Ribs ached. The cut on my side throbbed. I leaned forward, elbows on knees, breathing through my teeth while the rage drained out like water down a cracked sink.
And then—
🎉 CONGRATULATIONS 🎉
You have successfully completed Tutorial Encounter [2/10]!
This combat scenario was designed to promote teamwork, coordination, and adaptive strategy.
Did you synergize your skills with your allies? Shared victories make stronger Users!
Reminder: Collaboration is a core tenet of post-Integration survival. Don't go at it alone!
💡 Tip: Be sure to explore the Party Menu to request allies and assign tactical roles!
Well done!
Would you like to proceed to Tutorial Encounter [3/10]?
(Rest period: 30 minutes remaining)
→ YES
→ NO
I wasn't supposed to be here.
This was a team trial, baby's first group fight.
Coordinate, synergize. Yell your attack names in unison like it's a Saturday morning cartoon.
Sparkles. Encouragement. The cheery reminder that "collaboration is a core tenet of post-Integration survival."
Honestly? I might've gotten the better deal.
No self-righteous partner. No "you're doing it wrong" speeches.
Just me, and a couple of gobbos I could pound into paste without anyone slowing me down.
Then came the real update.
[ROOT RESONANCE: Ragebound – Norse Line: 5% → 7%]
Combat Behavior Evaluated: Sustained aggression under duress.
Inferred Trait: Primitive fear effect triggered at critical threshold.
Catalogued as: [Aura – Unbound]
Stat Unlock Condition Met:
→ Stat: PRESENCE
Unlock Reason: Unassisted active influence on hostile behavior.
The pressure in my chest shifted, not a flare, more like coals under wet ash finding air again.
My thigh stopped screaming quite so loudly. My jaw unclenched on its own.
Even my footing felt steadier, like my legs had remembered they used to be mine.
Then the longer block appeared.
✦ RESONANCE EVENT DETECTED ✦
Congratulations! You have deepened your connection with Root: [Ragebound – Norse Line].
Result: Minor physiological reinforcement successfully recorded.
Body has been enhanced via mythic resonance protocols.
+1 Strength
+1 Vitality
+1 Dexterity
New Statistic Unlocked: PRESENCE
Reason: Legacy System trigger, logged per Compliance Clause GCA-12.4.9.bSupport Status: Unsupported / Unoptimized
Reminder: This statistic was not intended for open visibility. Please consult your Class Advisor for assistance in building compatible skill pathways.*
STATS Strength 9+1 Vitality 8+1 Dexterity 6+1 Intelligence 2 Presence* 0+1
*Hidden statistic
Note: No further notifications will be provided for nonstandard progression unless legally required.
I let out a dry laugh.
The air around me felt different.
Not colder. Not heavier.
Just... aware.
Like the world had finally noticed I was still here, and that I wasn't planning on leaving quietly.
"Not intended for open visibility."
Yeah, no kidding.
They don't want me seeing this. They don't want me knowing it exists, and I'm sure as hell not getting the friendly "how to build your Presence stat" seminar from some smiling Class Advisor.
I guess I don't even have one...
I didn't hit the prompt to start the next fight. Not yet.
Thirty minutes of rest.
Last time I pushed through. Dumb.
I could feel it now, not just the cuts, not just the bruises.
The rage had taken something with it when it left.
So I sat. Back to the wall.
My old sensei would've called it "centering."
The old bastard in the gym was always trying to get me to breathe, to ground, to feel the floor under my feet.
I hated that crap, wanted to fight, not listen. Punch, not sit.
But now?
Now I wasn't sedated.
Now nobody was watching.
The only leash on me was how far my body could go before it broke.
So I breathed.
I didn't think. Didn't plan. Just sat.
For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I was about to explode.
It was glorious, in a bloody, gruesome way, especially with three smashed gobbos cooling on the floor around me.
Centered, for once.
⏳ 2:00 Minutes Remaining ⏳
Something shifted. Not big. Not loud. Just a flicker behind my ribs.
And then the System ticked over.
[ROOT RESONANCE: Ragebound – Norse Line: 7% → 8%]
Behavioral Pattern Recognized: Unassisted Ritual (Centering - Reflection)
Result: +1 Presence
..The chitter came again, bright, sharp, like laughter that wanted to be a knife.
"O̵h̷h̸h̵.̴.̴.̵ ̸l̵o̵o̷k̶ ̶a̵t̴ ̸y̸o̵u̵,̷ ̸p̶u̸f̵f̷i̷n̸g̴ ̴u̶p̷.̷ ̵T̷h̷e̷ ̵r̸u̴n̷t̷'̵s̸ ̴l̷e̸a̶r̶n̶e̷d̴ ̷t̷o̵ ̷b̵a̶r̸e̷ ̴h̷i̸s̵ ̵t̵e̶e̵t̵h̴.̸"
The voice lingered just long enough to make my skin itch.
"̶E̵n̸j̴o̵y̶ ̸t̷h̶e̷ ̵s̶t̶r̸u̴t̶,̶ ̸l̴i̴t̸t̶l̷e̶ ̸c̵a̸n̴d̵l̵e̵.̴ ̸T̵h̷e̷ ̷t̷a̴l̸l̶e̵r̶ ̶y̵o̵u̴ ̸s̸t̵a̶n̵d̴,̸ ̷t̸h̸e̵ ̸e̶a̴s̴i̸e̶r̷ ̸i̷t̴ ̸i̷s̶ ̶f̸o̶r̴ ̴b̴i̴g̶g̸e̶r̴ ̸j̷a̵w̷s̶ ̵t̷o̵ ̶b̴i̷t̴e̶ ̸y̴o̸u̵r̶ ̶h̷e̸a̷d̷ ̸o̵f̵f̷.̶"̴
The sound scattered, giggling into the dark, like it had just handed me a gift and couldn't wait to watch me trip over it.
I rubbed at the back of my neck.
"Yeah," I muttered. "You sound really happy for me." It seems easier to understand though.
Didn't feel stronger.
But the ground felt different.
The air felt... less empty. I felt heavier?
Tutorial Encounter [3/10]
Begin next combat scenario?
→ [YES]
→ [NO]
I stood. Rolled my shoulder. Spat blood.
And pressed [YES].
[TUTORIAL ENCOUNTER: 3/10]
Type: Squirrel Swarm (Repurposed Local Fauna – Tier 0 Combat Classification)
Role: Area-of-Effect Training
Recommended: 3x Level 3 Classed Players
Estimated Difficulty: LOW–MODERATE
💡 Tip: When faced with numerically superior hostiles, apply splash-damage abilities and/or terrain control effects to maximize crowd suppression efficiency. 💥
Note: These entities were formerly tagged as Non-Combatants — [Harmless Arboreal Species]. Behavioral profiles have been successfully modified via Local Integration to ensure combat applicability.
Reminder: Strategic positioning remains key to operational success. Consider crowd-control applications and zone denial skills to optimize survival outcome
I read the screen twice.
"Harmless arboreal species. Behavior profile adjusted for combat utility."
I rolled my shoulders, slow. Everything still ached. Cracked skin across my knuckles. Dried blood on chest. No healing. No rest. No reset.
Wave three.
Same arena. Same stone.
And then they came.
Small bodies flickered out of the cracks, one, then five, then a flood. They didn't charge. Just ran the edges. Claws clicking. Tails curling.
Squirrels.
Big ones. Muscles corded under rough fur. Dark eyes fixed forward. But still squirrels.
And for a breath, I just stared.
Unbidden, I was back at the old house in the countryside.
There'd been a stump behind the cottage, back before the noise, before the sirens, before the court dates. I'd sit there for hours with a bag of peanuts, throwing them into the grass. Weeks passed before one dared close enough to take from my hand. I remember its weight, claws pricking my palm, the flick of its tail as it leapt away.
I'd named it something stupid, that runt of a squirrel. It had poked ribs and trusting eyes. I used to slip it extra bread so it wouldn't starve. It never judged me.
I didn't have any friends.
I didn't have anyone calling my name.
Just me. The stump. The quiet.
And the little runt bastard who showed up and trusted me.
So when one of them growled, this low, guttural snarl that didn't belong to anything so fluffy, I didn't react right away, I couldn't.
Even when they started circling.
Even when their claws scraped stone.
Even when I saw the glint of something wrong in their eyes.
I didn't move.
Ten of them. I counted without looking away.
One looked smaller. Not weaker. Just not quite right.
I looked away. I didn't want to think about why that bothered me.
No formation. No gaps. Just hunger, numbers, and unreasonable fluffy tails that still somehow looked cute.
They moved before I did.
Sharp turns, sudden cuts, tails whipping behind them like shark fins in fur.
I couldn't move. My brain refused to process what I was seeing. By the time one of them hissed and sprang at me, all I could do was react.
One darted in.
Another raked my calf. A third latched onto my ankle.
I swung, clipped fur, stomped, missed. Too fast. Too small. They moved like ghosts, like nightmares with claws.
The first seconds told me everything.
I wasn't going to win this by fighting harder.
They didn't give me a chance.
They swarmed.
Little teeth, fast feet, over and over.
Shallow cuts, not deadly alone, but endless.
A hundred cuts, all shallow, all screaming together in my blood.
This wasn't a fight.
It was a meat grinder.
I caught one mid-pounce, slammed it into the floor until the stone cracked. Its skull went with it.
Two more were already on my back, chewing, digging.
Blood ran. The wounds stacked up.
And still the rage didn't come.
Just hate.
I stomped another flat. Its scream was answered, not in fear, but anger. Hungry, endless.
Their eyes weren't animal eyes. They wanted it. Wanted me dead.
The System had taken them. Stolen what should have been harmless.
Turned trust into weapons.
Something cracked inside me. I swung without aim, without care. Bone, fur, blood. One squealed. So did I.
I tried advancing. But advancing was dumb. They slipped past, circled, baited me forward.
Another nip at my ankle. Another behind the knee.
Then I stumbled. Goblin guts slick under my boot.
I Hit stone. Hard.
And they were on me.
Claws, teeth, not deep but fast, furious.
One trying to get at my neck. Another on my shoulder.
I rolled, slammed my elbow down, heard a crunch. Didn't look.
Another launched for my face.
I scrambled up, backpedaled until air turned to stone.
Wall.
I stomped another flat. Its scream was answered by the others – not in fear, in fury. And damn if that didn't make it worse. They weren't even acting like scared animals. The System had twisted them into something hateful. But they were still squirrels. That was the worst part... they were something that once made me smile
Now they circled.
Eyes low. Whiskers twitching. Waiting.
I clenched my fist, blood squelching between torn fingers.
"This isn't a fight," I said, voice flat. "This is a fucking joke."
I sagged against the stone. Breath dragging. Blood warm in my boots.
Seven left.
They circled, still twitching, still low. Smart enough to smell weakness. To pace it.
And I hated them. God help me, I did.
Not because they bit. Not because they bled me.
But because they should've been something else.
I remembered that stump. That flick of a tail. The soft weight of trust in my hand.
Back then, it had been enough.
The only thing in the world that didn't ask me to earn it.
And now they were snarling things. Fast and wrong and ruined.
The System had taken that memory and fed it to the grinder.
And me? It shoved me in right after.
Made me swing at what I once fed.
Made me stomp something I once smiled at.
And for what?
A tutorial box with a tip about AoE synergy?
I clenched my teeth. Hands trembling, knuckles split open again.
The hate didn't come like a scream.
It came like a pressure. Slow. Heavy.
A coil behind my ribs tightening with every breath I didn't have.
The System didn't deserve squirrels.
It deserved blood.
Something shifted.
Not loud. Not bright.
Just weight.
A pressure that fell through the arena like a curtain made of stone.
They slowed.
One twitched.
One flinched.
I moved.
Fast. Low. No shout. No hesitation.
The hatchet cracked bone and split spine. One down.
Six.
They scattered.
But not clean.
They felt it now, whatever I had become.
One overreached. I let it bite deep into my calf.
Then drove my fist into its skull. Heard it pop.
Five.
Blood ran. I didn't flinch.
Another lunged, mistimed. I caught it midair. Slammed it into the floor so hard the impact echoed.
Four.
They backed off.
They started circle wide. One charge, I turned into the bite. Let it take my ribs.
Then crushed it in a pseudo headlock.
Three.
The circle broke.
This wasn't a swarm anymore.
This was a countdown.
The next two came together, panic-charge. Wild, desperate.
I waited.
Let them come.
Boot, then hatchet.
One crunched.
One split.
One.
It froze.
Slick fur. Wide eyes. Blood-matted tail.
Smaller than the others. Not by much, but enough.
I took a step, and it didn't run.
Just stood there, shivering, like it was waiting for something.
For a half-second, it wasn't a monster.
It was him.
The scrappy little bastard who limped to the stump out back, ribs sharp under his fur, stealing crumbs from the others because he had to.
The one I cleared the stump for. The one I fed extra, just to keep him alive.
The reason I came back every day.
And for a moment, I was there again, the smell of damp earth, the flick of his tail, the warm tickle of claws in my palm.
Safe. Small. Mine.
Then it blinked, and the arena came back.
The snarl was wrong.
The eyes were wrong.
The System stripped out what made him mine and rewound the rest into hate.
I could feel the leash tighten, not mine, his.
The snarl deepened.
The hatchet felt heavier in my hand.
I wanted to drop it.
I wanted to tell him I remembered.
That he wasn't supposed to end up like this.
I didn't.
Short. Ugly. Final.
The sound it made wasn't even a squeal.
Just an end.
And when it was over, the arena was quiet, but I wasn't.
The last sound died quick. No squeal. Just silence. It wasn't rage. Not at first. It was pain. For a moment, I think I felt my heart break. Then I shoved that aside and let it harden into anger.
But in my ribs, something kept growling.
A promise.
The System doesn't get to steal from me without paying.