Locked in the glass-littered office, Bobby believed he was safe, if only for a minute. He didn't know what was happening, but he'd played enough games in his life to know he needed to be careful when spending skill points.

There were no online walkthroughs to consult or tips on optimising builds - he was on his own. Most crucially, there were no save points or ability to reload previous saves. He had one life. Every choice mattered.

What should I choose?

A menu materialised before him, responding to his intent. His mind organised it as best he could, but the tabs seemed endless. Skills and disciplines of all varieties clamoured for his attention.

This is too complex. I need a tutorial or guide.

The menu showcasing the seemingly infinite skills minimised, and a golden glow illuminated another box labeled "Information." This must be it, he deduced as he opened the tab. As Bobby opened the tab, a message greeted him on the information screen.

Welcome to The Dominion.

Choose wisely how you allocate your skill points - they represent the seeds of your potential.

Newcomers should focus on honing combat skills and vitality. Master your weapons and armour. Develop your strength, resilience, and health. These basics will enable you to survive the trials ahead.

In time, you may branch into more esoteric disciplines: mysticism, stealth, crafting, and beyond. For now, stay grounded in the physical realm. Mastery of your own body and will is the foundation.

The creatures of this world will challenge you at every step. Study their capabilities to exploit any weaknesses. And pay attention to synergies between your skills. Combinations make you greater than the sum of your parts.

There is no one path to success here. How you shape your journey is up to you. But take care - death comes swiftly to the reckless and unprepared.

With only two points to spend, he hesitated to select any old skills. But recalling the welcome message, he knew which abilities to focus on first. Feeling more at ease with the system menu now, he brought up the skills screen again, filtering for combat-related options.

In every RPG he had played, he always favoured either a paladin-style character, cautiously eliminating foes from the fringes with a balanced mix of sword, shield, and healing. Or he leaned into a stealthier, long-range killer build depending on the game.

But this was no game.

Let's examine the progression path for a sniper-esque character. His intent shifted once more and the skill menu displayed an array of skills to invest in for that archetype. One skill tree caught his eye. He opened up the skill tree and examined three of the various perks he could gain amongst the different tiers once he reached the requisite levels.

Covert Ops.

Tier 1 Abilities:

Expert Marksman - Enhanced accuracy and handling of all firearms. Deadly from a distance.

Tactical Movement - Fast and agile manoeuvring through any environment. Cover to cover.

Field Medicine - Rapidly treat wounds and stabilise downed allies.

All of those would come in useful, especially if it’s so combat focused early on. Still, he hesitated to spend any points just yet. I don’t even have any firearms. But I need to survive somehow.

His intent shifted once more, and the skill menu displayed new options under Improvisation. One Tier 1 ability stood out from the rest. He highlighted it, expanding the adjacent explanation.

Think on Your Feet

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

This skill allows you to assess your surroundings and identify potential resources that can aid your survival. With it, you can discern improvised weapons, tools, and other useful items from common debris and mundane objects.

With this skill, creativity and environmental awareness are key. It enables you to envision possibilities beyond an object's intended purpose. Your resourcefulness and situational adaptability will improve with each use.

As his intent solidified, the system responded,

Confirm investment of one skill point into Think on Your Feet? Y/N?

The prompt hovered expectantly. Once he made his choice, there was no going back. Bobby took a deep breath and selected Y. A tingle ran down his spine as he invested the skill point. His perception shifted subtly. As he surveyed the office's debris, mundane objects seemed to take on potential - a chair leg snapped in a certain way made a useful piercing weapon. The desks could make a useful barricade. He felt light-headed as other adaptions came to mind as he looked at the shards of glass littering the floor.

This skill will be very useful. He thought.

Bobby surveyed the office he had ducked into during the fight. Aside from the aftermath of that brawl, the room was relatively orderly - desks and chairs overturned but not shattered.

Still, he searched methodically, sifting through the debris. Yet nothing useful emerged that could aid his survival outside. Bobby turned his attention to a back door leading to a smaller adjoining office. This secondary space contained the expected equipment - a photocopier, supplies, and filing cabinets.

As Bobby investigated the back office, he noticed the photocopier was askew - pulled away from the wall at an odd angle. Behind the photocopier, a pair of boots stuck out, followed by the prone body they were attached to. Cautiously, Bobby circled the machine, his muscles tense, ready to flee at the slightest hint of danger. He could take nothing for granted in this strange new world.

The boots belonged to a police officer, dressed in full black uniform complete with a ballistic vest. Seeing that attire stirred hazy memories in Bobby's mind. As his eyes fell upon the distinctive crest on the chest - an emblem of the London Metropolitan Police Force.

Or the Met, as it was more commonly known.

The fog lifted. Bobby had been an officer in the Met before waking up in the hospital’s basement. That was why the hospital seemed familiar - he had visited many times on duty. Squeezing his eyes shut, he relived fragmented memories of the accident that had landed him there.

He had been en route to a domestic violence call, lights flashing, sirens blaring. But they never arrived at the scene. A collision at a crossroads sent his marked car spinning out of control. After that, only darkness.

The returned memory was a comfort, but it still didn’t explain how he had ended up in the basement and not on a ward somewhere, or even in Resus within the Accident and Emergency Department. Shoving the photocopier out of the way, he inspected the fallen officer.

Crouching to inspect the body, Bobby recoiled in horror. The officer's face had melted away, leaving only a glistening skull behind. Flesh, muscle, skin - all decayed or burned off by some corrosive force.

Yet the uniform itself remained eerily pristine, devoid of any damage. Tracing a hand down the stab vest, Bobby felt the sturdy fabric intact beneath his fingertips.

"What the hell happened to you?" Bobby wondered, unnerved by the bizarre sight.

Shaking off the chill running down his spine, Bobby refocused on the task at hand - securing weapons and supplies.

"He's armed," Bobby noted in surprise, spotting a holstered 9mm pistol. "What are the chances?"

He removed the weapon expertly, checking the magazine. "A full clip, I'm in luck." Loading a round into the chamber, Bobby felt a swell of confidence holding the familiar sidearm.

Bobby’s military service and police training served him well now. He had completed five years with the Royal Engineers, and while he had served most of that time learning and practising a trade, he had still completed basic training. And while he had not yet joined the ARV, he recently completed his handgun course and had been booked for his carbine course, as he aspired to join their ranks someday.

Well, not anymore.

Having made up his mind, Bobby methodically stripped the vest and gear off the officer's corpse. He couldn't quite bring himself to take the trousers, but the boots fit far better than the flimsy crocs on his own feet. In minutes, he had holstered the 9mm snugly over his jeans and strapped the weighty vest atop his t-shirt. Its solid presence felt reassuring.

The officer had lost his pepper spray at some point, and Bobby found the taser holstered across the chest disappointingly inert. "It's like the batteries are fried," he muttered, clicking the dead device. Still, he slid it into place, unwilling to discard anything potentially useful.

This really is a lucky find, Bobby thought. What are the odds I'd stumble on a fully outfitted armed officer?

As he pondered his fortune, he remembered something on his status page. What was it again? Focusing inward, the details crystallised in his mind.

Lucky Seven - A powerful, temporary luck modifier granted for surviving undetected in a capital zone while comatose for 3 weeks.

For enduring three long weeks in a fragile, unconscious state amidst the dangers and demons of a capital zone, the System has granted you this special boon. The improbability of lasting that long unscathed in such hostile territory has bent destiny itself to your advantage, at least for a limited time.

This rare perk lasts for 7 days and will act as a supernatural fortune multiplier in your endeavours. Your luck stat will enhance its effects - the higher your inherent luck, the greater the boost this modifier provides, leading to incredible strokes of serendipity and improbable positive outcomes.

Expect uncanny windfalls, close shaves, and opportune encounters. With this modifier active, coincidence and chance will weave together to aid you in unexpected ways. Those you cross paths with may play unexpected roles. Survival will feel like a charmed blessing rather than a daily struggle.

But after the week expires, reality's impartiality will reassert itself. Make the most of this extraordinary fortune while it lasts! The opportunities it affords could mean the difference between life and death in The Dominion.

The full implications of the Lucky Seven modifier left Bobby reeling. He slumped against the wall, overwhelmed as he contemplated its incredible power. Surviving a capital zone would surely require supernatural fortune.

"I need to get out of here and find someplace safe," he muttered. But first, Bobby opened his status window and added his last remaining skill point into Luck. The attribute glowed as it increased, reinforcing his capabilities.

With the respite granted by this office, Bobby had a chance to prepare. He couldn't squander this advantage - not when he understood the scale of the challenges ahead.

Standing up with renewed resolve, Bobby holstered the scavenged pistol and headed for the door. The dangers in this hospital were only the beginning. With his upgraded luck and a week of multiplied fortune, perhaps he could survive long enough to unravel the mysteries of this world.

Stepping out into the darkened hallway, Bobby steeled himself. The capital zone awaited.