The world reformed around Lucas Thorne with a dizzying rush of sensation. The sterile, digital feel of the character creation screen vanished, replaced by the cool, damp smell of a real forest. He felt the soft give of moss under his worn leather boots and the prickle of a faint breeze on his skin. A soft, melodic chime echoed in his mind, followed by the iconic text hanging in the air before him.
[Welcome to Arcadia]
His mind, the strategic engine that had won him a world championship, was already running a diagnostic. The immersion was flawless, total. This was the pinnacle of full-dive technology. For a moment, the sheer wonder of it almost eclipsed the cold dread in his gut. Almost.
A shimmering, ethereal panel of light appeared in his vision, the official System interface.
[Player: Lucas Thorne]
[Level: 1]
[Class: Tamer]
There it was. The word that had sealed his fate. He felt a bitter, familiar taste at the back of his throat. His one chance to earn the money for his sister, and it was all riding on a class the entire gaming community had labeled a joke. He clenched his fists, the rough linen of his starting tunic scratching against his skin. Despair was an inefficient emotion. He had made a calculated gamble based on his research; now he had to see it through.
He was in a bustling starting zone, a wide, sun-dappled clearing filled with dozens of other new players. Shouts of excitement and the clang of practice swords filled the air. He saw a brawny player with the Warrior class symbol chop clumsily at a training dummy. He saw another player, a newly minted Mage, conjure a small, sputtering flame in her palm. They were all learning, all taking their first steps.
The System prompted him to use his first class skill. He focused his will, spoke the command, and performed [Tame]. A puff of green smoke erupted at his feet, and from it emerged a small, scruffy [Forest Wolf Pup]. It was smaller than he'd anticipated, its ribs showing beneath its thin coat. It gave a pathetic, frightened whimper and immediately tried to hide behind his legs.
He designated a name for it in the interface, a simple, pragmatic label: Kael.
A loud, booming laugh came from nearby. "Hey, check it out! Tamer Trash! His dog is even scared of its own shadow!" The speaker was a burly Berserker, the same mid-tier pro he'd seen celebrating earlier.
Lucas ignored him. Humiliation was just another debuff, and he had to overcome it. He needed to test his own capabilities. He spotted a Level 1 [Wild Boar] rooting around at the edge of the clearing. It was the weakest monster in the zone.
The fight was a disaster.
He approached, his simple wooden staff held in an awkward, unfamiliar grip. He swung. The staff connected with the boar's flank with a dull thud. A single, bright red number floated into the air. -1. The boar squealed, more annoyed than hurt, and charged. Not at him, but at Kael. The wolf pup yelped and tried to dodge, but the boar was too fast. It caught the pup with a glancing blow from its tusks, sending Kael tumbling. A significant chunk of the pup's tiny health bar vanished.
Lucas spent the next two minutes in a clumsy, desperate brawl, smacking the boar with his staff while trying to keep its attention off his terrified, bleeding summon. By the time the boar finally fell, Lucas was breathing heavily, his own health down by twenty percent, and Kael was whimpering, a [Wounded] status effect now pulsing over his nameplate.
[You have defeated a Wild Boar.]
[EXP Gained: +3]
He stared at the notification. His experience bar, a thin blue line at the bottom of his vision, had barely moved. It would take dozens of these miserable, costly fights just to reach Level 2. He looked around. Other players were struggling too. The game's algorithm was ruthless. Fights were hard, damage was real, and progression was a slow, bloody grind for everyone. But for him, it was nearly impossible.
He spent the next hour in this frustrating loop, his despair growing with every pathetic -1 of damage he dealt. He was a master strategist trapped in the body of a weak, useless character. He was failing. The thought of his sister, of the mounting bills, was a cold, sharp pain in his chest.
Finally, he couldn't take the mockery of the starting zone anymore. He turned his back on the other players and retreated into the deep woods, Kael limping faithfully behind him. He found a secluded spot by a small stream and collapsed onto the ground, his head in his hands.
This wasn't working. A direct, brute-force approach was a guaranteed loss. His class was not designed for it. His mind, free from the pressure and humiliation, finally began to do what it did best: analyze the system.
"The problem is not the damage output," he murmured to himself, his voice a low, analytical hum. "The problem is the engagement. The cost of each fight is too high."
He needed to change the rules of the engagement. He spent the next hour not fighting, but working. He used his staff to dig a shallow pit, covering it with leaves. He used tough vines to create a simple snare, attached to a heavy, dead branch. He was no longer playing a warrior's game. He was playing his own.
He had Kael, now slightly healed from a [Healing Herb], act as a lure. The pup, though weak, was fast. It darted out, yipping at a lone boar, and then sprinted back, leading the enraged creature directly toward the new trap zone. The boar, focused only on the pup, didn't see the pit. It stumbled, its leg catching in a snare. The heavy branch swung down, cracking against its skull with a heavy thud. The beast was crippled and dazed before Lucas even stepped out from behind the tree. He finished it off in seconds.
The EXP was the same, but the cost was a fraction of what it had been. It was slow. It was methodical. But it was efficient. He had found his meta.
He was resetting a trap when he felt Kael tense beside him. A low growl rumbled in the pup's chest. A new monster had entered his territory. It was a Level 4 [Shadow Cat], a sleek, black predator that had wandered out of a higher-level zone. It was far too powerful for him to handle.
It saw them. It crouched low, its muscles coiling, ready to pounce. There was no time to run, no trap big enough to stop it. This was it. A fatal, random encounter.
As the cat prepared to lunge, Lucas's mind, pushed to its absolute limit, saw something new. His [System Insight] Talent, dormant until now, flared to life. A hidden layer of green text appeared over the cat's nameplate.
[Shadow Cat | Level 4]
[Hidden Trait: Photophobia – Eyes are extremely sensitive to sudden, bright flashes of light. High chance to be stunned.]
A weakness. A non-obvious, game-breaking weakness. In his inventory was the [Championship Match Flare], the cosmetic item he'd thought was useless.
He didn't hesitate. He pulled the flare and sparked it. A brilliant, blinding flash of white light erupted in the gloomy forest. The Shadow Cat shrieked, a sound of pure, piercing pain, and recoiled, its paws clawing at its now-useless eyes. It was completely stunned.
Lucas didn't need to be told twice. He turned and ran, Kael at his heels, not stopping until they were a safe distance away. He leaned against a tree, his heart pounding, a slow, cold smile spreading across his face.
The System had given him the worst class imaginable. But it had also given him a key. A key to unlock every hidden rule, every secret weakness in this new reality. The algorithm was ruthless, but he had just found the ultimate exploit.