CHAPTER 8 - The Tutorial (2/3)

As Benji walked deeper into the forest, he tried to take in what was depicted on his [Status Screen]. His legs ached, but he forced himself onward. What exactly is a Bronze 1 [Initiate]? And why don’t I have other stats, like Strength and Vitality?

This System seemed odd. It certainly resembled the standard RPG System, but Benji felt as if it was more alive; as if it was adapting to his every action.

While deep in thought, his feet carried him mechanically. The walk proved short, though, as he stumbled upon a massive oak with gnarled roots that reached out like monstrous arms. The thick dark bark of the tree provided some cover, but the hollowed trunk was exactly what he sought for. It reminded him of his favorite tree back at his town’s grove. He scanned the surroundings and collapsed at its base, eager to enjoy the cool shade.

The world came to a stop; his mind was quiet. Only his heartbeat, and the sounds of nature were heard.

He sat there for a moment, just breathing, feeling the damp soil beneath him and the slight breeze that carried the scent of moss and earth. His senses, sharpened from the terror of running for his life, began to pick up the subtle sounds around him; the chirps of birds, the rustling of leaves, the distant gurgle of the stream. But instead of the usual comfort these sounds would bring him back on Earth, they felt alien. Dangerous even. Like the forest itself was watching.

Benji rubbed his face; his fingers cold and dirty. He could still feel the creature's gaze behind him. Strak't was it?

“I need to keep it together,” he muttered, forcing the words out as if trying to instill courage to himself.

One wrong step, and you’re wolf food. He let out a shaky breath.

Looking up, he leaned his head back against the tree. His gaze fell through the canopy at the patches of sky peeking through the leaves. The thin piercing sun rays were soft here, dappling the ground in golden hues. It gave him a sense of semblance; even if subtle. It reminded him of home, of the afternoons he used to spend at the grove. He would spend hours walking the trails, his backpack heavy with snacks and books, just wandering, feeling the peace of the trees around him. No wolves. No life-or-death decisions. Just him and the comforting quiet of nature.

I’ll have to get out of this forest eventually, he thought, pulling his knees to his chest. A lump formed in his throat as he thought of his old life; his parents, his friends, the hours spent gaming with them after class. He missed them. He missed the simplicity of it all. He missed being a kid. But now, that life felt so far away, like it belonged to someone else. A part of him longed to slip back into that world, but another part—the part that had longed for an adventure, was forcing him to adapt.

He stretched out his legs and glanced down at his soggy shoes and socks. The creek had done him no favors, and now his feet throbbed with a dull ache from the cold. He shifted slightly, the bark of the tree digging into his back, and decided he’d better find a way to dry his things.

One step at a time, he thought.

Pushing himself up, he scanned the forest floor for anything he could use. Several small branches lay on the forest floor. Benji carefully picked up one to check its sturdiness. Its bark was peeling but it bent flexibly. He reached out, snapping a few of its twigs free, the rough wood scraping against his otherwise soft fingers. I have to toughen up.

His mind was set on auto-pilot, focusing on the task at hand, but as he arranged the twigs in a simple row to hold his wet things, something caught his eye. A piece of text hovered above each twig.

[Twig: Basic Crafting Material]

Benji froze, staring at the text as if it might disappear if he blinked. But the text didn’t waver; it hovered steadily.

On a whim, he reached out again, his fingers brushing against one of the twigs; his mind focused on storing it in his inventory. The air seemed to hum, a barely perceptible vibration, and then, as if magically, the twig vanished from his hand.

He gasped. In its place, a small notification appeared before him in the same pale, glowing font.

[Item Acquired: Twig x1]

The twig was gone, just... gone, and yet somehow, he knew exactly where it was. He knew it was tucked away, stored somewhere just in his reach. His hand moved instinctively to the leather pouch tied around his waist. It felt ordinary enough, soft and supple under his fingers, but now it thrummed with energy.

Cautiously, Benji opened the pouch and saw the small icon of a twig floating within it, just like in a video game inventory screen. He stared at the icon, considering his next move.

“So… let’s see,” he whispered to himself, and knelt down to grab another twig from the forest floor, half-expecting the first one to have been a fluke. But again, as soon as the twig left his hand, the same notification popped up:

[Item Acquired: Twig x1]

The second twig joined the first in his pouch, stacking neatly along with the original. Now, in his inventory appeared an updated text, aligned with the change.

[Twig: Basic Crafting Material] x2

Fascination flooded up inside him, swirling like a wuthering wave. His breathing quickened. He repeated the action with a nearby stone, even a leaf, just to test the limits.

[Item Acquired: Rock x1]

[Item Acquired: Leaf x1]

Everything was cataloged neatly into the pouch, stacking, sorting, filing itself away like data in a carefully organized spreadsheet. It wasn’t just a bag. It was a full-on inventory system. This is insane, he thought, shaking his head.

A smile formed on his lips from the excitement. There was something thrilling about this discovery, something that tugged at the part of him that had spent hours lost in video games, adventuring, crafting tools and strategizing for survival.

Though, there was a catch. Benji glanced at the corner of the pouch’s interface and noticed a small number blinking beside it.

[Inventory Slots: 3/20]

Interesting. Twenty slots, each item stacking on its identical stack.

The limitation already had him strategizing. He couldn’t just collect everything. Resources here mattered, and space was limited. Every item would have to serve a purpose, or it would be a waste. The good news was that identical items stacked together.

He leaned back, trying to wrap his head around it all. "Okay," he muttered to himself, letting out a long held breath.

Benji looked back at the twigs in his inventory, a plan forming in his mind.

He exhaled slowly and leaned forward to untie his soaked sneakers, peeling off his socks with a wince. The cold water from the creek still clung to his feet, the fabric heavy and uncomfortable; his feet wrinkled. He grimaced, wringing out the socks and setting them aside. The simple action grounded him. It was a ritual, something familiar, something human amidst the absurdity of this alien world.

He stretched his toes out, letting them dry in the breeze, and sighed. For a brief moment, there was calm. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing synced with the soft rustle of the forest, and in that fleeting moment, it almost felt peaceful. Almost.

His mind urged him to return to the task at hand. Immediately, he withdrew four of the twigs, marveling at how they appeared in his hands as solid and real as when he first picked them up. He knelt down, driving them into the soil at an angle to create makeshift posts, hanging his wet socks and shoes over them. The twigs, identical in every way, felt warm in his grasp as if they had been freshly grown.

If it’s enabling the collecting of materials, then it might enable crafting too. His mind wandered, thinking about the possibilities. If he could interact with the materials like this, could he combine them? Make tools? Weapons? He imagined building a fire or crafting something more elaborate, like a shelter, with the help of the System.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Maybe that’s what an Artificer would do, he thought while considering the Class Selection. The thought crept in unexpectedly, reminding him of the Class choices the System had offered earlier. Crafting would fit perfectly with that path, wouldn’t it?

Even as the idea tempted him, he hesitated. A crafting class might help him survive, sure, but he couldn’t forget the wolf-like creature that had hunted him down. Could crafting alone save him from something like that?

He glanced back at the socks, drying in the soft breeze, as the warmth of the day was beginning to fade.

Night was approaching at an alarming rate. He had to act. He sat up straight, his thoughts drifted back to the second task in his [Tutorial Quest], the [Class Selection].

I can't stay here forever, he reminded himself.

The memory of the cub’s glowing yellow eyes and its snarling fangs found its way onto his thoughts. If he didn’t act soon, he would have to face the Strak’t Leader unprepared. His stomach churned at the thought.

Benji closed his eyes for a moment, trying to push away the rising tide of fear. I need to focus. I need to prepare.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled up the [System Interface] once again. The faint glow of the text overlaid the world around him. His fingers moved instinctively through the familiar motions, though there was still a lingering strangeness to it.

His eyes landed on the next task in the [Quest Journal]:

[Class Selection]

For a long moment, he stared at the words. Choosing a class in a game was supposed to be fun, an exciting opportunity to experiment with different abilities and playstyles. But here, that same decision carried the gravity of life and death. If he picked the wrong one, it could doom him, lock him into a path ill-suited for the challenges ahead.

“What if I mess this up?” he muttered to himself. He had always enjoyed the strategy of games, the careful planning, but this was different. He wasn’t behind a screen. What if I pick the wrong class and can’t defend myself?

He exhaled sharply. There was no point in panicking now. The System hadn’t been wrong so far—everything had been carefully structured. He just needed to approach this decision with the same focus he used when tackling a new game.

I’ve got to think this through. His mind wandered back to the options the System had offered him earlier: [Warrior], [Scholar], [Ranger], [Artificer]. Each of them had their strengths, their appeal. He had spent enough time playing games to know the basics of each archetype.

The [Warrior] class seemed the most straightforward, relying on brute strength and combat prowess. He imagined himself wielding a sword, muscles straining as he cleaved through enemies. But the thought made him wince. Up close and personal with monsters like that cub? He wasn’t sure he had the stomach for it.

Then there was the [Scholar], a class that offered knowledge, potentially unlocking powerful magic. The idea was tempting. He’d always liked the idea of controlling the elements, casting spells from a safe distance while enemies fell before him. But something held him back. He had played enough games to know that mages were often fragile, reliant on distance and careful planning. And alone in this world, with no party to protect him, was that really a risk he could afford to take?

The [Ranger] was next, with its focus on agility and ranged attacks. Benji had always struggled with bows in games, and the thought of relying on his accuracy while running for his life made him feel even more unsure. Besides, climbing trees and spending hours tracking prey didn’t sound appealing in the long run.

His gaze finally landed on the [Artificer]—a class built around crafting, creation, and ingenuity. Out of all of them, this was the class that had piqued his interest the most. He’d already seen the System’s potential for collecting resources and imagined all the tools he could build. But his heart wavered. Could crafting alone protect him when it came time to face the Strak't pack’s leader?

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tree. "I need more than just brains," he muttered. If there was one thing he had learned from his experience so far, it was that survival wasn’t just about being clever or strong—it was about being adaptable, resourceful, and maybe even a little lucky.

Opening his eyes, he stared at the [Class Selection] screen again. His pulse quickened as he hovered over the class options, his thoughts tangled. What am I supposed to be in this world? What kind of person will help me survive here?

There was no easy answer. No tutorial tip would guide him through this choice. He would have to trust his instincts, the same instincts that had kept him alive so far. He knew he had to be cautious, but he also couldn’t afford to overthink it. Time was ticking, and sooner or later, that Strak’t pack would come back.

With a deep breath, Benji opened the [Class Selection] screen again, watching as the options flared to life before him. The weight of the decision pressed harder now, every choice carrying the possibility of shaping his future in this world.

His fingers hovered over the [Artificer] option.

Is that enough? Can I really survive with crafting alone?

He hesitated.

“None of these feel right,” he muttered, glancing at the orange hued sky.

Should I play it safe? He was tired of feeling like he was simply reacting to everything—fleeing, hiding, surviving by the skin of his teeth. Or should I take a chance?

As if in answer to his thoughts, the air around him grew colder and wilder. His breath puffed out in a small, visible cloud, and a faint hum began to resonate in the clearing. Benji straightened, eyes narrowing as something shifted in the System’s interface. The familiar glow flickered, the text wavering, and for a moment he thought it had glitched. Then, without warning, a new fifth option appeared before him.

[Survivor: [Unique Class] – A wanderer of the unknown, capable of navigating the unforeseen.]

Benji gasped. He stared at the shimmering words, the description grabbed hold of him.

A wanderer of the unknown... capable of navigating the unforeseen. The words echoed in his mind, stirring something deep inside him. It was vague—frustratingly so—but there was a pull to it, something that piqued his interest. His heart beat faster as he thought back to the choices he’d made since arriving in this world; the risks he’d taken, the moments where he’d followed his instincts rather than logic. This class felt like it had been designed just for him, a reflection of the way he had already been surviving.

He reached out tentatively, his fingers hovering over the option. It wasn’t just about strength or magic, or even crafting. It was about survival, adaptation. With a deep breath, Benji tapped the [Survivor] option, and instantly the air buzzed with a vicious hum.

[Class Selected: [Unique] Survivor]

A rush of warmth surged through him, followed by a gut wrenching feeling.

It was unlike anything he had ever felt. His heart pounded hard against his ribs, the rhythm erratic as adrenaline flooded his veins. His limbs twitched involuntarily, muscles spasming with sudden, unrelenting tension. His hands clawed at the ground, gripping the cool, damp earth in a desperate attempt to anchor himself. The pain seemed insufferable.

Then a burst of golden motes erupted from the air around him. The tiny orbs of light floated delicately at first, their soft glow brushing against his skin like a whisper. But soon, they multiplied, surrounding him in a cocoon of shimmering radiance. The energy shifted, no longer chaotic; the pain subsided. The motes twirled around him, lifting him off the ground. He felt weightless, the dirt beneath his knees slipping away as the golden lights cradled him, pulling him gently upward.

Benji’s pulse slowed, the earlier panic ebbing away as a wave of serenity washed over him. For a moment, suspended in the air, he felt... safe. The motes exuded a comforting warmth, their light softening the sharp edges of the world around him. He closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath as the tension eased from his muscles. It was as if the System itself was soothing him, calming the storm inside his body, preparing him for something more.

But then, as quickly as it had come, the warmth subsided, being replaced by an excruciating surge of pain.

Benji’s eyes snapped open, and his body convulsed violently. He could feel it; his very essence twisting, reshaping itself. His senses exploded into overdrive. The rustle of leaves sounded deafening, like thunder in his ears. The scent of damp earth and pine needles flooded his nose, sharp and intoxicating. His muscles flexed, unfamiliar strength coursing through them. His mind unsuccessfully tried to catch up with the transformation, with the flood of sensations that threatened to overwhelm him.

“What... is happening...?” He tried to form the thought. His hands trembled as if they belonged to someone else, the skin taut over newly defined muscle. The System was pouring information into him, carving knowledge into his brain like an invisible blade etching runes into stone. His vision blurred again as a series of notifications flared in front of him, text flashing too quickly to read, a jumbled stream of updates that his mind couldn’t grasp in time. It was as though the System was rewriting him, adding new layers to his consciousness that his mind couldn’t yet comprehend.

He screamed, the sound ripping through the clearing as his body convulsed again. The ground seemed to tilt beneath him, and before he knew it, the golden motes flickered and faded, leaving him to fall. His knees hit the earth with a jarring thud, his hands sinking into the dirt as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it all stopped.

He tried to lift his head, to process what had just happened, but a sudden wave of dizziness crashed over him. His vision darkened, the edges of the world closing in. He collapsed to the ground. His eyelids fluttered, the forest spinning lazily above him, the last rays of the sun slipping below the horizon. As his consciousness faded, the final notification blinked in his mind, a faint echo in the blackness:

[Class Adaptation Complete: [Unique] Survivor]