Survival Protocol

Aria’s breath hitched. Her body went rigid, but her gamer’s mind was already screaming.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope!

This wasn’t a dungeon boss she could cheese or kite. Standing before her was a monster so far out of her league it felt like a cosmic joke.

Her eyes flicked to the glowing text hovering above its head.

+++
[Hell-Bear Beast – Lv. 142]
HP: 12,000 / 12,000
+++

“You’ve got to be kidding me… A Level 142?”

Her voice cracked into the night air. She was still only Level 15, a starter Duelist with flimsy twin swords that struggled against boars. Normal mobs for her level were rabbits, slimes, maybe wolves if she felt brave. Not this. Not a predator that could erase her with a sneeze.

“Fuck! Fuck system!” she spat, cursing the System or AI in her head again that had become silent.

But the Hell-Bear didn’t care. Its crimson gaze locked onto her, a guttural growl building in its chest before it lunged.

“Move!”

Her body obeyed, diving sideways as claws shredded the ground where she had been. Shards of cobblestone cut her cheek. A red number flared in her vision.

+++
-87 HP!
HP: 333 / 420
+++

Almost a quarter was gone, from just a graze.

“I can’t fight this. I’m level fifteen. This thing could just sneeze and kill me!”

The Hell-Bear lunged again, fangs snapping.

Her twin swords trembled in her hands. Sweat slicked her grip. She ducked and rolled, clumsy but alive. Dirt smeared her palms; her lungs was burning. Every movement was raw panic and not a skill.

I’m going to die. I’m really going to die here.

But then, a chime rang inside her skull.

+++
[Adaptive Protocol Triggered!]
Condition: Survive against a foe 100+ levels higher.
Reward: +5 Agility | New Skill Unlocked → Evasion Instinct Lv.1
+++

Heat spiked through her veins, sharp and hot. Her arms tingled, her legs thrummed. For a heartbeat her body didn’t even feel like hers—it was faster, sharper, like someone had cranked her reflexes up.

The Hell-bear swiped again. This time, the motion stretched, slowed—as if the world itself had lagged. Aria’s body twisted before her brain caught up, sliding under its claws with impossible precision.

Her swords scraped the beast’s hide, its sparks scattering into the night.

Except… the sparks weren’t just steel on fur. Wisps of pale ether curled from her blades, like mana bleeding into the air.

Her pulse jumped. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Duelists didn’t use mana. Their entire kit was stamina-driven—strike, dodge, counter.

She knew this game. She had lived in this game. This shimmer shouldn’t exist.

Another ping lit her vision.

+++
[System Notice → Stat Adjustment Detected]
Etheric Residue (Unstable) → 0.7%
Trait Added to Profile → Adaptive Anomaly
+++

Her breath stuttered. Her menu itself was tracking the anomaly now.

“This isn’t… normal,” she muttered, eyes locked on the glowing stat.

Her chest heaved, lips curling into a shaky smile. “I… I dodged it.”

The Hell-Bear circled, its growl wary now.

+++
[Survival is Progression.]
+++

Her blades steadied. Terror still squeezed her lungs, but beneath it—an ember, a spark that wasn’t fear.
Exhilaration was already emerging in herself.

“If survival means growth…” her voice rasped. “Then I’ll survive!”

The Hell-Bear roared and lunged again. Her body blurred sideways, instincts snapping sharper than thought. Dust sprayed where she had been.

+++
[Skill Evolved → Evasion Instinct Lv.2]
+++

Already. Her heart hammered. The system was bending its own rules.

And the shimmer was stronger—ether licked along her gauntlet when her blade struck. Her profile flickered again:

+++
Etheric Residue → 1.4%
Adaptive Anomaly: Active (Monitoring)
+++

Her jaw tightened. “The system’s rewriting me…”

The Hell-Bear’s claws raked stone. Sparks rained around her. She darted behind a fallen log, blades raised. They couldn’t pierce its hide, but every dodge, every strike carved invisible grooves into her muscles.

“I can’t kill it. But maybe… I can survive!”

The beast lunged again, faster—but so did she. Her movements were clean now, fluid, as if scripted by someone else.

Minutes blurred under adrenaline. Her HP flickered dangerously low as claws grazed her, potions dwindling to her last two. But every mistake became data. Every pattern etched deeper into her instincts.

Her boots skidded at the edge of a jagged cliff, mist swirling below. Her stomach lurched. Nowhere left to run.

The Hell-Bear prowled closer, its growl shaking the stone beneath her feet.

Her chest heaved. Fight or fall.

It lunged.

Time slowed.

Aria rolled beneath its swipe, twin blades flashing reflexively. Steel kissed flesh. A shallow line cut its flank, barely a scratch, but enough to stagger it near the edge.

It clawed for balance, stone crumbling beneath.

Aria didn’t wait. She bolted into the underbrush, branches slashing her face as she run and lungs burning raw.

Silence finally swallowed the roars. She collapsed to her knees, trembling, sweat dripping into the dirt.

The interface pulsed again.

+++
[Survival Achieved]
Reward Granted → Agility +5 | Evasion Instinct Lv.2
New Skill Available → Adaptive Reflex Lv.1
Etheric Residue → 2.3% (Warning: Unstable Growth)
+++

Her breath shuddered.

She realizes that this was different from the game.

This wasn’t grinding. This wasn’t XP farming. This was something else.

Her hands shook on her blades, still faintly vibrating with that strange, luminous feedback. Terror still clung to her skin, but beneath it pulsed something undeniable:

Thrill. The rush of progress. The knowledge that every near-death made her stronger.

“I can do this,” she whispered hoarsely. “I can survive!”

The forest rustled.

Her heart jolted.

It wasn’t the Hell-Bear. This sound was softer. Slower. Watching.

A chime rang again.

+++
[Adaptive Event Detected → Further Survival Required]
+++

Aria’s grip tightened on her swords.

Fight. Adapt. Grow.

She rose, trembling but unbroken. Not just a bug anymore—something stranger.

Her gaze flicked to the menu once more, the stat glowing faintly:

+++
Etheric Residue → 2.3% (Anomaly Stabilizing)
+++

Her throat tightened. “If this keeps growing… I won’t just be a Duelist anymore.”

The presence lingered in the trees, patient. Waiting.

And the game had only just begun.