One moment, Max was standing in a stark white room with nothing but a small table and a vanishing system guide. The next, the world lurched—and everything changed.

  Cool, damp air rushed against his skin as he blinked into the sudden brightness. Gone were the sterile walls; in their place rose towering trees, each one wider than a city bus and taller than any building Max had ever seen. Their ancient trunks stretched skyward like natural skyscrapers, their massive canopies interlocking high above to form a patchwork ceiling of green and gold. Shafts of sunlight pierced through in scattered beams, painting the forest floor in shifting patterns of light and shadow.

  The scent of moss, earth, and salt hung thick in the air. Far off, he could hear the rhythmic crash of waves slamming against rock, a deep, distant roar that echoed faintly through the trees. Somewhere beyond the forest, there had to be a coastline—maybe cliffs. Maybe a beach. “That would be nice” he thought

  He turned slowly in place, overwhelmed by the scale of everything. Vines as thick as his arm curled up tree trunks like serpents, while strange, birdlike cries rang out from high in the branches. The forest was alive—and ancient. Max swallowed hard, the weight of it pressing in all around him.

  As Max continued taking in the towering trees and distant roar of waves, a flicker of movement caught his eye. Just beyond one of the massive trunks, a creature was watching him. It was small but unsettling—something between a rat and a mole, with patchy fur, pale, lidless eyes, and claws far too large for its size.

  The moment they locked eyes, the creature let out a raspy screech—as if Max’s gaze had triggered something—and lunged straight at him.

  “Whoa!” Max barely had time to shout before instinct kicked in. He stumbled back, raising his staff more out of panic than strategy. But the moment the wood met his grip with real intent, something shifted.

  A rush of knowledge surged through his mind, alien yet familiar. It wasn't like learning—more like remembering something he'd never been taught. His body moved on its own. He angled the staff forward. Power gathered at its tip.

  A sudden flame sparked into existence—a swirling orb of fire, small but furious.

  The rat-creature never slowed.

  It leapt at him, jaws open, claws ready to tear. But it met the fireball mid-air.

  The impact was immediate. A blast of heat and force erupted in front of Max, engulfing the creature in an explosion of flame, smoke, and flying gore. The scent of burnt fur and blood hit him a heartbeat later, as pieces of the thing rained across the undergrowth.

  Max stood frozen, heart pounding, the faint glow of embers still flickering at the end of his staff.

  “...Holy shit,” he muttered. “I just fireballed a mutant rat.”

  A soft chime echoed in the air, followed by the familiar flicker of a glowing system window.

  Enemy Defeated: Mutant Rat (Lv. 1)

  Experience Gained

  +10 Credits

  Max blinked at the notification, still gripping the staff like it might explode again. “That was… a mutant rat? Seriously?” he muttered, eyeing the smoldering mess of fur and bone littering the forest floor. “What the hell’s a normal rat look like around here?”

  Another window slid into the corner of his vision—sleek, translucent, and shaped like a small coin pouch icon. A number hovered beneath it.

  Credits: 10

  “Huh,” Max muttered, watching the number just... sit there. “So monster hunting pays.” He snorted. “Guess I’m officially employed.”

  He gave the staff a cautious twirl—nearly lost his grip—and caught it against his palm with a clumsy thud. A nervous chuckle slipped out. One fight down. Hopefully, whatever came next didn’t explode quite so messily.

  Max had just started to relax, brushing some ash off his robe, when a low, guttural sound rolled through the forest like distant thunder. It wasn’t the cry of a bird or the chatter of small prey—it was deep, wet, and wrong. A noise that sent a cold prickle crawling up the back of his neck.

  He froze, turning his head toward the sound. The trees ahead were darker, denser—whatever made that noise was somewhere out there. Watching, Waiting.

  Then, without warning, another window appeared:

  [Side Quest: Unnatural Echoes]

  A terrifying sound has been detected in the deeper forest. Investigate the source.

  Warning: Monster Type – Unknown

  Level – ???

  Proceed with caution.

  Optional: Can be attempted solo or avoided until stronger.

  Max stared at the window, then back toward the thick trees ahead. He could feel his pulse in his ears. “Yeah… no thanks. Not until I’ve got more than ‘starter bathrobe and exploding stick.’”

  He glanced around, spotting a few raised roots and low-hanging branches nearby—maybe enough to fashion a crude shelter or at least hunker down somewhere safe. His grip on the staff tightened.

  “First things first,” he muttered. “Shelter. Then I go rat hunting. Gotta level up a bit before I try my luck with the monster version of a horror movie soundtrack.”

  With one last glance toward the shadows ahead, Max turned and began searching for a place to hide, rest… and prepare.

  Max moved cautiously through the underbrush, eyes darting between the twisted roots and mossy ground for anything useful. It wasn’t much, but he figured if he could gather enough thick branches and dry leaves, he could throw together something like a lean-to. Just enough to keep the rain—and whatever else might be wandering around—from finding him while he rested.

  He spotted a fallen limb the length of his arm and started dragging it toward a thick tree with a natural groove at its base. As he worked, snapping smaller branches free and piling leafy fronds against the trunk, he actually started to feel a little better. Focus helped. Tasks helped. This was something he could control.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Then he heard the rustle. Low, fast, and too close.

  He spun, staff up, just in time to see a second mutant rat hurling itself from a bush. Its jagged teeth glinted in the dappled light.

  Max didn’t hesitate this time. Fire welled at the tip of his staff and burst forward in a sudden blast. The rat didn’t even hit the ground—it exploded mid-leap, scattering flaming chunks across the clearing.

  Max grimaced. “Ugh. Again?”

  No sooner had he turned back to his shelter than a second one came flying at him from the side—completely silent until it was nearly on top of him.

  “Shit!” Too slow.

  The creature sank its teeth into his forearm before he could raise his staff. Pain lanced up through his elbow as he screamed and swung wildly, catching the rat with the shaft of his weapon. It let go, hissing as it hit the ground—and was promptly incinerated by a half-formed fireball Max flung in panic.

  His breathing was ragged now, eyes locked on the bite mark. Blood dripped down his sleeve, the skin torn but not mangled. He opened his mouth to curse, but a system chime interrupted him.

  [Condition: Minor Injury]

  Bleeding: Light – Will stop over time.

  Infection Risk: None

  Auto-healing enabled at current health regeneration rate.

  “Well... at least there’s that,” Max muttered, clutching the staff with his good hand. “Note to self: rats are jerks.”

  He forced himself to finish the shelter, propping larger branches into a crude triangle against the tree, then layering it with leafy cover and loose bark for insulation. It was rough—barely better than a pile of sticks—but it was something.

  He slumped down inside it, chest still rising and falling fast. Around him, the forest remained alive with distant sounds, but none as close as before.

  “Alright,” he said quietly. “Heal up. Then we go rat hunting.”

  Max leaned back against the trunk inside his makeshift shelter, cradling his injured arm as the adrenaline finally began to fade. The bite throbbed—a deep, pulsing ache that made his skin crawl. Though the system window had claimed the wound would heal and that infection wasn’t a risk, a small, nagging voice in his head wouldn’t shut up.

  No infection? Just like that? he thought, staring at the angry crescent of punctures in his forearm. Back home, a bite like this would need disinfectant, maybe a tetanus shot, probably antibiotics. He couldn’t stop the wave of unease creeping through him. This place might be magical, but bacteria doesn’t care about tutorial zones.

  He sighed and shifted, using a few leaves to blot the blood away. They were probably filthy too, but he didn’t have many options. The forest outside his little lean-to rustled softly, branches swaying in the breeze. Somewhere, an animal let out a low cry—not close, but not far enough to ignore, either.

  Max tightened his grip on the staff. The faint ember glow had faded from the last fight, but holding it still made him feel slightly less helpless. Still, it was strange—terrifying, even—how fast everything had changed. One minute he was in a sterile white room, and now he was bleeding under a tree, playing mage in some nightmare wilderness. Monsters were real. Magic was real. Death, he assumed, was real too.

  He stared out through a small gap in the leaves, eyes scanning the underbrush. Every shadow looked like a twitching tail or a crouched body. Every rustle made his heart kick harder against his ribs. “Stay awake,” he whispered to himself, voice dry. “Stay sharp. You're not in Kansas anymore.”

  He tried to focus on his breathing. In. Out. The air smelled like dirt, bark, and blood. His own blood. He checked the wound again. Still bleeding lightly, but it hadn’t worsened. The system had said “auto-healing”—whatever that meant.

  “Wish it came with a progress bar,” he muttered, blinking hard. “Or a freakin’ bandage.”

  Despite everything, his eyes started to feel heavy. The crash after the fight—the exhaustion, the fear—it was all piling on fast. But he couldn’t let himself fall asleep. Not yet. Not while rats with knife-teeth were still crawling through the trees.

  So he sat there, staff across his lap, one eye on the trees, the other on the darkness creeping in around him—doing his best to hold on a little longer.

  Somehow, despite his best efforts, Max had drifted off.

  It wasn’t restful. He didn't dream—just slumped forward in a shallow, twitchy half-sleep, head bobbing against his chest, the staff still gripped loosely in his lap. When he finally stirred, the ache in his back and neck made him groan under his breath. Every muscle felt like it had stiffened into stone, and the dull throb in his bitten arm hadn’t let up.

  He shifted slightly, wincing as his spine cracked—and that’s when he heard it.

  Soft. Wet. Scuffling.

  Max blinked blearily, trying to shake off the fog in his brain. His eyes focused just enough to see movement outside the shelter—three hunched shapes creeping closer across the forest floor, sniffing the air, eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.

  Mutant rats. Again.

  “Seriously?” he rasped, scrambling to his feet, heart hammering. He raised his staff just as the first one darted in.

  Instinct took over. Fire burst from the staff with a sharp crack, slamming the first rat backward in a scorched heap. The second lunged from the left—Max pivoted, barely managing to swing the staff like a bat. It clipped the creature midair, knocking it aside before he finished it off with another hurried fireball that lit up the shelter in a flickering flash.

  The third came from behind.

  It latched onto his leg, teeth sinking into the cloth just above his boot.

  “Dammit!” Max kicked wildly, slamming it into a tree root. The rat hissed and released him, scrambling back, but he was already channeling the last of his focus into one final blast. The fireball surged forward—and this time, the rat didn’t move fast enough.

  It exploded in a mess of smoke, fur, and ash.

  Max stood there, panting, sweat dripping down his face. His leg throbbed where it had been bitten, but it wasn’t serious—more bruised than torn this time. He was about to collapse back into his shelter when something caught his eye.

  A faint red glow on the forest floor where the last rat had died.

  Curious, Max limped over and crouched down. Nestled in the dirt was a small glass vial, half-filled with a bright crimson liquid. A new system window blinked into existence above it.

  [Low-Grade Health Potion] (Common)

  Restores a small amount of health over 10 seconds.

  “Tastes like cherries. Or pain. Hard to tell.”

  Max stared at it for a moment, then laughed—a tired, slightly hysterical sound.

  “So loot drops are a thing,” he said aloud. “Good to know.”

  He pocketed the potion, glanced around for any more surprises, then limped back into his shelter.

  “Next time,” he muttered, lying back against the bark with a wince, “I build a damn door.”

  Max settled back into the shelter with a weary sigh, rubbing at the fresh bite on his leg. His body ached, his robe smelled like burnt fur and smoke, and the adrenaline was starting to wear off—for the second time that day.

  He raised his staff and examined it absently, letting his thoughts wander. Three fireballs… maybe four total since I got here.

  As if on cue, a faint blue flicker pulsed at the edge of his vision. He glanced up and saw a translucent status bar hovering beside his HUD—his Mana, almost drained, hovering just a few ticks from empty.

  His stomach sank. “Oh, great,” he muttered. “Already running on fumes.”

  There was no prompt, no tooltip explaining how long it would take to regenerate, and no helpful percentage ticking up. Just that unsettling emptiness below the bar, like a gas tank left on empty in the middle of nowhere.

  He looked down at the health potion still cradled in his hand. So health pots exist… he thought. Which means mana ones probably do too. Hopefully. He tucked the vial away and leaned his head back against the tree trunk with a sigh.

  “Note to self,” he muttered. “Don’t pick a class that runs on fuel unless you know where the gas stations are.”

  The forest was quiet again, but it wasn’t comforting. Every shadow still felt like it could move. Every gust of wind could be claws on leaves. Max gripped his staff a little tighter and stared into the dark.

  He’d made it through his first fights. But if he didn’t find a mana potion soon—or figure out how recovery worked—he wouldn’t last long once the bigger things showed up.