Lan ushered Rachel into his hut, talking over his shoulder as he went, “So, how did the second wave go?” After spending the day in the first step, he wanted to get caught up on how the second wave had gone.

“I- uh, I n-need t-to b-be looking y-you in the e-eye f-for this t-to w-work,” Rachel stuttered.

“Oh, ok,” Lan brought Rachel over to the side of his bed and they sat down on the safe part, opposite each other.

He made sure to look her in the eyes, they were brown with flecks of green, that complemented her auburn hair. The light in the gloomy room was low, almost non-existent if not for the soft glow a lamp in the corner emanated.

Thanks, my telepathy doesn’t work unless I’m looking you in the eye, he heard her voice in his mind and could feel the emotions behind it. She was nervous.

“Am I making you uncomfortable or something?” Lan asked, worried that he had done something wrong.

Sorry, I’m not very good around people. It’s nothing you did though. Rachel looked down at her feet and Lan couldn’t hear her thoughts anymore.

“Right, well, first of all, you don’t need to apologise, you haven’t done anything wrong,”

Rachel nodded meekly.

“And secondly, why don’t you tell me how your day went? It’ll be easier once you get talking,”

Rachel took a deep breath and began, Ok, um I woke up this morning and went to check out the sheer steps, but there were over 1000 people in the queue so I left.

“It was that bad this morning huh?” Lan was finding it hard to believe that anyone would be that desperate to get traumatised like he had.

Yeah, well everyone wants to get the title for reaching the third step. Apparently, it gives a +5 to all stats which is pretty cool. That’s like 4 levels.

“Does that mean you know about the rest of the challenges? I know the first one is fear, but the rest of them… I’m not too sure,”

Rachel nodded, I only know the next two for sure, since they’re common knowledge. The second step is about willpower and perseverance through pain, while the third step is called imagination, to pass it you need to improve an existing skill or make a new one for yourself.

“I didn’t even know we could just make skills like that,” so far Lan hadn’t managed to get a single skill and didn’t really know much about them.

Well… it’s technically possible to make a skill from scratch but only super-talented people manage that. For most of us, it’s easier to just improve the skills we already have.

“I see, but where are we supposed to get these skills? I haven’t seen any opportunities to get them,”

I think that’s another part of the third step, you get given a skill that’s compatible with your talent, and then, to pass, you need to combine your talent and that skill, improving it. But if you want to get the bonus rewards, then making your own skill is better.

“That makes sense, then I’m guessing the reward for passing that step is the skill itself.” Lan still wasn’t entirely sure how skills functioned, but from how rare they seemed to be, they must be powerful.

Pretty much, but most people just take the skill the trial gives them and give up. Since even just upgrading a skill is super difficult. I remember my teacher telling me only half of the pathfinders in a tutorial are able to pass the third step.

“But that’s roughly the same number that passes the tutorial altogether!”

That’s why it’s so important, the third step is a real watershed mark between average and excellence.

“Okay, well thanks for the heads up.” Lan’s mind was already spinning wildly, trying to figure out what skill he could make in order to pass.

“Is there any other way to get skills? Maybe having more would make upgrading them easier,”

There is one way… once you reach level 10 you will have the opportunity to select a class. That comes with bonus stat points and most importantly, a few class skills. That’s why a lot of people don’t challenge the third step until after getting their class. The more skills the better, I guess.

Lan was starting to understand something about the tutorial. There seemed to be an easier, more straightforward route he could take or a harder but more rewarding one.

“But if you’ve already reached level 10, won’t it be more difficult to collect titles?”

Rachel shrugged, not really, since there’s plenty of titles to be earned after that point that couldn’t be gotten before. Things like completing class quests and evolving class skills usually reward titles.

“Okay, but let’s say I want to get the titles for killing things of a higher level than myself. Wouldn’t it be easier if I was lower level?”

I don’t think so. Trying to kill something above level 10, while below level 10 is incredibly difficult because after that point beasts will have skills themselves. There’s a massive difference between something that has a class and something that doesn’t.

Lan still wasn’t too sure about how classes worked “What about classes then? Are there different types?”

There are… I suppose that would be why certain people, like the Prince, for example, want to collect as many titles as possible before reaching level 10. You see, your choice of classes is affected by a few things. Your life experience and your talent, as well as titles.

“I think I get it now, so while it's better to get as far in the steps as possible before reaching level 10, it isn’t necessary.”

Rachel nodded, pretty much.

“Well, that’s good to know, thank you.” Lan was pretty glad she had come over or he would still be completely clueless about all this. “So, how did the second wave turn out?”

Rachel sighed and looked down at the floor. When she finally looked up again her eyes were distant, It was a bloodbath.

***

During the second wave, while Lan was taking his trial.

Rachel wasn’t even sure what was going on anymore. She ran through the jumbled events in her head, but none of it made any sense. She was standing along with thousands of people in the entrance hall. Every single one of them had just died.

The second wave had begun normally. Normal for a horde of monsters attacking a town anyway.

She ran out of her house and found wolves pouring out of the forest, just like the previous day. Except for this time, they looked stronger and more robust. Their fur was cleaner and better kept, their teeth sharper, claws longer.

‘Damnit, I lost my sword yesterday,’ Rachel cursed the vulture that had killed her for the umpteenth time and tried to figure out a way to fight without her weapon.

It seemed a lot of people were having the same problem because she wasn’t alone in her confusion. Hundreds of pathfinders were milling about near the barricade, unable to go out and defend the town without becoming fodder.

Suddenly a few hundred pathfinders ran towards them. They all wore school uniforms and most dragged wooden carts behind them. These carts were piled high with weapons and armour.

A boy ran in front of the group, ringing a bell and shouting, “Crafter-made weapons for any who need them! Free of charge!”

The huge group came to a stop near the barricade and was immediately swarmed by pathfinders in robes. Everyone was desperate to find a weapon and Rachel was one of them.

Thanks to how tall she was, she managed to reach through the throng and grabbed a light longsword that had no guard. Normally she would never have used something like this, but it was about the right size and since she was fighting wolves and not other swordsmen, it would have to do.

She slipped out of the crowd and backed away, getting a feel of the sword’s balance. It was a bit off, and nowhere near as centred as she would have liked, but it was better than nothing.

Honestly, she wasn’t very good with the sword. Even though she had trained with a blade since she was young, she had never been particularly talented. It’s not like she was useless, but she was nothing like the Prince or the Farmer.

Steeling herself, she ran out onto the battlefield, feeling the madness wash over her. As a telepath, she could feel the deranged bloodthirsty nature of this place so clearly, it hurt.

She scanned her surroundings and found a smaller wolf that would be her first target. Running through the fighting, she felt like she was dodging deflected swords and spears more than the attacks of the wolves themselves.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Eventually, she arrived at her target and stared directly into its eyes, trying to reach its mind with her telepathy. She sent images of pain and suffering towards it, trying to overwhelm the wolf’s primitive mind.

This was her first idea on how to use her talent in a fight. It was a pretty blunt usage since all it involved was screaming as loudly as possible directly in the mind of her enemy, but she figured that would be pretty off-putting.

It must be hard to concentrate on a fight with a splitting headache.

Sadly, her first attempt didn’t have the effect she wanted. The wolf shook its head like it was clearing water from its pelt, and then pounced at her, snarling furiously. It seemed that she had only managed to anger it with her mind attack, fuelling its fury.

But it was only a wolf in the end, and after dancing around it with her sword, she managed to take its head off, getting the alert from the system that it was dead.

She moved on to her next target and tried again, producing slightly better results this time. It seemed that rather than how loud she screamed, the attack was more potent if she projected it deeper into her opponent’s mind. This required more concentration, which was harder to do on a raging battlefield but was far more effective.

‘Maybe it works like sound. If I shout at someone from across the room, it won’t hurt their ears. But If I shout right into their ear, that’s a different story altogether.’

And so, she drifted through the battlefield, growing more confident in her ability to stun an enemy before attacking it. As it turned out, it was far easier to fight something when it couldn’t move.

After a few hours of this, she heard the oh-so-precious alert from the system that meant she had levelled up and she joyously placed the skill points into mind and intelligence, hoping that her mental attacks would only grow stronger.

By that point, the battlefield had changed subtly. The wolves had begun to group up around bigger, more intimidating wolves with darker and thicker pelts. These beasts had eyes that glittered with intelligence.

These groups of wolves were sticking close together, rather than splitting up and getting picked off one by one like the rest had. And this made them a far harder target.

The larger wolves that led these packs were the biggest threat of all, as they leapt out to defend any wolf that looked like it was in danger, making it exceedingly difficult to cause damage to their pack.

Rachel was quite close to one of the larger packs and watched helplessly as it ploughed bloody trenches through the battlefield, tearing through anything that got in its way.

A man ran past her, shouting, “I’ll get the alpha, you lot pick off the rest of them!”

The first thing she noticed was that he was still wearing his school uniform, and, in both hands, he held a long scythe that looked ancient and covered in rust. It didn’t look like a weapon, but a tool a farmer might use to cut wheat.

Immediately, Rachel recognised him as the Farmer, an incredibly talented first generation from Wargrave academy. She remembered hearing that the Farmer and the Prince had a massive rivalry since they were both considered the most talented in their year.

‘I can’t remember who won when they fought in the last martial competition, but I think they met each other in the finals,’ she hadn’t gone to the match since there would be too many people there, and she didn’t do well in big crowds. But her classmates didn’t stop talking about it for weeks after.

The Farmer had golden hair the colour of hay and stood far taller than even Rachel at almost seven feet. He had the sleeves of his dark green blazer rolled up to the elbows and his forearms were incredibly tanned.

He charged towards the large pack of wolves fearlessly, his scythe reaping the lives of any wolves that neared him like barley. Nothing could put up a fight in front of that blade and as he neared the pack, the alpha wolf leapt out, blocking his way.

They faced off against each other and Rachel could just about make out the level of the wolf. ‘It’s level 8! There’s no way he can beat it, especially not when it’s surrounded by its pack,’

But the farmer wasn’t alone either. Another group ran past Rachel and started attacking the alpha’s pack, keeping them distracted while the Farmer took care of the biggest threat.

Even just watching the clash made Rachel feel small and helpless. Every blow the Farmer and Alpha threw at each other was enough to end her life and she shrank back away from the conflict, negative thoughts overwhelming her. She was spiralling.

‘They won’t need my help anyway, I would just get in the way,’ she told herself as she stumbled back to the barricade.

In the distance, she could just about make out a girl with black hair tied up in a bun, wearing only a white school shirt, fighting off an alpha all by herself. Rachel immediately recognised her as the Prince and for some reason this only made her feel worse.

She hated that she was inferior to everyone here, but she also hated that she felt that way. She…

A wolf jumped towards her, and she stared into its eyes, screaming out the anger and frustration, unloading everything into its helpless mind.

It stumbled, faltering in its attack and standing in a daze, unable to move or even think. Rachel didn’t give it the chance to recover and ran her sword through the wolf’s neck, hating the way the blade felt in her hands. Its balance was all wrong, and her hands kept getting scratched because it had no guard.

She couldn’t understand why she was so annoyed by something so trivial. She knew that it was the work of her talent, the penalty caused her emotions to become overwhelming and uncontrollable, so why couldn’t she just ignore these feelings? Why wasn’t she stronger? Why wasn’t she in control?

Anger and helpless fury rose inside her and she turned and ran towards the nearest wolf, stunning it with a mental attack and taking its head off in a clean stroke.

She moved on to her next victim and repeated the process, her overpowering emotions only seemed to make her mental attacks stronger which annoyed her all the more. ‘I don’t want to be a mess! I want to be in control!’

Swing after swing, attack after attack, she didn’t stop when her hand started bleeding from holding the sword so tight.

Neither did she stop when the ding that she had levelled up sounded, or when blood trickled out of her ears and nose.

Even running out of mana didn’t stop her, she just stopped using mental attacks and threw herself at the wolves, her sword containing all the anger and frustration she couldn’t express verbally because of her condition.

What finally stopped her was the arrow that went through her back and came out from her stomach.

Reaching down feebly, she tapped the bloody tip of the arrow. That was her blood… that was her stomach. ‘Why would someone shoot me?’

She turned around to see who had fired but was greeted with a flash of silver as another arrow lodged into her throat.

The impact pirouetted her and she spun and landed in a heap on the ground, choking on her own blood.

In the distance, she could just about see the Farmer and the Prince fighting each other, while a maimed alpha lay between them. Most of their companions were dead and the rest were limping away into the forest, avoiding the rain of arrows that came from inside the city.

‘Inside the city…?’ Rachel managed to turn her head and saw that every crafter was now holding a crossbow and was firing relentlessly at the fighters, protected by over one hundred kids still in uniforms.

‘What’s going on…? Why would they-‘ Rachel never finished the thought, because another arrow burrowed into her skull and sent her back to the tutorial entrance hall.

***

“Wait a second, why the hell would the crafters do that?” Lan shouted, not believing what he was hearing.

That’s exactly what I was wondering, and I think I figured out why.

Lan nodded eagerly, gesturing for her to continue.

So, the crafters don’t fight in the battles, they probably could and I’m sure some do, but most don’t, since their talents don’t help with fighting. Instead, they get points when someone kills something with a weapon they have made.

Lan could already see where this was going. “Are you saying…?”

Yeah, I think that in order to force people to use their weapons, the crafters kill them and then steal their stuff. Sure, we can kill them in revenge, but they won’t lose any points, since nobody gets any from the beast waves until right before the tutorial ends.

“And we need them,”

Exactly, we need them, and they know it. So, they’ve teamed up with the vultures to make sure that everyone has to use their weapons. And once they’ve gotten rid of all the old weapons that people brought with them, then they’ll start competing with each other to see who can make the best gear.

“That’s evil… but what did I expect from pathfinders?” Lan asked himself glumly, honestly, he was surprised that he could even be surprised by them anymore.

Rachel shrugged, It’s cruel, but everyone’s life is on the line. Only half of us can pass the tutorial remember?

Lan took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, trying to release his frustration in one big sigh, “I know, I’m no better really. I went and challenged the sheer steps when the second wave was happening,”

Rachel stared back at him with wide eyes, Aren’t you worried about getting enough points?

“I already got 50 points for passing the first trial, how many do you think I would need to pass?” Lan asked.

The girl frowned, holding up her fingers as if counting, Well… on the thirtieth wave, most of the beasts are at least level 10, and each kill will grant 10 points. If we assume that on average, a pathfinder manages to kill maybe 20 to 30 beasts each wave, then on the final wave alone, they would earn nearly 300 points.

“And if there are thirty waves, then maybe we could assume that in total, they will earn close to 6000 points, just during the beast waves,”

That sounds about right, but as you said, pathfinders earn points for clearing the sheer steps. I heard that the Prince got 1600 points for passing the sixth step, so we can assume that the actual number needed to safely pass is more than just 6000.

“Okay… I’m going to throw out a guess and say that to pass the tutorial with 100% confidence, we will need at least 10000 points… holy shit that’s a lot. I have literally none right now,” Lan looked down at his feet glumly.

Rachel smiled slightly, Hey, that’s pretty easy, all we need to do is pass the ninth step and we’ll get 12800 points. Simple as that.

“Are you joking? What are the odds we pass that step?” Lan wasn’t entirely sure how difficult it would be, but he imagined that since the big clans would accept anyone who passed the eighth step, the ninth must be incredibly difficult.

My teacher told me in confidence that no one in my school was capable of completing the ninth step. She said that I would be lucky to pass the third and that most of my class would be lucky to get near the sixth.

“Wow… she sounds like a bitch,” Lan really didn’t like his impression of the academies. From what he had heard from Morgan and Rachel, they seemed like a pretty horrible place.

No, she’s right, I’m not very talented at fighting. I mean look at my talent, all it lets me do is talk to someone.

“That’s not true, you used it to stun the wolves, right?”

Yeah… but that’s all it's good for. I doubt it would work on people. Besides, what if I stun something but’m too weak to kill it? Rachel avoided Lan’s gaze after she finished.

“Then I guess you’ll just need someone to kill it for you,” Lan grinned. He could already imagine how easy his fights would be if his enemy couldn’t move.

***

The Foundations:

Thorn looked at his handy work and smiled proudly. Oh, the joys of having a mouth and something to smile about. He had been here, on the bridge for a while now and had finally gotten the hang of things.

His official title was a guardian of the bridge, but honestly, he felt more like a shepherd. The dead bodies floated down to him, bathed in that eery red glow, and he led them to where they belonged.

Every pathfinder had their own plot, marked by a white tombstone that glittered within the dark of the foundations. When they died, Thorn led the bodies to their grave, burying them by their tombstone.

He found it fulfilling work, if a little confusing. Because each tombstone had more than one body. And he had to order them. Burying the endless stream of corpses on top of each other.

What he couldn’t understand was how the pathfinders managed to die more than once. He knew for sure that if he ever died, if his soul ever collapsed, that would be it. He would be done for.

And yet these pathfinders died every day, floating down to their graves over and over again. He wasn’t sure how this was possible, or why the bridge even wanted the bodies, but he did as he was told. There was no point biting the hand that feeds you.

His sector was new, the tombstones here were still fresh, their plots only containing a few bodies each. Some even had none at all.

According to his supervisor, every time a tutorial started, and ten thousand new pathfinders stepped onto the bridge, a new guardian would be created to manage their bodies. And Thorn was that guardian.

He looked up, gazing towards where the red lights came from. Thorn wondered what the tutorial was like. He wondered what was worth dying over and over again for. But most of all, he wondered what the owners of the bodies were like when they were still alive. One day, he hoped to meet them.