He reached out automatically, brushing his hand against a low bush as he pushed through. A sharp green scent burst against his skin, fresh and peppery.
A faint glow popped into his vision, not a full screen, not a blaring voice from the AI — just a tiny toast notification in the right of his sight:
Herb Identified: Mintleaf
This common herb can be harvested for basic alchemy or cooking.
New Bonus Objective: Gather Small Herbs 0/20
He crouched, pinched one of the leaves between thumb and forefinger, and tugged. The stem resisted, then came free with a sharp snap. Another notification slipped across the corner of his vision:
Item Acquired: Mintleaf (Raw)
+2 EXP (Herblore)
+2 Player EXP
He stared down at the leaf in his hand, absurdly conscious of how out of place it felt to be cataloguing plants in boxer shorts. “Right. Inventory. Where the hell do I put you?”
He tried shoving the leaf into his waistband. Nothing. He tried holding it and thinking “store.” Nothing. The AI stayed mercifully silent, though he could feel its smug patience buzzing in the back of his skull.
Finally, he remembered the satchel icon. He willed it open. A translucent grid shimmered in front of him, every slot empty. He placed the leaf against the glowing pane — and it vanished from his fingers, tucked neatly into the grid.
Kevin let out a shaky breath. “Okay. That works.”
More bushes dotted the clearing. He moved from one to the next, awkward at first, then faster as the pattern clicked. Each herb carried its own sharp scent — resinous pine-flakes, lemon-bitter sprigs, a cloying purple flower that stained his fingers. Each time the same small toasts appeared, pinging softly in the edge of his vision:
Item Acquired: Pinebud (Raw)
+3 EXP (Herblore)
+2 Player EXP
Item Acquired: Sunpetal (Raw)
+2 EXP (Herblore)
+2 Player EXP
Skill Gained: Herblore, Rank 1
He froze at that last one. A new bar had appeared under his “Skills” tab — thin and grey, with a faint green line crawling along it. Every leaf dropped into his inventory nudged it forward by a fraction.
But then something else caught his eye. The Crafting tab at the edge of his menu pulsed faintly, once, twice. He opened it — and found a new sub-section:
Auto-Process Recipe Unlocked: Mintleaf Shreds
Auto-Process Recipe Unlocked: Pinebud Powder
Auto-Process Recipe Unlocked: Sunpetal Flakes
Below the list, a small progress bar ticked forward at a steady pace — ten seconds at a time. As he watched, the “Mintleaf (Raw)” in his inventory dissolved, replaced by a neat little bag icon labeled Mintleaf Shreds (Processed).
Kevin blinked at it. “Wait. It just… does that? By itself?”
“Congratulations,” the AI’s dry voice finally cut in. “You’ve discovered the miracle of automation. Next you’ll want it to chew your food for you.”
Kevin said nothing in return, though his cheeks burned. He bent back to the bushes, gathering until his fingers ached from pinching stems and his inventory grid filled with neat little bags.
The bar at the side of his vision chimed, bright and final:
Bonus Objective Complete: Gather Small Herbs (20/20)
+1 Level in Herblore
The green bar under his skills surged, filling entirely before resetting into a slightly deeper shade. Another notification unspooled across his vision:
New Crafting Sub-Menu Unlocked: Herb Experimentation
A schematic diagram shimmered in his mind’s eye: three empty slots connected by arrows to a fourth.
Combine 3 Ingredients → 1 Output
Kevin stared at it, heart racing. He had no idea what combinations might do. Maybe nothing. Maybe poison. Maybe something valuable enough to buy shoes so he didn’t have to stomp around barefoot in boxer shorts.
And for the first time since he’d arrived, it felt like he had something resembling a plan.
Kevin sat back on his heels, staring at the new “Herb Experimentation” grid. Three empty boxes, arrows pointing to a fourth, and that maddening blank silence that demanded he try something.
The problem was, he had no idea what to expect. The bags of processed herbs sat neatly in his inventory, each labeled like spice jars in a kitchen he didn’t belong to. Mintleaf Shreds. Pinebud Powder. Sunpetal Flakes.
He opened the interface and dragged one of each into the slots. The arrow pulsed faintly, waiting. He hesitated, his stomach tightening. What if it exploded in his face? What if the AI was waiting just to laugh?
“Don’t be important,” he muttered under his breath. “Be alive.” And he tapped Combine.
The interface hummed. A thin bar filled across the bottom, just like the auto-processing one. Ten seconds of staring at his own nerves reflected in the glowing pane. Then — a soft chime.
Recipe Discovered: Minor Vitality Draught
Mintleaf + Pinebud + Sunpetal → Small potion that restores 15 Health over 10 seconds.
+10 EXP (Alchemy)
+10 Player EXP
A tiny vial icon appeared in his inventory, half-filled with a translucent green liquid that shimmered faintly as though alive.
Kevin grinned despite himself. “A potion. An actual potion.” He almost wanted to laugh. Back home he couldn’t even keep basil alive in a kitchen pot, and here he was inventing medieval sports drinks.
He tried again, this time dragging in three of the same herb — Mintleaf, Mintleaf, Mintleaf. The bar filled, slower this time, as if the system itself doubted his creativity. Then:
Recipe Discovered: Mint Poultice
Basic paste, applied directly to wounds. Restores 5 Health instantly. Single use.
+4 EXP (Alchemy)
+4 Player EXP
A squat, ugly packet appeared in his inventory — greenish paste bound in torn leaves.
Kevin wrinkled his nose. “Looks like something scraped out of a compost bin.”
He tried different patterns, fumbling through possibilities. Some failed entirely, producing only a sour red X and a faint sting of wasted herbs. But others clicked:
- Pinebud + Pinebud + Sunpetal → Minor Antidote
Cures weak poisons and venoms.
+6 Alchemy EXP / +6 Player EXP
- Sunpetal + Mintleaf + Mintleaf → Weak Stamina Tonic
Restores 10 Stamina.
+8 Alchemy EXP / +8 Player EXP
- Pinebud + Sunpetal + Sunpetal → Bitter Tea Bundle
Brewable packet. Grants +2% fire resistance for 30 minutes.
+9 Alchemy EXP / +9 Player EXP
Each success felt like cracking a code. Each chime of discovery fed a little warmth through his chest, until he realized his overall XP bar — not just the Herblore one — had shifted noticeably. The thin red line above his “Player” tag had crept forward by almost a fifth.
“Wait,” he breathed, staring at it. “So… player XP comes alongside skill XP too? Cool!”
The AI cackled like a kettle boiling over. “Oh bravo, Sherlock. Yes, every tedious leaf you rip from the dirt trickles into your precious survival score. Crafting, gathering, fumbling with weeds — all worth something. Who knew incompetence could be profitable?”
Kevin scowled, but couldn’t deny the thrill crawling up his spine. He had thought combat was the only path forward. Now the forest whispered a different one: collect, tinker, discover. Every herb he pocketed was a step toward survival.
He worked until his fingers were stained green and purple in his mind’s eye, the inventory filling with ugly poultices, faintly glowing vials, and bundles of bitter-smelling herbs. The Herblore bar ticked upward in uneven jerks, and with it his Player XP.
Finally, the system flared:
Herblore Level Up: Rank 2
Processing efficiency increased by 5%. Experimentation success chance increased by 3%.
+1 New Recipe Slot Unlocked in Experimentation.
The schematic in his vision shifted, lines redrawing themselves. Now four slots fed into one.
Kevin exhaled, sweat pricking his brow despite the cool forest air. His hands were shaking, but not from fear this time — from exhilaration.
He glanced at his XP bar again. It hovered just shy of a full level-up. Not from swinging a sword, not from slaying monsters — but from pulling weeds like a gardener.
Kevin smirked. “Alright. Maybe I can live with this.”
Kevin wiped his stained fingers on the damp grass, shaking the tingling from his hands after his last clumsy round of herblore experiments. His inventory bulged with poultices and bundles, and his XP bar teased the edge of a full level. He felt… not powerful, exactly, but less helpless than when he’d first stepped through the trellis.
The forest stretched ahead, trunks close and dark, their bark slick with moss. The undergrowth grew thicker, and with it the smell—wet soil, sharp green, the faint iron tang of something animal. He straightened, brushing dirt from his knees.
A whisper of movement froze him. Leaves shivered. The air changed—subtle, like a breath he hadn’t meant to take.
Then he saw it.
A rat, but not like any he’d known in alleyways or subways back home. This one was grotesquely large, nearly the size of a terrier. Its fur was patchy, clumped in oily ridges, its eyes shining red in the gloom. Yellow incisors jutted long and crooked, glistening with spittle. It hunched low, its ribs showing beneath a mottled hide, its tail whipping side to side like a length of muscle cord.
New Enemy Encountered: Giant Rat (Level 1)
Kevin’s stomach lurched. “Oh, hell…”
The rat’s nose twitched, mouth peeling open with a squeal too high-pitched to be mammal. It lunged.
Kevin stumbled back, barely raising his arms before the weight hit him. Claws raked down his forearm, hot lines burning across his skin. His vision flared with a red flash. His health bar blinked in the corner of his vision a sliver of it peeling away as the claws peeled his skin apart. He gasped, staggering back hurriedly. The scratches burned, blood welling instantly. It wasn’t abstract numbers—his flesh throbbed, sticky warmth slicking his skin. He almost dropped to his knees.
The rat snapped again, incisors flashing. Kevin jerked aside, its teeth grazing his hip. His health bar dipped again, slower this time.
“God—damn it!!” he hissed. His heart hammered against his ribs. His body screamed run, but some other part of him screamed back—if you run now, you’ll never stop.
He swung his fist, wild and desperate. Knuckles cracked against bone. The rat yelped, stumbling sideways, but not for long. Kevin’s breath tore in and out, his arms heavy. The rat circled, tail whipping, beady eyes locked on him.
The AI’s voice dripped into his ear like oil. “Marvelous. Trading blows with a sewer-borne pest. Don’t worry, most level zeros perish here. It will be statistically consistent. Especially with your stat choices…” It giggled.
Kevin felt it—a small fire kindling inside his chest. “Shut up!” Kevin spat, another swing catching air as the rat darted in. Claws raked again, this time across his shin. Pain bit so sharply his knee buckled. He crashed into the dirt, instinctively rolling to avoid another snap of jaws. The health bar bled down past its midpoint. Panic rose hot in his throat.
He scrabbled backward, his mind's fingers digging at his inventory grid. He willed open a packet—the ugly mint poultice. He slapped it against his forearm, tightly wrapped sticky paste squishing as the cloth it was bound by ruptured at the pressure. The leaves bound over the wound, crawling as if instructed. A faint shimmer crossed his vision.
+5 Health Restored (Instant)
It wasn’t much. But enough to take away the sting that held him back.
The rat lunged again, hungrily. Kevin swung low this time, jamming his heel forward. His bare foot connected with its chest, forcing a grunt from his throat. Pain lanced his toes, but the rat staggered.
Kevin pressed forward, half-mad with desperation, fists and feet hammering in awkward rhythm. Each hit carved away tiny slivers of the rat’s health bar, which hovered at the edge of his vision. But every attack opened him to more scratches, more blood.
The numbers stacked, his own bar plunging into dangerous red. His vision pulsed at the edges, warning signs flashing. He willed a potion from his pack—a minor vitality potion—it clinked into his open palm. He dived out of the way of yet another lunge, unstoppering the bottle. He went to pour it down his throat when the rat bit for his hand, it cascaded to the ground, its contents soaking into the grassy floor.
The rat shrieked, lunging for his throat. Kevin roared back—part fear, part fury—and drove his fist straight down. Knuckles cracked against the soft side of its skull. Bone gave with a sickening crunch.
The rat spasmed, then fell limp, twitching once before stilling.
Silence swallowed the clearing. Only Kevin’s ragged breathing remained, punctuated by the hot burn of his wounds. He staggered back, blood streaking his arm, leg, and chest, his pyjamas stained and ripped.
It lay there, its last breath exiting its lungs, at his feet. He poked it with his toes once, twice, three times before he was convinced. He lay back, flat against the ground, his sweat mixed with blood pouring from all over his body.
He reached into his inventory a few times, downing a few potions. As they trickled down his throat each took with it a few of the scratches and bruises upon his body until there were none left at all. It tasted pleasant, like the freshest glass of water you’d ever tasted, but it was not the flavour that made it pleasant, it was the warm feeling inside. He felt it for each of the durations of the potion as he drank one after another until his health bar was filled again. He was shocked, “Just some herbs and now I feel brand new.” He said inspecting his body—even the blood and sweat had been soaked up by the potions magic.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Enemy Defeated: Giant Rat (Level 1)
+25 Player EXP / +15 Combat EXP
He stood up, staring down at the corpse with his hands on his hips. The body began to emit golden particles, like sparks and ash from a warm fire. A prompt flickered faintly:
Loot Available: Giant Rat Corpse
Accept / Decline
He willed Accept.
The corpse shimmered faintly. A list appeared:
- Rat Teeth (x2)
- Rat Tail (x1)
- Raw Rat Meat (x2)
All tucked neatly into his grid. The corpse still lay there, but thinner now, ghostly.
Another prompt blinked:
Option: Skin?
Kevin hesitated. “Skin…?”
Before he could think too much, he willed Yes.
The effect was immediate, comical in its brutality. The corpse shucked like a banana, fur peeling in a neat ripple as though zipped away by unseen hands. In less than two seconds, the rat lay as a pink, raw anatomy model, every inch of hide gone. Kevin gagged, stumbling back.
Item Acquired: Rat Hide (x1)
+5 Skinning EXP / +5 Player EXP
He retched dryly, hand braced against his knee. The sight was grotesque, surreal—like a butcher’s display. Then the system chimed again, softer, more deliberate:
New Skill Unlocked: Hunters Focus
You may now sense and follow trails left by slain enemy types.
Kevin blinked, chest heaving. “Tracking? That’ll be useful.”
Icons shifted in his vision—faint green lines overlaying the dirt, the bushes, tiny pawprints glowing as if marked by fireflies. They stretched off into the trees, a glowing breadcrumb trail.
His stomach still turned, his arm still bled, but he felt something else too—a flicker of purpose.
“If I can get enough hides…” he muttered, wiping sweat and grime from his forehead, “maybe Borik or Tharn can teach me to stitch them. Clothing. Armor. Something better than—” He glanced down at his shredded pyjamas, the fabric torn and dark with blood. “…this.”
The AI chuckled. “Adorable. You nearly died to a rat and now you’re daydreaming of a fashion line. Very well. Hunt more vermin, scrape their skins, and perhaps you’ll be the next great tailor of the apocalypse.”
Kevin ignored it. His eyes followed the faint glowing trail leading deeper into the forest. A thought clicked, unwelcome and precise: the voice wasn’t needling him for his sake, it was playing to a gallery he couldn’t see. The timing of the jabs had that slick, stagey cadence—setup, punch, cut to reaction—like it was milking a laugh track from whatever passed for viewers in this place. Maybe the snark kept eyes on him, kept bets lively, kept some invisible engagement bar from dipping into red. He pictured a pane of metrics hovering just out of sight—HEALTH, STAMINA, HUMILIATION—spiking whenever he flinched. If that was true, then every flub and wince was content, and the safest thing he could do wasn’t to argue back but to starve it: give it nothing, flat line the feed, keep his face blank and his hands busy. He wondered if the system would punish that—throttle drops, shade the dice—if the “show” got dull. Fine. Let them watch him be boring.
New Bonus Objective: Slay Giant Rats 1/20
“Oh, balls. 20 of those fuckers?!” He braced himself for a painful afternoon.
Kevin crouched low, palms braced on his knees, staring at the faint glowing pawprints winding deeper into the underbrush. The shimmer of the new skill had faded to a soft outline, but his mind still buzzed with the after-image. A breadcrumb trail of survival.
He glanced down at his shredded pyjamas—cloth clinging damp to his body where blood had seeped through—and grimaced. “I can’t do twenty of these like this.”
“Finally, a glimmer of sense,” the AI drawled. “Even a rodent can spot a pattern after enough cheese. You’ll need preparation, meat-stick. You’ve got the herbs, the recipes. Why not stop fumbling like a drunk gardener and brew a stockpile?”
Kevin opened his inventory with a thought. Neat rows of processed herbs blinked back: Mintleaf Shreds, Pinebud Powder, Sunpetal Flakes. Plenty. He dragged them into the Experimentation slots, one after another, working in practiced motions now instead of fumbling.
Crafted: Minor Vitality Draught
Crafted: Minor Vitality Draught
Crafted: Mint Poultice
Crafted: Weak Stamina Tonic
One after another the recipes clicked, inventory slowly filling with squat little poultice packets and shimmering green vials. He worked until his stock of herbs dwindled to scraps. By the end, he had:
- 8 Minor Vitality Draughts
- 5 Mint Poultices
- 2 Weak Stamina Tonics
His Herblore and Alchemy bars both ticked forward, faint chimes reminding him with every batch that skill XP meant Player XP too.
When he straightened, his back ached from crouching. His fingers smelled of bitter greens and iron-rich paste, but his inventory was finally something resembling a toolkit.
“Not terrible,” the AI admitted with exaggerated reluctance. “Though watching you juggle poultices mid-brawl was tragic. You looked like a drunk uncle fumbling for mints. Fortunately for you, I have wisdom beyond your mortal ken.”
Kevin narrowed his eyes. “This’ll be good.”
“You can bind items for quick use, you dim spark. Two slots. Assign them. Then you can heal without crawling through menus like an arthritic librarian.”
Kevin blinked. “I… can?”
“Of course. Try not to cry with gratitude.”
He opened his menu. Sure enough, beneath his status bars sat two faintly glowing rectangles: Quick Bind Slots. He dragged a Minor Vitality Draught into the first and a Mint Poultice into the second. The icons shimmered, locking in place.
He flexed his hands. “That’s… actually useful.”
“Try not to faint from the revelation.”
“I could have used that information a little sooner don’t you think?!” He said before remembering: This is what it wants from me. Conflict. Jabs back. He tugged his attention back to the glowing pawprints. They shimmered across roots and moss, fading and reappearing like moonlight through clouds. His jaw tightened.
“Alright,” he whispered. “Let’s see if I can do this better.”
The second rat announced itself before he saw it—scratching, gnawing, a guttural squeal like metal scraping bone. Kevin crept forward, breath shallow.
It burst from beneath a rotting log, fur slick with damp, teeth bared. His pulse spiked, but he was ready this time. He sidestepped its lunge instead of stumbling backward, swinging his heel hard into its ribs. The impact jarred his bones, but the rat wheezed, tumbling sideways.
Kevin pressed the advantage, fists hammering, bare knuckles splitting against greasy fur. Pain sparked in his hands, but he gritted through it. The rat clawed his thigh, shredding fabric, pain lancing bright—but before panic could choke him, Kevin willed the first quick slot.
A vial blinked into his palm. He yanked the stopper with his teeth and gulped it. The potion slid down like warm water. His wounds tingled, then knitted faintly, the worst of the sting vanishing.
He spat the cork, ducked another snap of jaws, and drove his fist down again. Bone cracked. The rat twitched once, then fell still.
Enemy Defeated: Giant Rat (Level 1)
+25 Player EXP
+15 Combat EXP
Kevin stood panting over it, sweat soaking through his shirt. His health bar sat in yellow, not red. Manageable. Survivable.
He looted quickly—teeth, tail, meat—and skinned the hide with only a wince this time. The grotesque shucking was no less disturbing, but his gag reflex dulled.
Item Acquired: Rat Hide (x1)
+5 Skinning EXP
+5 Player EXP
One step closer.
A new trail led him deeper, into thicker brush. Rats came at irregular intervals: one stalking from a hollow, another dropping from a low branch, another creeping through undergrowth before bursting forward.
Each fight drew blood, but Kevin was faster now. He ducked when he once froze. He swung with focus instead of panic. He drank potions mid-fight without fumbling menus.
He still suffered—scratches seared across his forearms, bruises bloomed along his ribs—but each time he downed a potion or slapped a poultice onto a wound, the bar in his vision ticked back upward.
He had found himself in a rhythm when taking strikes, wait for the pain, then immediately slap at the struck areas with his hand, summoning a poultice as he swung at it, it helped to stem the tide of blood before it had begun. It didn’t dull all pains, but it was enough to be manageable.
By the tenth rat, his knuckles were raw, his chest heaving, but his inventory was filling: neat rows of teeth, tails, meat, and hides.
The system chimed, calm as ever:
Bonus Objective Progress: Slay Giant Rats 10/20
Kevin spat dirt from his mouth and muttered, “Halfway.”
The AI snorted. “Remarkable. The cockroach crawls on. Try not to weep when the twentieth one bites harder than expected.”
His jaw ached from clenching - it was a new tactic he had decided to employ. Inside… keep your thoughts inside. He thought to himself instead of biting back. His arms swung with more certainty than before. He could do this.
The fights blurred together, each rat another test of endurance. His quick binds saved him more than once: a potion gulped in the nick of time, a poultice slapped against a bleeding arm before the next lunge.
By the fifteenth, he moved almost on instinct. He pivoted when he heard the scrabble of claws, ducked when incisors gleamed, countered with a fist or kick that landed heavier than before.
His health bar dipped low more than once, but the potions pulled it back. His stock dwindled—down to two draughts, one poultice—but he pressed on.
Finally, the twentieth rat fell with a wet crack of bone beneath his heel. Kevin staggered back, chest heaving, every limb trembling. Blood streaked his arms and legs, his shirt clung to him, sweat stung his eyes.
But the corpse at his feet shimmered, dissolving into loot notifications. Another hide tucked itself neatly into his inventory.
The system flared across his vision:
Bonus Objective Complete: Slay Giant Rats (20/20)
+200 Player EXP
+150 Combat EXP
+150 Skinning EXP
His bars surged, green and red light flooding upward. Then:
Player Level Up—Level 1
+2 Attribute Points Awarded
Kevin gasped, the rush like fire through his veins. His body didn’t change, but the bar in his vision reset, and a new certainty hummed in his chest.
Another pane slid open:
New Recipes Unlocked: Ratleather Crafting
- Ratleather Jacket (20 Rat Hides)
Armour Rating: 20 | Dodge: 0 | Magic Absorption: 0 - Ratleather Shoulder Pads (10 Rat Hides)
Armour Rating: 10 | Dodge: 0 | Magic Absorption: 0 - Ratleather Gloves (8 Rat Hides)
Armour Rating: 5 | Dodge: 0 | Magic Absorption: 0 - Ratleather Boots (8 Rat Hides)
Armour Rating: 5 | Dodge: 0 | Magic Absorption: 0 - Ratleather Leggings (12 Rat Hides)
Armour Rating: 15 | Dodge: 0 | Magic Absorption: 0
Kevin stared, chest heaving. His hands trembled as he opened his inventory. Neat rows of hides blinked back at him—more than twenty, stripped one by one from the rats he’d slain.
For the first time, his ragged pyjamas weren’t the only option. Real armour. Real protection.
He laughed once, sharp and breathless, then collapsed against a tree trunk, sliding down to sit in the dirt. His body throbbed, bruises and scratches aching, but a grin split his face.
Kevin leaned back against the rough bark, chest still heaving. The green and red bars that hovered in the corner of his vision felt brighter somehow, steadier, as though the system itself recognized that something fundamental had shifted.
Another notification pulsed across his sight:
Attribute Points Available: 2
His eyes lingered on it, and with a thought the familiar silhouette appeared: the stat screen. The same skeletal man-shape with its neat list of numbers.
Kevin – Level 1
- Strength: 0
- Dexterity: 0
- Intellect: 1
- Wisdom: 0
- Charisma: 0 (bonus +1)
- Constitution: 9
He exhaled. Ten points in Constitution had seemed absurd when the AI mocked him for it—but absurd had kept him breathing through twenty rats. His thumb hovered mentally over the plus sign. He pushed.
Constitution increased to 10
The green bar swelled instantly. A new tooltip unfurled like a ribbon:
Milestone Bonus: Constitution 10
Stat contributions are now worth 12 per point instead of 10.
Max Health recalculated: 220 (from 190).
Warmth flooded him, more than the pulse of a potion, more than rest. It was like his entire frame thickened invisibly, his veins carrying a sturdier current. He flexed his hands. His skin didn’t look tougher, but he felt it—like an unseen padding beneath every inch of him.
He didn’t hesitate with the second point. He flicked it into Strength.
Strength increased to 1
Base melee damage slightly increased.
The change was immediate. Not just numbers. His whole body felt… lighter, as though weights had been unhooked from his muscles. He curled his fists, flexed his arms, and a grin spread despite the soreness. Swinging would come easier now.
Aural Module Enabled
“What the fu-”
“Amazing stuff, folks! Who would have thought this sniveling runt would actually make it to level 1? Go on now, show of hands.” An animated voice broke the silence, too enthusiastic to be a figment of his imagination. It was putting on what seemed to be its best approximation of a trans-atlantic accent. It was like a mixture of sports commentary videos or black and white movies.
“What the fuck?” Kevin continued.
“Oh now girls and guys, it looks like we might have a catchphrase coming into play! Though not the coolest I’ll be honest with you. Let’s turn our minds back to the previous games.” The voice seemed to gesture to something while it lulled its commentary.
“What is going on?” Kevin's face was screwed up in a ball, his confusion visible. Christ, are these voices real? Am I going crazy here already? HA!
“It’s the Commentator, shut up and listen.” The AI whispered, eagerly waiting.
There was a pause, around a minute, then the commentary spoke again. “Wow, what a guy, am I right folks?!” It said, “Khla’k mator kloroe. What a catchphrase! Anyway, let’s check in with Kevin, how are you feeling now that you’ve gained your first level Kev? How does it feel to be one of the first constitution/intellect mains to get this far?”
Kev? No one calls me that. Never. Especially some disembodied voice in the sky. “Uhh…”
“Uhh!? There we have it! I’ll have to look that one up in their dictionary! Amazing stuff Kev, keep it up! We’ll check in with you again real soon!”
Aural Module Disabled
Kevin stood, stunned Fuck I hope this is all in my head. He glanced at the glowing pawprints. Still there, still pointing toward another knot of vermin. His jaw tightened.
“I’ve got hides to collect.” He said, shaking it off.
The day unfolded in a rhythm—herbs, rats, poultices, potions, claws, teeth.
Kevin pushed himself through the undergrowth, gathering mintleaf, pinebud, sunpetal until his inventory bulged with shreds and powders. Between bushes and roots, the glowing pawprints led him again and again to the beady-eyed menace of another rat.
But now… they fell quicker.
Where before each claw swipe sent him stumbling, now he could take the hit and swing back harder. His fists landed with more weight. Kicks knocked them sideways instead of barely jarring them. When one rat leapt, teeth snapping, he caught it mid-air with both arms, grunted through the sting of claws, and slammed it to the ground so hard it spasmed once before dying.
Blood still flowed from scratches. Bruises still blossomed purple across his skin. But the difference was clear. He was learning, adjusting, striking with confidence instead of blind panic.
By his thirtieth rat, his health bar rarely dipped into the red. By the fortieth, he was rationing his potions more efficiently, saving the draughts for dire moments and patching cuts with poultices between fights.
Kevin spat blood-tinged saliva into the dirt, dragging a new hide into his inventory. “Feels like they’re softer now.”
“No, dumbass, they’re not softer,” the AI corrected. “You’re harder. Levels define resistance. Strike something stronger than you, and your blows slide off like water. Stand beneath them, and their strikes chew deeper. But now… now you’re above. You cut through vermin more easily because the world says so.”
Kevin frowned, wiping sweat from his brow. “So it’s… stacked. In their favor if they’re stronger. In mine if I’m stronger.”
“Precisely. Consider it a tax on arrogance. Step into a den of wolves while a pup, and you will be mulched. Rise above, and suddenly the wolves look more like the pups.”
Kevin flexed his bruised knuckles. The truth of it rang in his bones.
By the time the sun bled low through the canopy, he’d lost count of potions downed, poultices slapped across wounds, rats gutted and skinned. But the system kept count for him.
When his boot came down on the neck of the fiftieth, bones giving way with a sharp crack, the world itself seemed to pause.
Enemy Defeated: Giant Rat (Level 1)
+25 Player EXP
+15 Combat EXP
+5 Skinning EXP
The corpse shimmered, hide shucking into his inventory with the grotesque efficiency he’d come to expect. But this time, the notification that followed was different.
Title Earned: Rat Slayer + 2 base damage to Rat type enemies
Congratulations! You’ve graduated from flailing worm to vermin scourge. Rodents everywhere whisper your name in tiny, squeaky terror.
Title—The Classless—has been replaced.
Kevin froze, panting, sweat dripping from his jaw. The words hung in his vision, golden and solid. Rat Slayer.
A laugh burst out of him, raw and half-crazed. “Ahaha! Rat Slayer. Of all things.”