Kade didn't feel relief when the first light sliced the darkness—only the peculiar numbness left from survival. He shifted in the hollow next to Selene, conscious of the way dawn's rays bled through the twisted canopy overhead, painting everything in sickly violet-gold.
The air had changed. It was no longer electric with predatory threat, but heavy—like a sealed room after a long night of breathing and fear. Cold dew clung to his jeans. His fingers tasted of sweat and bark. He didn't want to move.
But already, hidden system banners flared into being at the edge of his sight.
[TRIAL 1: THE AWAKENING — CLEARED.]
[Participant Survival Rate: 31%.]
A muted cheer sounded from somewhere deeper in the forest. Kade flinched. He forced himself upright, careful not to dislodge Selene, who was curled on her side, eyes open but unseeing, lips moving in a silent personal inventory: "All limbs. No bites. No fever. No swelling…"
He waited until her gaze sharpened, until she blinked the nightmare haze from her face and the composure slid back into place. "Morning," he offered.
Selene ran a finger under her nose and huffed. "I'll take it."
They sat for a few seconds—long enough for the world to feel just a little more stable. The distant system voice, emotionless and omnipresent, returned:
[SYSTEM REWARD: Survival Bonus — +10 XP.]
[SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT: Title Unlocked — "Awakened Tutorial Survivor."]
[SYSTEM INTEGRATION: Status Screen Accessible.]
Suddenly, translucent panels opened in Kade's mind—a cold rush of data. Some called out stats he didn't recall earning:
Kade Ashveil
Level: 1
XP: 15/20
Class: None
Trait: Unknown (Dormant)
Titles: [Awakened Tutorial Survivor]
He blinked. The temptation to prod at each option—the kind of compulsion bred from years of interface design and video games—rose, but he forced it down. Any system you did not build, you don't trust.
Selene was muttering beside him, tracing air with two fingers, a habit learned from old touchscreens. After a moment, she exhaled. "I've got a level. And… a title. No class yet." She glanced sidelong at Kade. "You?"
He nodded, showing her his screen for a heartbeat. Selene grinned despite herself. "So, we're equals—on screen, anyway."
The shared smirk did nothing to erase the truth. They were alive, yes. But so many hadn't made it: thirty-one percent. Dozens gone in one night. The clearing should have echoed with grief, but only silence and restless motion claimed what the survivors hadn't.
From the depths of the forest, more clustered groups limped back toward the original clearing. Injured, shocked, hungry people. There was little order—just a sense of being herded by something huge and invisible, the System's pressure ensuring movement.
"Kade," Selene whispered low, "look at that man's leg."
He followed her gaze. A tall, broad-shouldered figure lurched past, blood staining the entire left side of his pant leg. Flesh hung open—untreated—with shreds of cloth failing as bandages. Others gave him space, but a few, emboldened by daylight and desperation, hovered. Kade saw the hungry calculation in their eyes: Weaker than us, slower than us. A liability.
Selene was already rising, fishing in her pocket for the remnants of a first-aid kit she'd scavenged earlier. "Cover me," she said over her shoulder. "Don't let others dog-pile. I'll need space if he starts bleeding out."
He trailed a step behind, heart drumming. She trusts me, he thought, not for the first time. He let the realization settle, solid as stone.
As they neared, the injured man looked up, suspicion flaring. "Don't touch—" he started, but Selene's resolve cut sharper than his fear.
"I'm a doctor. Sit. Now."
Something in her tone—perhaps the authority of someone who'd commanded soldiers under fire—pierced the fog of panic. The man sank onto a rock, teeth gritted. Selene knelt, assessing the wound with practiced detachment. "No muscle cut. No active bleeding now, but infection risk is high. I need—"
Before she could finish, a voice interrupted: "Who put you in charge?"
A short woman, maybe early thirties, face pinched and eyes sunken from lack of sleep, hovered at the edge of the gathering. Her arms were crossed, defensiveness wound into each gesture.
Selene didn't look up. "Someone had to do it. If you have medical training, take over."
That stilled the woman, who scowled but offered nothing more.
Kade watched the micro-drama unfold—already seeing the seeds of division. All it would take was one more loud voice, one more panic, and this fragile collective would turn on itself.
He stood with his back to Selene, scanning the crowd. Among them, he noted other outliers: the watchful, the angry, the quietly helpful. A pale young man handing out bottles of water. A group of three huddled together, whispering in hard, clipped tones. An Asian woman—mid-forties, managerial air—making mental notes. Every group was feeling out the boundaries of control, leadership, and resource.
A system chime broke the tension.
[LEVEL-UP AVAILABLE — 5 XP until next Level.]
Kade acknowledged it, but his mind returned to the here and now. The System meant order, incentives, outcomes. But these people—they were chaos and need.
Selene finished her work, binding the gash with what little she had left. She stepped back and signaled Kade to move.
"Thanks," the man muttered, still wary but less frantic.
"Next time, don't run toward screams," Selene said, almost kindly.
As they left, the woman who'd challenged Selene gave Kade a look of cold contempt. He shrugged. Picking fights in a place like this was suicide.
Back at the pit, secluded from the shifting power games, Kade checked his status again. Numbers. No skills. No class. No immediate direction.
"What's the play?" he asked eventually.
Selene sank against the dirt bank, her exhaustion hidden beneath a soldier's discipline. "Shelter first. Then water. Then food. If we try to organize the others, they'll tear each other apart. The most we can do is not become targets for now."
He nodded. "You led that scene just now. Didn't have to. Why risk it?"
For a moment, she was silent, looking past him, at nothing. He expected philosophy or guilt, but her answer was simple: "Because he was bleeding."
It was all the answer he needed. You protect because there's no one else to protect you—a truth I learned a different way, he thought, though he said nothing.
"Do you… believe this is real?" he asked.
She tilted her head, considering. "I don't have the luxury to assume otherwise. That's how you die. If this is some elaborate simulation—fine. But pain, loss—those can feel real enough to kill you, even if the world outside is untouched."
Kade considered that. "Thirty-one percent remain. That means two out of three gone in one night."
Selene's eyes blazed. "We can't save everyone. But maybe, just maybe—we can save ourselves. Maybe a few more, if luck holds."
A commotion sounded from deeper into the woods. Kade stiffened, then relaxed as several survivors returned from a risky forage, toting what looked like wild fruit and scavenged mushrooms. As they neared, arguments sparked over who got what. Two almost came to blows before the managerial woman from earlier interjected, her words cold but effective: "Anyone who starts a fight over scraps will get nothing. Organize or starve."
Kade caught Selene's smirk. "Looks like leadership's getting sorted out, like it or not."
He nodded, but couldn't shake the truth—leaders here would be targeted first, envied second, and betrayed third. Just survive to the next phase, he reminded himself. That was all the System seemed to value.
Later, when the initial chaos faded into the low hum of desperate cooperation, Kade and Selene shared a piece of withered fruit. It tasted like chalk, but staved off the ache in his gut. They huddled in their shallow den, hidden from the makeshift camps forming in the main clearing. Selene fiddled with her new title screen. "Wonder what else this thing will let us do."
Kade stared at his own stats, willing information to manifest. A flicker of something—an option marked [TRAIT: UNKNOWN]—caught his gaze. He tapped mentally, only to receive a blank text:
[Trait Locked. Progression requirements: ???]
Yet, as gloom fell and nerves settled, odd things happened. A stone he set as a tripwire rolled in just the right way to catch a would-be looter. When searching for water, he stumbled on a natural cistern hidden behind roots—the only one in the area, the others already fouled. People ignored him, let him slip by unmolested while others suffered petty theft or harassment.
Coincidence, perhaps.
But when Selene looked at him, eyes curious but face careful, he saw the unspoken questions forming. "You're either the luckiest bastard alive, or there's something about you people can't see," she said as dusk began to reshape the woods—readying for another cycle of predation.
Kade opened his mouth to answer when, as if on cue, the System's voice boomed out, echoing through every synapse:
[PREPARATIONS FOR TRIAL 2: "THE COLLAPSE" UNDERWAY.]
[TIME TO NEXT TRIAL: 03:00:00.]
A new set of instructions appeared:
—
Trial 2 — The Collapse
Environment: Urban battlefield.
Objective: Survive shifting collapse events.
Secondary objectives: Rescue, resource, control.
Caution: Only 20% will advance.
—
The chill returned, not from the environment but from the reminder: the System didn't care about fairness or value. Just survival.
Kade shared a look with Selene—weariness, determination, and a quiet understanding passing between them.
"Next phase. New nightmare," Selene murmured.
"We survived one," he replied, tone brittle but stubborn. "We can survive another."
In the clearing, people began gathering their scarce, battered belongings, forming tighter packs for the coming transition. Some looked toward Kade and Selene as if sensing, perhaps unconsciously, that fortune clung to them both.
He didn't know what tomorrow would bring. But as the first tremors began, shaking the ground beneath his feet, Kade realized he had become something new—a canary in the System's mine. Watching for danger, forging luck from impossible odds, he would keep moving, keep surviving.
The world fragmented at the edges—screams erupting, buildings coalescing from mist, shadows stretching long and hungry.
And somewhere in him, something waited—some dormant error in the System, a slow-blooming anomaly ready to turn fate on its head.