The air beneath the bridge had that distinct scent of dampness and city grime, a delightful perfume for the discerning nose. Life beneath the overpasses of Atlanta, Georgia, was hardly a glamorous affair. It was a twisted joke of fate that I, once just another face in the city's forgotten crowd, now sought refuge in these shadows, a realm overlooked by all. The day the system designed to make its grand entrance, I was doing what I did best: pondering the mysteries of the universe, or more accurately, contemplating how I'd rustle up my next meal. And then, like a cosmic prank, the prompt appeared:
PROMPT: Welcome to the System! Your planet has begun integration—what does this mean for you? Nothing, except now you must survive and thrive. Your stats are being tallied based on your life, and a survival prediction will be made once all factors are considered.
As I finished reading, the prompt vanished. I had to blink a few times and even pinch myself to confirm I was awake—it was nearly 2 a.m., after all. But then, another prompt appeared:
PROMPT: Finn Walker, you now have the option of changing your name. This is your only chance to do so. Whatever you choose will be what people see if they can Examine you.
‘I can change my name?’ I thought. Just as this realization hit me, the prompt displayed a two-minute countdown. "Well, damn... I've always despised my name. What were my parents even thinking, naming me Finn Walker?" I muttered. Some of the others under the bridge stirred, looking around, bewildered—all while the timer ticked down. 'Okay, maybe Wayne... Yeah, Wayne. But what about a last name?' As I pondered, a new prompt appeared overlaying the first:
No last name required. You can simply be known as Wayne if you choose.
‘Okay, that was... odd, but sure. Wayne it is.’ I thought. The prompt asked for verification:
PROMPT: Changing Finn's name to Wayne. Is this the name you would like to choose: Yes, No
‘Glad this works by my thoughts; otherwise, people might think I’m crazy. Well, crazier than they already do, I’m sure. Yes,’ I thought, and the prompt disappeared.
Status
Name Wayne Race Human Level Unleveled {EXP 0/120} Strength 3 Wisdom 5 Speed 3 Defense 1 Luck 2 Survival Odds 0.001%
My survival odds were a mind-boggling 0.001%. I mean, who could resist such enticing odds, right? It was like winning the lottery, twice, and getting struck by lightning all at once. Also, what were these stats? Are these good stats, or am I on the lower or higher end? Well looking at my Survival odds I guess that answers that question...
I'd heard all my life that I had a snowball's chance in hell of making it. This was just another addition to that repertoire. The system's blunt honesty, giving me a statistical slap in the face, was all too familiar. So, I chuckled, shrugged off the prophecy of doom, and got down to business, because life had taught me one thing: no one's going to give you a handout, especially not the universe. It was an oddly eventful encounter with a rat, of all things, that changed the game. The little critter, more furious than a caffeine-fueled toddler, decided to take a bite out of me. Big mistake. I squashed that rage-filled furball, a rush of grim satisfaction flooding through me. And then it happened—a message popped up, declaring that I'd earned 3 EXP for slaying a "Rat Pest." Well, now, wasn’t that a revelation? Killing pests for experience points. It was like finding a cheat code for life.
PROMPT: Congratulations you have slain Rat (Pest) you are rewarded 3 experience points.
From that moment on, I became a pest-hunter extraordinaire, though I could only bring myself to slay the aggressive pests. After all, in the old world, I was once considered a pest. Cockroaches, more rats, and the occasional defiant pigeon became my adversaries. The thrill of the grind, the anticipation of leveling up—it was surprisingly addictive. It awakened a drive within me, a purpose to seek out the aggressive but manageable pests, each skirmish a step towards a better chance at survival. As my EXP count grew, so did my determination. Those pesky vermin were my training dummies, unwittingly aiding my ascent in this strange new reality. The more I fought, the more I understood the twisted mechanics of this system. It wasn't just about the kill; it was about the experience gained—a reminder that even in the face of adversity, there's a lesson, an opportunity to grow. I did learn quick that the cockroaches were not worth killing, not unless there were at least 40 of them around and even then, the EXP earned just wasn’t enough.
Grinding for experience became a daily routine, a gritty montage of determination set to the backdrop of the city's apathy. I might not have had a fancy house, a white picket fence, or a golden retriever, but I had grit, and I had heart. It took me almost a month of non-stop hunting and slaying to finally get enough experience to hit level one. Honestly, I could have gotten there sooner but again I only chose to attack aggressive pests. The experience points started to add up, and oh boy, my survival odds skyrocketed to a staggering 0.02%. Someone cue the confetti.
PROMPT: Congratulations your have leveled up! Now level one, you have gained five stat points to distribute. Your survival odds have increased from 0.001% to 0.02%
Leveling up was a game-changer. Points to distribute, they said. Strength (STR), Wisdom (WIS), Speed (SPD), Defense (DEF), and Luck (LUK) were mine to divvy up. I mean, sure, let's just sprinkle a bit of magic on the dumpster fire that is my life. Why not? I spread those points around like a kid spreading ketchup on fries. A little here, a little there. Balance was key, or so I assumed. Who knows? Maybe I'd wake up with biceps the size of watermelons or a brain the size of Einstein’s. One can hope, right?
But hey, amidst the sarcasm and skepticism, I had this inkling of hope—a belief that maybe, just maybe, this system could be the ticket to flipping the bird at destiny. It was a long shot, but I'd survived this long as the underdog, and I didn't plan on stopping now. And so, with my new "powerful" stats in tow, I grinned at the concrete ceiling of my bridge and said, "Alright, let's see what this crazy new world has in store for the 0.2% survivor." May the odds forever be in my favor, or at least for the next level. ‘Now how the fuck do I check my stats?’ and with that thought the prompt appeared.
Status
Name Wayne Race Human Level 1 {EXP 0/158} Lifetime EXP 120 Strength 4 Wisdom 6 Speed 4 Defense 2 Luck 3 Survival Odds 0.02%
After scanning through his stats, Wayne decided it was time to catch some sleep. Rest came easier these days, perhaps a result of the physical exertion from a day spent hunting and battling, or the sense of accomplishment gained from inching closer to the experience needed for the next level. Wayne wasn't much of a gamer before, never really had the chance to dive into one for an extended period. Now, though, he understood the allure. Witnessing progression, even as a fictional character, was undeniably satisfying. With that thought in mind, he drifted into slumber. The next morning, while out on his hunting routine, a squirrel dropped from a tree above him, aiming for his neck. Wayne, swift in his movements, managed to snatch the creature mid-air, and with a display of strength, swiftly ended its life. It was then he realized it was time to seek greater challenges.
PROMPT: Congratulations you have slain a Squirrel (Flying) you are rewarded 1 experience point.
‘Well, fuck’ he thought. ‘One Experience point? What happened? I should’ve at least earned three for this kill.’ As this thought crossed his mind, another prompt appeared.
PROMPT: Experience breakdown:
Gained EXP: 1 – Base 3, reduced for being higher level then Squirrel (Flying), unable to go lower then 1, EXP set to 1.
"Some consolation, I guess," he remarked. "At least I'm guaranteed some experience for dealing with these pests. But now that I need 158 experience... yeah, it's time to face something more formidable." Musing aloud, he examined the squirrel, contemplating its potential as a meal. However, a strange feeling compelled him to inspect it further. As he examined, a small tag around the squirrel's foot caught his eye, prompting yet another message.
PROMPT:
You have found foot tag of Squirrel. Tag reads:
“S/N 0018823” – Endangered Species, Female
This squirrel is being used to help build back this species and prevent extinction.
Note* Only 3 Females of this Species are known, now 2
‘Okay... that note is definitely not on this tag. Was this prompt calling me out on defending myself?’ he thought, gazing at the prompt and then the squirrel. After a moment, he closed the prompt, deciding to proceed with cooking the squirrel for a meal. Once done, he realized it was time to pack up and move on. Wayne dismantled his tent, packed his sleeping bag and tent rods, and stowed them neatly into his worn-out backpack. ‘Now, I need a weapon. My feet and hands won't be enough if I'm going for bigger game.’ As he searched for a suitable tool, he couldn't help but glance up at the sky, partly obscured by the towering city structures. He was no longer just Wayne, struggling to survive. He had become Wayne, the resilient, the hopeful—one who embraced a newfound edge in a world teeming with challenges and mysteries. At least, that's what he told himself. After a few minutes, he spotted a discarded steel pipe, its weight and sturdiness promising utility.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
With this makeshift weapon in hand and determination in his heart, Wayne chose a path dictated by chance, a step into the unknown, embracing the uncertainty that lay ahead. It was a leap of faith, a gamble against fate. The cityscape shifted with each stride, the hum of the metropolis fading into the distance. Wayne, the underdog, the survivor, was stepping into a new chapter, prepared to defy the odds once again. As the sounds of the city dimmed, his pulse quickened; destiny beckoned from the unknown horizon, and he was eager to answer the call. He headed north east, a decision guided only by instinct, not fully comprehending the significance of his chosen path. On the first day of his journey, as the sun bathed the landscape in a warm glow, Wayne faced his inaugural encounter with the wild. A particularly territorial raccoon, threatened by his presence, lunged at him. Startled, Wayne wielded his steel pipe as a makeshift weapon, managing to fend off the raccoon's aggressive advances. However, the raccoon's claws found their mark, causing minor injuries and chipping away at his health.
PROMPT:
You have suffered minor injuries. Health -5 points.
You have slain Raccoon (Healthy) – EXP gained 1, base 3 reduced for being higher level then Raccoon (Healthy), unable to go lower then 1, EXP set to 1.
Wayne's concern over his health and stamina grew. What did these numbers signify? How crucial were they in his journey for survival? While contemplating this, he began to inspect his arm, then another prompt emerged.
PROMPT:
You can now display your Health and Stamina. They will also now appear on your Status Page for ease of access.
“Okay… how do I see my health and Stamina…” Wayne muttered. As if in response, a red and green bar appeared in the upper left-hand side of his vision—the red bar was missing some, but the green bar was full. "Well, how much health and Stamina do I have?" He accessed his stats page.
Status
Name Wayne Race Human Level 1 {EXP 2/158} Lifetime EXP 122 Strength 4 Wisdom 6 Speed 4 Defense 2 Luck 3 Survival Odds 0.02% Health 95/100 Stamina 100/100
Deciding to keep the raccoon, given its healthy status, he planned to cook it when he stopped next. Wayne continued his journey north, his tattered shoes a reminder of his city life. If he were to continue this journey and embrace this new path in life, he'd need new... well, everything. After a few more hours of walking, his stomach reminded him it was time to stop. Finding a relatively flat and open spot to build a fire, he set to the task but realized he'd forgotten something to start the fire. With a disappointed look at the raccoon, he pulled out some old, slightly moldy bread and ate. Looking back at the raccoon with longing eyes and a not quite full belly, he just grumbled and turned away, resolute in following this chosen path. 'I will find somewhere to get new clothes and shoes, and damn it, I will get a lighter!' he thought to himself with a determined smile on his face. After another half-day of travel and no more encounters, Wayne decided it was time to set up camp and rest for the night. His feet were aching, his back sore, and he was hungry again, but this time he didn't have any more food. 'Guess it's another night of going hungry,' he chuckled to himself as he set up his tent and laid out his sleeping bag. Crawling into it, he was asleep before his head hit the floor.
On the second day of his journey, the sun climbed into the sky, casting a golden hue over the landscape. Wayne pushed forward; the memories of yesterday's encounters were still fresh in his mind. As the day progressed, the terrain changed—lush trees replaced city structures, and the constant hum of traffic was replaced by the serene whispers of the forest. In the late afternoon, as Wayne forged ahead, his footfalls masked by the gentle rustle of leaves, he encountered a snake. A hiss of warning sliced through the air as the snake, a non-venomous but imposing creature, coiled itself defensively. Wayne, cautious and unsure of its nature, decided not to take any risks. He kept his distance, carefully calculating his steps. Just as the snake sprung forward to attack, Wayne swung his pipe down hard onto the head of the snake, a crunch could be heard then a prompt filled his vision.
PROMPT:
You have slain Snake (King) - EXP gained 1, base 3 reduced for being higher level than Snake (King), unable to go lower than 1, EXP set to 1
Pulse racing from the encounter, Wayne continued his journey. Still annoyed about how little experience he was getting, he continued for a few more hours until he stumbled upon an abandoned, decrepit house. Nature had begun to reclaim it, vines snaking up the walls and windows. He cautiously approached, considering the potential value of what might remain within. As he stepped through the creaking door, a musty smell enveloped him. Cobwebs adorned the corners, and dust danced in the slivers of light that broke through the decaying roof. It was evident that this house had been abandoned for many years, perhaps decades. Wayne carefully searched room after room, finding remnants of a life long past. In a forgotten, dimly lit corner, he discovered an old wooden chest. Excitement surged through him as he pried it open. Inside, he found some old coins, tarnished with age, and a faded photograph of a family—perhaps the former occupants of this house. Despite the simplicity of the finding, Wayne felt a sense of connection to the past, a glimpse into lives once lived. Continuing his search, he found a stash of canned food, most were showing signs of rust, a few were dented and one or two were open and emitting an awful stench, all were likely unsuitable for consumption. However, he did stumble upon a pair of rugged, leather boots. While worn, they were in much better condition than his current footwear. He switched them out, grateful for this unexpected boon. Leaving the house, he watched the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of red and gold. The events of the day played through his mind, reminding him that this journey would be full of challenges, unexpected encounters, and small victories. As darkness settled in, he decided to rest for the night, preparing himself for what the following day might bring. While he slept, he dreamt of reaching the next level and what it might mean for him in the future.
On the third day of his journey, Wayne set his sights on a nearby town. The road stretched before him, winding north/northeast, and he followed its worn path. The morning sun was now a comforting companion, and the crisp air carried the scent of adventure. He arrived at a small, one-stop-stoplight town with an eerie emptiness to it. Buildings, once teeming with life, now stood as hollow shells. The silence was palpable, interrupted only by the occasional gust of wind. The houses, too, seemed abandoned in haste—doors ajar, belongings scattered about. Curiosity piqued; Wayne ventured into a few of these forsaken abodes. It was as if they were forced to leave quickly, leaving behind fragments of their lives. In one house, he discovered a few pair of cargo pants that fit him well, providing sturdier protection than his worn-out jeans. After changing into one pair and putting the other two away, he moved onto the next house. This house yielded a trove of T-shirts that found their way into his bag. He even found a few lighters and some starter for fires! He packed all of them up before moving on. Pockets of preserved food also caught his eye, adding to his growing supplies. He now had some food to last him a few days at least, as long as he rationed himself which is something he was quite capable of.
His exploration led him to a house with a partially open garage door. Inside, he found a machete and a gun safe. The safe intrigued him, its cold steel promising something valuable within. However, it remained locked. With a bit of hope, he searched the house, scouring for any hints or clues that might reveal the combination. As he rummaged through the rooms, Wayne stumbled upon a diary. It belonged to a gun enthusiast, and within its pages, a code was scribbled along with a note “Damn it Jacob, I swear if someone gets into my gun safe because you can’t remember the damn combination I will kill you! -love Dad.” Heart racing, he returned to the safe and tried the code. The lock clicked open, revealing its contents. Inside, he found a small pistol, two mags full of ammo and two ammo boxes. It looked as though more was in there at one time. As Wayne was closing the safe he noticed a better backpack, sturdier and more spacious than his previous one, after moving over his belongs and adjusting the straps he noticed it sat better on him and wouldn’t be as uncomfortable in his future travels. Feeling both fortunate and eager, he moved decided it was time to leave. As he left the garage, a sudden snarl shattered the eerie silence. A wild dog, gaunt and desperate, lunged at him with feral determination. Its eyes were wild, its bared teeth gleaming.
The dog’s attack was swift and vicious. It lunged towards Wayne, aiming for his throat. Reacting on instinct, he side-stepped, narrowly avoiding the deadly bite, this is not the first time a dog has attacked him, normally it’s some asshole in the city thinking it’s funny for his dog to attack the “pests” that live on the streets. In the process, he stumbled and fell to the ground, but adrenaline surged, propelling him back to his feet. In the chaos of the moment, he realized he had left his steel pipe in the house. With no time to retrieve it, he glanced around and spotted the machete. He grabbed it, the cold handle a reassuring grip in his hand. The dog, undeterred, lunged again, its target now his arm. He swung the machete, aiming for the dog's head, but the creature was quick. It clamped down on his arm, teeth sinking into flesh. Pain surged through him, and a prompt appeared but lower in his vision, just in view but not blocking the fight, another symbol appeared up near his health bar, it showed a drop of blood.
PROMPT:
You have taken 6 points of piercing damage, you are now bleeding, you will lose 1 point of health for the next 10 seconds, or until bleeding is stopped
`FUCK! That’s not good’ he thought to himself. but he knew he had to act. Gritting his teeth, he used his free hand to punch the dog repeatedly in the head until, momentarily disoriented, it released its grip. Driving for the machete, Wayne turned to face the dog. It lunged again, aiming for his throat. In a moment of desperation, he thrust the machete forward, the blade finding its mark. The dog fell, a gurgle escaping its throat, its wild eyes dimming. In all this took about 5 seconds.
PROMPT:
You have defeated Dog (Domesticated) - EXP gained 2, base 5 reduced for being higher level than Dog (Domesticated).
Wayne stood there for a moment, panting, and wounded, the reality of the fight settling in. He had prevailed, but not without a cost. The gash on his arm was deep, blood oozing from the wound. He sighed, knowing he needed to tend to it and regain his strength for the challenges that lay ahead. The town, once a quiet mystery, now held an eerie quiet. He walked back inside the garage and grabbed a towel wrapping it around his arm and stopping the bleeding, looking at his health bar it was lower but still more then half, after a few seconds the bleeding debuff went away, Wayne pulled up his stats.
Status
Name Wayne Race Human Level 1 {EXP 5/158} Lifetime EXP 125 Strength 4 Wisdom 6 Speed 4 Defense 2 Luck 3 Survival Odds 0.02% Health 89/100 Stamina 60/100
This was the first time his Stamina had dropped below 90, Wayne was unsure how much longer he could have lasted and did not want to find out what happens if his stamina drops to zero. Thanks to his first injury he knew giving time he would heal, but he wasn’t sure how long it would take with this injury, deciding to take a break, he pulled out some jerky he found and chewed on a few pieces while he waited.
As noon approached, Wayne pushed on, the sun now at its zenith, casting a warm glow across the road. The miles blurred together as he trudged forward, the rhythm of his steps accompanied by the quiet hum of the surrounding forest. He knew he was getting closer to the South Carolina border, the next milestone on this new path he had embarked upon. The trees whispered tales of resilience and survival, and Wayne found solace in their stoic presence. As the day wore on, the memories of the past few days mingled with reflections on his newfound reality. Wayne had come a long way from the life he once knew. He had been trapped in a cycle of despair, a product of a broken home and a brutal upbringing. His parents had been nothing but obstacles in his life, never wanting him, never caring. Early on, he found solace in drugs, a means of escape from the harshness of reality. Meth and its destructive allure had ensnared him, dragging him deeper into the abyss. But somehow, against all odds, Wayne managed to break free from the clutches of addiction. The journey to sobriety was a grueling battle, one that left scars, both seen and unseen. Yet, even after he triumphed over his demons, society had turned a cold shoulder. He became the invisible man, the one people looked past or crossed the street to avoid. When he had nothing, they turned a blind eye.
In the depths of despair, Wayne found a semblance of hope by surviving on the streets. Dumpster diving became a way of life, a means to stave off hunger. Panhandling provided just enough to scrape by. But it was a pitiful existence, one he was determined to escape. With every step he took on this journey, he was leaving that life behind, forging a new path towards redemption. Now, the mission was clear—to rise above the ashes of his past, to redefine his odds of survival, and to prove to himself that he was more than the sum of his hardships. Wayne was on a quest to reach a 100% chance of survival, a symbolic goal that represented his newfound determination to conquer adversity. As the day neared its end, Wayne found a quiet spot just beyond the boarder. He looked back at the distance he had covered, grateful for the progress he had made and the challenges he had faced. The South Carolina marked both a physical and metaphorical transition. Sitting by the flickering campfire, Wayne pondered the road that lay ahead. The night brought with it a new set of uncertainties, but he was ready. With a resolve that burned brighter than any flame, he embraced the unknown. The darkness held no fear for him; it was a canvas on which he would paint the story of his reclamation, one step at a time, one survival odd at a time. And as the fire crackled, casting dancing shadows, Wayne knew that his journey had only just begun.