CHAPTER 9 - Surviving and Adapting: Tutorial (3/3) Can Wait
Benji groaned, and then with a, not so negligible, amount of effort he opened his eyes; his whole body aching. Every muscle felt tensed, but oddly intact, as if the System had rearranged him while he slept. His back pressed against the heavy trunk, and his gaze fell at the makeshift rack of twigs that still held his shoes and socks in place. At least something was where he left it.
The forest was quiet, save for a few distant bird calls, but to him, it felt off. He shifted on the cold earth, the dampness soaking through his clothes. He blinked up at the sky—sunlight was just beginning to creep over the horizon. Was I out the whole night?
He then remembered the System notifications he ignored before passing out. With a mental nod, his vision blurred, and a cascade of text filled his view.
[Class Acquired: Survivor]
[Advancing Status]
Vitality: +10
Strength: +10
Willpower: +10
Intelligence: +10
Endurance: +10
Agility: +10
[Class Skill Acquired: Ignite [Basic].]
Benji’s eyes focused and unfocused repeatedly. He blinked trying to come to his senses, while also trying to comprehend the fact that he had a full set of stats now. As he read through the notification, the pain in his body melted away, replaced with a strange clarity. It wasn’t just physical relief—his mind felt different too. New, vaguely familiar, knowledge swirled into his thoughts. It was as if the System had deposited facts and abilities into his brain; he just didn’t feel the connection straight away. The knowledge was certainly distant and awkward, but he sure felt stronger.
He rubbed his temples. Is this how it works now? It’s like I’ve been handed a manual, but I haven’t read all the pages yet.
Closing the [Status Screen], the final part of the [Tutorial Quest] loomed in his mind: face the Strak’t leader.
Benji shivered at the thought. I’m not ready for that. Not yet. The system had told him to finish the tutorial, but the distant sound of rustling leaves and trickling water suggested there was a whole world out there, waiting. Exploration can’t hurt, right? He was going to need supplies—food, water, experience—if he was to stand a chance against the leader.
Sitting up fully, Benji flexed his fingers, feeling the strength that pulsed in them now. His mind raced to catch up, processing the weight of these changes. It was a lot.
As he studied his, evidently, more muscular hands, a chime broke through his daze again, and his gaze snapped to a new notification:
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[Class Equipment Received]
[Weapon: Survivor’s Knife (Basic)]
[Protective Gear: Survivor’s Cloak (Basic)]
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Before he could do so much as read the notification, a full-on military type knife fell on the ground as if from thin air, and following it, a dark green cloak, thick and sturdy looking, fell onto his hands.
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[Survivor’s Knife]
Type: Weapon [Basic]
Durability: 50/50
Special Attribute: +2% Attack Speed
Description: A sturdy knife designed for survival. Sharp enough for combat, reliable enough for utility work. Its design allows for quick slashes and steady strikes, making it ideal for those who value speed and adaptability. Crafted with a simple, weatherproof grip and durable steel, it is as much a tool as it is a weapon.
Benji’s gaze fell to the knife. It gleamed in the weak morning light, the cold steel catching his reflection. His stomach twisted. A weapon. His fingers hovered over the hilt, hesitating. It felt heavy—not just in weight, but in purpose. The System gave me this to survive, but it isn’t just about surviving now, is it? He looked away, his throat tight. The cloak beside him seemed less ominous—a tool for the elements, nothing more. But the knife... It made everything feel real in a way he wasn’t ready for.
With a grunt, Benji inspected the cloak, and another notification floated into view, offering a detailed breakdown of the item.
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[Survivor’s Cloak]
Type: Protective Gear [Basic]
Vitality: +5
Durability: 50/50
Special Attribute: Water Resistance, Stealth
Description: Crafted from a robust, weather-resistant fabric, this cloak provides reliable protection against the elements. While its primary purpose is to guard the wearer against harsh conditions like rain and wind, it also offers a subtle defense against physical attacks. Designed with versatility in mind, it effectively shields against [Basic] offensive skills and abilities of the [Water] affinity. Its hood can be pulled low to obscure the face, adding a touch of stealth to its practical design. Ideal for those who must endure the wild.
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Benji tugged the dark green cloak around his shoulders, its reassuring weight settled across his back. The fabric was soft and warm. But above all, it was a reliable barrier between him and the wilderness; both mental and physical. It was lightweight enough not to hinder his movements, but durable enough to protect him from the cold wind and any sudden downpour.
He got to his feet, wiping the dirt from his clothes. He felt like an Elven Ranger with the cloak on his shoulders, and he felt good for that. Unexpectedly, the negativity seemed to retreat to a more secluded part of his brain.
The underbrush crunched softly beneath his hiking boots, and his stomach growled, reminding him of the fact that he hadn’t eaten since he’d arrived here. Even before that. Those burgers would have been a delight right now.
Water first, then food, he decided.
Returning to the nearby creek, he opened his eyes wide and strained his hearing to scan the surroundings. The memory of the Strak’t cub’s eyes still gave him the chills.
Before long, the water appeared in his vision glittering under the sunlight; rushing and inviting. Benji cupped his hands and drank deeply, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. He splashed some over his face, feeling more awake now, more alert.
While he was crouching by the creek, his eyes caught sight of something unusual. Further upstream, hidden behind a cluster of moss-covered rocks, was the entrance to a small cavern. Outside the cavern, remnants of what looked like an old camp lay scattered—a collapsed tent, torn and tattered, half-buried in dirt. Intrigued, Benji approached cautiously. Someone was here once.
His eyes darted around the clearing as he crouched beside the remnants of the camp. His heart thudded in his ears and his stomach growled. He’d need food soon, but first, he had to secure what he could from this abandoned camp.
He crouched further down, sifting through the debris. Tattered cloth, a wooden ladle —nothing of real value. Still, it was better than nothing. As he reached for the scraps of fabric, a sharp, searing pain ripped through his back and he was violently pushed forward. He gasped stumbling on the ground, his fingers digging into the dirt.
“What the hell?” Benji winced. He could feel something clinging to his back, claws digging into his skin. Panic surged through him. This was such an unfamiliar feeling.
A low, screeching noise filled the air, and a notification blinked in his vision:
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[Creature Identified]
[Horned Hare – Level 1]
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Benji shivered and threw himself around. The creature’s small but sharp claws dug into his shoulders, and it lashed out again, this time scratching the side of his arm. His mind screamed in panic as he scrambled to shake the creature off. “Get off me!” he shouted, flailing his arms, but the hare’s weight held firm.
He had never fought anyone in his life. Not in the streets, not in a schoolyard scuffle—not even a friendly punch thrown in jest. He was the kind of guy who avoided confrontation, who shied away from violence. And now, he was locked in a desperate struggle with a wild monster, in another world.
"Dammit," he spat through gritted teeth, feeling the blood trickle down his back from the fresh scratches. The hare screeched again, and the sound pierced his ears, rattling his nerves. His instincts screamed at him to run, but the thing was on him, latched onto his back like a parasite.
He tried to scream but he found himself unable to do so. Fear gnawed at him —he was unarmed, unprepared, and every muscle in his body told him to flee. Both his feet were stuck in the mud.
He felt as if suffocating; panic gripped his mind. But, he somehow remembered the knife that the System had gifted him tucked away in his dimensional pouch. With a mental nod he called forth the knife, and with trembling fingers, he reached for the hilt pulling it from its sheath. The blade gleamed in the faint light filtering through the trees. The cold metal felt strange in his hand—he had never held a weapon with the intent to harm something before. He wasn’t a fighter. The idea of stabbing a living creature, even a monstrous one, made his stomach churn with disgust.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
"Come on," he muttered under his breath, trying to psych himself up as the hare dug its claws deeper.
With a sudden move, he fell to the ground on his back, forcing the creature to jump off him, and then he raised the knife in defense, even if awkwardly. His grip was clumsy, his palms slick with sweat. Should I hold it with both hands?
He had no idea how to properly handle a weapon, let alone use one in a fight. But there was no time for hesitation. The hare screeched again and lunged at him, its horn aimed straight for his torso.
Benji reacted instinctively, bringing the knife up just as the creature leapt; his head turned and he closed his eyes. The blade connected with the hare’s soft underbelly, not from precision but from sheer luck. The horned hare let out a high-pitched wail as the knife tore into its flesh, but it wasn’t enough to kill it. The creature staggered back, hissing, blood dripping from its wound.
Benji stared at the blood on the knife, his hand shaking; his skin paled. "I... I hit it," he stammered, his voice hoarse with disbelief. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline flooding his system making his limbs feel shaky and unsteady. This was nothing like the games or the novels. There were no clean kills, no perfectly timed moves. It was brutal, messy, and raw. The sight of the hare’s blood made his stomach twist in revulsion.
The hare screeched again, its claws tearing through his shirt. Panic flooded Benji’s mind as he tried to shake the creature off. “Get off!” His voice cracked in fear. His hands fumbled, grasping the knife on his belt, but his grip was awkward, unsteady.
His breath hitched. “I’ve never used a knife to fight before.”
He took a glance at his [Status Screen]. His [Health Points] (HP) fell rapidly.
“No. I can’t die here.”
Fear, pain, and a growing, desperate resolve filled his mind. He clenched his teeth and charged forward, the knife still in hand. It felt wrong—everything about this felt wrong. But the hare wasn’t waiting for him to decide. It lunged again, its horn aimed at his chest. Pure instinct took over, and Benji raised the knife in front of him, closing his eyes. The blade sank into the creature’s side, and it screeched in pain, but it didn’t die. It thrashed, wounded, but still alive.
Benji stared at the blood dripping from the creature, his hand shaking violently. I don’t want to kill. The thought was drowned out by the hare’s next attack. The horn scraped across his torso, tearing through his shirt and skin. Pain seared through him, and his body screamed to act, to fight back; his mind numb.
“I’m sorry,” Benji whispered, coming back to his senses. He raised the knife again. This time, when the hare lunged, he stabbed it—deeper this time; his eyes remained open. The creature let out a shriek before collapsing to the ground, twitching once, twice, and then going still.
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[Horned Hare Defeated – Experience Gained]
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The notification felt like a mockery of what had just happened. Benji stood over the creature, chest heaving. His knife dripped with blood, his hands shaking from the adrenaline.
He dropped the knife, watching as it clattered to the ground, his hands trembling uncontrollably. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he turned away, trying to steady his breathing; he wanted to vomit. The sight of the blood, the feel of the creature’s body against his, the sound of its final screech—it all clung to him.
"I... I really did it," he whispered, barely able to comprehend it. His eyes were wide open but barely focusing on something. It was as if seeing something far off the physical realm. A part of him wanted to throw up, to run as far away from this place as possible. He wasn’t proud of what he had done. He hadn’t fought with skill or courage—he had fought out of pure desperation.
Suddenly, a prompt floated above the remains, urging him to loot the corpse.
[Loot. Y/N]
He accepted the loot with a nod, and immediately three items fell to the ground. A piece of tightly wrapped pelt, a small wooden container filled with a white substance, and finally a glowing small azure ball-shaped marble. The fact that this reality felt more like a game, calmed him, even if for a bit.
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[Horned Hare Pelt x1, Monster Fat x1, Monster Core [Common] x1]
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Benji stared at the creature’s dissolving body, the remnants seeping into the ground, leaving behind a sickly pool of sludge. His stomach turned.
Is this who I have to be now?
He sat there for a long time, staring at the place where the hare had been. The fact that the creature dissolved, didn’t make up for killing it. His whole body trembled, and he wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them to his chest.
But the world didn’t care. The System didn’t care. It pushed him to survive, to fight, to kill. Deep down he knew that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t last long. “Survival is filthy,” he muttered, cursing the moment he selected the [Survivor] Class. I should have gone for the [Scholar].
He wiped his hand across his pants, smearing dirt, blood and sweat across the cloth.
Then, he reached down and picked up the knife, staring at the blade, now stained with dark blood. His fingers tightened around the hilt. He hated the idea of fighting, of killing. But if this world was anything like the games he used to play, then combat was going to be inevitable. He’d have to face worse than horned hares in the future.
He stood there, staring at the empty clearing, feeling the weight of his decision, the gravity of the path ahead. He wasn’t a fighter, not yet, and he was exhausted.
"I have to get better," Benji muttered to himself, wiping the blood off the knife before sheathing it again. His hands still shook, and his body ached, but he felt something new stirring inside him—a small spark of resolve.
He took a deep breath, and he forced himself to move.
Both his [Health Points] and [Stamina] were low, a clear reminder of how close he had come to losing. He opened his inventory, checking his newfound loot, and tried to catch his breath. His fingers brushed over the skill he had gained earlier: [Ignite]. “Darn,” he spit out. I could’ve used that. At that moment, he realized that he needed to understand his abilities better if he was going to survive here.
Then, he opened the skill window.
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[Skill: Ignite]
[Description: A flickering flame. A symbol of hope and progress. In order to use it, snap your fingers with the intention to light a fire on your fingertips.]
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“A symbol of hope and progress. Hmm,” Benji said while seeking a way to use it to his benefit. His mind lit up with a thought.
He glanced down at a sturdy enough branch beside him. He picked it up, wrapped the cloth scrap tightly around its end, and looked at the wooden container filled to the brim with monster fat.
Once again he tried not to throw up, as he smeared some of the monster fat onto the branch. He gulped from revulsion. The things he had to do to survive. He couldn’t shake the image of the hare’s blood on his hands, the sickening feel of the knife plunging into its flesh, and now applying fat on a branch. What am I becoming?
But he had to focus, he had to overcome his reluctance.
He held up the makeshift torch and snapped his fingers, willing the flame to ignite. Nothing happened. Benji frowned.
He snapped his fingers again. And again. Still nothing.
Benji snapped his fingers once more. Nothing. Why doesn’t it work? I have the skill!
His fingers twitched, and he tried again. A drop of sweat fell to the ground. The hollow sound of his snaps echoed through the cave. He gritted his teeth. "Come on... focus."
At this point his middle finger felt a little numb. He closed his eyes, blocking out the remnants of the fight, and the eerie silence of the forest. He tried to clear his mind, letting all the swirling thoughts of danger, hunger, and exhaustion fade. Just focus on the flame. Imagine it. He prompted himself.
He snapped his fingers again. This time, a tiny spark flickered at the tip of his thumb, so faint that he almost missed it. "Wait, wait!" he said, feeling a small surge of excitement. He snapped again, and again—nothing.
Frustration bubbled up inside him. His body was still sore, and every failed attempt seemed to sap his energy even further. Great, now my [Mana] too. He leaned forward, rubbing his temples seeing his [Mana] points reduced. "Why isn’t this working?" His voice cracked at the entrance of the dim cave, the silence mocking his inability to produce something so basic.
After a few more failed attempts, Benji clenched his fists. "It’s just fire! I’ve seen this a hundred times in games."
The problem was obvious. This wasn’t a game, it was like a game. The realization hit him hard. This power had to come from him. The System may have provided the knowledge, but Benji had to find a way to bridge the gap between knowing and doing.
He exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of it all—the stakes were far higher than he’d liked. His life could depend on mastering this. "Okay, one more time," he whispered. This time, he focused entirely on the sensation, the intention behind the act. Not just the snap, but the feeling of igniting something deep within himself.
With a flick of his wrist, Benji snapped his fingers once more.
This time, sparks flew from his fingertips, much brighter than before, illuminating the cave for a split second. Encouraged, Benji continued. Snap. More sparks, like tiny bursts of fire erupting in front of him. It wasn’t enough for a flame yet, but he was getting closer.
He could feel the pull of energy now—something deep within him responding to his will, though faint. He closed his eyes again, focused on that feeling, the tiny warmth flickering at his chest. Snap, snap, snap. This time, the smallest flame bloomed from the tip of his thumb as he held it up. It reminded him of the flame of a simple lighter, but it was enough to awestruck him. It felt strangely cold against his skin.
His eyes widened, watching the flame dance. "Yes!"
Before it could go out, Benji quickly touched the flame to the torch, and the fat-soaked cloth caught instantly, flaring up into a steady, bright light. He leaned back, staring at the glowing branch with disbelief and pride flooding through him.
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[Congratulations! Torch [Basic] Crafted – Experience Gained]
[Prometheus’ Minor Blessing Received: +5% Mana Recovery]
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Benji felt a shiver run down his spine. Prometheus? As the Titan? His thoughts spun, trying to make sense of it all. Are gods watching over in this world?
But there was no time to ponder. A distant howl echoed through the trees, sending a chill down his spine. And he gripped the torch tightly, the warm light flickering against the dark entrance of the cavern.
He took a deep breath and stepped inside.