Two coyotes rushed forward, jaws wide open and saliva dripping underfoot. TJ, mind rushing, looked for anything he could do or grab to help protect himself.

“Why the hell didn’t you grab anything before when you KNEW something would attack you?” He snarled at himself as, with no rock or hefty stick in sight, TJ slung his backpack over his left arm in an improvised shield just in time. The first, faster coyote lunged with its mouth wide open to bite TJ’s knee. He fended it off with an awkward swing of his backpack, the fabric audibly tearing under its jaws. It continued to snarl and thrash, the nylon quickly being rendered useless, but TJ couldn’t care about that right now. Instead, he kept his eyes on the second coyote that lunged in on his right side, jaws flashing as it went for his right hand’s fingers.

Reacting as quickly as he could, TJ clenched his fist as tightly as he could as the canines canines dug deep into his balled fist. He grunted in pain as he unintentionally dropped his backpack and focused on the coyote that was trying to rip his hand off. It thrashed and struggled, but with his clenched fingers, it couldn’t spit out his hand. Somewhere in the back of his mind, TJ remembered dog attack instructions. No time like the present to apply it!

Bracing himself, TJ shoved his fist deeper into the coyote’s mouth, his knuckles scraping along its teeth, tongue, and roof of the mouth. It tried to get away, but TJ swept his leg under it and knocked it prone. He pushed deeper. It gagged. He pushed deeper. It vomited. He pushed deeper. It struggled to breathe. He pushed deeper. Bones in his hand and the coyote’s skull cracked. It struggled to whimper. He. Pushed. Deeper.

The coyote under him’s struggles died down, twitching in pain and fear as TJ’s eyes watered from the pain of his hand and his own distress watching the poor thing die. The second coyote attacked, and TJ wasn’t ready. Its jaws snapped tight on his left trapezius muscle, and TJ screamed in pain, and again when he bashed his broken nose into his flailing arm. He couldn’t care about the first coyote any longer, the second one a much more pressing threat. His screams continued as he scrabbled uselessly at its face, trying to get it to let go and ignoring the flares of agony as its teeth dug deep and he hit his nose two more times. It refused to let go, instead wresting its whole body to rip his flesh free.

TJ cried out as he desperately jumped up and fell onto his back, on top of the coyote. He felt its ribs crack under his weight, and it wheezed wetly as it finally released his shoulder. TJ struggled to his feet, the crippled coyote before him. With a final sickening squish of his foot, it was gone. He wanted to collapse to the ground, but the other one…

Laid on the ground, gasping for breath. Its jaw was obviously broken, and he’d done something to its throat as the wheezing, desperate gasps of the dying echoed over the mountaintop. TJ stumbled over to the dying creature and with an unsteady jump and a stomp, put it out of its misery before finally laying down on the dusty, unforgiving ground.

“Status.” He gasped out loud.

2 Coyotes, Level 0, Slain. Experience gained. Experience stored until acquisition of Class or Occupation. Zealot Class acquisition requirements progress: 3/5

Health Points (HP): 28/100

Mana Points (MP): 70/70

Stamina: 12/80

TJ smiled just a touch, happy to see his survival was currently guaranteed. Then, before he closed the Status Sheet, his HP ticked down to 27/100.”What?” He blearily asked.

Warning: Participant Thiago Jorge Harris IV is suffering from a minor Bleed affliction. Participant will continue to lose 2 HP a minute until the Bleed condition is cured.

“Oh.” TJ’s mind wandered. Why didn’t it just call him “you?” Why was it… No! Couldn’t let himself lose focus. He couldn’t muster the energy to curse, but something needed to change, and soon, or he’d bleed out. The chill crept into his bones, and TJ couldn’t get himself to move, to do anything but lay here. With a scream of pain, TJ flicked himself in the nose, and with the burst of light in his vision accompanying the tears and agony, he forced himself to his feet.

First aid. Compress the wound. Stop the bleeding. TJ unzipped the jacket, the deep tears in the flesh of his shoulder screaming in protest as he moved his left arm. The wind whipped around him, gooseflesh rising all across his exposed torso. He couldn’t care about that right now. The left strap of his tank top was ripped apart, the right whole. He pulled his shirt overhead, whimpering as the torn fabric pulled out of his mutilated neck. He wasn’t careful enough pulling the shirt over his head, and the front caught on his nose and sent another explosion of additional agony coursing through TJ’s body, and he began to sob.

Even so, he wadded the shirt into as good of a compress as he could manage and held it on his left shoulder as best as he could while he pulled the jacket back on and zipped it up. With the shredded cotton of his shirt now placed on his wound, TJ looked for his backpack.

Just as he’d already known, the back of it was torn open, half of the pockets now entirely useless, though he hadn’t lost the side pocket or its nearly forgotten cargo. Fortunately, the main pocket, the one that still had a coyote corpse in it, was mostly intact, and TJ shrugged it onto only his left shoulder before tightening the strap as much as he could and pressing the weight of the coyote painfully into his steadily bleeding wound. Then, too exhausted to continue trying to staunch his own bleeding, TJ walked to the nearest tree and slumped against it.

“Please be enough.” He muttered, tears of pain and fear streaking his dusty, blood-splattered face. “Please, God, let that be enough. System, please. Kukulkan, whatever…” He pulled up his Status again, nearly too afraid to see what it said.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Health Points (HP): 24/100

Mana Points (MP): 70/70

Stamina: 10/80

At least two minutes had passed, going off how much his HP had ticked down. TJ began counting down from 30, praying he wouldn’t see that number decrease. 30. 25. 20. 15. 10. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. And nothing. He took a deep breath, feeling the renewed lease on life. “How fast will my HP refill?”

The rate of HP recovery is directly proportional to the Vitality attribute of the Participant. Over the course of one hour of rest, a Participant will regain their Vitality worth of HP. Light activity, such as walking, will not impact the rate of HP recovery. Moderate activity, such as hiking, jogging, or flying, will halve the rate of HP recovery. Strenuous activity, such as combat, running, or exercising, will negate the rate of HP recovery.

“I haven’t used my MP. How can I use it? And does it come back like my HP?”

Many manifestations of the divine require the expenditure of the resource MP. Over the course of one hour, a Participant will regain their Intelligence worth of MP. Actively expending MP will not impact the rate of MP recovery. Only certain afflictions can impact the rate of MP recovery.

“Can I use my MP to heal myself?”

In order to use MP to recover HP, a Participant must use a requisite Skill. Participant Thiago Jorge Harris IV does not currently have nor qualify to gain any Skills that would allow him to expend MP and recover HP.

A little less panicked, TJ actually asked this time, “Why don’t you just call me ‘you’.”

Would Participant Thiago Jorge Harris IV like to change the Divine System’s form of address?

“Yeeeees?”

You have changed the Divine System’s form of address. Congratulations! There are no attribute or experience related, nor any other mechanical advantages gained from so doing.

“I didn’t expect it to.” TJ grumbled. His life no longer, apparently, in immediate danger, TJ pulled the granola bar out. Never before had unwrapping a stupid wrapper been so difficult, much less painful, as every movement of his left arm sent shocks of pain up his shoulder. Even so, eventually, he was able to unveil the chocolate chip dusted snack, and he ate it much more quickly than he’d planned. Then, his mouth parched from hiking, screaming, and crying, TJ took three long pulls from his water bottle. Putting the lid back on was a serious effort of will, but TJ was able to keep himself from polishing off the water.

Now that the fear of immediate death faded, TJ began shivering. He cursed himself for not pulling his sweats on this morning. Sure, they’d been nearly so stinky as to offend a passerby, but if he’d known, then TJ would have worn them even so. They’d keep him warm, and could have at least reduced the damage to his leg from the first coyote’s attack. That didn’t matter though. Not anymore. For now, the best course of action he could take would probably be to see if he couldn’t create a fire.

No knife to cut tinder or kindling. No good firepit or anything. No flint, steel, or lighter. Just… the good old friction method, he supposed. Once, nearly 20 years ago, he’d needed to create a fire from scratch. It had given him blisters through the leather gloves. Was there enough stuff to even make a fire?

“Hey, System. There something you can give me that would let me make fire easier?”

In order to gain something that would benefit you in the creation of fire, you would need a Class or Occupation. You have neither, and thus cannot currently gain Skills or other benefits.

“Well, I’m in no state to go kill anything else, so how can I get an Occupation?”

In order to acquire an Occupation, a Participant must complete certain requirements, usually tasks, and then be offered the Occupation.

There was no additional information. After waiting a full minute, TJ asked again, “So what do I need to do to get an Occupation that will help me build a fire?”

If you desire an Occupation that will better enable you to create fire, then you should create fires, or other things that you would like your Occupation to assist with. An Occupation is earned by completing requirements, so you should do whatever you would like your Occupation to be focused on.

“So to get an Occupation that’ll help me, I need to help myself.” It wasn’t a question, nor posed at the System. “To get a job, I need experience and I need a job to get experience… Bullshit. All over again. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuu–” TJ breathed out the word, not bothering to complete his complaining. Instead, he glanced around, looking for any stick or branch or wood or whatever could help him. Fortunately, Ponderosa pines naturally grow straight branches and trunks, and an old deadfall wasn’t far away.

TJ struggled over to the collapsed tree, where a bounty of sticks lay scattered around. It didn’t take long to find several that could work, but after peeling the flimsy bark from each, every one sported at least a dozen of the usual pokey nubs that all sticks around here did. After the fourth such stick, TJ bit the bullet and selected the one with the fewest of the sharp spots decorating it before rubbing one of the nubs on a nearby rock in an attempt to sand it down to a more comfortable grip. Then, after a minute or so, he moved on to the next. Then the next. And the next. Finally, TJ had a serviceable stick to be his firestarter. Then, he needed another for the thing he’d rub it on. The larger trunk with a groove in it wasn’t difficult to find, and so, with a prepared nest of dead pine needles and little twigs, TJ had everything prepared.

He braced himself for the pain before setting the smaller, long straight stick against the thick one, the tip of his handheld stick nestled in the groove of the larger. Then, ignoring the aches, pains, and agony that flared when he did so, TJ pressed the smaller stick down about as hard as he could between his two palms and, while rubbing his hands back and forth as fast as he could, continued pressing. His neck screamed in protest, and TJ nearly stopped trying to make the fire.

TJ’s hands sported only weak calluses from his last couple of months of weightlifting, and they quickly rubbed raw under his focused effort. He immediately found which of the nubs he hadn’t sanded down enough, but he’d already begun, and refused to lose the progress he’d already made and the energy he’d already spent.

Before long, he was bored and uncomfortable and sore, but TJ refused to give up. Slowly, he was blessed with the beginning of smoke from between the two sticks appearing, but he didn’t slow down. Instead, he watched his Status, watching his stagnant Stamina and HP, excited when the HP ticked up one. His Stamina remained the same, but after more than a couple of minutes and less than twelve since he supposedly recovered 1 HP every six minutes, the smoke grew thick enough that TJ pulled away his long thin stick and pulled out the little ember that he’d nurtured. Blowing gently on it, he deposited it in the center of the nest of pine needles while continuing to blow.

Smoke puffed and filled his face. Still TJ blew, and he was rewarded with a flare of heat. The pine needles exploded into flames, burning hot, bright, and for just a moment. TJ fed more and more into the growing blaze, and finally, one, then two, then five small sticks.

“FIRE!” He cheered, finally sure it would last. “I have fire!” Then, TJ looked at the three coyote corpses. Now, what to do with these?