The cold, endless snow had finally stopped feeling like just a challenge of the elements. Hydro had walked for hours—maybe days; time had no meaning here—his boots crunching against the pristine ice, his breath puffing in clouds that seemed to linger too long. His muscles ached, his mind buzzed with confusion and curiosity, and yet… nothing had really happened. No monsters. No signs of life. No guidance beyond the strange presence of the figure in the distance that had vanished.
Until it spoke.
The voice wasn't a whisper, or a command, or even a suggestion. It was calm, clinical, neutral—like the world itself had decided to address him directly.
["Hydro Undergrove. Your journey begins. Training is required."]
Hydro froze mid-step. His heart skipped. "Training?" he muttered, unsure if the sound echoed inside his own mind or across the snowy wasteland. "What… what do you mean?"
["You have been assigned a task. Completion is necessary for survival, adaptation, and progression."]
Hydro blinked. He wasn't sure what "progression" even meant in this place. But then—something materialized in front of him, floating in the air, shimmering faintly with cyan light. A small object, the size of a fist, hovered before him.
A key.
The cyan glow of the key was sharp against the snow, and as Hydro reached out, his fingers tingled when he touched it. It was heavier than it looked, and for a split second, he swore he felt it pulse with awareness, like it knew him.
["This key unlocks the first trial. A door will appear. Approach and enter. You will learn through experience."]
Hydro held it tight, turning it over in his hands. His pulse raced. He felt… new. Truly new. Not like in any game he'd played, any show he'd seen. This was real. *Too real.* The cold bit at him, but it wasn't that that made him shiver.
Then he saw it.
Far ahead, through the frozen mist, a doorway emerged. It wasn't solid, exactly—not stone, not metal. A frame of light, humming faintly, stretched across the snow. A cyan forcefield shimmered across the entrance, dancing with energy, casting prismatic reflections onto the ground.
Hydro approached slowly, boots sinking slightly into the soft snow. Every instinct in his body screamed caution. This is it. This is what the System wants me to do. But… I don't even know how to fight anything.
He pressed the key to the forcefield. The hum intensified. The field pulsed, then parted like water in a current, allowing him to step through. The air inside was different—warmer, heavier, charged with electricity.
He stepped into a small, circular arena. Snow didn't fall here. The ground was rough stone, slick in places, surrounded by walls carved into jagged spikes of ice that glowed faintly. A faint hum of magic—or maybe energy—vibrated in the air, pressing against his chest.
Hydro swallowed. His fists clenched instinctively. I'm… I'm here. I'm in. What now? I'm… I'm here. I'm in. What now?
["Your first target will appear shortly. Observation, reaction, and adaptation are required."]
Hydro's stomach churned. Target? Reaction? Observation? He had no weapons beyond his uniform and the bag over his shoulder. His heart raced. Every lesson he'd ever learned in martial arts, every game he'd ever played, every fight he'd watched online—none of it felt sufficient. None of it prepared him for this.
Seconds stretched. Then… movement.
From the opposite end of the arena, something emerged. Not a humanoid. Not quite a beast. Something in between, its form shifting slightly as if reality had trouble defining it. Six limbs, jagged claws, and eyes that shimmered like molten silver appeared suddenly, moving with both elegance and predatory intent.
Hydro froze. His first instinct was to run—but the circular arena left no room to escape.
Okay, he told himself. Think. Think. React.
The creature lunged. Its claws tore the air with a hiss that sounded more like static than sound. Hydro barely rolled out of the way, landing heavily on his side. The force of the movement left a shallow mark in the stone floor.
His mind raced. Okay. So, it's fast. Fast enough to kill me if I make a mistake. Got it.
The creature circled, testing him, its eyes flicking between him and… something else. Hydro's hands itched, fingers curling instinctively into fists, but he had no weapons, no armor, no spells. He was just a kid in a world that wasn't built for kids.
["Begin,"] the System said calmly.
Hydro realized—this wasn't about winning. It wasn't about defeating the monster right now. It was about learning. Observing. Surviving. Adapting.
He ducked again as the creature swiped, sparks of energy flaring where claws met stone. He rolled, narrowly avoiding a second strike, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to breathe.
I'm alive. I'm okay. I can do this.
Hydro's movements were clumsy. Inefficient. He stumbled over a small rise in the stone, tripped, barely caught himself. But each misstep gave him something: a read on the creature, the arena, the space he was confined to. Each reaction built understanding, tiny increments of knowledge he could use.
["Observation is progress,"] the System intoned.
Hydro nodded to himself, almost reflexively. He couldn't explain why, but the voice felt… like a teacher who wasn't cruel, just relentless. Like a challenge, not a punishment.
The creature shifted again, faster this time. Hydro rolled forward, hands scraping against stone, then pushed himself up into a crouch. He glanced at the shadows it cast against the jagged walls of the arena, realized where its weight shifted, where its momentum carried it.
It telegraphs its attacks. Not always, but sometimes. Okay… I can use that.
Hydro lunged, not with precision, but with intent. He swung a solid fist at the creature—not expecting much, but enough to test it. His knuckles connected with the side of its limb, and sparks of energy erupted where contact was made. The creature hissed, recoiling slightly. Hydro stumbled back, heart hammering.
["Progress: recorded."]
Hydro blinked. "Wait… what?"
["Your action has been acknowledged. Adaptation rate: minimal. Continue."]
Hydro swallowed, breath ragged, adrenaline pumping. Minimal adaptation… that's fine. I'll take it.
The creature lunged again, claws slashing through the air. Hydro rolled, twisted, and this time caught a faint glimmer of its shadow—a slight hesitation. He shifted, dodged, and lunged forward again, hands striking where he predicted movement. Sparks flared again.
["Progress: registered. Adaptation increasing."]
Hydro's lips curved into a small, shaky smile. He was learning. Slowly. Clumsily. But he was learning.
He felt the strain in his muscles, the burn in his lungs, the ache in his bones. And yet… he felt alive. For the first time since leaving home, since the snow, since the endless empty roads, he felt real. Not a student, not a failure, not just a kid from a quiet home.
He was here. And he was beginning to fight.
Step by step. Mistake by mistake. Strike by strike.
The System's voice continued, calm and unwavering:
["Adaptation is progress. You are new. You are learning. Continue."]
Hydro clenched his fists tighter, sweat mixing with the cold air. He was a complete novice. A rookie. A nobody in this world. And yet… he was starting.
And in this multiverse, starting was everything.
Alright, let's dive into **"The Start of the Grind" [2/5]** and make Hydro really feel like a total newbie. He's getting hit, overwhelmed, and learning how brutal this world can be. I'll make it tense, immersive, and focus on that raw newbie vulnerability.
The adrenaline still thrummed in Hydro's veins as the creature circled him, a shifting blur of claws and silver eyes. His first attempts had been clumsy but… hopeful. He'd made it dodge, roll, even land a weak strike. But hope quickly became exhaustion.
Hydro's lungs burned. His arms ached from swinging at thin air, from blocking strikes that felt impossibly fast. Every movement cost him more than he expected. The arena's icy floor, slick in places, made footing a challenge, and the jagged shadows of the walls seemed to mock every misstep.
The creature lunged again—faster this time. Hydro barely rolled out of the way, scraping his elbow against stone. Pain flared sharply. He hissed, then stumbled to his knees. The wind from the creature's strike slammed against his chest like a physical blow, knocking him back several steps.
["Damage recorded," the System said neutrally.]
Hydro groaned. Yeah, I can feel that. His chest heaved. His knuckles were raw. A small cut ran down his forearm from a grazing claw. He clenched his teeth, shoving the thought away. Keep going. Keep moving. Don't die.
The creature advanced with frightening awareness now, as if it had learned something about him. Its claws struck in a blur, each swipe faster than the last. Hydro tried to anticipate, tried to dodge, but fatigue and lack of experience betrayed him. One strike grazed his shoulder, sending him tumbling across the stone. Another clipped his leg as he tried to stand. Pain shot through him, sharp and biting.
Hydro's bag fell to the floor in the chaos, spilling its contents—a few trivial items he had brought along—reminding him just how unequipped he truly was. His heart pounded, adrenaline giving way to a dull, growing panic.
I… I'm not ready for this,* he thought. *I'm… not strong enough.
The creature lunged again, faster than his eyes could track. Hydro swung wildly, missing completely, and the creature struck his torso. The force sent him crashing into the jagged wall of ice. Pain erupted across his back and ribs. He slumped against the wall, breathing hard, vision blurred at the edges.
["Critical damage sustained. Adaptation rate minimal."]
Hydro let out a sharp exhale, frustration rising with the pain. "I… I can't… I'm not doing anything right," he muttered under his breath. The creature advanced, claws raised, a growl resonating deep in the cold air. Hydro tried to dodge, tried to strike back… and failed again.
Every blow he took sent shockwaves through his body. Every attempt to hit back left him off balance, staggering. He fell to his knees repeatedly, scraping skin and bruising muscles, tasting iron tang in his mouth from where he'd cut his lip. For the first time in his life, he felt completely outmatched, utterly unprepared.
["Observation: minimal adaptation. Survival requires adjustment."]
Hydro groaned, curling his hands into fists. The System's neutral voice sounded almost cold in comparison to the burning pain in his muscles. Adjustment… yeah, I'm adjusting to broken bones and humiliation, apparently.
The creature circled again, stalking him, sensing his hesitation. Hydro tried to predict its movement, but the attacks were relentless. His vision blurred as he rolled, stumbled, and tried to rise again. One claw caught him across the shoulder. He went down hard, scraping his elbow, then his knee, and finally collapsed on his side, panting.
This… this is insane, he thought, chest heaving. I can't even land a hit… and it keeps attacking…
The creature paused for a moment, almost as if acknowledging his struggle. Hydro shivered despite the cold. Is it… testing me? Or just… enjoying this?
He pushed himself up slowly, ignoring the pain. Every movement sent sparks of agony through his bruised body. He looked at the creature, and for the first time, really saw it—its fluid, jagged form, the sharp angles of its claws, the unblinking silver of its eyes. It's not something I can just beat. I have to survive. I have to learn.
Hydro tried again. He dodged a lunge, rolled under another swipe, and attempted a strike that barely grazed the creature's arm. It hissed in annoyance, swiping at him again. Hydro stumbled back, panting, scraping his knees against the floor. Pain shot through him, but he forced himself to focus.
["Critical damage sustained. Adaptation: progressing slowly."]
Hydro's lips twitched, almost a laugh, but it was bitter, strained. He wanted to cry, scream, anything—but he didn't. He forced himself to get up, one shaky step at a time, every fiber of his being screaming at him to stop.
I can't quit. I won't quit. I don't even know what quitting means here…
And in that moment, Hydro understood something crucial: survival wasn't about landing perfect hits. It wasn't about defeating the enemy on the first try. It was about learning. Observing. Adapting. Every strike he took, every blow he received, every stumble—it was all data. All information he could use.
The creature lunged again. Hydro barely dodged, but this time he noticed the telltale shift in its weight just a fraction of a second before it attacked. He pivoted instinctively, the movement clumsy but effective, avoiding a critical blow. His heart raced. That… that's something. That's progress.
["Observation: successful. Adaptation increasing."]
Hydro leaned against the jagged wall for a moment, chest heaving, sweat and snow mixing on his skin. His body ached in places he didn't even know could ache. Bruises were forming, scratches dotted his arms, and his lip throbbed from impact. But still… he had learned something.
Even in failure, even in getting hit again and again, he had taken one small step toward survival.
The creature snarled, claws raised, and Hydro gritted his teeth. He was still a newbie. He was still weak. He was still unprepared. But for the first time, he felt… like he belonged here. Like he could start figuring this world out.
Step by painful step.
Hydro forced himself to stand fully, bracing for the next attack.
Hydro groaned as he pushed himself upright, muscles screaming in protest. The snow and stone of the arena pressed cold and rough against his skin through bruises and scrapes. Every inhale felt tight in his chest, every heartbeat like a drum warning him that the creature was still there, still watching, still testing.
["Adaptation rate increasing,"] the System said calmly.
Hydro paused. He let the words sink in, trying to grasp what "increasing" meant. Slowly, he realized it wasn't about strength. It wasn't about skill or luck. It was about noticing. Seeing the pattern. Understanding the rhythm. Surviving the hits long enough to make the next move count.
The creature lunged. Hydro ducked instinctively, pivoting sideways. His knees scraped against the stone, but this time he kept his footing. He watched, really watched, as the creature reared its claw. Its eyes flicked briefly toward him, weight shifting imperceptibly.
Hydro took a deep breath, letting instinct guide him. When the creature struck again, he sidestepped and countered—clumsily, awkwardly, but effectively. His fist connected with the creature's arm, sending a flash of sparks dancing in the air. The blow wasn't strong enough to hurt it, but the creature recoiled just slightly, adjusting its balance.
["Strike: registered. Adaptation improved."]
Hydro staggered back, chest heaving, a shaky grin forming despite the exhaustion. I did it. I… did something.
Pain still coursed through his body. Every bruise, every cut reminded him of his inexperience. Yet, for the first time, he felt the small thrill of accomplishment. He had moved beyond reacting blindly. He had started to understand.
The creature lunged again, faster this time, but Hydro felt it in a way he hadn't before—a subtle shift in the air, a faint vibration under his feet, a flash of shadow from its movement. He dodged instinctively, rolling under a swipe, and came up with his balance intact.
["Observation: effective. Adaptation continues."]
Hydro stumbled backward a step, wincing as his shoulder throbbed from the earlier hit. His mind buzzed with awareness—tiny adjustments, micro-decisions, instincts sharpening. Each moment felt like an eternity, each move carrying weight. He wasn't strong. He wasn't prepared. But he was learning.
The creature's next attack came as a blur, but Hydro remembered the tiny shift he had noticed before. He pivoted, ducked, and for the first time, launched a deliberate strike—aiming for the creature's side. His fist connected solidly, sparks flying where impact met clawed limb. The creature hissed and recoiled further than before, almost stumbling.
["Adaptation: confirmed. Skill acquisition: initiated."]
Hydro's grin widened despite the burn in his chest and limbs. I… I'm actually doing it. I'm hitting it. He took a deep breath, feeling the sting of his cuts, the ache in his muscles, the cold creeping through his jacket, and let himself savor it. Small victories were everything here.
He circled, cautiously, keeping his eyes on the creature. Each lunge, each swipe, each dodge—he started to anticipate, to see the patterns. Not perfectly, not yet, but enough to stay upright, to counter, to land the occasional hit.
["Adaptation progressing. Survival probability increasing."]
Hydro exhaled sharply, feeling the weight of exhaustion mixed with exhilaration. The creature lunged again, claws flashing, but Hydro was ready. This time he sidestepped, rolled, and struck in a controlled motion—smacking the creature squarely on the arm. Sparks danced, and the creature hissed, retreating slightly. Hydro staggered back but held his stance, fists raised.
["Progress: acknowledged. Further training required."]
Hydro shook his head, laughter escaping in a breathless burst. Training… yeah. That's all this is. Training. Step by step. Fail, learn, repeat.
The pain in his body didn't stop. Bruises burned, cuts throbbed, lungs ached. Yet for the first time, he felt the rhythm. The flow. The delicate balance between attack, defense, observation, and adaptation.
He realized something that made his chest tighten—not from fear, but determination. I'm a beginner. A total rookie. And that's fine. Because here, now, I get to learn. I get to grow.
The creature lunged one last time for the cycle, but Hydro ducked, rolled, and countered again. Sparks erupted where his fist connected. His knuckles were raw, bleeding slightly, but the creature staggered backward, almost as if recognizing his resolve.
["Adaptation: notable. Skill acquisition rate increasing. Survival probability improving."]
Hydro fell to his knees briefly, gasping, hands on the cold stone. Pain, exhaustion, and ice burned his skin. But he smiled. Weak. Shaky. But real. He had landed his first successful hits. He had survived blows that should have broken him. He had begun.
Step by painful step, Hydro learned. Stumble by stumble, hit by hit, bruise by bruise. He was a total newbie—completely outmatched, barely surviving. But for the first time, he felt alive in this multiverse. He was part of the grind.
["Continue,"] the System said calmly.
Hydro clenched his fists, chest heaving, eyes fixed on the creature. The grind had started.
And he wasn't stopping.
Alright, let's roll into **"The Start of the Grind" [4/5]**. Hydro's still a rookie, but he's starting to connect the dots, landing consecutive hits, sensing patterns, and catching a glimpse of his latent potential.
Hydro's arms trembled as he got back to his feet, sweat and cold mixing on his skin. The creature loomed before him, its silver eyes glinting like molten metal in the muted light of the arena. Its jagged claws twitched, ready to strike.
But something had changed. Hydro had started to see.
It wasn't strength that had shifted, or reflexes that suddenly improved. It was the tiniest details—the pause before a swipe, the faint shift in its shadow, the subtle tension in its form that telegraphed movement.
He rolled forward instinctively, dodging a swipe that would have shredded his shoulder just minutes ago. Before the creature could recover, Hydro struck again—this time aiming at its lower flank. His fist connected solidly, sparks erupting at the point of contact. The creature hissed, recoiled, and staggered slightly backward.
["Adaptation: notable. Skill acquisition: improving."]
Hydro stumbled back, heart racing, muscles burning, but a small, incredulous smile tugged at his lips. I'm… actually doing this.
The creature lunged again, faster this time, but Hydro anticipated the shift in its weight. He pivoted, rolled, and struck its arm with a precise motion. Another spark, another stagger. The creature snarled, almost backing away, testing him cautiously now.
Hydro's mind raced. It's not random. It moves like a pattern… like it reacts to me. I can… predict it.
Each hit he landed, clumsy and awkward as they were, gave him more information. He adjusted stance, timing, distance. His fists still throbbed, his cuts burned, and every muscle ached, but he felt the tiniest edge forming—a thread of control amidst chaos.
["Observation: successful. Adaptation rate accelerating."]
Hydro's lips curved into a grin. Acceleration, huh? Yeah… that feels good.
The creature circled, claws twitching. Hydro kept moving, dodging, rolling, striking. The rhythm of fight became clearer with every attempt. A pause here, a swing there, a feint—Hydro began to respond instinctively, muscles memorizing movements he hadn't consciously learned.
A spike of something unfamiliar surged in his chest, a subtle awareness he hadn't felt before. A fleeting intuition, a whisper beneath his consciousness: he's slower than you, weak at the side… hit there.
Hydro froze for a split second, then struck exactly where the intuition suggested. Sparks exploded as his fist collided. The creature staggered, snarled, and stumbled more noticeably than before. Hydro felt a thrill, but it wasn't arrogance—just the clarity of understanding, the small spark of potential that came from paying attention.
["Skill acquisition: progressing. Potential detected."]
Hydro's heart pounded. Potential? That… that's mine? He shook off the thought, focusing again. He couldn't rely on luck. He couldn't rely on instinct alone. Every strike, every dodge, every observation was a lesson.
The creature lunged one more time. Hydro rolled, twisted mid-air, and landed a flurry of consecutive hits—weak by his standards, but effective. Sparks danced with each connection, and the creature recoiled repeatedly. For the first time, Hydro felt the tiniest hint of control, a faint sense that he could influence the flow of battle, even as a complete novice.
His arms screamed in protest. Cuts on his skin burned sharply. Breathing came ragged and fast, but Hydro didn't stop. He was learning. He was surviving. He was adapting.
["Adaptation confirmed. Survival probability: increasing steadily. Skill potential recognized."]
Hydro staggered back, chest heaving, fists clenching, a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration flooding his senses. He was still inexperienced. He was still being tested mercilessly. But for the first time, he felt that invisible thread—the sense that he could grow stronger here.
And beneath the exhaustion, beneath the bruises and cuts, a flicker of determination sparked brighter than ever before.
I may be a rookie. I may be weak. But I'm learning. I'm surviving. And I will get better.
Hydro squared his shoulders and met the creature's gaze. Its silver eyes reflected his own resolve. This wasn't the end. Not by far.
Perfect. Let's close this arc with **"The Start of the Grind" [5/5]**, giving Hydro that satisfying first success, his first real reward—a dagger—and hinting at his potential growth and latent abilities.
Hydro's body screamed in protest. Every muscle ached, every cut throbbed, every bruise burned like fire. His lungs heaved. The arena's icy stone floor pressed cold against him, but he didn't care.
The creature lunged one last time, claws flashing with lethal precision. Hydro dodged instinctively, rolling sideways, twisting mid-air, and for the first time, he felt… control. Not complete control, not perfect timing, not mastery—but control enough to *dictate the flow* of the fight.
He struck. Hard. With intent. Sparks flew as his fist connected against the creature's side, and this time, it staggered noticeably. Another strike, faster, more precise. Then another. Hydro could feel the rhythm now, the subtle weight shifts, the pauses, the energy—the pulse of battle itself.
Finally, with one last flurry, he landed a clean strike to the creature's flank. It staggered backward, chest heaving with an unnatural hiss, and then, impossibly, dissolved into thin, silvery smoke. The arena went silent.
Hydro collapsed to his knees, trembling. Pain, exhaustion, exhilaration—they all collided at once. He laughed, breathless, hoarse, and slumped forward, hands pressed to the floor.
["Trial complete,"] the System intoned. Calm, neutral, unfeeling. ["Performance: satisfactory. Survival: achieved. Reward: issued."]
Hydro blinked, still trying to catch his breath. Reward? He had survived. That had been enough. But before he could question it, something materialized in front of him, hovering in the cyan light of the arena.
A dagger. Small, elegant, and faintly glowing. The blade shimmered with a faint, pulsating aura, as if it were alive—or at least aware.
["Weapon assigned. Weapon: Proctomancer. Properties: enhances perception and reaction speed, amplifies basic strikes, suitable for beginners. Further potential exists with mastery."]
Hydro reached for it, fingers brushing the hilt. The moment he gripped it, a subtle hum coursed through his arms. Tiny sparks danced along the blade, and for a fleeting moment, he could feel the battlefield differently. Every footprint, every shadow, every hint of movement around him seemed slightly clearer, sharper. His fists, already bruised and raw, felt connected to the dagger in a way he couldn't describe.
["Use this weapon to continue adaptation. Growth is cumulative."]
Hydro stood slowly, gripping the dagger tightly. It was light in his hand, perfectly balanced, and yet it pulsed with a quiet strength. Not overwhelming. Not divine. Just… enough.
He tested a small swing. The blade cut through the air cleanly. His first practice strike felt… satisfying. He could sense the hum of the arena now, the flow of energy that had been invisible before. It wasn't magic, exactly—not yet—but it was something. A whisper of potential, a first glimpse of power he could grow into.
Hydro exhaled, eyes scanning the empty arena. The cold, the snow, the stone—all of it still pressed against him. But now, he felt a thread of confidence weaving through exhaustion and fear. Step by step, strike by strike, he could get stronger. He could survive.
["Next trial will follow,"] the System said. ["Adaptation and skill acquisition will continue. Your journey has only begun."]
Hydro's lips curved into a small, exhausted smile. The grind. The challenge. The pain. The learning. He had survived. He had learned. And now, he had a weapon.
The dagger felt like more than a tool. It was a promise. A starting point. A first step into something bigger. And Hydro knew, deep down—even if his body ached, even if his mind screamed in fatigue—that he would not stop.
Because this was his world now. The Fiction Multiverse. The grind. The growth.
And he was ready to step fully into it.
Hydro tightened his grip on the dagger and took a careful step forward. The snow, the cold, the unknown—none of it mattered. He had begun.
The journey had begun.