The jungle air hung thick and heavy, a smothering blanket after the sterile confines I'd just escaped. "A jungle?" I muttered, disbelieving. My rant died in my throat when unmistakable sounds of pursuit crashed through the undergrowth: heavy footsteps, guttural shouts. They were close. Too close.
Panic clawed at my throat, but years of military training kicked in. I bolted, the surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins, and veered toward a dilapidated storage shed. Desperation propelled me inside. The flimsy door offered little protection, but it was better than nothing. I pressed a hand to my mouth, stifling the urge to scream as the sounds of my pursuers grew louder, closer. They stopped right outside.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a deafening drum in the suffocating silence. When by some miracle my gaze fell upon a hatch hidden under a rotting floorboard, resignation started to creep in. Instinct took precedence. I ripped it open and plunged into the darkness below.
Flipping a switch, I revealed a small, spartan room – a cot, a table, a chair. But it was the axe leaning against the wall that drew my eye. Without hesitation, I grabbed it, the weight familiar and comforting in my trembling hands. I killed the light, plunging the room back into darkness.
Breathing slow and steady, I moved with the practiced silence of a soldier. The hatch creaked open. Voices, harsh and triumphant, echoed above. Just as planned.
A figure came down, silhouetted against the dim light from above. I struck with brutal efficiency the axe a hammer of righteous fury. A sickening crack reverberated in the confined space, and the figure collapsed in a heap at the bottom of the ladder. I snatched the fallen man's weapon, a Glock, its cold steel reassuring in my grip.
But the noise had triggered the others. I heard them scrambling towards the hatch. No time to waste. I melted into the shadows, repositioning myself so the hatch was still visible with the Glock trained on the opening.
A head appeared, cautiously peering into the darkness. I held my breath, waiting, as the figure came into full view. Then BANG. The Glock bucked in my hand, the shot sounding in the small space. The figure disappeared with a strangled cry.
I didn't wait to see if the shot was fatal. I knew better than to linger. I burst from the shed and sprinted into the dense jungle, the sounds of pursuit spurring me onward. Thorns tore at my skin, branches whipped at my face, but I didn't dare look back.
Finally, when my lungs were burning and my legs were screaming in protest, I collapsed behind a thicket of ferns, gasping for air.
Just then, a familiar chime echoed in my mind. [CONGRATULATIONS, HOST. TWO TARGETS ELIMINATED. CALCULATING OPTIMAL CLASS ADVANCEMENT.]
Three options materialized before my eyes:
[ASSASSIN]
[NECROMANCER]
[?]
A question mark? Curious, I concentrated on the third choice. "System, what is that third option?"
[INFORMATION UNAVAILABLE. THE HOST WILL DISCOVER THE NATURE OF THIS CLASS UPON SELECTION.]
I frowned. There was something about the system's response that felt…mischievous. I shrugged it off. What could possibly go wrong?
Without further hesitation, I tapped the question mark Just then...