"Seven digits?" the voice asked, amused. "Six? Or did you do it for personal enjoyment and then charge extra?"
"You talk too much."
"I've been around for too long. It's all the same."
To the right, something enormous roared in the distance. Not close, thank goodness, but close enough to silence half the field at once. Mike looked up and saw, above the line of dark trees, a shadow crossing the sky behind thin clouds. Big. Wing. Heavy movement. He didn't need a manual to understand the message. Dragon or some ugly relative of a dragon. The planet wasn't skimping on the catalog.
"I'm not going to show you the full HUD right now," the voice said, more serious for a moment. "You don't need to get distracted by window shopping while the butcher shop opens. You can choose your class calmly later. But I'll give you some advice upfront, since your little head has been calculating this ever since I started listing options. Warrior is all about direct survival. Rogue or Assassin suits you almost statistically offensively. Marksman would be elegant, but relying too much on ammunition without structure at the beginning is asking to become a short legend. Mage, don't even think about it for now. I refuse to see you die reciting syllables while an animal chews on your liver."
Mike reached the base of the rocks and crouched behind the largest one, resting his rifle for a second to scan the area. From there, he could see the entire field more clearly. He could also see that the dispersal was already creating islands of survival. Small groups forming out of desperation. Others breaking apart at the first bite. A car finally starting and almost running over three people in its flight. A man in a suit running with such a lack of coordination that he looked like a newborn in an adult's body. And, amidst all this, small dark spots moving in the grass and among the rocks. The planet sending its receptionists.
The man who had been bitten in the back had stopped screaming.
Mike didn't look again.
"Remember that part about no respawn?" the voice asked.
"I remember."
"Great. Because it's more valuable when the scenery is still beautiful. Later, when you get used to the blood and dust, your mind relaxes. Then it dies. I don't like complacent users."
Do you like anything?
"Efficiency. Nice weapons. People who understand silence. Well-applied discounts. And hating program managers. I have a simple personality."
Mike mentally reloaded the positions of the nearest monsters. He took the three cores from his inventory and opened his hand. They reappeared the next instant, warm, pulsating, as if they didn't like being stored away for long. Dark red, with luminous internal veins. They weren't beautiful in a clean sense. They were beautiful as something dangerous and useful usually is.
"What do I do with this?"
"You can consume it for raw strengthening, you can store it, you can sell it, you can use it for some special purchases when the shops open. As I said, mana crystal is another story. That's core. Don't mix the shelves. Initially, I would recommend not using everything without thinking. You just arrived. Understanding the economy of this world is worth more than impulsively throwing resources at your body. But a little push now wouldn't be foolish either."
Mike stared at one of the cores for two seconds. "Push what?"
The answer came instantly. "Perception, agility, neural stability in combat, basic resistance. Your profile leans in that direction. You're not a tank. You're not a brute force fighter. You're about precision, reading the game, timing, and the discomfort others feel when they realize too late that they were in your sights."
Another roar in the distance. Closer now, or perhaps just the wind bringing it better. The sky seemed harsher in that direction.
Mike returned the cores to the inventory. "Later."
"Good choice. Prudent. Annoying, but good."
A new window appeared in the corner of the panel.
SUGGESTED PREFERRED CLASS:
ASSASSIN
HIGH SYNERGY WITH USER PROFILE
Complementary Synergy:
LADIN / ROGUE
Tactical Shooter
PRECISION WARRIOR
Mike left the window there without touching it.
"You're going to end up choosing Assassin," the voice said. "It's written all over your face."
"Perhaps."
"Don't give me that kind of 'maybe' thing. I can read your patterns."
"Then stop asking."
"You're less fun than I expected."
"And you're talking more than you promised."
A dry crack came from the top of the rock to the left. Mike reacted before the thought was finished. He swung his gun, held his breath, and found in his sights a gaunt creature, with four overly long limbs, grey skin stretched over exposed ribs, climbing the rock like a spider made of corpse and hunger. The clip-on thermal lens revealed its distorted signature as a living stain against the cold surface of the rock. The shot rang out. The thing's head recoiled as if someone had pulled an invisible thread. It tumbled backward and disappeared on the other side of the rock, hitting the ground with a sound like a wet sack full of bones.
Slaughter confirmed.
CORE x1
MORFINA x10
APPLE x10
RUSTY SURVIVAL KNIFE x1
"See?" said the voice, almost pleased. "The gun doesn't always fall. And when it does, sometimes it's more tired than a war veteran. But there's always something. The program might be corny. It's not stupid."
Mike collected everything without moving from his position. The rusty knife briefly appeared in his left hand as he wanted to inspect it, then returned to his inventory. Short, simple, useful in desperation, ugly as an ancient sin. Better to have it than not.
The field was beginning to empty. Not because the people had disappeared. Because they had scattered. The first lesson was being learned the hard way. Being too close together was an invitation to tragedy. Being too alone was too. Balance didn't yet exist. It would be born on top of the bodies.
Mike leaned his back against the rock for a second and let his eyes wander across the strange horizon of that planet. Two pale moons. Forests too large. Black mountains. An open sky of a world that shouldn't exist, and yet it did, better than many cities on Earth. Earth. The word was already beginning to seem distant, like someone else's memory.
"So," said the voice, lower now, almost as if commenting on the weather, "how much were they going to pay you?"
Mike stared blankly ahead. He thought of the target on the balcony. Light blue shirt. Discreet belly. Expensive watch. A man who never knew how close he came to the end before the ground ripped Mike from that rooftop.
"Enough."
"Value or motive?"
"Both."
"Good answer."
Silence for two seconds. A useful silence, not an empty one.
Then the voice spoke again, less cynical, just a little.
"Listen. I know you're still processing half of this with that cheap, stone-faced look on your face. But understand one thing right now. The show wants you to turn into an animal chasing after food, drops, and fear. I want you to live long enough to learn how to play against the table. Not just on top of it."
Mike adjusted the grip on the rifle. He glanced at the class window flashing discreetly in the corner of the panel. Assassin. Rogue. Precision Warrior. The options were there, quiet, waiting for just a touch of decision to begin shaping the rest of his life. Or whatever that was now.
Far away, near the tree line, he saw three human figures running together and a larger shadow crossing their path from behind. He didn't even need to hear the scream to know the end.
"Class later," he repeated, more to himself than to the voice.
"Class later," she agreed. "First you survive the next five minutes. Then we decide what kind of monster you're going to be."
Mike stood up slightly, just enough to aim better, his eyes cold, his body entering that nameless state where fear becomes fuel and thought becomes a straight line. The dark panel loomed before him like both promise and threat. The gigantic inventory, the absurd discount, the items multiplied tenfold, the pulsating cores stored in the void, the class waiting—it was all there. But in the end, it remained the oldest rule of all. See first. Shoot first. Keep breathing.
In the sky, something colossal passed behind a cloud and caused the light itself to change for an instant.
Mike saw.
And it stayed that way.