It’s like stepping into a fantasy novel—or at least, that’s what I’d say if I were reading one instead of living it. One moment, I’m in my bed, dreading another boring day, and the next, I’m in a dungeon. No, not the kinky kind—much to my disappointment—but an honest-to-God dungeon with magic and terrifying beasts.
There I was, smack in the middle of an apocalypse, armed with nothing but my brains and grifter skills—great for a con job, useless in a fight. Little did I know, this was the start of my own epic saga. Who would've thought a two-bit hustler like me would end up facing the Goddess of Apocalypse? And not just face her, but actually take her on.
It's the kind of tale that makes you wonder: how did a bumbling fool like me manage to screw over the end of the world, quite literally?
* * *
As far as I know, I’m fast asleep. I went to bed at my usual time, 10 PM sharp, and now, as my consciousness slowly returns, it’s probably close to 4 AM, my usual wake-up time. Bio clocks sure are amazing.
Once I open my eyes, another day will start—another day as mind-numbingly boring as the last 1569 or so days have been. Honestly, I’m starting to think this banking job isn’t for me. Always putting on a fake smile and dealing with the rudest customers—it’s enough to make anyone lose their mind. But you know what’s worse? The endless hours of staring at empty chairs and waiting for something, anything, to happen.
At the end of the day, my colleagues head home to their families and friends, while I head back to my empty apartment. Pushing thirty with no girlfriend, let alone a wife and kids—real charming, right? I’ve got this skill for connecting with people in minutes. If I wanted to, I could make a new friend every day. But here’s the kicker: I see through everyone’s crap. And once I point it out, any chance of friendship goes up in smoke. So, I end up alone, with my honesty as my only company.
Now that I think about it, it’s even more depressing than I let on. God, I need more sleep. But the bio clock? To hell with the bio clock.
I shift in bed, pulling the blanket over my head. It’s getting really chilly, even though the air conditioner must have shut off hours ago. Oh well, a bit of cold mixed with warmth could be just what I need. But, as usual, sleep doesn’t come. I twist and turn, getting increasingly annoyed and ready to give up, when I start hearing noises.
I hear birds chirping, leaves rustling gently in the breeze. The air is so crisp and invigorating, it feels like it’s breathing new life into me. I can almost smell the earthiness of the outdoors and hear the soft crunch of animals grazing and hopping about. The tranquility of my surroundings is unlike anything I’ve felt in years. As sleep slowly returns, it’s as if I’ve been transported to another world—a world where I could happily lose myself forever.
I take a deep breath and let my body relax. This is the sleep I’ve been waiting for. But then I turn to the other side, and my body decides to pull the ‘falling’ prank. Startled, I turn back, only to slip and crash down onto what feels like hard earth.
Hard earth? What the—?
Groaning, I open my eyes, squinting against the morning light, and take a cautious look around. It hits me immediately: my bed, my mattress, my table lamp—my entire room—is gone. Instead, I feel the rough soil and dry leaves beneath me. My body shivers in the cold wind as I notice a dozen curious eyes—birds, rabbits, deer—all staring me down. The realization sinks in: I’m naked, sitting in the middle of a forest.
“What the hell is going on?” I blurt out, my stomach dropping. “How did I get here?” I’m starting to think I’ve been kidnapped—maybe someone from my colorful past finally tracked me down.
“I can answer that,” a voice cuts through my confusion, almost like it’s reading my mind. It’s coming from behind me. I turn to see a set of chairs and a table lined up in the distance. The host is a man made entirely of light. I rub my eyes twice, half-expecting to wake up from a bizarre dream. Nope, it’s all real. The world and the glowing guy are exactly as they seem.
“Come here,” the guy waves me over. “Let’s talk.” I don’t have much choice, so I head his way, each step feeling like I’m walking on eggshells. Who knows what’s coming—maybe he’s wearing this flashy suit and will pull out a gun for a surprise. But hey, let’s try to stay positive.
He gestures for me to take a seat, so I pull up a chair and sit down, feeling the cold prickling my bare ass. Uncomfortable, but manageable.
“So,” I start—
“So, Colt, let’s cut to the chase,” the glowing man interrupts, his mouthless face making his overly chipper, youthful voice all the more eerie. “Here’s a quick rundown of what’s happened and what’s coming next. Ready?”
“I guess,” I gulp, bracing myself. Anything but abduction and torture—please, anything but that.
“Well,” he clears his throat, adjusting his seat. “Colt, my boy, you’ve been chosen.”
“Huh?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Chosen to leave your mundane, worthless existence behind and rise as a player who conquers the tutorial, stepping into a realm of boundless opportunities!” he proclaims, his chest swelling and his voice booming. “You’re destined to achieve the impossible, to lead the lost souls trapped here for eons to a new world beyond. The primordials have selected you—the pinnacle of humanity’s potential. Do you think you can rise to such monumental responsibilities?”
“Uh… No!”
The guy just stares—well, his head is fixed my way since he doesn’t actually have a face.
“Sorry, but I didn’t quite catch any of that,” I reply honestly.
“Expected no less from a mere mortal,” he grumbles. “Alright, let me break it down for you in simple terms.”
“That would be much appreciated,” I force a wry smile. This doesn’t feel like an abduction anymore. It’s something else entirely.
“Let’s start with what happened,” he says, his tone suddenly serious. “You’re dead, Colt. You fell off your bed the wrong way, and your neck snapped. Now your soul—your naked form—has been transferred to the afterlife. And I’m the overseer who will pass judgment on you.”
I blink in disbelief. Seriously, what? But what really surprises me is how I feel about it. I’m dead. Oh well... I feel nothing, just indifference. Had I really lost touch with my own life? Seems that way. I was bored, always chasing excitement and never finding it. Figures I'd have to die to finally get a decent plot twist.
I nod, accepting the man’s words—or rather, my supposed death. Even if he’s lying and this is just some lucid dream, what do I have to lose? It’ll be dull when I wake up anyway. Might as well entertain myself while I’m here.
“So what’s the twist—I mean, my judgment?” I ask, folding my legs and accidentally letting my balls graze the cold wood of the chair. A jolt of electricity shoots through me. Brilliant. Just what I needed. Note to self: definitely need pants, right now.
“Your judgment is that you participate—”
“Hate to interrupt, good sir, but could I get a pair of pants? The afterlife, it’s a bit too cold, no offense,” I cut in, getting a head tilt from the faceless overseer. Okay, that’s probably a sign of irritation. “Never mind, go on.”
“You’ll receive all you need once this briefing is over,” he seethes, and I nod quickly. With a sigh and a grand sweep of his shiny arms, he declares, “You have been chosen by the Primordials, the supreme architects of all existence. They’ve bestowed upon you ‘The System’ to guide you through the ‘Tutorial.’ Succeed, and you will be ushered into the exalted True Afterlife. Fail, and you will be cast into the abyss of eternal torment. So, steel yourself and prepare for what lies ahead.”
The finality in his voice makes me hesitate, but I have a feeling it’s now or never. I ask, “Got it, sir, but what exactly is this ‘Tutorial’ and ‘System’ you’re talking about?”
“The Tutorial is your path to the True Afterlife. That’s all you need to know,” he replies sharply. “As for ‘The System’… Take a look.” With a snap of his fingers, a screen materializes right in front of me.
---- Status ----
Name: Colt Steel [Level: 0]
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Race: Human (F)
Class: N/A
Title: Player
Tendency: Professional Grifter
----
Stats:
Appeal: 9
Constitution: 8
Dexterity: 7
Strength: 10
Perception: 12
Mana: 5
Intelligence: 11
Advance Points: 0
Skills: N/A
----
I give the screen a thorough once-over, scanning it from top to bottom.
- Name: Checks out.
- Level: Expected—starting at the bottom, no surprises there.
- Race: Definitely human, so that works. But what’s with the ‘F’ beside it? Maybe it’s my ranking or something.
- Title: Just as expected—“Player” in the tutorial.
Wait a minute, does this mean the tutorial’s going to be game-like? Given the game-like system, it’s got to be. This is getting interesting. Please, God, let me stay dead and not drag me back to my bed.
- Tendency: Professional Grifter. Wait, what? That doesn’t add up.
Tendency should reflect my overall character—like what I tend to do. I’m a banker now, so why’s it listing me as a grifter? I left that life behind years ago, right after landing this job—the very one I got using those grifting skills. Oh, for crying out loud! Anyway, those days are over. I’m now a model citizen who pays taxes.
But what about the ten million dollars sitting in my basement? And close to a hundred million tied up in stocks and equity? Not to mention the gold bars stashed away in that rented container.
Son of a bitch, this system’s got me good.
Tendency, why is it even here? It must be important for the tutorial. Do I have to play the grifter to earn rewards or level up? Nah, can’t be. It’s a terrible profession. Whatever. It’s just a tendency. If I don’t act like a grifter, nothing bad should come of it.
- Class: Not available. Guess I'll have to pick one. I wonder what the options are?
- Stats: Makes sense. The human baseline is set at ten. My perception and intelligence are above average—probably leftovers from my grifting days. The rest? Pretty standard. I’ll need to work on them. Leveling up should sort that out.
- Skills: Not available. Must be tied to the class since it dictates my overall build.
I swipe the screen away from my face, and it vanishes. Think of it again, and it pops back up. That’s a handy feature.
“Alright, cool,” I say, turning to the glowing overseer. “So, what’s the next step?”
“Don’t you have a class to choose?” he replies, his tone like he’s talking to someone who should know better.
“Right, what are the options?” I ask. Another screen flickers into view.
Warrior:
* A basic starting class with two types to choose from: Light or Heavy.
* Choose Light for speed and precision or Heavy for defense and durability.
* Light warriors excel in quick attacks and agility but trade off raw strength. Heavy warriors focus on brute force and resilience but are slower.
* Weapons vary from small, throwable tools for Light warriors to single or dual-handed weapons and shields for Heavy warriors.
* Both types lack long-range options.
* Stat Bonuses:
- Light: +3 Dex, +2 Con, +2 Str, +1 Appeal, +1 Advance Point
- Heavy: +1 Dex, +3 Con, +3 Str, +2 Appeal, +1 Advance Point
----
Archer:
* A basic starting class.
* A swift and agile fighter, specializing in stealth and long-range attacks.
* Prioritizes speed and flexibility over raw strength, though still capable in close combat.
* Uses bows and arrows, with some proficiency in melee weapons.
* Stat Bonus: +3 Dex, +1 Str, +2 Appeal, +2 Perception, +1 Advance Point
----
Caster:
* A basic starting class with a variety of potential types to explore.
* Casters are magical specialists who prioritize intelligence and mana over pure physical speed and strength.
* This "Unattuned" class starts with basic powers but can be expanded and refined once attuned to a specific element or magical field, offering limitless possibilities.
* Uses tools like wands, idols, relics and more to amplify and cast spells.
* Casters initially lack defensive capabilities, but with enough training, that hurdle can be overcome.
* Stat Bonuses: +4 Mana, +3 Dex, +3 Int, +3 Appeal, +1 Advance Point
----
Healer:
* A basic starting class focused on healing and support.
* Healers can mend wounds and alleviate damage, with proficiency allowing them to heal others rapidly during combat.
* This "Unattuned" class begins with foundational abilities but can be expanded and refined once attuned to a specific deity or magical field, providing limitless potential.
* As a support class, healers lack offensive capabilities but are nearly invincible when surrounded by allies.
* Stat Bonuses: +2 Con, +4 Mana, +2 Int, +5 Appeal, +1 Advance Point
----
Looking over the four options—knowing there are probably countless subtypes—I take my time to evaluate them.
Warrior: Not my thing. Too much screaming and close-quarters combat.
Archer: Stealth is cool, but it’s mostly just shooting arrows. Plus, I'd still need to get up close for some attacks.
Healer: Nice idea, but no offensive or defensive skills. Sure, I can heal myself and others, but that means getting close. And what if someone comes to me with a… delicate injury, like a broken dick, or dicks in pieces, or no dick at all? No thanks. I don’t even want to imagine that.
Caster: Now this is my thing. Perfect blend of long and short-range combat. One spell can stop you from stubbing your toe, and another can level a city. Endless possibilities with different elements and types—kind of like that certain strange doctor or that eccentric occult specialist from those cinematic universes. I mean, who wouldn’t want to toss a fireball or banish a demon now and then?
I choose the “Caster” class, but it instantly grays out with a “Not Available” message flashing on top. I glance at the overseer, whose head is still locked on me.
“This ‘Caster’ class is showing up as unavailable,” I say. “Any chance you could shed some light on that?”
“If it’s not available, pick another one,” the overseer snaps back. “It’s not like you’re out of options.”
“But I want to be a caster. I want to do magic and stuff,” I insist.
“You can’t be a caster. Magic is not for you,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Why not?”
“Because the system says so. It knows what’s best for you—better than you do,” he says, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded, looking annoyingly smug even without a face. “So, pick another.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then you’ll just sit here until the system assigns you a class at random.”
I let out a groan at the thought of becoming a healer. With a resigned sigh, I select the Warrior class. And, lo and behold, it grays out instantly with the same “Not Available” message flashing. Okay, this system is definitely glitching. Something’s not right here.
“It’s not available either,” I point out, glaring at the guy. “So, I can’t be a warrior now?”
“No,” the overseer replies, stretching his sparkly neck. “Pick another.”
“Seriously?” I mutter, scrolling through the options like there’s a hidden class somewhere. But nope, there are only four. Now I’m caught between a rock and a hard place.
I select the Archer class, and for a split second, it actually stays green. I start to relax, thinking I might finally catch a break, but then—bam!—the same damn “Not Available” message flashes on the screen. Annoyed, I slam my hand on the table—only to find out it’s made of rock, not wood.
Pain shoots through my hand. I grunt, rubbing my palm.
The overseer just scoffs, “Pick another.”
“What’s the point of having options if everything’s already decided?” I scream, my eyes watering from the sting.
“I don’t know. Pick another and figure it out yourself.”
Pick another! Pick another! Listening to the overseer drone, I’m about ready to lose it. If I end up as a healer, I swear I’ll suck the life out of everyone I’m supposed to cure. That’ll teach this asshole system a lesson.
Reluctantly, and with far too many sighs, I select the Healer class, fully expecting it to stay green just so the overseer and his primordials can get a chuckle. But to my surprise, it grays out too. I leap up in celebration, only to be hit with the grim realization: if I’m out of options, what class do I get now?
“A special class,” the overseer chimes in, as if reading my exact thoughts.
I stare at him, dumbfounded. “Special class? So, it's like a prize for picking the wrong options? And you knew this all along?”
The overseer’s face, or lack thereof, stays as bland as ever. “Exactly. You've run out of choices—”
“Which were never available to begin with,” I snort.
“So now, you get a class that’s... unique. Only you can have it.”
“Unique?” I sneer. “Yeah, right. Sounds like some crap you pulled out of thin air. Just say, ‘Sucks to be you, dumbass,’ and let’s move on. I’m sure it’s a useless class—no perks, no stats, just a whole lot of nothing.”
He shrugs, utterly unbothered. “That is what you’ve earned. That is what you deserve. Deal with it.”
“Oh, we’ll see about that,” I crack my neck and sit back. “So, what are you waiting for? Give me the damn class.”
My demand is met with another pop-up right in my face. I roll my eyes and read it, and by the time I’m done, my eyes are wide with disbelief.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I growl at the overseer, my fingers twitching, eager to smack him across the face.
“What did I tell you?” the overseer says with a chuckle. “This is your reward, Colt. The culmination of all your life’s work.” He raises his hand with an exaggerated flourish, then pauses. “By the way, is Colt even your real name?”
I exhale, hanging my head. I’m too drained to argue any further.
----
Grifter:
* A unique starting class centered on deceit and cunning, awarded only to those with prior experience.
* This class has no limits—your success hinges entirely on your wits and how well you use your greatest asset: your brain. Succeed, and the world is yours. Fail, and the consequences are as brutal as they come.
* Stat Bonuses: +1 Appeal, +1 Dex, +1 Con, +1 Str, +2 Perception, +1 Mana, +2 Int, +1 Free Point
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