What’s Left in This Ridiculous Tutorial?

Nathan still felt dazed as he tried to steady the pit of dread in his stomach.

The chatter hit him first.

The village was bathed in afternoon, full daylight, not the usual sunset sky they were dumped into every return. Everyone was rushing around with energy. Lanterns on strings between the lampposts half-hung, ribbons spilling out of baskets, NPCs moving with more enthusiasm than usual, if that was possible.

Merchants arranged fruit in neat rows beneath bright banners.
Craftsmen hauled wooden beams into the square.
Clusters of NPCs braided long strands of colored paper and lantern tassels, laughing as they worked.

Nathan blinked at the sudden splash of color.

We’re never back at this hour.
…So they do stuff like this even when we’re not here?
I thought the tutorial just… placed things.

There was one night they’d returned to a festival already in full swing—the only festival they’d seen here.
It was cute.

He hadn’t been able to steal a table because the NPCs had actually set them out in advance.
And you can’t “steal” a table that’s already where you planned to drag it. That’s just… sitting down.
Took all the fun out of it.

Guess table thievery is off-limits again tonight as well.

Kieran took a long, measured look around.
“We should not be here yet,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” Nathan muttered, rubbing the heel of his palm against one eye. “The system just… yeeted us out.”

“Yee…ted?”

“Spat us out,” Nathan corrected quickly.

Kieran’s jaw clenched. “Did the time limit change?”

Nathan blinked.
“Oh, right. Yeah. That. It did.”

“When?” Kieran asked, voice low, not angry, just trying to understand.

Nathan made a helpless gesture. “Somewhere in the last four levels? I think? It dropped from twelve hours to eight.”

Kieran stared. “I vaguely recall you mentioning something… about eight hours. You should have told me. I have said this before.”

Nathan winced. “We were kind of drowning in… everything?”
He waved his hands. “Monsters, puzzle traps, synchronized undead—sir, I barely had time to breathe, let alone give a time-management report.”

Kieran held his gaze for a beat.
“Even so… you should have told me.”

“Yeah, I know,” Nathan admitted. “My bad. But we were moving faster than ever. So… that’s good, right?”

Kieran did not look convinced and his gaze sharpened. “Draegor. What did the progress read?”

“Ninety-two percent.”

Kieran went quiet the way he did when he was mapping troop formations in his head.
“That would suggest more levels,” he said. “Not fewer.”

Nathan shrugged a little too fast. “Yeah. I know.”

Kieran’s gaze sharpened.
“Then why did you speak as if this was the end?”

Nathan opened his mouth.
Paused.
No way to explain gaming logic to him.

“…I'm not sure how to explain it to you,” he managed.

And frankly, he didn’t want to try. Kieran had no frame of reference.

An NPC on a ladder stretched to tie a string of lanterns between two posts, humming something soft and cheerful. Further down the street, a woman painted looping patterns on paper banners while a child watched, eyes huge, like this was the most important job in the world.

Something twisted in his chest. It should have made him feel better. Normal, even. People getting ready for a party. No monsters, no timers, no ‘surprise, here’s another creative way to die.’

Kieran stood watching the square for a moment longer, then headed in the direction of the inn. Nathan followed. The street was narrower than usual with all the festival clutter and crisscrossing NPC traffic.

Ninety-two percent.

That was supposed to be the good number.
Final stretch. Almost done. Freedom around the corner.

Except another number floated up, uninvited.

Overall Progress: 0.05%

A number that had nothing to do with the tutorial floors or levels.

A number that—if he let himself think too hard—felt like a countdown for something much bigger. Something outside the tutorial.

Was that what it meant?
That the panel would follow him out?
That the “real” world would pick up at 0.05% like some nightmare sequel he hadn’t agreed to?

Back to the monsters and the dungeon and an entire world full of people who hated Mason Draegor.

And if this wasn’t the end.
If they weren’t getting out after all…

How long would it take to reach one hundred percent of overall progress?

A sick, shaky breath caught in his throat, threatening to turn into panic.

I’ll never get home at this rate.
I’ll never get my body back.
I’ll be stuck here—as Draegor—forever.

He forced himself to inhale slowly before his thoughts ran completely off the rails.

Tutorial end meant exit.

He clung to that idea like it was a lifeline—even though a smaller, colder part of him knew better.

Tutorials didn’t mean freedom.
Tutorials were the part before the real nightmare started.

But he wanted the lie.
He needed it.

He shoved that truth down, buried it under every ounce of denial he still had left.

One last bit of hope.
Even if it was fake.
Even if it wouldn’t save him.

He needed it anyway.

Kieran’s voice pulled him back, and Nathan realized he’d fallen a step behind along the street. He hurried to match his pace.

“You insist the arena was the final level,” Kieran said. “Yet the progress indicates otherwise. Explain.”

Nathan scrambled for anything that wasn’t I just know.

“…It’s the vibe,” he said weakly.

Kieran turned his head, brow tightening in a way that said he absolutely did not accept that answer.

“The… ‘vibe’.”

“You know.” Nathan waved his hands. “The escalation. The rhythm. You climb, fight harder things, hit the big flashy arena with dramatic lighting—or whatever—boom. Classic final-level moment, and we’re so close to one hundred percent.”

“Draegor,” he said, very carefully, “I do not understand why you believe reaching one hundred percent signifies an ending.”

Nathan blinked.
“…Because… that’s what percentages do?”

Silence.

He tried again. “Progress bars? They fill to one hundred? That’s… the whole point?”

“Bars,” Kieran repeated blankly. “So you keep saying.”

Nathan groaned into his hands. I am not going to try explaining UI and game mechanics in a non tech way again. He already thinks I'm an idiot most of the time.

Kieran continued. “You said it reached ninety-two percent,” he said. “By your logic, more remains. Not less. So why were you certain?”

Nathan stared at the cobblestones as he walked.
“…I don’t know,” he said quietly. “It just feels like the last one. Call it intuition, I guess.”

Kieran’s voice lowered a fraction. “Your intuition has been… accurate.”

Nathan’s stomach did a small, unhelpful flip. “Yeah, great. No pressure.”

An NPC boy rushed past with folded banners, tripped, caught himself, laughed with another villager, and kept moving.

Nathan swallowed.

“This is actually… kind of nice,” he muttered.

Kieran glanced toward him.

Nathan rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, we never see them set anything like this up. Feels like I'm backstage.”

“Backstage,” Kieran echoed flatly.

“Please don’t make me explain theater concepts, sir.”

Kieran remained mercifully silent.

“But seriously,” Nathan added, “it’s… good. If this is our last night before whatever nightmare tomorrow throws at us, it’d be nice to—I don’t know. See it. Properly.”

Kieran’s attention flicked toward a cluster of NPCs hauling ribbon-tangled crates.
“…I fail to see the purpose of all this,” he muttered.

“Normalcy,” Nathan said quietly. “Or… something like it.”

“The tutorial isn’t over,” Kieran said. “We eat. Sleep. Same as always. If you are right, we may be leaving this place soon.”

Nathan blinked. “…That would be the best possible outcome.”

Kieran paused at the corner by the restaurant, scanning the street.
“You say that,” he said, “but you don’t appear certain. Do you believe we will be permitted to leave once this tutorial ends?”

Nathan swallowed. “I… believe we’ll be able to leave here.”
He gestured vaguely at the lantern-strung street. “This place, at least.”

Kieran held his gaze for a long moment before continuing toward the inn, boots steady on the cobblestones.

“Later, then.”

Nathan lingered a moment before following.

I didn’t lie to him. We’ll get out. We will.

***

The inn’s bath felt hotter than usual. Steam curled against the ceiling as he sank into the water, every muscle sighing in relief.

He stayed there longer than he meant to. Warmth dulled the edge of his nerves, loosened the frantic coil in his chest. By the time he’d combed his hair into something vaguely less tragic and pulled on clean clothes, his reflection was still Mason’s face staring back at him—hard lines, scars, the body he was trapped in.

I miss my face. I miss my body.

He pushed the thought down and jogged down the steps to the inn lobby—

“Pleasant evening to you, traveler,” the innkeeper said, still at his post behind the counter.

“A-and to you. Not going to celebrate?”

“My place is here.” The NPC didn’t lose his smile.

“Alright. Have a good one.” Nathan gave a little wave as he headed out.
He still creeps me out the most.

He walked the familiar streets toward the square.
By the time it came into view, he slowed.

The square had transformed.

Rows of tables filled the space, already set with stacks of plates and bowls. Trays of roasted vegetables, skewered meat, and something dusted in sugar sent his stomach rumbling before he could stop it.

Lantern strings he’d seen earlier were glowing now, swaying between lampposts like drifting moons in the deepening blue. A few instruments tuned near the fountain—plucked notes, a flute warming up, a drum giving slow testing taps.

Nathan’s chest pinched.
It’s… actually kind of nice.

“Traveler!”

A woman waved him over and, without hesitation, slid a cloth bracelet onto his wrist.
A small wooden charm was tied to it—an indigo-dyed disc with a faint starburst carved into the center.

“For good fortune tonight,” she said, already moving to the next person.

Nathan brushed his thumb over the charm.

It reminded him of his aunt—
who always said she “didn’t believe in that stuff,”
but still hung protective charms over the doorways.

She called it “just tradition,”
but she never skipped it.
Not once.
Just in case.

He smiled at the memory.

“Hey!”

He looked down.

A kid stood beside him, basket full of little festival noisemakers—short sticks with tiny bells and fluttering paper streamers at the end.

He held one up proudly. “Here! So the spirits know you’re celebrating!”

Nathan blinked at the jingling contraption.
“…I mean, sure. Yeah, of course.”

He accepted it.

The bells gave a bright, chiming shake as he turned it over in his hands. The paper streamers caught the lamplight, fluttering like tiny flags.

“Thanks,” he said.

The kid grinned like they’d done something very important and sprinted off, basket rattling.

Nathan lifted the noisemaker experimentally.

Shake.
Jingle-jingle-jingle.

He sighed. “Great. I’m a one-man parade now.”

“You look absurd,” Kieran said behind him.

Nathan nearly launched himself out of his skin.

He spun around. “You cannot sneak up on people like that. That’s illegal. You didn’t want a charm, sir?”

“No.” Kieran replied flatly.

Nathan turned toward him. “It’s festive…” His voice trailed off the moment he actually looked at him.

Kieran stood just outside the flow of traffic, freshly bathed, hair pushed back from his face. Clean-shaven. Wearing a white tunic with the front strings loosened just enough to be distracting.

Nathan’s brain stalled.

His pecs. Wow. No, that. That should be illegal.

“…gor. Draegor.”

Nathan’s eyes snapped up. “Huh?”

“What are you staring at?” Kieran asked, then lifted the mug in his hand and took a casual drink.

“…Is that alcohol?”

Kieran looked at the mug, then back at him. “Yes.”

“Where the fu—” Nathan caught himself. “Sir. Sir. How? Where did you get that?”

Kieran nodded slightly toward a booth across the square. A long table under a striped awning, barrels stacked behind it, tavern workers handing out drinks.

“They set up a stall for the celebration,” he said.

Nathan stared. “Of course they did.”

Kieran had nothing to add. Another sip.

“They let you have alcohol?” Nathan demanded. “Like, with their own hands? Willingly?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I asked.”

Nathan stared at him, betrayed on a spiritual level. That was it. That was the entire explanation.

“I can’t get alcohol,” he muttered. “It doesn’t let me. I’ve tried ordering things. The NPCs don’t even acknowledge that alcohol exists.”

In a moment of unfiltered desperation, Nathan’s hand drifted toward the mug. “Sir… can I just—”

Kieran angled the mug out of reach without lifting an eyebrow. “Get your own, Draegor.”

Nathan pointed at the mug like it had personally wronged him. “This is discrimination.”

Kieran took a long, slow sip without breaking eye contact.

Nathan squared his shoulders. “Fine. Fine. I’ll get one. Watch me actually succeed for once.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” he muttered as he marched toward the booth, festival cloth fluttering at his wrist and the little chime-stick jingling like backup percussion.

He had a whole speech prepared by the time he reached the counter—firm, outraged, maybe slightly unhinged—but he didn’t even get to open his mouth.

CHIME

Notice: On this special festival night, the trainee is permitted one alcoholic beverage.

Nathan froze.

“…What,” he whispered.

The bartender smiled like this was all perfectly normal. “Ale?”

Nathan stared harder. “What.”

But he nodded. Because obviously he did.

A minute later he walked back outside cradling his own mug like it was a trophy.

Kieran’s brows lifted. “You look proud.”

“I am proud,” Nathan said, puffing up. “I get one drink. One. The system said so. Like it’s some kind of cosmic milestone.”

“It is a cup of ale,” Kieran said.

“Well, it’s my cup of ale.”

He took a sip.

“Ahhh, an actual beer.” He groaned. “It actually tastes like beer. I’m so happy right now.”

Kieran’s mouth twitched. “Always so noisy.”

Nathan wheezed but couldn’t argue with that.
He took another slow sip of his beer, letting the warmth settle through him.
His thumb drifted back to the charm tied at his wrist, rubbing it without thinking.

Kieran’s gaze caught on it.

“That charm...” he said quietly.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. The nice lady said it’s for good fortune. And I am extremely pro-good-fortune.”

Kieran didn’t respond at first.

His eyes lingered on the starburst etched into the wood — the way the grooves caught the lantern light like thin lines of silver.
Something in his expression tightened. Not sharply. More like an old ache resurfacing.

“…We had charms like that at the midsummer festival,” he murmured. “Not the same. But close. Silver and blue. Star-patterned. Protection charms.”
A beat.
“Superstitious nonsense.”

“Oh,” Nathan said softly.

He looked down at the charm again.

Just a little token.
A cheap souvenir of a safe night.

But Kieran’s face said something else entirely.

Nathan shook the charm gently.

“Spirits not losing me and all that,” he tried.

Kieran held his gaze for a long, quiet moment — eyes flicking to the star as if drawn to it against his will — before he shut it away again.

“You should not rely on charms to keep you alive,” he said.

“I’m not,” Nathan said. “I’m relying on you, obviously.”

Kieran went absolutely still.

Nathan’s brain caught up with his mouth three seconds too late.
“Oh my God—I mean strategically. As a commanding officer. Not—okay, shutting up.”

Before Kieran could respond, the music in the square swelled.

A lilting melody rose through the lantern-light, weaving between stalls and food tables. Villagers drifted toward the center of the square — some with plates, some tapping their feet, some already laughing.

An older woman clapped her hands, clearing a small space.

People were already dancing.

Not formal.
Not fancy.
Just simple steps, hands linked, laughter soft and bright.

Something warm and aching surged in Nathan. What is this feeling?

He rocked on his heels, watching.

“We should eat quickly,” Kieran said. “Then sleep.”

Nathan was barely listening, and blurted the worst possible thing.

“…Do you want to dance?”

Kieran turned his head like he’d just been asked to juggle live grenades.

Nathan’s face went hot so fast it was a medical emergency.

“I—NO—not with me!” he sputtered, hands flailing. “Sorry—that came out wrong! I meant with the villagers. They’re dancing, and you’re just... standing here—sir, please stop looking at me like that.”

Kieran’s eyebrow twitched.

“I simply meant,” Nathan choked, “that dancing is an option! For you! Not that you would, obviously, because you’re—well, not the dancing type, and—”

Kieran looked away, muttering something Nathan didn’t catch.
Nathan froze. Shit, shit, shit.
“...What?”

Kieran’s voice came low, almost swallowed by the music.
"It is not that I cannot dance," Kieran said, his tone low. "It is simply that I choose not to."

“Oh,” he said weakly. “Right. Yeah. That makes total sense. Obviously. You can dance. Why wouldn’t you? You probably dance great... not that I’d know...”

Kieran exhaled through his nose, which Nathan was starting to recognize as the 'I am tolerating you at great cost to myself' breath.

Nathan groaned, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. Or the chime-stick he was clutching.
Anything.
Anything to end the embarrassment.

He went to drink his beer, but the mug was empty.
Shit.

“Go,” Kieran said finally. “Enjoy your… distraction.”

He started moving but not in the direction of the inn.

“Where are you—”

“I have a perimeter to walk,” Kieran said.

Of course he did.

Nathan watched him melt back toward the edge of the square, instinctively gravitating to shadows and vantage points—the kind of spots you chose when you were used to watching crowds for threats instead of joining them.

Then a hand grabbed his sleeve.

“Come on!” a teenager urged, already dragging him toward the dancing circle. “You have to help form the ring!”

Nathan spluttered. “I—wait—I’m emotionally unprepared—”

It didn’t matter.

He stumbled into the open space, and somehow ended up between two laughing villagers who linked their arms through his and started them all turning in slow, looping steps.
I guess I get to dance after all.

The music picked up.

He caught on to the pattern—step, step, turn, sway, spin. The stick he was holding jingled in time with the music, so he stuck it through his belt.

He laughed.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that without it being a hysterical reaction to imminent death.

The circle shifted. Someone clapped. An older man stepped into the center and did something complicated with his feet that made everyone cheer.

When the song ended, a smattering of applause rippled around the group.

Nathan bowed instinctively.

Drama kid habits: adapt and improv approved.

A few NPCs laughed and clapped a little harder, delighted by the flourish.

He straightened, cheeks warm, chest tight in a way that had nothing to do with the dancing and everything to do with how normal it all felt.

For a second—just a second—this could’ve been any festival back home. Any summer night.
He danced to a few more songs before scanning for Kieran.

Didn’t see him.

“…Where’d you go, sir?” he muttered. He didn't really go to wander the perimeter, did he?

The lanterns made it hard to pick out details beyond the square; everything past the first row of stalls fell into shadow.

Something shifted in his vision.

The world sharpened.

A blur outside the village, toward the hill, past the framed entrance arch, leaning on a railing.

He saw Kieran.

Too far for normal sight.

Nathan sucked in a breath.

“I should not be able to see you that clearly,” he whispered. “Cool. Great. Love that for me.”

He jogged through the crowd, his stick jingling with each step.

Kieran didn’t turn until Nathan was almost beside him.

“Did you finish your walk?”

A look from the corner of Kieran’s eye cut the question off.

Not angry.
Not irritated.
Just… tight. Edges drawn in razor-sharp before they smoothed.

“I made it this far,” Kieran said with a small shrug. “But it seemed pointless to go any further. I know what’s out there.”

“So you’re just... standing here?” Nathan asked, confused by the admission. Kieran’s tone wasn’t unkind, but the weight of it made him feel more like an intruder than ever.

Kieran gave a single nod. “Just needed a quiet spot to think.”

"Everything alright?"

“Fine. I am going to bed,” Kieran said quietly. “You should do the same.”

Nathan blinked. “Oh. Uh. Yeah. Sure. Yes, sir.”
The question already felt stupid the second it left his mouth. Of course Kieran wasn’t fine. Neither of them was. For a brief heartbeat, he almost tried to rephrase it, but Kieran’s expression shut the impulse down. He let the moment pass.

Kieran gave a small nod and started back toward the village, boots thudding softly against the ground.

Nathan watched him go, still trying to process how Kieran’s face had cracked open for just a breath, revealing something dangerously close to apprehension, before the mask slid back into place.

Down below, the music swelled into another song, distant and soft.
Peaceful.

“Yeah, bed's probably the right call,” Nathan muttered to no one.

Eventually, he turned and followed Kieran back toward the inn.

***

He woke with a faint ache behind his eyes and a hazy memory of the festival… and a brief echo of Kieran standing on that hill, deep in thought.
It slipped away as he sat up.

He blinked at the ceiling, then sat up with a slow exhale.

Same room.
Same morning quiet.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, pushed the covers off, and stood. He dressed on autopilot.

Then headed downstairs.

The inn’s lobby looked exactly as it always did at dawn—lamps dimmed, counters tidy, the air warm from the kitchen hearth.

The innkeeper stood behind the counter, hands folded neatly. He looked up the moment Nathan reached the bottom step.

“Restful night, traveler?”

Nathan hesitated only a heartbeat before nodding. “…Yeah. Thanks.”

The innkeeper gave the same soft smile he always did. “May the day be kind to you.”

Simple. Scripted.
“Yeah,” Nathan murmured. “You too.”

Kieran was waiting outside, as if he’d known exactly when Nathan would step out. No comment, no question. He simply turned and started toward the square. Nathan fell in beside him.

They parted briefly in the square so Nathan could stop by the bakery.

Warm air spilled out as he opened the door. The baker looked up with his usual cheer.

“Good morning, traveler.”

“Morning,” Nathan replied.

The man handed over two pastries, still warm from the oven. Nathan stepped outside, tore one in half, and—like always—held the second out toward Kieran without thinking.

And for the first time ever…

Kieran took it.

No comment.
No glance.
Just accepted it and kept walking, biting into it like it wasn’t a small emotional earthquake.

Nathan stared at him for a beat, then hurried to catch up.

What’s up with him today? First, we walk together, and now he accepts a pastry?

The square was just waking up—NPCs setting out wares, doing whatever it was they did. No lanterns. No ribbons. No evidence of the festival.

Just the obelisk, standing in its usual place.

Nathan exhaled. “Alright. Let’s… get this over with.”

Kieran stepped beside him. Their hands lifted in sync.

“Ready?” Nathan asked quietly.

“Yes,” Kieran said.

Their palms pressed to the obelisk.

FLASH

They were back in the coliseum arena.

Sand under their boots.
Weapons in hand.
Empty stands towering around them.

CHIME

Tutorial Progress: 92%
Overall Progress: .05%

Yes. Yes. I know.

CHIME

Level 75
Final Tutorial Challenges

Challenges? Plural?

Nathan jabbed furiously at the screen.
“YES. I KNEW IT. Last level. Told you.”

Kieran was less than amused.
“Draegor, you know I cannot see anything.”

CHIME
Time Allocation: Three cycles

Nathan’s voice hit a whole new octave.
“...Excuse ME?”
“Three what now? WHAT IS A CYCLE?? A DAY? AN HOUR? A SPIN? A TURN? A... laundromat setting?”

Kieran braced himself.
“Draegor, you are too loud. Explain. I am tired of telling you.”

“What is a cycle? In relation to what? Do you know?”

Before Kieran could demand clarification—

The arena became even louder than Nathan. The once-empty stands were now filled with cheering and jeering people—and beings Nathan didn’t recognize.

They both immediately raised their weapons and prepared.

A voice boomed overhead.

In perfect English.

“We've got quite the show planned out for you, my dear audience! We'll see how far these combatants will make it in the arena.”

The crowd erupted.

Nathan’s entire spine tried to exit his body.
“What—WHO—WHAT THE—Why. The. FUCK. Is someone speaking English?” His whisper was barely audible.

The sound echoed from all around them—bright, theatrical, infuriatingly chipper.

Kieran’s head jerked up, unreadable.
“Can you understand the language?”

“You can’t?”

Must be auto-translate again.

Kieran tilted his head at Nathan with what looked like frustration.

The floating platform drifted into view high above them, but Nathan was too busy having an existential crisis to process who or what was standing on it.

"NOW! We will begin the SHOOOOWWW!"

CHIME

Level 75 Battle Royale Portion

A countdown timer began on the bottom corner of his screen. Not that he needed it because the entire arena in unison was counting down.

TEN!

NINE!

"Sir, it's about to start!"

"What is? From where? What is it?"

SIX!

"Not sure, the battle. It says battle royale."

FIVE!

"Royale?"

"I think we have to stay here until it is all over."

"I do not like the sound of that."

"Join the club!"

A huge iron gate to their left started to raise.

CHIME

"What? What NOW?!"

Hint: Your acquired skills and inventory access are available to you. Adapt quickly, trainee.

"Yeah, fucking great."

ONE!

"This is it!" Nathan yelled.

GO!

The gate rattled all the way open.

Ploop. Ploop.

"No.."

A single slime wobbled forward.
Nathan stared at it, deeply offended.
“This is insulting. We’ve killed—what—thousands of you? And now you’re back? Nostalgia? A reunion tour?”

CHIME

Hint: Difficulty will increase.

Kieran glanced at the creature. “This is it? These things again?”

“I guess?! We survived the ziggurat of death for THIS?”

Both of them had lowered their swords.

“Oh, this is just the beginning, folks! Let’s see what these two combatants will do next!” The announcer’s voice boomed, impossibly cheerful.

"AND that guy is going to get annoying real quick!"

"What is he saying?"

"Nothing useful."

The slime jiggled once.

POP

It split into two.

POP

Then four.

POP POP POP

Then thirty.

“Are you kidding me?”

“And there we go, folks! It’s a gelsie party now! Let’s see if our combatants can make it out gloop free and in one piece! For your enjoyment, we’ve added some very creative variants. The more deadly, the better, is what I always say. Am I right?” He laughed loudly.

The crowd erupted into applause.

“Fuck,” Nathan groaned under his breath. He couldn't even look at Kieran. This was the level of absurdity he had to deal with. A slime party. His last bit of sanity drained away.

More slimes erupted through the gate, many variants.

Kieran was already slicing through cores like he'd been born for it.

Yeah, we got this.

He joined Kieran in the onslaught.

***

Nathan was officially bored.

The first hour had felt like a novelty.
The second hour, a challenge.
By the third hour? He was considering just throwing his sword into the sand and taking a nap.

It felt like they had been going nonstop for at least ten hours.

Kieran, of course, didn’t show any signs of slowing down. His movements were mechanical, flawless, like a machine forged for this exact purpose. Swords swung. Heads fell. The same wave of monsters was recycled over and over again. Goblins. Orcs. Skeletons. Slimes. Orcs. Wolves. Cyclops. They’d fought them all before, and now they were back, like some kind of monster reunion tour. Some were more vicious variants, but nothing they couldn't handle.

This had been more or less an annihilation.
He almost felt bad for the monsters.

Their teamwork had evolved throughout the dungeon, and they were always able to cover each other if needed.

Nathan couldn’t remember when it all started to blur together, but by now, it was hard to tell one wave from the next.
He couldn’t even classify them as waves anymore.

Torrents that flooded out of the gates.
All the monsters, all types, altogether.

More had opened over the hours. Only four gates remained shut.

He suspected this would end once all gates had opened and they’d killed everything.
Just a hunch.

There also wasn’t as much monster blood and guts and gore as he expected.
Is the sand drinking it?
Whatever was happening, he was glad not to be wading through that nasty stuff on top of everything else.

“Is this a test? To test our sanity?” Nathan muttered, slicing through a goblin with no real enthusiasm. His sword was light in his hands. He barely had to think about it.

“The purpose of this place has eluded me from the beginning,” Kieran replied, his voice flat, as if he were discussing the weather.

“Yeah, me too,” Nathan grunted as another wave of wolves rushed at them.

The worst part?
The announcer.
Every time Nathan thought he couldn’t get more annoyed, the voice boomed again, making his blood boil even more.

CHIME

Skill Progress: Dodging II → Dodging III
Skill Progress: Basic Footwork II → Basic Footwork III

“Okay, I guess this is good?”

Meanwhile, Kieran was slicing through enemies like a hot knife through butter.

CHIME

Skill Max Level Achieved
Dodging III
Basic Footwork III

Nathan squinted at the monster hoard, then at his newly maxed-out skills. “I’m a walking fighting machine now, huh?”

"How much longer do we have to do this?" Kieran yelled.

"It doesn't specify."

Kieran grunted and kept hacking. "No timer?"

"No timer."

"Are you leaving anything out?"

“No, sir.”
A monster lunged. Nathan bisected it without looking.
“Oh!”

Kieran whipped toward him. "What."

"The tutorial progress increased to ninety-four percent."

"Keep me apprised of those details from now on!"

"Yessir."

CHIME

Hint: Don't forget about your inventory!

"Inventory, sure, why not."

Nathan went to the inventory tab while absentmindedly killing monsters.

The cracked stamina gum. Do I dare? I promised myself I wouldn't eat this.

He eyed it, sighed and popped it in his mouth.

"What is that?"

“Dungeon gum.” Nathan grimaced.

"Gum?"

"Want some? Tastes like... rubber? And despair."

"No." Kieran answered flatly.

For a moment, his body seemed to snap to life. His stamina spiked, and his movements were sharper, faster. He felt like he could take on anything.

CHIME
Stamina Boost Activated: +30%

Nathan grinned. “OH MY GOD! This is it! This is—”

Suddenly, his hands began to shake uncontrollably.

CHIME
Side Effect: Jitters

“Oh no. Oh no. I’m vibrating.” Nathan could barely control his own movements as he sprinted around the arena, slashing wildly at everything in his path. “Sir! Help! I need to—I might explode."

Kieran barely glanced at him. “You’re fine,” he said, the slightest trace of exasperation in his voice.

Nathan adjusted and continued the slaughter while laughing manically.

The announcer’s voice echoed through the arena, louder than ever. “Ah, our combatants are feeling the heat, folks! A bit of a shake-up in the arena, huh? Let’s see if they can keep up the pace, or if they’ll buckle under the pressure!”

Nathan stopped mid-swing, a frustrated groan slipping from his lips. “Shut up already.”

The announcer’s voice continued, more grating than ever. “It’s the best kind of chaos, folks. They’re doing great, but it’s just about to get spicier! Who’s ready to see more?!”

Nathan groaned under his breath. “I’m going to strangle that guy.” He wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve, barely avoiding slamming into Kieran. “I can’t even concentrate with that idiot talking.”

How the hell is he not losing it? Nathan glanced at Kieran’s unbothered expression. Is he even human?

Kieran didn’t flinch, his eyes locked on the next wave of enemies. “Focus.”

Nathan sighed, trying to ignore the announcer. “Easy for you to say. You know what? I'm going to find another inventory item to use.”

He flicked open the tab and scrolled.

Brass bell.

“…What do you do?”
He selected it.

It materialized in his hand with a little weight—solid, cold metal.

“A brass bell? Really? What am I supposed to do, ring it and pray?”

He shook it.

Ting-ting-ting-ting.

Every goblin on the field snapped their heads toward him at once.

“Oh no.”

Then the slimes.
Then the wolves.
Then the skeletons.

Anything with ears—or whatever counted as ears—pivoted and locked onto him like he’d pressed the self-destruct button.

A tidal wave of monster attention.

Kieran didn’t even stop moving. “Draegor.”

“I know, immediate regret, sir!”

Nathan threw the bell down. Who designed that?! He lunged back into motion, jitter-boost still going, hacking wildly through the cluster he’d just aggroed onto himself.

“See?” he panted in Kieran's direction, still vibrating. “Kept it entertaining, right?”

Kieran did not answer.

Of course he didn’t.

“Ah yes,” the announcer chimed in, voice dripping mock approval, “the bold strategy of attracting every creature at once. A choice only the truly… creative would make.”

Nathan glared at the sky. “Shut up.”

The fighting dragged on—slimes popping, goblins shrieking, wolves lunging—until the mess finally thinned out.
And kept thinning.

A minute passed.
Then another.

No new monsters spilled out.
No new variants charged.
Even the announcer went suspiciously quiet.

Nathan lowered his sword a fraction, chest still buzzing from the stamina gum.
“…Okay. Weird. Is… is that it?”

He glanced toward the four unopened gates.

Still closed.
Still unmoving.
Still ominous.

Silence.

Just their breathing and the soft hiss of monster remains being sucked into the sand.

Nathan swallowed. “Is it over?”

Please let it be over. Please.

CHIME

Rest Interval Initiated
Time Allocated: Three hours

"Huh?"

The arena snapped away.

Suddenly they were boxed in.
A room materialized around them, tight and windowless, more cell than chamber.

Cold stone floor.
A single wooden bench running along one wall.
A dripping metal spout feeding into a shallow basin.
A toilet bucket in the corner, because of course there was.
Two thin sleeping mats stacked neatly by the wall.

And in the center?
A tray with two bowls of beige sludge and two wooden spoons.

Prison oatmeal?

Nathan stared.

“…Wow. Luxury accommodations.”

Kieran didn’t hesitate. He sat, took a bowl, and began eating with zero reaction—as if this were standard-issue rations from home and not… prison oatmeal.

Nathan remained frozen in place, blinking at the room like it personally offended him. What even is this?

CHIME

Hint: Real battles do not provide respite. Consume sustenance and rest. Trainee stamina is essential for synchronization.

Nathan made a face. “Synchronization?”

“What did it say?” Kieran asked, not looking up.

“Another hint that doesn’t make sense.” Nathan grabbed the second bowl and slumped onto the bench. “Whatever. I’m starving.”

He shoveled the mush into his mouth.

It tasted like wet sadness.

He ate anyway.

The room was dead silent. No announcer, no monsters, no crowd. Nathan leaned back against the cool wall, muscles finally loosening despite the miserable food.

For a moment, it was almost peaceful.

Almost.

His eyelids grew heavy.
The only other sound was Kieran's breathing. The mind-numbing mush sitting warm in his stomach—all of it dragged him down like gravity.

He didn’t even remember lying back.

One blink.

Then another.

And the world slipped.

He was out.

He didn’t dream. Didn’t think. Didn’t even twitch. Just pure, absolute blackout sleep—the kind where your soul temporarily clocks out.

He didn’t know how long he’d been under when—

CHIME

Rest Interval Ending

Nathan jolted awake so hard his bones clicked.

“Wh—huh—what—?!” His voice cracked. “Are you kidding me? I actually fell asleep!”

Kieran stood without complaint. “I'm surprised we were allowed rest.”

Right? That is odd.

In the blink of an eye the arena roared back into existence.

Noise surged around them.

Back to the sand.
Back to the monotonous monster slaying.
Back into hell.

***

“Aaaand we’re BACK, people!” the announcer bellowed, voice cracking like fireworks.
“Did you miss the carnage? I KNOW I DID. And we have a treat for you coming right up!”

Nathan groaned. “Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fun times.”

One of the sealed gates shuddered violently.
Chains rattled. Dust rained down in a sad little cloud.

Nathan winced. “Oh great. Love that sound. Love that journey for us.”

CHIME

Added: Broluk
Classification: Hulking quadruped monster
Behavior: Aggressive and territorial, charges at anything it deems a threat

Nathan blinked at the screen.
Then leaned closer.

“…Bro…luk?”

He squinted harder. “Wait. Broluk? As in—like—the restaurant? The ‘Grade A Monster Meat’ the waitress bragged about? That broluk?”

A deep, earth-shaking snort answered him.

“Oh my god,” Nathan whispered.
“We ate that?”

The gate slammed fully open—and the creature stomped into the arena light.

Hulking legs.
Knobby joints.
Curling horns.
Hide like armored leather—thick, ridged, prehistoric.
It looked like a cow and a rhino had a very angry baby that hated taxes and sunlight.

Nathan shuddered.

“Oh my GOD we ate that.”

Kieran stepped forward, blade lifting a fraction.
“It does not appear complicated to kill,” he said calmly.

Nathan whipped toward him. “That is a RHINO-COW DEMON—”

The broluk snorted again—sharp, sudden—and Nathan flinched before he could stop it.
Heat crawled up his neck.
Great. Just like the damn horse on day one. Apparently livestock is my natural enemy.

No one had time to unpack his tragedy, because another broluk thundered out.
Then another.
And another.

A whole herd barreled into the arena, snorting steam, hooves pounding, horns scraping sparks off stone.

The announcer nearly combusted with joy.

“AND HERE IT COMES, FOLKS—THE BROOOLUK STAMPEDE! Will these two survive the appetizer round, or will they become the meal?”

Nathan pointed at the sky.
“You just wait!”

A broluk lowered its head and charged.

Kieran’s stance shifted, blade rising with deadly precision.

A broluk thundered straight at them—horns down, hooves ripping up sand.

Nathan darted sideways, feet skimming the sand like his boots were greased lightning.

“HAH! MAXED-OUT DODGING, YOU BEAST!” he shouted, absolutely thrilled with himself as the creature missed him by inches and cratered the ground instead.

CHIME

Hint: Broluk hides are dense. Target joint structures, trainee.

Nathan threw his hands up. “COULD’VE USED THAT TEN SECONDS AGO, THANK YOU!”

Kieran didn’t waste a breath. He stepped cleanly into the beast’s rebound, blade carving into the inside of the foreleg with surgical precision.

Another broluk barreled in from the left.

Nathan saw the shadow, spun, and slid under its horns with a showoff flourish that was way too dramatic for someone in mortal danger.

“Dodging THREE, baby!” he whooped. “I am UNT—”

A third broluk nearly clipped him.

“—ALMOST UNTOUCHABLE!”

“Draegor,” Kieran warned, sidestepping a charge like he was inconvenienced by a fly.

“I am THRIVING!”

Kieran parried a horn swipe that would’ve bisected a small house. “Focus.”

Nathan grinned and sliced into a joint just like the hint suggested. “See? I am! I’m VERY focused! I’m so focused I could—”

A broluk slammed the ground behind him so hard he bounced.

“—yep, still focused!”

The last broluk finally collapsed with a ground-shaking thud, steam drifting off its hide as the sand drank the mess away.

Nathan bent over, hands braced on his knees. “Okay. Please tell me that was the big surprise.”

The arena disagreed.

The already-open gates shuddered.
All of them.

A fresh wave spilled out—goblins screeching, wolves snarling, slimes wobbling like they arrived late to the party. Even the cyclops lumbered back in with the irritated energy of a man who’d just clocked back into work.

Nathan threw his hands up. “OH COME ON. AGAIN?! WE JUST DID THIS!”

Kieran raised his sword. “They are slower this time.”

“That does NOT help!”

Nathan reached for his inventory again, still buzzing with overconfidence.

“Ooh, what’s this one—‘Noise Charm’? Says it wards off evil spirits! Like the festival thing!”

He tapped it.

A soft jingle-jingle rang out.

Nathan froze.
“Oh no.”

For one glorious second—
all the skeletons froze.

Then every skull snapped toward him.

Nathan gulped. “…Okay? Good? Bad?”

Then—

FWOMP

The skeletons collapsed into heaps of bones.
Just disintegrated.
A full-body clatter, like someone dropped twelve bags of IKEA parts at once.

Nathan blinked at the piles.
“…Wait. It WORKED? They’re DEAD-dead? It WORKED?!”

Kieran, dispatching a goblin mid-swing, glanced over.
“…Impressive.”

Nathan beamed, lifted the charm a little. “See?? I TOLD you—”

Every other monster on the field immediately turned toward him.

Slimes lifted.
Wolves snarled.
Goblins screeched.
Even the cyclops pivoted with a slow, offended grunt.

Nathan stared at his suddenly very popular self.

“Why… WHY does it ONLY work on skeletons?!”

The wolves lunged.

Kieran barked, “Draegor! HOW?”

“I DON'T KNOW, SIR!!” Nathan bolted. “IMMEDIATE REGRET, AGAIN!”

The announcer howled with glee.
“OHO! A FANTASTIC STRATEGIC BLUNDER! ONE OF THE COMBATANTS HAS CHOSEN VIOLENCE—AGAINST HIMSELF!”

Nathan brandished his sword at the sky.
“I DIDN’T CHOOSE ANY OF THIS!”

He flung the charm into the sand like it was cursed.

The jingle chimed again.

Nathan screamed.

Kieran, already mid-cleave: “DO NOT TOUCH ANY ITEMS AGAIN.”

“I WON’T!”

Nathan stomped the charm deeper into the sand for good measure… which only made it jingle again.

He froze.
Kieran froze.
Three slimes perked up.

Nathan hissed, “NO. STAY. BAD.”

Miraculously, they oozed in the opposite direction.

Nathan exhaled shakily. “Okay. Okay. Maybe the danger is finally—”

The arena… didn’t agree.

The crowd murmured.
A low, unnatural breeze crept across the sand like something breathing in.

Nathan straightened. “…I don’t like that.”

Even Kieran’s shoulders tightened half an inch.

A distant gate groaned.

CHIME

Added: Briarwraith
Classification: Plant-based creature
Behavior: Uses vine-like limbs to ensnare and crush opponents

Nathan’s head shot up. “Briar—what now?”

They stepped—no, glided—out of the freshly opened gate.

Tall.
Eight or nine feet.
Gaunt, bark-thin limbs wrapped in twisting thorns.
Green light pulsed inside their hollow ribcages like a heartbeat trapped in vines.
Branch-antler crowns scraped sparks off the stone ceiling.

“Oh absolutely not. Absolutely not. Nature should NOT move like that.”

One briarwraith tilted its head, vines creaking.

CHIME

Hint: The briarwraith splinter risk is high.

Nathan stared at the hint. “Splinter risk? From giant tree people? That's your concern?”

Kieran lifted his sword a fraction. “Aim for the light inside its chest.”

Nathan stared at the pulsing green glow in the briarwraith’s ribcage.
“…Oh. The haunted forest heart lantern. Sure. Totally obvious. Why wouldn’t I aim for the creepy glowing tree guts?”

Kieran simply lifted his sword fully, stepping forward.

“Yeah, sure—totally obvious,” Nathan muttered.

The wraith lunged.

Nathan dodged by instinct—straight into a second wraith’s vine-swing.

“OH COME ON—how many arms do you have?!”

He cut through a thorny limb. The creature hissed, sap sizzling onto the sand.

Another wraith glided at Kieran. He moved with efficient, quiet steps—as if this were normal and not a haunted botanical nightmare.

Nathan whirled, stabbing directly into the glowing cavity of one. It shattered into drifting ash and petals.

“Ha! Yeah! Who’s the gardener now?!”

A vine snagged his ankle.

“Oh my god—SIR!”

He chopped the vine off himself before Kieran even turned.

“Never mind! Handled it! Totally fine!”

The last briarwraith exploded into chunks of wood and green goo...sap? Splinters? More like impalement.

Nathan dropped onto the sand. “How much of this is left? I’m suing someone.”

CHIME
Rest Interval Initiated
Time Allocated: Three hours

The same windowless stone box swallowed them.

Nathan trudged inside like a man being marched back to jail.

“Prison oatmeal, round two,” he muttered.

Kieran sat, grabbed a bowl, ate in silence—again.
Nathan ate with the deadness of someone accepting his fate.

CHIME
Hint: Mental fatigue accumulates. Remain vigilant.

Nathan drank from a water flask. “Gee, thanks.”

He fell asleep immediately after.

CHIME
Rest Interval Ending

Every fight bled into the next. Same monsters, same strategies, with a few new tricks to keep them on their toes. The breaks, though mandatory, did nothing to mask the exhaustion creeping into their bones. Nathan barely had time to process the chaos before the next round began. Hours passed.

Then another break would hit.

"FUCK!"

CHIME
Rest Interval Initiated
Time Allocated: Two hours

“Two hours now?!” Nathan yelped.
The system ignored him.

Nathan stabbed at the oatmeal like it owed him money.

Kieran meditated with his eyes closed, somehow calm in a prison cell with a bucket.

CHIME
Rest Interval Ending

The arena snapped back—sand, heat, roar of the crowd.

All the previous monsters poured out again.

Every type.
Every variant.
A nonstop blender of claws, bones, slime, and rage.

Nathan fought with the speed of a man sustained purely by spite.

Kieran cut through the chaos like it was a warm-up routine.

Nathan shouted over the din, “EVERYONE WANTS A PIECE, HUH!”

The announcer screeched, “The crowd loves a good comeback round!”

Nathan flipped him off, not bothering to look at where the announcer actually was.

The arena responded immediately, punishing him.

A low, grinding GRRRRNNNK rolled across the sand.

Nathan stiffened. "That was not normal.”

The last two sealed gates, the only ones still closed, shuddered violently.

CHIME

Added: Minolisk
Classification: Bipedal, bull-like creature
Behavior: Stalks its prey, uses powerful physical strikes after sneak attacks

CHIME

Added: Ironclad Goliath
Classification: Humanoid, brute creature
Behavior: Uses massive, armored fists to smash enemies into the ground, highly resilient to damage

"Who invited them to the party?"

WHAM! WHAM! Both gates slammed upward in unison.

“And here they come, folks! Get ready for a smashing good time!"

The crowd cheered and hollered.

Nathan’s whole body sagged. “Two at once?”

“Because there were two left.”

“That was NOT an invitation for logic!”

And then another flood hit along with the new monsters.

Goblins screeched their way out.
Cyclops stomped forward with club-swinging enthusiasm.
Slimes oozed aggressively.
Undead and skeletons clattered in behind them like angry wind chimes.
A couple of broluk stragglers charged out too, confused and somehow offended.

"Oh COME on, really?"

CHIME
Skill Progress: Basic Balance II → Basic Balance III
Skill Progress: Evasive Recognition II → Evasive Recognition III
Skill Progress: Sturdy Knees II → Sturdy Knees III
Skill Progress: Improved Grip II → Improved Grip III

Nathan’s eyes widened as the panel chimes came one after the other. He dodged a goblin swipe with newfound agility, narrowly avoiding the lunge of a slime.

CHIME
Skill Max Level Achieved
Dodging III
Basic Footwork III
Basic Balance III
Evasive Recognition III
Sturdy Knees III
Improved Grip III

“Wait... WHAT?!” he shouted. “I just maxed out again at only three?!”

Nathan ducked under a claw swipe, slid past a slime, and spun on instinct alone.

“This is too much leveling—maxing out at once,” he gasped. “I’m gonna start hallucinating stats.”

A minolisk locked eyes on him.

Nathan groaned. "Why me? Do I look like easy pickings?"

He glanced in Kieran's direction. He was a full force tornado of killing all on his own. Okay, fine.

"Let's go, bitches!"

Nathan was already constantly surrounded. Now he had to keep an eye out for new attack patterns added to the mix.

Another chime hit.

CHIME

Hint: Use dodging and evasive patterns to avoid sneak attacks. Recognize the signs and move swiftly, trainee!

Nathan barely dodged another Minolisk strike, rolling to the side just in time among all the other melee. “Great. Now I’m supposed to recognize patterns in all of this?” he yelled, narrowly avoiding a crushing blow. “I can recognize patterns in my own suffering!”

He started laughing like a maniac again.

Kieran, unaffected by the chaos, cleaved through a cyclops. “Stay present.”

“I AM present! I’m VERY present! “I’m present in at least seven problems at once!”

He’d realized that when Kieran said ‘focus’ or ‘stay present,’ he genuinely thought Nathan was losing it.

They fought until the horde finally thinned, the last monsters draining into the sand like someone pulled a plug.

Nathan stood there shaking, sweat dripping from his chin.

“If the system doesn’t give us a break right now,” he panted, “I am genuinely just going to lie down and let the next thing step on me.”

As if on cue.

CHIME
Rest Interval Initiated
Time Allocated: One hour

“One hour? ONE? HOUR?” Nathan yelled.

He sat so hard the bench creaked.

"Are you going to eat?"

Nathan waved at him. "No."

Kieran grabbed both bowls.

Nathan just face-planted onto the mat and passed out.

CHIME
Rest Interval Ending

Nathan woke with a groan that sounded like a dying instrument.

“I hate this place,” he whispered.

Nathan stood, stretched, grabbed his sword—

—and stopped.

The arena again but different.

“This isn’t… where we were.”

They weren’t in the center of the arena.

They were standing near the outer wall, right up against the boundary—somewhere they had never been placed before.

Kieran said nothing, but the faint shift in his stance told Nathan he’d noticed it too.

A structure unfolded across the entire arena floor.
High walls.
Shadowed corners.
A massive, sprawling shape that absolutely did not belong in a gladiator pit.

Nathan blinked. “Uh… that’s new.”

The announcer absolutely detonated with joy.

“OOOOH! The part you’ve all been waiting for—THE LABYRINTH! DOOM, DEATH, AND DIRE CHOICES! A maze so cruel even I wouldn’t step inside!” He laughed loudly.

Smug piece of shit.

The crowd went feral.

Nathan stared at the thing.
“…A labyrinth? Seriously? Think my map will work in there?”

Kieran’s eyes sharpened. “What is this now? What is he saying?”

Nathan pointed helplessly at the thing. “He said—uh—doom, and death, and… apparently it’s a labyrinth?”

Kieran frowned harder. “A… labyrinth?”

“Yeah. A maze.”
Nathan swallowed. “Which is definitely worse than just ‘more monsters.’”

CHIME

Cycle Two Complete
Tutorial Progress: 97%
Overall Progress: 0.5%

Nathan’s eye twitched.

For real?

“Good news,” he muttered. “We’re at ninety-seven percent now.”

“One hundred would be better,” Kieran said without looking at him.

Nathan let out a long, broken exhale.

“No shit.”