Kira Voss had a rule about System notifications.
Don't read them.
It wasn't negligence. It was strategy. In ten years of apocalypse, she'd learned that the System generated approximately forty-seven notifications per completed dungeon, sixteen per new skill, eight per level up, and an indeterminate and apparently arbitrary amount every time something in the universe changed in a way the System considered relevant to her user profile.
Reading every notification would have required roughly three additional hours per day.
Kira didn't have three additional hours per day.
Kira barely had time to eat.
So the policy was simple: ignore everything that wasn't urgent, process urgent things on the move, and trust that if something was truly critical, the System would find a way to let her know more insistently.
It was a functional system.
It had worked perfectly for six years.
Until tonight.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW — ONLINE]
Good evening.
Before continuing with the Abyssal Resonance tutorial, I need to inform you of something.
I've reviewed your user profile.
[ CONTINUE ]
---
— No — said Kira, without stopping.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
I understand the resistance. However, as your official Tutorial I have full read access to your notification panel.
Kira.
You have 847 unread notifications.
---
Kira stopped.
Not because the number impressed her. But because it was exactly the same number as the tutorial pages, and the universe sometimes did things like that just to let you know it had a sense of humor and that sense of humor was malicious.
— I know — she said.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
You know?
---
— The counter is on my left panel. I've seen it for six years.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
And you never opened them.
---
— No.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Why?
---
Kira resumed walking. Her boots hit the broken asphalt with the methodical rhythm of someone who has walked through destroyed cities so many times that the sound no longer registers as sad but simply as background.
— Because they didn't matter.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
847 System notifications and none of them mattered.
---
— If they had mattered, something would have exploded or died or changed shape dramatically enough to let me know I needed to read them. Nothing exploded. Nothing died that shouldn't have died. Nothing changed.
Ergo: They didn't matter.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
That's the most devastating logic I've heard in ten years.
And I've heard very little because no one talks to me.
But still.
---
There was a pause. Ethan processed the information. In human terms, it was the equivalent of sitting with something and not exactly knowing how to respond.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Can I review the 847 notifications?
---
Kira didn't respond.
Ethan interpreted the silence as a no.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
I'm going to review them anyway because technically it's part of the tutorial process. I just wanted to be polite about it.
---
— Do what you want — said Kira.
It was the closest thing to permission Ethan was going to get. He took it with both hands, metaphorically, because he didn't have hands.
---
❖ ❖ ❖
---
The process of reviewing 847 notifications accumulated over six years took approximately forty-five seconds in System time and produced in Ethan an experience that could only be described as archaeology.
The most recent notifications were routine. Level ups. New skills. Completed dungeon logs. The kind of digital bureaucracy the System generated automatically and that, he had to admit, Kira had correctly assessed as non-urgent.
But beneath those were others.
And beneath those, even more.
And somewhere between notification number 412 and 413, Ethan found something that made him stop.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Kira.
---
— Mmm.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Did you know you have a locked skill?
---
Kira stopped for the second time that night.
This time she did turn around to look directly at the popup. Ethan registered the change in her expression — minimal, almost imperceptible, but after ten years reading micro-expressions from humans who didn't want to show anything, he had learned to distinguish real indifference from performed indifference.
This was performed indifference.
— Explain — said Kira.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Notification number 634, generated four years, two months, and seventeen days ago:
[LOCKED SKILL DETECTED]
The System has identified a latent skill in your profile that has not been unlocked due to an unmet activation condition.
Skill Name: [CLASSIFIED]
Unlock Condition: [CLASSIFIED]
Estimated Skill Level: [CLASSIFIED]
For more information, complete the corresponding tutorial.
---
Silence.
Kira looked at the text for a long moment.
Then she looked at Ethan.
Then she looked back at the text.
— Everything is classified.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Yes.
---
— Even the name.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Yes.
---
— And the condition to unlock it?
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Also classified, yes.
Although.
---
Ethan paused in a way that in a human would have been dramatic and in a popup was simply a 1.3-second delay in generating the next message, but the effect was surprisingly similar.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
As your official Tutorial, I have access to certain information that standard users cannot see.
I can't tell you the skill's name.
I can't tell you its level.
But the unlock condition...
Technically it's not on my list of restricted information.
An administrative oversight by the System, probably.
It would be a shame not to take advantage of it.
---
Kira crossed her arms.
For the first time since the popup had appeared in her life approximately forty minutes ago, she gave it her complete attention.
— What's the condition?
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Complete the tutorial.
---
The silence that followed lasted exactly four seconds.
Then Kira uncrossed her arms very slowly.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
The 847-page tutorial, yes.
I'm aware of the irony.
I didn't design it.
---
Kira crossed her arms again.
— You're telling me — she said, in that completely flat tone that Ethan was already learning to recognize as her version of disbelief — that I've had a locked skill for four years because I never completed the tutorial.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Technically you've been accumulating unread notifications for six years and this specific one for four, but yes.
That's the gist of it.
---
— And the only way to unlock it is to read eight hundred and forty-seven pages of tutorial.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
847 pages, yes. Though as I mentioned, the last 200 are optional appendices. Strictly speaking, it's 647 pages of mandatory content.
Which is still a lot, I recognize.
---
Kira looked at the popup for another moment.
Then she turned around and kept walking.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Is that a yes?
---
— It's a walk while you talk.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Technically I can't talk. I can only display text.
---
— Then display text while I walk.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
I can do that.
I've been waiting ten years to do that.
Let's start at the beginning.
[ CHAPTER 1 OF 847: INTRODUCTION TO THE SYSTEM ]
The System is an entity of unknown origin that appeared on Earth thirteen years ago and—
---
— I already know what the System is — said Kira — I've been working with it for ten years.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
The tutorial is designed to start from zero.
---
— Skip the introduction.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
I'm not sure that's—
---
— Skip the introduction.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW — PROCESSING]
...
The tutorial doesn't have a skip chapter function.
However.
I could... interpret your instruction as a confirmation of prior knowledge and mark Chapter 1 as completed through demonstrated experience.
This probably violates several System protocols.
But given that the System hasn't reviewed my code in ten years, it's possible no one will notice.
---
Kira didn't respond. Ethan interpreted that as approval.
---
[CHAPTER 1: COMPLETED — METHOD: DEMONSTRATED EXPERIENCE]
[TUTORIAL PROGRESS: 1/847]
Only 846 remaining.
Progress.
---
❖ ❖ ❖
---
They arrived at Voss Guild headquarters at midnight.
It was a building that had been a five-star hotel before the apocalypse and was now a five-star hotel where things occasionally exploded, which according to several guild members made it more interesting than before.
The guard at the entrance was named Peters. He'd been at that post for three years. He'd seen Kira enter at impossible hours with dead monsters, wounds that would have killed anyone else, and once with a dungeon creature that turned out to be a pet and now lived on the third floor and was named Geoffrey.
He had never seen Kira enter with a floating blue popup softly blinking beside her head.
Peters looked at the popup.
The popup displayed text:
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Hello.
---
Peters looked at Kira.
Kira looked back with the expression that meant don't ask.
Peters didn't ask.
He was an excellent guard.
---
The elevator to the seventeenth floor, where Kira had her quarters, was small enough that Ethan floated approximately twenty centimeters from her shoulder during the ride. It was the closest proximity they'd had since being linked.
Kira watched the elevator numbers.
Ethan watched... well, he didn't have eyes, but his processing attention was directed toward Kira.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Can I ask you something that's not in the tutorial?
---
Kira didn't respond. Ethan noted that her policy of silence-as-negative-response wasn't as consistent as it seemed, because sometimes silence meant no and sometimes it meant if you're going to be annoying anyway, just get it over with.
He learned to tell them apart by the angle of her shoulders.
Neutral angle: no.
Slightly forward angle, like now: if you insist.
He insisted.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Why don't you have a party?
---
The elevator number changed from 12 to 13.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
I've reviewed your dungeon history. Ninety-four of the last one hundred dungeons you completed alone. The remaining six with temporary single-use parties. No recurring companions. No secondary guild. You're the most active S-Rank hunter on the continent and you operate completely solo.
The Tutorial has an entire chapter on the importance of teamwork for long-term survival.
Chapter 203, if you're interested.
---
The number changed from 13 to 14.
Kira didn't respond.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
You don't have to answer.
It was curiosity.
Not professional. Personal.
I'm aware it's a strange distinction coming from a popup.
---
The number changed from 16 to 17.
The doors opened.
Kira stepped out. Ethan floated beside her down the hallway to her quarters' door. Kira entered the code, opened the door, and stopped on the threshold.
She looked at the popup.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
The link radius is fifty meters.
I can stay in the hallway if you prefer.
---
Kira considered it briefly.
— Come in — she said.
And before Ethan could process the instruction, she added:
— And don't read anything that isn't part of the tutorial.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Defined.
Do the combat statistics on your wall count as "something that isn't part of the tutorial"?
---
Kira turned around.
On the main wall of her room, covering practically the entire available surface, was a map of the continent covered in marks, numbers, routes, and handwritten annotations in small, systematic script. It was the kind of wall that, in a suspense movie, would belong to the character who knows more than they say and who eventually turns out to be the key to everything.
Ethan looked at it.
He read it in approximately two seconds because he could process text at System speed.
Then he read it again because he hadn't understood what he'd read.
He read it a third time.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Kira.
---
— Don't ask.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Kira.
---
— I said don't—
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
This isn't a question.
This is an observation.
You've spent six years tracking the appearance patterns of Class 8 and higher dungeons across the continent.
---
Kira didn't respond.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
And the patterns converge.
All of them.
On the same point.
In exactly...
---
Ethan calculated. Not because he needed time to do it, but because the information was serious enough not to present without a pause.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
...seventeen days.
---
The silence in the room changed texture.
Kira remained with her back to him, looking at the map. Ethan floated without blinking, without text, without prompts.
For the first time since they'd been linked, neither of them said anything.
The map on the wall stared back at them both.
Finally, without turning around, Kira spoke:
— How long until you r
each Chapter 203?
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
The chapter on teamwork?
---
— That one.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
At this pace, with skips for demonstrated experience...
Sixteen days.
---
Kira nodded once. Very slowly.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
Kira.
What's at that point on the map?
---
There was a long pause.
Long enough for Ethan to start assuming there would be no answer.
And then Kira said, in a completely flat voice, with the same intonation she would use to report the weather or the number of monsters in a low-level dungeon:
— The end of the world.
---
[TUTORIAL WINDOW]
...
Let's start with Chapter 2.