“More?!” Trevor’s voice cracked, his eyes wild as he backed into the wall. He snatched a stapler from the table and hurled it at the nearest beetle. The metallic projectile bounced harmlessly off the beetle’s shell and clattered to the floor.
“Yeah, okay. That’s not working,” he muttered, his panic climbing.
Barry moved next, stepping in front of Izzy, who was practically fused to the wall, her wide eyes locked on the advancing beetles. Without a word, Barry lifted a chair in a fluid motion and brought it down on one of the beetles with terrifying force. The impact cracked through the air, splitting the creature’s shell in half. Black, viscous blood spilled out before it dissolved into glowing particles.
The System chimed above us, cold and efficient.
[Enemy Defeated: Lumic Beetle. XP +1. Loot Acquired: 1 Copper Coin. Skill Scroll: Lumic Flash (Common).]
Barry didn’t even glance at the notification. His focus shifted to the other beetles, his gaze meeting mine briefly—grim and resolute. “They’re not indestructible. You just have to hit hard enough.”
“Right. Hit harder,” I muttered, gripping the chair leg tighter. Sure. Simple.
The second beetle lunged at me, its glowing mandibles snapping. It feinted left, then darted right in a blur of movement. I swung hard, catching its shell with a loud crack. The beetle flipped onto its back, its legs flailing like grotesque pendulums.
[Critical Hit! Lumic Beetle HP: 2/10. Try finishing the job before it flips back over.]
“Working on it!” I shouted back, bringing the chair leg down with a grunt. The shell shattered, and the beetle dissolved into another shower of particles, leaving behind a copper coin and a coiled scroll. The tang of ozone lingered, suffocating and sharp, as the clicking of the remaining beetles filled the air like a countdown to disaster.
Trevor swung the mop like a man fending off a nightmare, its bristled end whipping uselessly through the air. His movements were frantic, more desperation than strategy. “A little help here?” he shouted, barely sidestepping the beetle’s snapping mandibles. “Or should I just go down for dramatic effect? Anyone?”
Claire didn’t answer. She grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall and moved with purpose, her steps precise and measured. She swung it with a force that belied her calm demeanor, catching the beetle’s side. The creature skittered across the floor, its shell clinking against the wall with a sickening crunch before it dissolved into glowing particles.
She didn’t wait for the System’s notification, her gaze already scanning the room. “Everyone okay?” she asked, her tone clipped but steady.
Trevor leaned on the mop like a crutch, panting. “I think I pulled something. But hey, at least I didn’t die. You’re welcome for the dramatic tension.”
The silence that followed pressed in on us, heavy and suffocating. Every creak of the building and every hum from the portal seemed amplified. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that offered relief—it was the kind that warned you the worst was still to come.
Gerald finally found his voice, though it wavered at the edges. “Alright, everyone, let’s stay calm! No need to panic—”
Trevor’s laugh was sharp and brittle. “Sure, Gerald. Let me just pencil that in between ‘don’t die’ and ‘try not to get eaten by glowing beetles.’ No problem.”
Izzy’s voice cut through, trembling and small. “What if more come through?” She clutched her notebook to her chest like it was a lifeline, her wide eyes darting from the portal to the shattered remnants of the beetles that didn't vanish.
Claire hefted the fire extinguisher again, her hands steady despite the tension in the room. “Then we deal with it,” she said firmly. Her tone brooked no argument, and she stepped forward, placing herself between Izzy and the portal. “Stay close. If it moves, we hit it together.”
Ned, however, was still a bundle of jagged breaths and darting glances, his trembling hands clutching a pen like it was the only thing tethering him to reality. “What if we… what if…” His words tumbled out in panicked fragments, his gaze locked on the portal as though it would swallow him whole.
“Ned,” Claire snapped, not unkindly, “pull it together. We don’t have time for this.”
But the portal pulsed again, its edges writhing and pulling in shadows like liquid tendrils. The clicking resumed, louder now, a maddening rhythm that dug into my nerves.
Trevor let out a groan. “Let me guess—round two?” He adjusted his grip on the mop, his knuckles white.
Barry worked in focused silence, flipping a table to create a makeshift barrier between the portal and the rest of the group. His movements were deliberate, his gaze steady. He didn’t look at anyone, didn’t speak. Just worked. The unspoken resolve in his actions was oddly reassuring—like someone had finally decided to take control.
And then there was Ned. Poor, trembling Ned. His pen slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the linoleum floor. His hands hovered uselessly in midair, and his breath came in shallow, erratic gasps. “We’re all going to die,” he whispered. The words barely carried over the suffocating quiet, but the defeat in his tone cut through like a blade.
“No, we’re not,” I said, surprising even myself. My voice sounded stronger than I felt, but that was the point. Fake it till you make it. “We just killed three of those things. We can handle this.”
The System, ever eager to ruin a moment, chimed in.
[Notification: Optimism Detected. +1% Temporary Morale Boost. Try to survive long enough to enjoy it.]
Trevor snorted, the sound halfway between a laugh and a hiccup. “Great. A morale boost. That’ll totally stop the next wave.”
“Better than nothing,” I shot back, gripping the chair leg in my hands like a lifeline. “If you’ve got a better motivational speech, let’s hear it.”
Claire’s sharp gaze flicked between us before landing on me. For a second, her expression softened. “Ethan’s right,” she said, her voice calm and measured. “Panicking won’t help. Stick together. Focus on the next move.”
Gerald, as if physically unable to let anyone else have the last word, stepped forward with the air of someone trying to reclaim their authority. “I’m still in charge here—”
The loud crack of wood snapping cut him off. Barry, who hadn’t so much as glanced up, had just broken a plank of wood over his knee. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the tense silence. He straightened, looked at Gerald, and said evenly, “Then lead. Or be quiet.”
That shut him up.
The portal pulsed again. Thin tendrils of shadow spilled out, curling across the floor like liquid smoke, bold and unrelenting. I took an instinctive step back, my grip tightening on the chair leg until my knuckles ached. “Please tell me that’s not a sign of round two.”
No one answered, but Claire’s expression said it all.
The shadows grew thicker, reaching farther into the room. The air grew heavy, carrying the sharp tang of ozone. Then came the sound—sharp, rhythmic clicking that seemed to vibrate through my chest. My stomach churned. Round two. Great.
The beetle shot out of the portal, its mandibles snapping like a grotesque pair of scissors. Its glowing, crystalline shell refracted the flickering light, creating a fractured, eerie beauty. But nothing about the way it moved—the erratic bursts of speed, the sharp, staccato lunges—was remotely beautiful.
It darted toward me, a blur of erratic motion. My legs locked, frozen in place. The chair leg in my hands suddenly felt laughably inadequate against something with mandibles that sharp. My brain finally screamed at me to move. I swung.
The first hit glanced off its shell with a hollow clunk. The beetle hissed—or made a sound close enough to a hiss to drive the point home—and skittered sideways, its legs clawing at the floor with unsettling precision.
“Hit it again!” Claire’s voice cut through the chaos, firm and commanding. She had hefted the fire extinguisher again, her stance unwavering. “Keep it off balance!”
I swung wildly, the impact landing with a satisfying crack. The beetle flipped onto its back, its legs flailing in grotesque desperation. Lines scratched into the linoleum as it thrashed. I raised the chair leg above my head like a batter at home plate.
[Critical Hit! Lumic Beetle HP: 3/10. Maybe aim for the legs next time? They’re easier to break.]
“Helpful,” I growled through gritted teeth. Ignoring the System’s unwelcome commentary, I brought the chair leg down with everything I had. The beetle’s shell cracked with a sickening crunch, and the creature writhed wildly.
The clicking grew louder. I didn’t even have to look to know what that meant.
My focus was locked on the glowing beetle as I swung again, the chair leg connecting with a brutal crack that echoed in the room. The shell fractured, releasing a sickly black ooze that sprayed across the floor and onto my shoes. The beetle let out a piercing screech, its legs twitching wildly before it dissolved into shimmering particles. Left behind were a single copper coin and a softly glowing scroll, hovering in the air like a mocking reward.
[Enemy Defeated: Lumic Beetle. XP: +1. Loot Acquired: 1 Copper Coin. Skill Scroll: Lumic Flash (Common).]
For a moment, I just stood there, chest heaving as if I’d run a marathon. My fingers loosened on the chair leg, but I didn’t dare let go. The coin and scroll dropped to the ground with a soft clink, but I wasn’t about to touch them—not yet.
“Ethan!” Claire’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding. “Move! Another one’s coming!”
My head snapped up just in time to see another beetle skittering from the portal. Its mandibles clacked with an almost mechanical precision as it darted toward Trevor. He was still clutching his mop like it was Excalibur, though his wide eyes and shaking hands told a different story.
“This is fine,” I muttered, gripping the chair leg tighter as the last dregs of adrenaline battled with creeping exhaustion. Totally fine. I definitely signed up for this.
Trevor’s panicked yelp shattered the tension. The beetle lunged, its mandibles snapping inches from his shin. He scrambled back, swinging the mop wildly in a desperate attempt to fend it off. “Anytime now, people! Or are we doing a group vote on whether I live?”
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Claire was already moving. She snatched the fire extinguisher from her side and swung it with precise force. The metallic clang of impact rang out, followed by the wet crunch of the beetle’s shell giving way. The creature’s legs twitched once, twice, before it dissolved into particles. She didn’t wait for the System notification, already scanning for the next threat.
[Enemy Defeated: Lumic Beetle. XP: +1. Loot Acquired: 1 Copper Coin.]
Barry, in contrast, had moved with the silent determination of a wrecking ball. He picked up one of the remaining intact chairs and swung it in a wide arc. The force sent another beetle flying into the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster. The creature squealed, its shell flickering erratically before it crumpled in on itself.
[Enemy Defeated: Lumic Beetle. XP: +1. Loot Acquired: 2 Copper Coins.]
Trevor, still fending off his attacker with the mop, cast a wide-eyed glance at Barry. “Barry, remind me to never get on your bad side!”
Barry didn’t respond. He’d already shifted his focus to the portal, his chair gripped like a battle axe. Trevor, on the other hand, jabbed at his beetle with the mop. It wasn’t elegant, but it bought him a few precious seconds. The beetle scuttled sideways, its glowing shell pulsing as it recalibrated its movements.
“Seriously, these things didn’t come with an off switch?” Trevor grunted, stepping back as the beetle lunged again.
“Focus!” Claire barked, stepping closer to cover him. Her gaze snapped to Gerald, who was standing frozen near the portal, his face pale and slack-jawed.
“Gerald! Move!” she shouted.
Gerald flinched at the sound of his name, but his feet stayed rooted to the spot. The beetle nearest to him lunged, its mandibles aimed squarely at his chest. Instinct—or maybe pure panic—finally took over. With a wild swing, he slammed the chair leg he held into the creature’s head. The crunch was sickening, and the black ooze splattered across his shoes and pants. The beetle twitched once before dissolving into particles.
[Enemy Defeated: Lumic Beetle. XP: +1. Loot Acquired: 1 Copper Coin.]
Gerald stood there, staring at the space where the beetle had been, his chest heaving. “I… I got it,” he muttered, as though saying it aloud might make it feel real.
“Great, Gerald. Now do it again if you have to,” Claire said, her tone clipped as she stepped forward, readying the fire extinguisher for another swing.
The portal pulsed once more, shadows spilling out like liquid ink. The clicking sound returned, louder and faster, burrowing into my skull with each beat. The air grew heavier, the tang of ozone sharp and oppressive.
The tension in the air barely had time to settle before movement at the door drew my attention.
The door creaked open, and a guy stumbled in. His tie hung loosely around his neck, and his hair stuck up at odd angles like he’d just rolled out of a failed nap. It took a moment to recognize him—one of the IT guys who always seemed more comfortable behind a monitor than actual people, Jacob. He rubbed his bleary eyes, blinking at the room with the detached confusion of someone who hadn’t yet processed reality. His gaze drifted lazily from the flickering fluorescent lights to the glowing portal pulsing in the corner.
“Huh?” he mumbled, his eyes finally landing on the scattered remains of the beetles. For a moment, he looked like he might chalk it all up to a weird dream. But then his gaze locked on the glowing shell of a nearby beetle, still twitching faintly. His sluggish movements froze, and his expression snapped from groggy to panicked.
“What the hell is going on here?” His voice cracked, rising with each syllable. His shoulders stiffened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.
“Jacob, stay back!” Claire’s command came quick and sharp, her hands tightening on the fire extinguisher like it was the only thing anchoring her to calm. “Don’t—”
But Jacob wasn’t hearing her. Fight-or-flight kicked in, and it wasn’t much of a fight. He spun on his heel and bolted toward the hallway.
The nearest beetle moved faster.
Its shell glowed brighter, the green-silver hue intensifying until a high-pitched whine filled the room. The sound hit like a sledgehammer to the skull. My knees wobbled, my grip on the chair leg faltering as I clutched my head against the relentless noise. Jacob staggered mid-sprint, his hands shooting up to his ears as the beetle lunged.
It latched onto his leg.
The scream he let out was bloodcurdling, a raw, guttural sound that choked off abruptly as a second beetle scurried in. Its glow pulsed furiously, searing straight into Jacob’s chest. His wiry frame crumpled like paper under the onslaught, blood spraying across the linoleum in a grotesque arc. His head lolled to the side, eyes wide in terror, frozen like a twisted statue.
And he didn’t dissolve into glowing particles like the beetles. He just… lay there. Motionless. Bleeding.
The System’s cold, detached voice cut through the horror.
[Participant Eliminated: 1. Remaining: 7. Cause of Death: Lumic Beetle (Level 1, Common).]
“Jacob!” Izzy’s scream pierced the air, raw and jagged. She ran and clutched Trevor’s arm, her body shaking as sobs wracked her frame. “Oh my God, he’s—he’s—”
“Focus!” Claire’s voice snapped through the chaos like a whip. “We can’t help him now. Protect yourselves, or we’re next!”
I blinked at her, uncomprehending. Protect ourselves? From what? My legs felt like lead, rooted to the spot. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at Jacob’s crumpled body, blood pooling beneath him in an expanding halo. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.
“This isn’t real,” I muttered, the words spilling out unbidden. “This can’t be real.”
Trevor’s voice dragged me back. “We’re not saving him, Izzy. He’s gone. Just—just stay close to me, okay?” His mop wavered in his grip, but his lean arms were taut, bracing as if to shield her from what came next.
The portal pulsed again, throwing chaotic shadows across the walls. The clicking grew louder, synchronized and rhythmic like a heartbeat—a predator’s cadence. The air thickened, sharp with ozone, each breath dragging against my chest.
Claire stepped forward, the fire extinguisher poised like an executioner’s blade. Her sharp bob swayed slightly, perfectly aligned with her no-nonsense demeanor. “Get it together, Ethan. We’re not dying here.”
Her words snapped something loose in me. Jacob was dead. The image of his blood pooling on the linoleum burned behind my eyes, but the cold truth followed: if I didn’t move, I’d be next. My knuckles whitened as I gripped the chair leg, its weight both comforting and damning. It felt like a joke of a weapon against these things, but it was all I had.
The nearest beetle advanced, its shell refracting the room’s dim light into fractured patterns. Barry moved like a wrecking ball, swinging a chair with relentless precision. The impact split the beetle in half with a sickening crunch. Its screech cut off abruptly as it dissolved into glowing particles.
The silence that followed pressed down like a vice, suffocating and endless. For a fleeting moment, I dared to hope the nightmare had ended.
Then, the System chimed, sharp and clinical.
[Trial Complete. Objective: Kill 1 or More Monsters. Status: Success.]
[Rewards Granted: System Menu Access Unlocked. (Unlocked: Status Panel, Skills Panel, Inventory, Wallet).]
“Finally,” Trevor muttered, slumping against the wall. His mop clattered to the ground as he wiped sweat from his brow, his chest heaving. “I was starting to think we’d need to kill, like, a hundred of those things.”
A faint shimmer appeared in front of me, coalescing into a floating panel of glowing text. Crisp, angular letters hovered midair, their clarity surreal against the carnage around us. Instinctively, I reached out, my finger grazing the edge of the hologram.
[Welcome, Ethan.]
The words burned into my mind as if etched there, untethered from any physical screen. They simply… existed. Hovering. Mocking. Like life hadn’t thrown enough at me already.
Because clearly, the universe wanted to make things even weirder.
“Alright,” I muttered, scrubbing a hand through my sweat-drenched hair. “Guess I’m playing along.”
The System, ever the comedian, responded with another notification. Its crisp font practically oozed smugness.
[Think ‘System’ or ‘Main Menu’ to access your interface. Unless you enjoy fumbling in the dark—no judgment.]
Sarcasm. Great. Even my notifications are passive-aggressive.
Suppressing a groan, I thought the word “System.” It felt ridiculous, but the floating panel that appeared immediately justified the awkwardness. Neat tabs blinked into view: [Status | Skills | Inventory | Wallet]. My gaze lingered on Status, curiosity prickling despite my exhaustion.
The new screen unfurled like a digital tapestry, revealing my stats. My shoulders slumped as I read the breakdown.
Attribute Value Level 2 XP Progress 0/3 Health Points 38/50 Mana Points 48/48 Stamina 20/35 Strength 5 Endurance 5 Dexterity 4 Intelligence 6 Wisdom 6 Perception 7 Luck 9 Attribute Points 3
The numbers stared back at me, bland yet strangely judgmental. My first thought? This is it?
Somehow, the list managed to feel like both too much information and not enough. Each number seemed to mock me with the System’s detached precision, daring me to make sense of my own mediocrity.
Health Points (HP): Thirty-eight out of fifty. Barely passable. Apparently, I’m alive—so, yay for small victories. But if those beetles come back, I’ll be limping straight into my early grave.
Mana Points (MP): Forty-eight out of forty-eight. A full tank, and no clue what to use it on. Magic, I assume? Except I don’t have a single skill to spend it on. I’m like a top-of-the-line phone without an internet connection—shiny, expensive, and pointless.
Stamina (STA): Twenty out of thirty-five. My brain says I should have more in the tank, but my legs scream I just ran a marathon through a war zone. Either this stat lies, or I’ve got the endurance of a half-baked potato.
Strength (STR): Five. Marginally better than average. Feels more like I’m wielding a damp noodle than an actual weapon. Explains why the chair leg feels like a medieval mace every time I swing it.
Dexterity (DEX): Four. Perfect. Weak _and slow. If this were a survival game, I’d be the first NPC to die during the tutorial._
Intelligence (INT): Six. Slightly above average. Great for overthinking myself into a corner. Practical solutions? Nope. Just existential dread with extra steps.
Wisdom (WIS): Six. Supposedly the complement to intelligence. But really, what good is wisdom when I keep throwing myself into situations that scream ‘bad idea’?
Perception (PER): Seven. A tiny win. At least I can spot the terrible things coming to kill me. Silver linings and all that.
Luck (LCK): Nine. My best stat. Fantastic. Guess I should start flipping coins to decide my next move—at least the universe is consistent.
I let out a groan, dragging a hand down my face. “So, I’m built like the comic relief in a slasher movie. Great.”
The System wasn’t about to let me off the hook that easily.
[Analysis: Below-average stats detected. Survival unlikely without significant improvement. Have you considered cardio?]
"Wait. Can I just... boost something? Strength? Dexterity?" My eyes drifted to Luck, the corners of my mouth twitching. Dumping all three points into Luck feels oddly appropriate.
The System chimed in again, its sarcasm dial cranked up: [Warning: Excessive reliance on Luck may result in unpredictable outcomes. Consider a balanced approach. Or don’t—it’s your funeral.]
I groaned again, though a faint smile tugged at my lips. “You really know how to sweet-talk a guy, don’t you?”
Swiping the notification away, I hovered over Luck, half-serious. Claire’s voice snapped me out of it.
“Everyone okay?” she called, her voice steadier than I expected. The fire extinguisher hung loosely in her hand, but her posture remained firm, ready for another fight.
Barry nodded, his grip still iron-tight on the chair. “Fine.”
Trevor groaned, stretching his arms above his head. “Define fine. If fine means I’ll never sleep again, then sure, I’m great.”
“Izzy?” Claire’s tone softened as her gaze landed on the younger woman.
Izzy sat huddled behind Trevor, her knees pulled to her chest. Her tear-streaked face flushed as she rocked slightly, her wide eyes darting toward Jacob’s body. I followed her gaze, and the knot in my stomach twisted tighter. He was still there. Still motionless.
The System chimed again, its cold detachment slicing through the room.
[Trial 1 Complete: No Kill Registered for 2 Survivors. System Access Remains Locked.]
Izzy and Ned flinched as the System’s chime cut through the silence, their wide eyes darting toward the shimmering loot and pulsing portal. My own ears buzzed with the lingering tone, the sound burrowing into my nerves like nails on glass. The message had landed hard for all of us—there was no ambiguity in its delivery.
Izzy clutched her chest, her lips trembling. “What… what does that mean? I heard ‘no access,’ but why? I didn’t—I couldn’t…”
“It means you’re a liability,” Gerald snapped. His face twisted with a sneer, the scar across his jaw pulling his features into something colder, harsher. His shirt hung torn over his chest, and his disheveled hair framed eyes that burned with something ugly. “No rewards for the dead weight. No System, no access. You can’t fight. You’re dead weight.”