Ruby Fairchild had always suspected reality was poorly designed.
She just hadn't expected a patch note.
The world remained frozen in a tableau of suspended chaos—the café patrons locked mid-scream, dust motes hanging in the air like lazy stars, Elara's grip still firm around Ruby's wrist. Ruby could feel the warmth of her skin, the tension in her fingers.
Useful data.
The cheerful chime echoed again, louder this time, as if whatever had spoken earlier was impatient.
Initialization in Progress…
Text unfurled across Ruby's vision, translucent and invasive, hovering just beyond the reach of her eyes. It didn't obscure her view so much as claim it, asserting itself as something she would have to acknowledge.
Ruby exhaled slowly.
"So," she murmured, "this is happening."
Elara blinked. "You see it too?"
Ruby's smile sharpened. "Oh, good. I was worried this was a stroke."
Elara released Ruby's wrist at last, rubbing her own as if to ground herself. Her eyes darted around the frozen café, then back to Ruby. "Ruby. The world just… stopped."
"Yes," Ruby agreed lightly. "Very rude of it."
More text scrolled.
Welcome to… Oh, Who Cares?
The System has been shoehorned into your world. We apologize for the inconvenience and the inevitable destruction of your favorite coffee shops.
Ruby snorted. "I knew this place wouldn't survive the year."
Elara stared at her. "You're joking."
"I cope through humor."
"This is not—" Elara cut herself off as another line appeared.
Time-Out! (Don't Panic, The Apocalypse Can Wait)
Elara read aloud without meaning to. Her voice went flat. "The world around you will be frozen for the duration of this mandatory tutorial."
She looked up sharply. "Ruby. This says apocalypse."
"Yes," Ruby said. "I caught that."
Elara's jaw tightened. "People are going to die."
Ruby tilted her head, studying Elara's reaction with open fascination. No denial. No hysteria. Just immediate acceptance of consequences.
Principled. Predictable. Annoyingly admirable.
The System continued, unfazed by mortal distress.
Initiating Tutorial (You Didn't Have a Choice)
A countdown began. Big, obnoxious numbers ticked down in Ruby's peripheral vision.
5…
4…
Elara inhaled deeply. "Okay. Okay. We listen. We learn. We don't panic."
Ruby leaned closer. "You sound like you've done this before."
"Crisis management training," Elara muttered. "Don't look at me like that."
"Oh, I absolutely will."
The countdown hit zero.
The tutorial unfolded with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
What is "The System"? (The Short, Depressing Version)
The System is a Universal Defense Mechanism™! (Patent pending, please don't sue us.) It's set into place to grant all worlds the 'ability' to defend themselves from the apocalypse. Think of it as a poorly designed antivirus software that only installs itself when the viruses are already inside.
It's been initialized into every creature with a minimum level of intelligence on the planet. (Yes, even that guy who keeps talking to traffic cones. He got a class, too.) The power granted may be used however the user wishes, which is terrifying, given your track record.
The Apocalypse: A Much-Needed World Reset
Each world has its own unique flavor of inevitable doom. The apocalypse is the byproduct of the world attempting to initialize a "reset". The majority of each world's residents will not survive. Consider this your formal notice that you are probably a statistic. Good luck!
The Base Archetypes: Pick Your Poison
The System categorizes all users into three broad Archetypes. This is just a label to help you understand which end of the weapon to hold.
* Mage: Squishy, flashy, reads too much.
* Warrior: Hits things until they stop moving.
* Rogue: Sneaky, untrustworthy, probably owes someone money.
The Path System: Where You Actually Matter
Your Archetype is just the starter pack. Your real power comes from The Paths.
There are 18 distinct Paths available across the spectrum of violence. You must select up to 7 Paths.
WARNING: This choice is PERMANENT.
Once you lock in your Paths, there are no refunds, no exchanges, and no "speaking to the manager." If you pick Stealth and Heavy Armor and wonder why you're clanking around like a pots-and-pans robot, that is a personal problem.
Mage Paths:
* Illusion
* Conjuration
* Evocation
* Restoration
* Transmutation
* Enchantment
Warrior Paths:
* Smithing
* Heavy Armor
* Shield-Basher
* Berserker
* Dueling
* Archery
Rogue Paths:
* Light Armor
* Stealth
* Lock-picking
* Pickpocket
* Speech
* Alchemy
Note: Paths are NOT class-restricted. Go ahead, make a Wizard who hits people with a shield. We find that hilarious.
The Path Board: Managing Your Limited Bandwidth
Each Path can be leveled up to Level 99. As you grind, you will unlock:
* Glyphs (Passives): Boring but useful stat boosts.
* Runes (Abilities): The button you press to make things explode.
The Catch (Because There's Always a Catch)
You have a "Path Board" implanted in your soul. Due to the limited processing power of your mortal brain, you cannot use everything at once.
* Glyph Limit: You may only equip 12 Glyphs at a time.
* Rune Limit: You may only equip 12 Runes at a time.
Choose your loadout wisely. Or don't. We enjoy watching you panic in the menu while a goblin chews on your ankle.
Leveling Up: The Grind Never Ends
Every user may level up their Class by diligently following through with that vaguely defined purpose. Doing this will increase the overall physical and magical capabilities of the user with each level-up they obtain.
Users may also obtain special powers along the way, or just a cool glowing tattoo that doesn't do anything useful.
Your Power, Your Problem
Users are under no obligation to go through with the purpose of their Class or utilize their Paths efficiently. How you use your power is your decision alone. (Don't come crying to us when you die because you equipped 12 Speech glyphs to fight a dragon.)
Elara absorbed it with grim focus, eyes flicking as she read every word.
Ruby skimmed.
She didn't need the details yet. She needed the shape of the thing.
Power. Choice. Consequence.
"This says we all get… assigned something," Elara said slowly. "Classes. Levels."
"Mmhmm."
"And it says," Elara continued, voice tightening, "that how we use it is up to us."
Ruby hummed, pleased. "Terrifying, isn't it?"
Elara turned to her. "Ruby."
"Yes?"
"You cannot treat this like a game."
Ruby met her gaze, unblinking. "I'm not."
Elara frowned. "You're smiling."
"I smile when I'm thinking."
"You smile when you're enjoying yourself."
Ruby leaned in just enough for Elara to feel the shift. "And what do you think I'm enjoying, Elara?"
The answer hung between them, heavy and unspoken.
Elara looked away first.
assigning Class Archetypes to all inhabitants of the world...
...This might take a while. We have a lot of low potential to process.
Ruby's interface responded instantly, Archetype snapping into place as if it had been waiting for her.
Archetype Assigned: Rogue
She barely glanced at it before moving on to Paths.
Stealth. Light Armor. Alchemy. Dueling. Conjuration. Evocation. Restoration.
Seven locks clicked shut in her mind.
Permanent.
Good.
Elara hesitated longer.
Ruby watched her from the corner of her eye, cataloguing the way Elara's brow furrowed, the way she reread warnings, the way she took responsibility even now—when no one was watching.
"What are you choosing?" Ruby asked.
Elara didn't answer immediately. "I don't know what the right choice is."
"There isn't one," Ruby said. "Only choices you can live with."
Elara's lips pressed thin. "That's easy for you to say."
"Yes," Ruby agreed softly. "It usually is."
Elara made her selection.
The System acknowledged it without comment.
Ruby filed that away too.
The final line of text flickered, almost anticlimactic.
Congratulations, Users!
Please enjoy the end of the world responsibly.
And then—
Sound crashed back into existence.
Screams. Sirens. Glass shattering somewhere down the street. The café lurched as gravity remembered its job, and people collapsed into motion all at once.
Elara staggered as a chair clattered to the floor. Ruby caught her automatically, fingers closing around Elara's arm with practiced ease.
"Hey," Ruby said. "Eyes on me."
Elara swallowed, nodding. "Right. Right."
Outside, the city had changed.
Not physically—London still stood—but something had been added to the air. A tension. A wrongness. The distant echo of something vast and hungry stretching its limbs.
Phones buzzed again, this time with frantic alerts.
Elara checked hers, face draining of color. "My sister. I need to get home."
Ruby's expression shifted, all humor draining away. "Go."
Elara blinked. "What?"
"I'll handle myself," Ruby said. "You go make sure Maya's safe."
For a moment, Elara looked torn.
Then she nodded. "Call me."
"I always do."
They moved together toward the door, stepping around panicked patrons and shattered cups. Outside, the sky seemed the same, but Ruby knew better now.
As Elara turned to run, Ruby reached out and caught her hand.
Elara looked back.
Ruby leaned in, voice low. "Don't die."
Elara huffed a weak laugh. "That's your advice?"
"For you?" Ruby smiled, sharp and sincere. "Yes."
Elara squeezed her hand once, then disappeared into the chaos.
Ruby stood there for a heartbeat longer, watching her go.
Then she turned the other way.
The world was ending.
And Ruby Fairchild had plans.