Sometimes, in the midst of an intensely stressful situation, where life and death stands balanced on the blade of a knife, time slows down. For some, this moment seems eternal, allowing them to contemplate their choices. All the twists and turns—insights and decisions—which had led them to that moment.

For Nick, it lasted for just a single second. But this time, a second was all that he needed to pull his bacon out of the fire. He knew with absolute certainty that when the sword came down, the blow would kill him instantly; that from this position, the foreman would not miss and that nothing he could do would let him get out of the way in time.

Although he had never been in a situation even remotely like this one before, Nick was no stranger to making split-second decisions. Choices upon which his survival hinged. He had made them all the time in ranked competitions and other high-stress environments. It was enough to keep his mind from going blank.

Thus, instead of freezing up or spending the final moment of his life lamenting his fate, he judged the sword’s vector of approach and prepared to make his move. The foreman’s strike was imminent, the angle telegraphed by its position and stance. Now, it all came down to timing.

In the next beat of Nick’s heart, time resumed its full course. The ratman’s sword came down, so sharp it seemed to cleave the air itself, and his dagger came up. He wasn’t strong enough to block the blade, halting its momentum with the power of his arms alone. Unable to block, unable to dodge, the only option remaining was to parry the strike.

Knowing that this might be the last second of his all-too-short life, Nick aimed for the descending blade and swung his dagger as hard as he could, hoping to divert the sword’s angle enough to pass him by.

In the blink of an eye, his knife collided with the falling sword, the pure note of steel against steel ringing in his ears. He felt an incredible impact and then blood running down his chest, convinced in that moment that he had been cut so deep that he had yet to feel the pain.

That was when the foreman’s blade came crashing into the floor, hard enough to send shards of dark stone flying into the air. Nick looked down at his chest, where the blade of his dagger was protruding from the folds of his bathrobe, the shorn fragment buried deep into the flesh below.

He looked back at the hilt he held in a white-knuckled death grip, shattered steel shining bright against the rust coating its exterior. Defying the odds, his gamble had worked, although he had not escaped unscathed. He had lost one of his weapons in less than a heartbeat and taken a serious wound in the process. But for now, Nick was still alive. Where there is life, there is hope—and hope was reason enough for him to fight on.

Striking the bedrock with full force had unbalanced the ratman, buying Nick a few precious seconds to turn the tables, or at least scramble out of the way. He would normally have been concerned with the dagger buried in his stomach. But in this case, it didn’t seem like the wound would kill him any faster than the blight or the foreman’s blade.

With no time to think, he grabbed the piece of shorn steel with a corner of his robe to keep it from slipping between his fingers. He pulled the blade out of his stomach, staring in detached fascination at the bright sheen of ruby blood as he staggered back onto his feet.

Now Nick could feel the pain. A wet, searing agony centered around the hole in his gut. He didn’t have time to succumb to the sensation. No time to panic or second-guess his decisions, for a plan had been born within the depths of his mind. A blood-soaked epiphany, delivered by adrenaline and a fierce desire to survive. A plan that he would never have considered under any other circumstances, but one that just might manage to save his life… if it didn’t kill him first.

Nick slid his final dagger out of its sheath, just as the ratman regained its balance. If this was going to work, he needed to hold out until the sword was in just the right position. He could feel the blight surging in his veins, a flowing anguish mingling with the molten misery in his belly. He darted back as the ratman advanced, staggering into a shambling dash that left bloody footprints in his wake.

Just before Nick could duck behind the crystal box, the ratman leapt over the top, cutting off his retreat and boxing him into the corner. Its movements are sharper now. The parasite must be going all out to put me down. This is your last chance. Make it count.

Before the foreman unleashed a killing blow, Nick raised his dagger up to one ear, in position to fling it at the ratman’s face. His stance left his chest wide open, with no room to duck or dodge. Thus, rather than trying to wound the man, the ratman went for a finishing strike. It drew the sword’s hilt up to its center of gravity, took aim, and then thrust straight forward.

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In the last second before the sword skewered his heart, his wand came up. Instead of pressing the trigger, he shoved the wand’s shaft against the side of the blade, altering its trajectory by a few degrees.

As a result, instead of skewering Nick’s heart and killing him instantly, the blade plunged into his chest and slipped between two ribs. Impaling his lung but leaving his spine and heart intact by the width of a hair. The tip burst out of the other side of his body and penetrated the stone, sticking into the wall behind.

The foreman began struggling to free the blade, reaching forward and pulling back in rapid succession. Nick smiled, hot blood pouring from his lips. The motion left the foreman’s armpits exposed, and he could see pale, rotting flesh peeking through the slit in the chain. If this doesn’t work, at least I’ll die betting on myself rather than merging with the blight.

By now, Nick was drifting into shock. Viewing the world as if it were at the end of a long tunnel. He knew that the final seconds of his life were slipping through his fingers. But if he was destined to die this day, he would meet his end on his own terms. After all, his plan was agonizingly close to culmination. There was just one thing left that he needed to do.

By now, the foreman was completely absorbed with retrieving its sword, likely believing that Nick was already dead. With the last of his strength, he brought his dagger up in one hand and placed the point inside the slit in its chainmail, angling the tip down toward the ratman’s heart. With the other, he brought the wand to bear, placing its end against the dagger’s pommel.

As his vision faded to black, Nick pulled the trigger and activated the wand. Although he was blind, he could feel the force transfer throughout the rat’s body, reverberating through the sword and pinning him to the wall like an insect in a collection box. Then, his strength failed him completely, and he knew only blackness.

Nick could no longer think. He couldn’t breathe. He could feel his heartbeat faltering, and his limbs were frozen in the icy embrace of death. Slower. Slower. And then his heart beat for the last time.

Somewhere deep in his brain, he was able to watch as the light of his life flickered and began to fade. Soon, there was only a tiny ember remaining. Within seconds it would be extinguished, succumbing to the endless winter beyond.

Just before his neurons fired for the last time, Nick heard a voice calling to him in the distance. Speaking the words he had been desperately hoping to hear.

Tutorial Dungeon, the Sewers of Kastilla, has been successfully completed.

Restoring contestant to pristine physical condition.

In a surging rush of color and sound, the light of the world returned. Two seconds later, Nick felt his heart lurch and begin to beat once more. After coughing out a lungful of blood, he was able to draw a shaking breath. He felt his tissue contract, forcing the sword out of the wall and out of his chest. The blade came crashing to the floor with a chiming clatter. His muscles and organs, bones and sinew, writhed as they began knitting themselves back together.

That was the moment when Nick felt intense pain blossom within his chest as a foreign mass was dragged away from his brain and toward his open wound. The parasitic core thrashed, sinking barbed tendrils into his flesh as it struggled to remain inside his body, fighting against the healing triggered by the System. After a final, blindingly painful jerk, a pulsating crimson mass, dripping with Nick’s blood, flew out of the cut where the foreman’s sword had impaled him, falling to the ground with a wet splat.

He looked down in shock, in time to see a squirming bead of alien tissue, covered with hooked tendrils, crawling away from him. It’s the parasite, he realized. It’s getting away. Nick pushed past his disorientation, raising his boot high into the air before bringing it down with all his remaining strength. With a sickening crunch, he ground the parasite to pulp beneath his bootheel, putting an end to the horrific invader once and for all.

Fifteen seconds later, his restoration was complete. He slid down the wall, collapsing into the corner while staring down at the unbroken skin of his chest, stone chilly against his back. Dazed and confused, he focused on his breath, a cascade of adrenaline surging throughout his body.

Ten minutes later, Nick rose to his feet and took a single, trembling step before realizing that there was more to the System’s message. Before he could process the meaning of the words, his emotions caught up with him. Abject terror from his close brush with death. Sheer joy that only those convinced they were about to die can understand. Anger that he had been forced into this hell, but most of all, triumph.

By the skin of his teeth, he had pulled it off. I’m still here. Still alive. Still me. Nick had gambled with his very life, and, by the narrowest of margins, he had won.

He wiped the blood from his body as best he could, noticing that his poor robe was on its last legs. Then he started to laugh. A great outpouring of bottled emotion, escaping in a cackling rush. He laughed so hard that he began to cry—or perhaps the other way around. He couldn’t tell, and he honestly didn’t care.

Sometime later, Nick regained control of himself at last—enough to take a long look around and remember where he was. He was just about to read the rest of his notifications when a motion in the corner of his eye drew his attention. He looked down at the ratman beside him, then screamed. Because its ruined visage turned to face him, wheezing as it let loose a chuckle of its own.

However, this surprise was nothing compared to what Nick felt when the foreman gestured to him and spoke.