Stage 1

Oliver’s vision blurred, then he found himself standing in a dimly lit stone room. There was half-rotted straw littering the ground and a slimy green moss growing on the stone walls. A rack held a few swords, daggers, and axes covered in surface rust and worn handles. The only exit to the room was what looked like an old prison door that was bent so that it couldn’t close and was half ajar.

A voice spoke, but Oliver couldn’t pinpoint where the sound was coming from. “Alright, Stage 1. It’s been a while.”

“What? Who is that? Where are you?”

The voice spoke again, and Oliver still couldn’t figure out where it had come from. “Go on, guess. This should be fun.”

Oliver checked the room but still found nothing living save him and Barton, who stood next to him, alert and at attention. He thought back to the last message he had seen before the world dissolved around him. [Ring of Second Chances] (Cursed)

“You’re in my ring, aren’t you?”

“Ooh, first try! This ought to be a good ‘un.”

“So, that’s a yes?”

If a voice without lungs behind it could sigh, the ring did. “Yes. That’s a yes. The ring is me, and I am the ring.”

Oliver quickly grabbed the ring and tried to slide it back off, but the ring held true. Not like it was glued or stuck on, as that would have tugged at the skin, but rather like it was fused to his very being. Not even his finger bones moved when he pulled on the ring.

“Satisfied? That’s the (Cursed) part, unremovable. Be grateful the ring didn’t cause your flesh to rot or give you a constant, unbearable odor.”

“What are you?”

The ring hummed. “That’s the question, now, isn’t it? I am your ‘Second Chance’, so to speak. I have intricate knowledge of what is to come, and I can guide you safely through it.”

Oliver slumped to the ground and hugged Barton closer. “I don’t care about what’s to come, I want-”

“Her. I know. I also know that this will sound very ‘deal with the devil’-ish, but hear me out. Your wife, she died after the integration began. That means that she should be a valid target for certain, let’s call them magic procedures that will become available because of the assimilation. Including resurrection.”

“Yes. I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever it-”

“Commendable dedication. Foolish, but commendable. You didn’t let me finish. The first part requires you to reach a certain Stage in the Tutorial. It’s... not impossible, but-”

“I don’t care,” Oliver interrupted. “I’ll do it, whatever it takes.”

The ring continued, “You’ll have to be strong. Strongest on the planet. Likely, you’ll have to make decisions that... compromise your principles.”

“I will make it happen. Tell me what I need to do.” Oliver’s answer was immediate and decisive. It was spoken as a statement of fact, indisputable.

The ring’s barked order brought him out of his daze. “Okay, do what I tell you, when I tell you, without question. The Tutorial? This thing is timed. Now, we should be fine, just don’t dally too much, ‘kay pumpkin?”

“Right. Okay,” Oliver replied while he walked towards the weapon rack.

“Hey! Did I tell you to take a sword? No? Then stop! To your left, grab the broom.”

Oliver looked in the corner to the left of the weapon rack and, indeed, a broom that looked like it belonged to a witch leaned against the wall. Oliver strode over and grabbed it, staring at it while trying to discern its secrets.

“It’s just a broom, dummy. Now, grab a sword and wack the broomhead off.”

Doing what he was told, Oliver grabbed the least rusted sword and chopped at the head of the broom while he held it. Miraculously, the sword sliced through the broomstick at an angle, leaving a sharpened point where the bristles used to be.

The ring continued, “Drop the sword, it’s done its job.”

Oliver compared the broken broom handle and the rusted, yet still very much steel sword in his other hand. “Why not use the sword?”

What could only be described as a sigh filled the air around him. “Inspect the sword,” the ring ordered.

“Inspect?”

“Just look at it with a will to see what it is. Really, it should become second nature to you. Every entity within the system is quantified and defined. Super handy.”

Oliver focused on the sword and a small window overlaid it.

[Rusted Simple Sword]

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

“Great, now the stick.”

Oliver tried to repeat the process, but nothing happened. “It’s not working,” he told the ring.

“I know, it won’t. Just a busted broom handle, isn’t it? Living things and Bound objects are recognized by the System as Entities. You can’t Bind something that’s already been Bound, like that sword. All the starter gear in here is system-generated to be previously Bound, means you can’t bind it. With me?”

Oliver nodded. “I can’t Bind something that someone else Bound, but why do I want to Bind anything? Can’t I just use the sword?”

“Sure. But that’s all it’ll ever be. A [Rusted Simple Sword]. That broken broom handle can be bound, and it’s one of the few things in this stage that can. Bound items grow with you. Every Stage you complete, Level you gain, you get to upgrade your Bound Entities once. Unfortunately, System’s real stingy on allowing unbound items in the Tutorial. Lucky for you, I know what and where they are.”

“So, I’m assuming the stick will be better than the sword at some point?”

Oliver got the impression of a nod from the ring. “And soon. Won’t take too many stages, either. Satisfied?”

Oliver nodded, then realized that the ring might need him to speak out loud, so he added, “Yeah.”

“Don’t worry, I can tell when you nod. Got a good idea of what you are doing and what you see, so I’m not working blind here. Go ahead and Bind the broom handle.”

Oliver focused on the shaft of wood and a familiar box popped up.

Bind [Broken Broom Handle]? Y/N

Oliver mentally agreed and the message changed.

[Broken Broom Handle] Bound, becomes [Simple Spear].

Before his eyes, the tip of the broom handle fuzzed out of reality and back in. The change only took a fraction of a second, but now the broken point was a sharp point of wood, like the whole thing had been shoved in a giant pencil sharpener.

Oliver’s eyes lit up. “That’s great! We can do this with anything?”

The ring hesitated. “Within reason. Keep in mind, you’re Binding things to your spirit. Only got so much of it, don’t you? Plus, what’s Bound can’t be Unbound, save Death or a couple of really expensive or painful procedures. Don’t Bind things willy-nilly.”

“Okay,” Oliver addressed the ring, “what’s next?”

“Burlap sack under the workbench.” Oliver scanned the room and found said workbench, pulling a sack of rotten potatoes from underneath. “Now, make a shirt.”

“Huh?” Oliver replied eloquently.

“The sack. Empty it out, use a knife from the weapon rack to cut a hole on the bottom edge for your head, two holes on the side for arms, and slide it on.”

“...Why not pants?” Oliver asked, suddenly very aware that only the ring and Barton had come through with him.

“Without question? Remember? It was only, like, a minute ago.” While Oliver got to cutting, the ring did answer his question. “I’ve been through the Tutorial before, know most of the Stages. Many have tried to make diaper-esque pants outta this thing, but the System refuses to recognize it. Shirt? That it takes.”

Oliver followed the directions, cutting the requisite holes in the bag before sliding it over his head. Thankfully, the bag fit more like a dress, hanging down to mid-thigh. “Bind it?” he asked the ring and received a mental nod in response.

Bind [Torn Burlap Sack]? Y/N

[Torn Burlap Sack] Bound, becomes [Linen Tunic].

The whole sack fuzzed out of reality like the tip of the spear had, and reappeared as a very rough, very simple tunic that still, thankfully, hit mid-thigh.

“Fantastic!” the ring praised, with no small amount of sass. “Now, grab the potatoes and let’s finish the Stage.

“We need rotten potatoes to finish the Stage?”

Only silence answered him, so Oliver gathered the half-dozen rotten potatoes from the ground. “What does it mean to finish a Stage?” he asked.

This time, the ring answered. “You get a level. There are no combat experience points in the Tutorial, and clearing a Stage gives you a single level. That lets you boost a stat and upgrade your Bound items. A full third... ish of the people in the Tutorial won’t even clear this stage. They’re going to be in rough shape when we get out.”

Spear in one hand and rotten potatoes piled in the crook of the other arm, Oliver made his way to the broken cell door.

“Now, there’s just the one room beyond this one, and it’s got just one enemy: a slime. Here’s the trick, we don’t want to kill it. We want to (Bind) it too.”

Oliver paused. “Won’t it be trying to kill me?”

“What do you think the potatoes are for?”

“Ah.” Satisfied, Oliver crept through the door with a bit of caution, Barton close on his heels. On the other side, they found another stone room, the same size and condition as the one he’d just come from. This one, however, contained only one thing apart from moss and more rotting straw: the slime that the ring had mentioned. The slime sat still in the center of the room. It was less than knee-high, the blue-green of mold on cheese, and wider at the base than it was tall, like a single drop of water on the kitchen counter. It looked like it was covered in a smooth, dull skin like you’d find on top of pudding from the fridge.

“Do I just throw them, or...?” Oliver wondered aloud.

“No. Slimes are not intelligent, but it will consider that an attack. You have to feed it. Squat low to the floor and waddle closer, potato held out to it. As soon as it has any grip on the potato, withdraw your arm and grab another. After three, you should be able to (Bind) successfully. If it doesn’t work, give it one more spud.”

Oliver did as instructed, but he had a hard time not jumping up when the slime shivered as he neared and began sliding towards him. The slime only moved at the speed of a walk, but it was still unnerving.

As the slime met the offered potato, there was some resistance on the outer skin, dimpling as the potato pushed into it. Then, the skin parted just enough to allow the potato to slide in. Just before the slime reached his fingers, Oliver jerked his hand back. The slime drew the rest of the potato inside and stopped moving towards him.

The next potato met the same fate, as did the one after that. While the slime happily dissolved the offered potatoes in its gelatin insides, Oliver tentatively touched his hand to the slime’s skin and thought (Bind). To his relief, a box appeared.

Bind [Slime]? Y/N

Entity [Slime] agrees. [Slime] Bound.

Stage 1 Complete!