The smell of roasting meat did something to everyone’s mood.

  Even in a death tutorial, hot food had power.

  Fat sizzled and popped over the small, carefully shielded fire. Vex hovered way too close with a stick, trying to “help” turn skewers of tusker meat without actually doing any of the work. Arin sat with her back against the rock wall, one knee up, watching the entrance of the ravine with the relaxed focus of someone who never fully relaxed. Marina fussed over a tin cup with an intensely unappetizing brown liquid cooling inside.

  Mike sat on a flat rock a few meters away, stretching his fingers slowly, feeling the mana pathways in his arms.

  The tree he’d hit earlier bore an ugly scar—a crater where bark and wood had exploded outward under his fist. No fractures in his bones this time. No screaming knuckles. Just the satisfying ache of muscle that had done something right.

  Stormstrike hummed faintly under his skin when he called for it, like a muscle memory that wasn’t purely physical.

  [Skill: Stormstrike (Rank F, Uncommon)]

  — Channel lightning into a melee blow

  — Damage scales with Strength + Arcane Power

  — Reduces recoil and self-harm from impact

  It fit him.

  He was fast. Strong. Tough. And his class wanted to be in the thick of things, not hiding behind a rock and lobbing spells.

  Lumi was sprawled on her back in a patch of sun nearby, legs in the air, belly exposed, absolutely shameless. Tiny arcs occasionally hopped between her paws and the stones.

  Vex rolled one of the skewers and leaned in, sniffing.

  “Almost done,” he announced, voice reverent.

  “It was almost done five minutes ago,” Marina said. “You’re just stalling so you don’t have to drink this.”

  She lifted the tin cup.

  It smelled faintly of bark, iron, and regret.

  Vex made a face. “That’s not a potion. That’s a hate crime.”

  “It’s a minor stamina draught,” Marina said. “If it works, you’ll be able to sprint longer and recover faster. If it doesn’t, I’ll get feedback and we’ll try again. Either way, science wins.”

  “Why am I the test subject?” he demanded.

  Arin lifted an eyebrow. “Because you volunteered.”

  “I did no such—”

  “Yes, you did,” Arin and Marina said together.

  Mike snorted.

  He was only half paying attention. The other half of his mind traced routes through the forest, revisiting yesterday’s fights. The duskhounds. The boar. The way his lightning flowed better now. The way his body had handled the recoil from hitting things that should have shattered him.

  He’d tested Stormstrike on three different trees this morning. The first had lost a fist-sized chunk of trunk. The second had cracked through half its diameter. The third, when he’d combined the skill with a short Stormstep—the burst-mobility skill he’d unlocked in the Trial—had almost toppled completely, lightning and momentum ripping a chunk out like a bite.

  His hand hadn’t even throbbed.

  [Skill: Stormstep (Rank F, Common)]

  — Short-range burst movement

  — Scales with Agility

  — Can be used mid-attack

  He rolled his shoulders. Stormstep into Stormstrike was already a solid base combo. Add Thunderstep from Lumi, Rootbind from Marina, Arin’s radiant strikes, Vex’s traps…

  They weren’t weak.

  They were just still nowhere near safe.

  A System prompt hovered quietly at the edge of his awareness.

  [Main Quest: Survive the Tutorial — Time Remaining: 10:17:22]

  Time ticked down whether they moved or not.

  Vex finally relented and pulled the meat from the fire. He passed skewers around with mock solemnity, then took a breath and accepted Marina’s cup like a man heading to the gallows.

  “Drink,” she ordered.

  He took a tentative sip.

  His face twisted.

  “It tastes like… tree and sweat and regret,” he said. “And I think one of my ancestors just disowned me.”

  “Effects?” Marina asked.

  He waited, listening internally, then rolled his shoulders, jogged in place a few steps, jumped twice.

  “Huh,” he said. “Okay. Legs feel… lighter. Not a lot, but there’s something. Less burn.”

  [Buff Applied: Minor Stamina Draught — 00:09:58]

  Mike could see the faint shimmer around Vex’s legs in his Perception, mana moving smoother through them.

  Marina sagged with quiet satisfaction.

  [Guidance Quest Progress: First Functional Brew — Complete]

  A small prompt blinked in front of her.

  She didn’t open it yet. She just smiled a little and took the cup back.

  “Good,” she said. “Less likely you’ll collapse when you decide to do something stupid.”

  “Who says I’m going to—”

  “History,” Arin said.

  They ate in relative silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Meat. Heat. The low, constant murmur of the stream.

  It almost felt like a normal camp.

  Which was exactly why Mike’s skin itched under the calm.

  He finished his skewer, tossed the bare stick into the ashes, and stood.

  Arin looked up immediately. “You’re going,” she said. Not a question.

  “I am,” Mike said.

  Marina’s mouth tightened. “Again.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Again. Yesterday was good. We pushed. We got experience. We tested new skills. Today we do the same, but a little farther, a little harder.”

  “Define ‘a little,’” Vex said, licking grease off his fingers.

  “Nothing with wings and a skull bigger than my torso,” Mike replied. “I’ll stay within an hour and a half. I won’t chase anything weird into misty caves. If it looks like a boss, I walk away.”

  That last part was a lie.

  He’d try to walk away.

  But some part of him knew: if the System dangled something labeled “Boss” in his face, walking away would be like walking away from a ticking bomb in your living room.

  Arin studied him. “You’re not bringing a weapon?”

  He held up his hands.

  “Stormstrike,” he said. “Bodies over blades. If I pick something up out there, great. But right now I hit harder than anything I can carry.”

  “Arrogant,” Vex said.

  “Accurate,” Marina countered.

  Lumi hopped up, landing on Mike’s shoulder with a tiny crackle.

  “You’re with me,” he told her. “Last time you saved my ass.”

  She licked his ear in agreement.

  Arin chewed on her lower lip for a second.

  “There’s something else,” Mike said. “I need to test a skill that… isn’t safe to have near you.”

  They all knew what he meant.

  The Chaos-adjacent one.

  The one that had been born when his identity tried to kill him and he’d killed it back.

  [Skill: Chaotic Doppelganger (Rank ? , Unique)]

  He didn’t open its description often. Something about it made his eyes skip lines.

  “You’re not going to… do that near our camp, right?” Vex asked.

  “No,” Mike said. “Somewhere empty. If it goes wrong, I don’t want fallout hitting you.”

  Marina didn’t like it, he could see that. But she understood. They all did. The only thing worse than a dangerous skill was an untested dangerous skill.

  “Same rules as yesterday,” Arin said. “If you feel things tipping, you run. If you hear more than one of Vex’s traps trigger when you get near camp, you sprint.”

  “Got it,” Mike said.

  “And if you die,” Vex added, “I’m looting your body. Fair warning.”

  “You’ll have to fight Lumi for it,” Mike said.

  Lumi made a sound that was entirely too smug.

  He left the ravine with the familiar mix of tension and focus sharpening his thoughts. The air outside was cooler, the sun past its highest point, shadows long and scattered between the trees.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  He didn’t go toward the growing camps. He went perpendicular to them, into a part of the forest they hadn’t mapped yet—dense, thick with mana, quiet in a way that meant the things that lived there didn’t have many predators above them.

  Good.

  His senses spread out as he walked.

  Perception, boosted by Titles and whatever his soul had become, painted him a subtle overlay: branches, faint mana trails, the weight of something moving in the distance. Stormstep tingled in his legs, ready to fire. Lightning simmered in his core.

  And under all of that, deeper, something else waited. Not light. Not crackling fury. A… shadow of potential.

  Chaotic Doppelganger.

  He pulled the skill up without triggering it, skimming its text.

  [Chaotic Doppelganger]

  — Manifest a temporary clone formed from condensed Chaos and lightning

  — Acts semi-independently, guided by caster’s intent

  — Shares a portion of caster’s stats and skills

  — Unstable: clone will eventually dissipate violently if not dismissed

  He’d used it once in panic, in the Trial, when fighting himself.

  He hadn’t tried to plan around it yet.

  He would need to.

  A normal class could spam spells and hope for the best. A class like his had to think like an engineer with explosives.

  He paused in a small clearing, closed his eyes, and concentrated.

  “Just one,” he murmured. “Short-duration. Limited power.”

  He triggered the skill.

  The air in front of him tore along a hairline crack only he could see.

  Lightning bled out, but instead of striking, it folded in on itself, forming a rough outline that filled with shadow, then detail. A second Mike stepped out of the distortion, eyes faintly lit with chaotic static, lines a little fuzzier than they should be, like a video slightly out of focus.

  It looked at him.

  He looked back.

  “Alright,” he said quietly. “No stabbing each other this time.”

  The clone smirked—his smirk, but not.

  Their thoughts brushed.

  Not full telepathy. Not control. More like handing a very dangerous coworker a task list and trusting them not to add anything on their own.

  He felt its parameters. Limited time. Limited stability. Enough strength that if it got a clean shot on something’s weak point, it would matter.

  “Follow,” he said.

  He turned and walked deeper into the forest.

  The clone matched his stride and then, as he willed it, peeled off to the side, fading into the underbrush. Its presence thinned but didn’t vanish completely. He could still feel it—a second node in his awareness.

  They moved as a two-point system, expanding his effective field.

  Minutes later, he felt it.

  Not through eyes or ears.

  Through the System.

  A pressure ahead, like a gravity well of mana. Dense. Old, for something spawned by a fresh Tutorial.

  He slowed.

  The trees ahead grew thicker, bark darker and lined with veins of faintly glowing green. Moss clung to everything, damp and heavy. The air cooled another notch.

  The forest opened into a natural bowl. In the center stood… a thing that might once have been just a beast.

  Now it was wrong.

  A massive quadruped, larger than two cars stacked, its body armored in overlapping plates of living bark. Branch-like horns curled from its skull, tangled with vines dangling like dreadlocks. Fungi sprouted along its flanks, oozing faint spores. Its eyes were pools of dull amber, too focused for a mindless animal.

  When it stamped a hoof, the ground thudded.

  [Mini-Boss Detected]

  [Groveplate Guardian (LVL 14)]

  Another prompt stacked over the first.

  [Tutorial Event Discovered: “The Twisted Warden”]

  A natural guardian of this forest has mutated under System influence and the influx of mana.

  Left alone, it will continue to warp the surrounding area, increasing ambient monster levels and hostility.

  Objectives:

  ? Defeat the Groveplate Guardian (0/1)

  Optional:

  ? Defeat it alone (0/1)

  Base Reward: Large experience bonus, rare material drop

  Hidden Reward: [???]

  Mike stared at the prompts.

  “Of course,” he whispered.

  The clone lounged in the edge of his perception, figuratively at least, something like impatience trickling through their link.

  “You see it?” Mike thought in its direction.

  Impression: yes. Prey. Big. Challenge.

  He breathed out slowly.

  Alone.

  No Arin. No Vex. No Marina. No Lumi if things went sideways.

  Just him, his skills, his stats, and a very large creature that could probably crush him flat if he mistimed one Step.

  He could walk away.

  He knew that.

  He also knew this was exactly the kind of fight that would show him where his ceiling was right now.

  And exactly the kind of reward that could widen the gap between him and everyone else—everyone trying to kill him and everyone he wanted to keep alive.

  “Fine,” he murmured. “One boss.”

  He accepted the quest.

  The Groveplate Guardian’s head lifted as if the acceptance echoed somehow. Its eyes locked on him. Its nostrils flared.

  It pawed the ground once.

  Twice.

  A third time.

  The earth trembled.

  In the underbrush, his clone shifted position, silent.

  Mike rolled his shoulders, letting lightning crawl over his arms in a thin, controlled lattice, not yet visible enough to give away his full hand.

  His heart was hammering, but his mind was clear.

  He’d already lost fights he should have died in. He’d already walked away from situations that would have killed anyone else.

  This one, he’d win.

  Even if it meant cheating with a shadow of himself waiting for the perfect hole.

  “Come on, then,” he said softly. “Let’s see how hard you hit.”

  The Guardian lowered its head and charged.

  The world narrowed to impact and timing.

  And the scene—

  —cut.

  Back at the ravine, afternoon had deepened into the early stages of evening.

  The light slanting into the rock hollow was softer, tinged gold. The fire had been reduced to embers; they didn’t want smoke advertising their position. The half-wall Arin had built threw long shadows.

  Arin hung from a branch above the wall, checking the tension on one of Vex’s new lines. It connected to a small bundle of rock and scrap metal positioned above the ravine mouth, set to drop and make a racket if disturbed in very specific ways.

  “Again,” she said.

  Vex tugged the line from below, mimicking weight and angle.

  The bundle dropped, clattering loudly against stone right at the threshold.

  “That’ll wake us,” Arin said, satisfied.

  She pulled herself back up with ease, then settled into her chosen observation point. From there, she could see the path leading up to the ravine, the trees beyond, and the sky if she craned. A good spot for a Warden, a part of her noted—the part the System had started poking at.

  A small notification waited patiently in her peripheral vision.

  [You have repeatedly assessed terrain, reinforced defenses, and established vantage points.]

  [Profession Suggestion: Novice Warden. Establish?]

  She didn’t open it yet.

  Below, Marina had laid out her herbs, vials and tools in a much more organized spread than yesterday. The success of the first draught had given her momentum; now she was testing small variations, seeing how far she could push effectiveness without creating side effects.

  Her own System prompt hovered.

  [You have crafted a functional stamina draught and begun systematic variation.]

  [Profession Suggestion: Apprentice Alchemist. Establish?]

  Vex crouched near the edge of the ravine, half-concealed by brush, fingers working quickly as he buried a narrow, sharpened stake in a shallow pit and disguised it with loose soil and leaves.

  His quest had chimed complete an hour ago.

  [You have created multiple functional traps and one personal escape route.]

  [Profession Suggestion: Novice Trapper. Establish?]

  “Feels weird,” he said, without looking up. “System telling me what I am.”

  “It’s not telling you,” Marina said, grinding something in a small stone bowl. “It’s noticing.”

  “You say tomato,” Vex replied. “It’s still labels.”

  Arin adjusted her footing on the branch. “Labels are useful. Let people know what can be expected of you. You don’t want a ‘warrior’ who actually wants to paint in a corner when things go bad.”

  “Why not both?” Vex asked. “Artistic warrior. Paints with the blood of his enemies.”

  Marina gagged theatrically. “Please don’t.”

  Arin let herself drop lightly to the ground.

  “Let’s talk,” she said. “Before the System pushes us into something we’re not thinking about.”

  They gathered near the dim fire pit, sitting in a rough semi-circle.

  Arin sat with her sword across her knees.

  “We’re on the verge of professions,” she said. “We haven’t accepted yet. Once we do, it’ll shape how we grow from here.”

  “Warden fits you,” Marina said. “You’re already doing the job.”

  Arin nodded. “It does. I’m not complaining. But it means I’ll be thinking in terms of positions, perimeters, holding ground. If we accept these paths, we should think of them as part of a group structure, not just solo progression.”

  “Alchemist for me makes sense,” Marina said. “It complements my class. Potions, poisons, buffs. I want more tools than just ‘heal and hope.’”

  Vex tapped his fingers on his knee. “Trapper… works. It leans into avoiding straight fights, shaping the battlefield. Shadow, misdirection, punishing people for stepping where they shouldn’t. I can live with that.”

  He grinned a little. “It also sounds cool.”

  “So,” Arin said. “We have: one Warden, one Alchemist-healer, one Trapper-rogue. And one lunatic lightning bruiser with a soul that refuses to pick anything.”

  “Balanced party,” Marina said dryly.

  “It’s not bad,” Arin replied. “We can build around this.”

  Vex sobered slightly. “Build around what? Are we planning to join one of the big camps? Make our own? Wander until the Tutorial ends and hope it doesn’t drop a meteor on us?”

  “Joining a big group means politics,” Arin said. “Rules. And we don’t know who’s in charge of those camps yet. The wrong leader could be worse than monsters.”

  “We could become the wrong leaders,” Vex pointed out.

  “Let’s not,” Marina said.

  Arin glanced toward the forest.

  “If we stay small,” she said, “we can move. Hit dungeons. Find resources. Avoid getting bogged down in someone else’s war. But that only works if we’re strong enough that bigger groups don’t see us as free loot.”

  Vex’s smile thinned. “Like Kade’s people.”

  They hadn’t met him, not directly. But rumor spread fast, even without the System’s help. Stories whispered by people passing near the fringes of their territory: a man who didn’t see other players as allies or competition, just experience and gear. Someone willing to kill casually to thin the field.

  Marina lined up three vials. “So we grow strong enough that when someone like that comes, they bounce.”

  “And if they don’t?” Vex asked.

  “Then we make sure we’re the last ones standing,” Arin said.

  She finally opened her Profession prompt.

  [Novice Warden]

  Guardians of ground and people. You specialize in fortifying locations, reading terrain, and turning spaces into assets.

  — Increases effectiveness of defensive structures and vantage points

  — Unlocks Warden-specific skills at higher ranks

  It fit.

  She accepted.

  A small warmth flowed through her, not like a level-up rush, but a subtler alignment—her instincts about lines of fire, cover, and escape routes sharpening.

  Marina opened hers.

  [Apprentice Alchemist]

  Students of transformation. You refine reagents, brew potions, and learn how to alter the body’s limits.

  — Slightly increases success chance and potency of low-level brews

  — Unlocks advanced recipes as proficiency grows

  She accepted too, shoulders relaxing as the title settled into place. It didn’t change who she was. It just gave a name to what she was already doing.

  Vex hesitated for a second longer before accepting Trapper.

  [Novice Trapper]

  Architect of inconvenience and death. You specialize in environmental manipulation, subtle hazards, and guided ambushes.

  — Slight increase to trap effectiveness

  — Basic intuition for likely paths and chokepoints

  He grinned as it sunk in.

  “Feels right,” he said.

  They sat a moment in comfortable silence, each testing their new lenses on the world.

  Arin looked at the ravine and immediately saw three more spots where a single rock could make a flank miserable. Marina ran through her ingredient list, mentally upgrading combinations from “guess” to “experiment.” Vex’s gaze skimmed over the entrance path, noting where feet naturally fell.

  “Mike’s going to be annoyed we all got professions before him,” Vex said.

  “He’ll live,” Marina replied.

  “If he comes back.”

  The words slipped out before Vex could stop them. The air tightened around them.

  Arin didn’t flinch. “He’s not stupid.”

  “He’s also attracted to bad ideas,” Vex said.

  “Like us,” Marina offered.

  That broke the tension just enough.

  They were still smiling a little when one of Vex’s lines chimed.

  A faint, subtle tch of stone against stone from the mouth of the ravine.

  Arin froze.

  Vex’s expression wiped clean. “That was the outer trip,” he said. “Lightest one. Someone just brushed it.”

  “Beasts?” Marina whispered.

  “Maybe,” Vex said. “Or someone careful.”

  Arin moved.

  She slid along the wall, sword in hand, taking position where she could see the entrance without being obvious. Vex melted upward, literally—using a new instinct from his Trapper profession and his old habit of climbing into shadows, he was on a branch above before Marina could blink twice.

  Marina snatched her staff, heart hammering, and moved to a position behind the half-wall, where her roots would have the most soil to work with and she’d be less obvious as a target.

  Footsteps.

  Not beast pads. Boots. Several pairs.

  Low voices, not whispering enough.

  “…said the camp was around here.”

  “Yeah, see the scuff marks? People have been moving in and out.”

  “How many?”

  “Don’t know. Enough to have meat, if we’re lucky.”

  “We take what they have, kill anyone who resists, drag the rest if they’re useful. Same orders as before.”

  Arin’s grip tightened on her hilt.

  Vex’s jaw clenched above.

  Marina felt her stomach flip.

  Someone stepped into view at the ravine’s edge.

  He was young, maybe mid-twenties, with a hard face and eyes that flicked automatically to signs of threat and value. A worn leather chest piece, a sword that had seen use. Behind him came four others, similarly armed, similarly hungry in ways that had nothing to do with food.

  One of them laughed when he saw the half-wall and the traces of recent fire.

  “Look at that,” he said. “Nice setup. Wonder if they know who owns this place now.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” another said. “Kade said anything not under his banner is free game.”

  The leader squinted into the ravine. “Come on,” he called, voice carrying. “We know you’re in there. Makes it easier if you just step out and kneel.”

  Arin stepped just enough into view that they could see her silhouette, sword at her side.

  “We’re not under anyone’s banner,” she said.

  The man smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Then you’re already dead,” he said.

  He lifted his hand.

  Steel rasped as they drew weapons and surged forward into the ravine.

  Arin raised her sword.

  Vex loosed his first knife from above.

  Marina slammed her staff down.

  And somewhere, far away in a bone-deep grove, lightning met bark.

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