Exhaling a good mouthful, I rest my hands on my hips, look at the sky, and close my eyes. I let the heat penetrate, making me sweaty already. Twitching my eyelids, I gaze at the distant objective. About some kilometers away? Should only take a second. Bracing myself for the gut twisting speed, I take a large step forward. My stride is incredibly fast as I cross half a meter in glory.

...

???

???????????

I look down, watching the sand burn my feet. It damn hurts! "The fuck?!" Without hesitation I blame my failure on the system while hopping around like a monkey. "Shit! Fucking sand! What's going on?! Why can't I go like before!?"

[Due to the tutorial's completion, your blessing has been revoked. Please rush to the waypoint.]

So, let me get this straight.

I'm naked. In the desert. It's daytime, with zero cloud in sight. I have no water, no food.

"Holyyyyy shit!" It doesn't take me an hour to get the urgency. My legs most definitely cannot be lazy here. I run like a lunatic, parched already from the blazing inferno.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"FUCK!"

"Status two!"

[Jack Heltros]

Age : 26

Immortal Cultivation : None

Immortal Title : None

HP | ⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⊚ | (2.84 / 2.91)

DT | ⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿ | (4.89 / 4.89)

STR : ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰ F-

SPD : ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰ F

END : ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰ F-

SEN : ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰ F-

SOUL : ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰ F-

WISD : ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰ F-

FATE : ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰ ?? (LOCKED)

Skill : Tech Eye - lv.2 [+]

"I'm already losing health?" This is bad! Health points dictate one's life and death. But more importantly, they also become a visible life expectancy bar. If it goes to zero, one will die. If it is barely not zero, one will be on the verge of death. If one is young and healthy, the only way for it to go so low would be injuries, diseases and such. For an old person, their maximum health points would naturally be lower. That is because, as it is life expectancy, our age forcefully decreases maximum health over time. This is mostly related to natural factors such as mutations and cancer. I'm young, healthy... somewhat, but my health is lowering. Thankfully the maximum hasn't changed, which could happen with deep injuries, but it lowering slowly is obviously not much better right now.

I look up and already know the answer. I can feel it. My dry throat is almost chocking me. Due to the dehydration of my body, my life is withering, and my body is being damaged. Worse, the waypoint isn't getting any closer.

Is there anything I can do? Do I have a plan? Am I determined to risk my life?

For all three, the answer is no.

"Dammit! Piece of shit blessing! You tricked me!!" My arms reach up to my head almost, comically sprinting thinking it will make me go faster. A couple kilometers away... this... isn't the problem. The issue is the unknown. This waypoint... I don't even know what it indicates! I can only trust the reward for being a reward and rush ahead like the madman I act out so well.

I can't see the desert vanishing at the waypoint. So what is there? A treasure?

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

There better not be danger. Otherwise I'll cry like a baby, be warned. I finally left this hellhole of a prison, and now I'm about to dry like a mummy. But it's fine. The waypoint is getting closer, though my feet hurt. My endurance stat isn't so great, but it should be enough to not get severe damage from heated sand. Well, it's what I'm telling myself at least.

The dunes are boring after a while, especially when lacking the earlier speed. So after around fifty minutes of climbing and sliding down all of these, I reach the destination.

There's a car.

A car? It's a pick-up to be exact, dark blue in color. At the back I see sand covered tarps with differing heights. Curiosity does nudge at my mind while I next take sight of someone. Under their beige hat, sunglasses, and thick clothing, I can't be sure of even what this is. It's someone at least... I hope. I heard those mimics can take the shape of anything... and if it is human... is it with or against me?

The age of modern technology means I could end up spotted by a satellite or soldier from that place. You never know how well off some people are. So it's with some apprehension that I slide down the small dune.

I make myself known with the sound, as this person turns around. They see me.

Butt naked.

"Hello there!" I wave my arm and see the person take out a gun. "Well fuck." That went quick... at least take me on a date first... I soon swallow my words and applaud my thoughts as that person speaks with clear femininity. "Who are you? Hands up." To be fair, a little pistol like this won't do much to me. At worst an injured eye or a... Putting one hand up, I also put one over my genitals. Yes, a bullet there wouldn't feel so good, would it?

"Haha... no need to be so cautious, do I really look that suspicious? Isn't it the norm to see dudes naked in the desert? Maybe you haven't stayed in the Forbidden Wasteland for long enough yet." She doesn't answer my remarks, so I decide to plead. "Well, other than that, not that I don't like the tan, but would you happen to have some spare clothing?" This time I get something out of my words, the woman putting her finger on the trigger. "...Hum..."

"You know what? I'll just be on my way." Her pick-up is tempting, but the system is not taking into consideration her presence at all. How do I steal it? Even thought she uses a gun... oh, can the system let me see through her stats? She speaks English, so it should be fine if we could get along, but if her stats aren't too great, I might be able to steal it. First status. Let's go with the one I know more about.

[Some information could not be accurately displayed. To remedy this issue, please increase your appraisal related skills and MIND (MND) stat.]

[Melina Hartz]

Age : 23

Class : None

Title : None

HP | ⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿ | (??? / ???)

MP | ⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿⦿ | (??? / ???)

STR (?) : ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

SPD (?) : ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

END (?) : ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

MND (?) : ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

LCK (?) : ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

Skills : ???, ???, ???, Tech Eye - lv.1

Of course... Doesn't bode well for me. Why do these people always point guns when their fists are a hundred times better? Is it some kind of custom that grew when I was locked up?

Her voice comes from my already turned back. "Stay right there. Who are you?" I hesitate but don't see the point anyway. "I'm Jack." In case she has truth related skills, it's better to give my first name. But it doesn't end there. "Is that so... then, Jack, what's your last name?" Why do you care! What does it do to you? I don't feel comfortable giving my last name on top. I may be naked, but having my real name leaked to an unknown person could kill me. Should I go for it? "It's... can I not say it?"

"Why? Something to hide?" No, no. Of course not. I'm just a fleeing prisoner from a terrorist group a dozen kilometers from here. "That's not it... I just feel uncomfortable." As I say that I turn back around. Only to see her raised brow and almost laughing expression. "And you don't think for a moment that you are making me uncomfortable? Am I to remind you of your clothing status? Unless you take me for an exhibitionist just like you are, I'm not fond of your looks." To this I sort of take offence. "What? I have an eight pack! How am I not good looking? I'm even covering my dick, shouldn't the rest of my body appeal to you? I don't want to sound cocky, but I'm quite the eye candy, am I not?"

"..."

"You're not."

"Oh... ok." It's depressing, but hey, happens. In any case, this allowed me to dodge the name question. "So, what's your last name?" Never fucking mind. "It's Jack Gasoline."

At my answer, she looks me up and down with obvious contempt. "Not good at lying are you? Gasoline? Are you for real?" It's bad. But also fine. "Well, yeah... duh... should I give you the name of my math teacher? Chair. Yup. Another teacher was Bottle. And a classmate of mine had the last name of Poop. Don't underestimate the past. People really went wild when they were granted customizable last names." That's the one right? I think I remember something like this from middle school... As for the names, I didn't really lie fully. It's easier to remember weird stuff like this when you've been in a prison for years.

"That so... alright, mister Gasoline, what are you doing here? Where did you come from?" While her questions follow, I'm in my own head trying to process the situation. I still can't tell if she's with them, about to bring me back, or a foreigner not wanting to grab attention. And- oh shit the question...

"Hum, me? I'm just... I mean I... like I was there... and then decided to come here... But where do you come from? You don't speak Latin or whatever is spoken around these parts."

She ponders for a moment before sound escapes her mask. "I'm from the United Empire. I'm here to investigate old ruins from thousands of years ago." This is quite the news. Very important no less. If what she says is actually true, I might have found an escape route. "Hmm... Well kind of the same for me to be honest with you. Would you have space in that pick-up for one more person?" As the interrogation turns into conversation, her gun is lowered at each and every exchange.

This is enough proof to guarantee my next steps.

We talk some more and she begins to show friendliness.