The grizzly barrels forward like a runaway truck. I shuffle right, betting on a clean sidestep, but its paw shoots out faster than thought. A wall of fur and bone clips my chest. The hit lifts me clear off my feet.
I slam into the earth so hard the world blurs white. Mud fills my mouth. Ribs scream.
[System Alert]
Health below 50%.
Mud fills my mouth. I spit it out and drag in a shaky breath. Every inch of me hurts, but the screen swears I'm only halfway gone. That feels like a sick joke.
I scramble up and grab the baton. It's bent in the middle, one more hit from snapping. The grizzly dips its head, ready for another charge. My pulse hammers, yet old habits kick in. Big frame, thick hide, nothing soft except those dark eyes. Armor everywhere else.
Eyes. That's the weak spot.
The grizzly throws its head back and bellows at the sky. The sound shakes leaves loose. A heavy force rolls off the beast like a wave and slams into me. My knees almost buckle.
A red timer blinks over my sight, counting down from ten. My legs tingle, heavy as wet sand. Instead of freaking, I watch the feeling spread, curious the way I used to study a crime scene. Tight chest, shaky breath, tunneled sight.
"The hell is this?" I murmur. I pull one slow breath, hold for four beats, let it out. Box breathing, first thing they drilled into every dark-room session at Langley. Again. The ground steadies. Heart eases. The timer hesitates on six, flickers, then goes blank. Debuff gone.
The grizzly notices too late. It lunges, claws slicing the air where my head was a second earlier. I drop low, slide under the swing, mud spraying behind my boots. For a split instant we're face to face, my world filled with one glossy black eye.
I ram the busted baton forward. Wood splinters, but the tip punches through jelly and sinks deep. The bear rears, roars, shakes its skull side to side. I keep pressure, forcing the stick until the crack of bone echoes like a snapped branch.
The beast staggers, half blind and raging.
Pain blows the thought clean out of my head. The bear's wild swipe clips my right elbow like a sledgehammer. Something deep snaps. White heat rockets up my arm. I yell loud and hit the mud on my back.
The world tilts. All I see is green sky and the grizzly stumbling around with a broken baton sticking out of its eye. It snorts, shakes, trails dark blood, then locks on me with the eye it has left. I push with my good arm, but the bad one hangs useless, every throb shaking my teeth. The monster lowers its head, ready to finish me.
Move. My brain barks the order. Pain answers with static. I clamp it down. Another Langley drill: label the hurt and shelve it. Hurt is information, not a cage.
The bear charges. I roll once, mud sucking at my ribs, just clear enough. Its claws rake soil where my chest lay a heartbeat earlier. It overshoots, skids, blinds itself with a spray of dirt. I kick up, grab a fist-size rock with my left hand, swing it straight into the open eye socket. Wet crunch. The beast jerks back, confused, roaring at shadows.
I bolt forward, slip under its swipe, and slam my shoulder into its chest. The shock rattles my cracked ribs but knocks the beast off balance for one breath. Enough. I jump, clamp my legs around its neck, and catch the baton's splintered end with my good hand.
The grizzly thrashes, smashing trees, but I hang on. Pain screams through my elbow. I shove the wood harder, feel soft tissue give. The bear rears, tries to scrape me off against a trunk. Bark explodes. I stay locked, drive my knee into its jaw, and heave the baton like a lever. Something inside pops. The beast staggers, legs folding.
We crash together. I roll clear, mud smearing my face. The bear heaves once, twice, then slumps, breath guttering out.
White letters bloom in front of me.
[System Notification]
Kill confirmed – Bogroot Grizzly
Reward: +5 Shards
Shards swirl into my chest like sparks in a storm. My elbow hangs loose, useless, but the monster is dead. I kneel in the muck, heart thudding, and stare at the broken baton still jutting from the skull.
[System Notification]
Level Up!
Current Level: 3
All core stats increased by 0.5
Unused Attribute Points: 1
Heat floods my arm like molten iron. The cracked bone shrieks as it drags itself straight, each fragment grinding back into place. Muscles twist, knit, and pull tight. My ribs pop, one after another, sliding back under skin that itches and burns. The rush tunnels my hearing, sweat stings my eyes, and for a few long heartbeats it feels like the System is rebuilding me with a crowbar. Then the pain drains off in a slow wave, leaving my limbs steady, lungs clear, and the elbow solid as new steel.
A fresh screen pops up and spins like a slot machine before stopping dead.
[Random Loot Reward]
Pick one item. Timer: 60 s
Iron Short Sword – plain steel, better than a stick.Cracked Lunch Tray – smells like swamp stew, zero combat value.Mysterious Rubber Duck – squeaks when squeezed, does nothing else.
A sword, cafeteria junk, and a bath toy. That is the grand prize? The timer rolls down past fifty five. I rub the back of my neck, mud flaking off in chunks, and watch the rubber duck wiggle in its square. Maybe the System has a sense of humor, maybe I am still concussed. Either way a real blade will keep me breathing longer than cafeteria plastic or a squeak toy.
Forty seconds left. I jab a finger at the Iron Short Sword.
The screen flares white then drops. Cold weight lands in my hand, hilt wrapped in plain leather, blade straight and a little bright at the edge. Balance feels right. I give it a light swing. The steel slices a hanging vine as easy as air.
Leveling, loot drops, shiny pop-ups. The whole setup screams MMO. I used to grind dungeons after homework back in college, racing strangers for purple gear. Same rhythm here, just with mud and blood.
"Inventory," I say out loud. Nothing. "Settings." Still nothing. I try "Menu," "Bag," even "Logout." The jungle only answers with bug chirps. So much for control keys. I remember how games always had one screen that never failed.
"Status."
[System Notification]
Name: Charles Mercer
Level: 3
Class: N/A
Title: Sealed Case
Shards: 8
Stats
Vitality: 2.0
Strength: 3.0
Dexterity: 2.0
Luck: 2.0
Unused Attribute Points: 1
I keep the status window up while I walk. Numbers hover beside my head like annoying fireflies, but I need to stare at them until they make sense.
Vitality two point zero. That has to be health or endurance. The way my ribs pulled back together proves it matters. Strength three point zero. Obvious. More power in every swing. The sword felt light the moment that number climbed. Dexterity two point zero. Maybe balance or reaction time. I could use more of that after nearly eating bear claws. Luck two point zero. That one bugs me. Does it sway the loot wheel, or keep boulders from landing on my face? Hard to measure. One free point blinks at the bottom like candy. I leave it alone. Spend it later when I learn the rules.
I close the screen and test a few easy cuts through hanging vines. The blade slides clean each time. My shoulders roll smoother now, elbow feels solid, no flare of pain. Good.
The ground starts to slope and the air cools. Bird calls fade. A steady rustle replaces them, like water slipping under rock. I angle toward the sound. Thirty paces later the jungle parts around a half fallen staircase of stone blocks. Moss covers the steps, but a path clears where something heavy dragged mud downslope. At the bottom, a broad arch waits, carved into a low ridge. A dark mouth yawns inside it, cool air spilling out.
I stop at the top step and study the doorway. Carvings coil around the frame, shapes that look like snakes with too many legs. The stone pulses faint silver when I lean close.
A white box blinks into life right in front of the arch.
[System Notification]
Dungeon detected
Name: Croc Nest
Recommended Level: 1–3
Objective: Defeat the dungeon boss and collect the core
Enter?
[ Y ] [ N ]
I blow out a slow breath, watching the Y and N buttons glow like traffic lights. Croc Nest. Level one to three. I'm level three, so on paper I barely qualify. But paper rules never lasted long in real life, and this new world already feels like someone slapped reptile skin onto Earth and hit shuffle.
I glance over my shoulder. Jungle presses in on every side, a wall of green noise. Out here it's hunt or be hunted. In there? At least the threat has walls. Maybe loot. Maybe answers. Or maybe a thousand teeth.
"What's a dungeon core, anyway?"
I tap my temple twice, a habit from casework days. List the facts:
Quest progress is stuck at zero.Next dungeon has to be cleared sooner or later.Bunny-warm jungle behind me, unknown tunnel ahead.I need shelter, gear, and a win.
My thumb hovers over Y. Heart thumps. One push and I'm committed. I think of Cedric's kids who'll never see their dad again, of Reggie bleeding out in the cafeteria, of my own family lying cold. Standing still won't change any of that.
"Fine. First pawn, first move."
I press Y.