely and utterly useless.