My entrance into the tutorial phase was not dramatic.

There was no crash landing. No spotlight. Only me in a forest clearing, blinking into the daylight I had not expected to face.

Everything around me pressed past ordinary sense. The trees held a green that bordered on fever. The flowers bled color in a way that hinted at a hand behind the curtain pouring in more than any painter would dare. The whole place stood unfiltered and unrestrained, the world refusing to dim itself for human eyes.

The place hummed. A sound lived beneath the birdsong and breeze, a low buzz I could not place. It pressed against my skin, a thin thread of static ready to break loose. Not painful, only sharp enough to remind me this was not my living room anymore.

Somewhere ahead, leaves shifted, and water murmured over stone. I turned toward the sound, expecting something to show itself, but the trees held their silence. Their branches moved with slow judgment, weighing whether I belonged.

I took a deep breath. That was not a mistake.

The air did not only smell clean. It cut straight through my chest with a crisp edge that made my lungs twitch. Pine and wet earth mixed with something alive. Home never held anything close to this. The air back there felt processed and tired. This air had never been touched by anything human. It left everything I had known feeling stained.

I stayed still for a breath, doing nothing, letting the silence settle over me. My muscles loosened on their own. For a brief moment, the clearing offered a pause I had not known I needed.

Something in this place felt pointed. My presence here did not feel random. The clearing held an awareness, a sense that it had expected me.

Still, nothing jumped out. No voice from the clouds. No enemies. Just the moment itself.

I let it linger long enough that the stillness almost felt earned.

Then I said it. “Status Window.”

A blue screen rippled into existence. It made almost no sound, just a soft tone as it settled in the air, glowing faintly, waiting for input.

________________________________________

PLAYER STATUS

WEAPONS

AMMO

DEFENSIVE ITEMS

APPAREL

SKILLS

ACCESSORIES

MONETARY ITEMS

MAPS

TOOLS/ITEMS

MESSAGES

FRIENDS

ONLINE STORE

GUIDELINES

________________________________________

There was a lot. A list you’d find on a website that made you instantly regret opening too many tabs. Each one pulsed faintly, a steady beat that suggested it had been waiting for my hand to settle on it.

One of them flashed. Just enough to be annoying.

Messages.

Of course. The blinking tab always won.

I tapped it.

A second later, a new window unfolded.

________________________________________

Welcome From The System

________________________________________

I leaned in, squinting at the text. The font was way too small for how fancy this game pretended to be. No scaling. No contrast options. Clearly, accessibility was not part of the dev roadmap.

Let’s see what kind of awkward welcome this world thought I deserved.

I tapped to open.

________________________________________

Welcome Aoi Player Akira Sakamoto. Here Are Your Marksman Offensive And Defensive Abilities. Good Luck With Your Quest.

SUBCLASS: GUNNER

OFFENSIVE ABILITIES:

·       Bullet Barrage: Unleashes a rapid barrage of bullets, saturating the battlefield with gunfire and shredding through enemy defenses.

·       Explosive Rounds: Loads ammunition infused with explosive magic, causing bullets to detonate on impact and deal area damage.

DEFENSIVE ABILITIES:

·       Cover Fire: Provides suppressing fire to cover allies, reducing incoming damage and drawing enemy attention away from vulnerable teammates

________________________________________

I could not stop the grin. This was it. My powers. My class. That spark where everything shifted.

“Let’s go,” I breathed out, jabbing at the Weapons tab.

I was ready for the big reveal. A sleek rifle with weight behind it. Maybe something custom-forged with digital etchings still glowing from the last fight. Something that fit.

But the screen? Blank.

“What?”

For a moment, my thoughts slipped apart. I patted down my pockets in a quick sweep, hoping for a forgotten weapon or some hidden starter gift. My hands met nothing but fabric and disappointment. Everything sat empty, the same way my optimism had thinned to a thread.

Nothing.

I glanced around the clearing. No loot crate waiting to be claimed. No weapon drop. Just trees, and the faint sound of birds far away, doing nothing to help.

Maybe it was a bug. Or the system was lagging, still loading.

I backed out and tapped Defensive Items.

Still nothing.

The tension in my chest tightened until it pressed against my ribs. Panic had not taken hold, though its shadow crept close. The quiet deepened and gathered in the trees around me, an unseen presence drawing closer, patient in its approach. It gave the sense of a step already missed and a consequence waiting for its cue.

I forced myself to focus. No spiraling. Just keep moving.

Apparel next.

A flicker. Something actually appeared.

A set of clothes. Functional. Neutral tones. Not heroic, but at least real.

“Alright,” I muttered, scrolling through the interface.

Guess I should get dressed before whatever kills me shows up.

________________________________________

Ranger Outfit (Rare)

Physical Defense: Five Percent

Description: Can warm you during the night. Auto-clean from any stains. Auto dry. Auto repair.

________________________________________

One tap and my school uniform faded out of existence. Not torn or burned away. Just gone.
In its place, the Ranger outfit gathered itself around me, piece by piece. The fabric shimmered for a breath and settled against my skin with an odd certainty that suggested it already understood where it belonged.

I lifted a hand and brushed my fingers across the cloak resting on my shoulders. Deep green. Dense and smooth, with a quiet strength woven through every thread. Nothing delicate. Nothing ornamental. The material promised protection from wind, blades, or anything else that meant trouble.

Underneath, the leather tunic fit close, secure but not stiff. There was structure, but no resistance when I moved. Whoever designed this knew I would be running, ducking, maybe bleeding.

I shifted my stance and the boots moved with me. Soft where softness mattered, firm where support was needed. No squeak. No complaint.

My old uniform folded itself away into the Apparel without a fight.

I nodded, half to myself.

Okay. Wardrobe system approved.

Back to the screen.

I tapped Guidelines and got hit with a scroll of text wide enough to wrap around a small planet. Blocks of instructions dropped into place. Rules. Mechanics. Consequences.

The first page explained how to avoid dying right away. The next covered combat, enemy types, and weak points. Then came quest tiers, ranking systems, and prestige rewards.

I skimmed. Faster than I should have. There was too much, but also not enough. None of it answered the questions hiding under my breath.

I flicked through the rest. Accessories. Friends. Tools/Items.

Empty.

My eye twitched.

A dull ache gathered behind my jaw, the kind that formed when patience held itself in a rigid stance for far too long.

Fine. Let’s try Skills. Last shot before I started throwing punches at trees.

The screen refreshed with a clean list.

________________________________________

SKILLS IN USE: 1

PASSIVE SKILL: 1

Status Sight: Level 1

(Able To See Player And Monster’s Info. Able To See Item Info The Player Possesses.)

SPECIAL SKILL: None

________________________________________

I scanned through it slowly, reading and rereading.

So, no cooldowns for passive skills. Always active. Easy enough.

Special ones? That was the tricky part. Locked to five. Every time I swapped one, I was benched for twenty-four hours.

I exhaled through my nose.

“Yeah. That feels fair,” I said flatly, hearing the sarcasm in my own voice.

One misstep, and I was stuck.

This was not a game that wanted me to experiment. It wanted me to commit. Think long, suffer longer.

But Status Sight? That was a win. Seeing enemy level, description, gear details? That was intel most players would kill for.

I bounced my foot lightly on the ground, moss pressing up against the sole. My thoughts scattered, jumping through trees of possibilities. Skill builds, loadouts, leveling curves. The crunch was warbling low in the back of my brain now, and I was not even trying to stop it.

I flicked back to the main menu and hit Online Store.

If there was a newbie pack hiding somewhere, I would cash in.

I needed weapons. Gear. A miracle, preferably.

The screen brightened. Then it froze, just for a breath. A message loaded into the center, floating in soft white.

________________________________________

Items Will Become Available As You Level Up.

________________________________________

“Another letdown,” I shook my head. “This place really knows how to keep expectations low.”

Still refusing to back off, I slipped into the Ammo tab. My fingers moved with the eagerness of someone reaching for buried treasure.

And there it was. A single item.

________________________________________

AMMO:

Phrase to load or reload your ammo to your current weapon: Sōten

·       Well-sphere ISHI (Available in Online Store)

QTY: 20

________________________________________

My brows pinched together as the screen finished loading.

Ishi?

I rolled my shoulders and mumbled, “Just try the command, Kira.”

I cleared my throat. Quiet this time. Almost like I was worried the trees would criticize me for saying it out loud.

“Sōten.”

Something dropped into my right hand with a faint fwip. No sparks. No smoke. A solid form settled into my palm, the world having placed it there and stepped away.

I glanced down.

“… Is this a joke?”

Sitting in my palm was a rock. That was it. A clean, round lump of stone. Smooth edges. Symmetrical in a way nature usually avoided. Maybe the size of a jawbreaker. Definitely not ammunition. Definitely not comforting.

I turned it over slowly. It pressed into the crease of my hand, a quiet reminder of how pitiful this moment had become.

Several long seconds passed in silence. Something in me gave way.

I tipped my head back and faced the sky. “You want me to throw this at my opponent? Really?”

I spoke loud enough for any listening force to feel the embarrassment it refused to show.

The silence refused to share the joke. The forest answered instead. A shift in the undergrowth. A breath that was not mine.

I went still. Every sense stretched thin.

My grip closed around the rock. It sat in my palm with all the force of a last resort, and I clung to the idea that it might save me. That belief did not shape the truth, but it filled the moment anyway.

“Who’s there?” I called out, louder than I meant to.

Trying for brave, landing somewhere in “please don’t.”

Branches moved, and something stepped out from the trees.

I took a step back before I even realized it.

It was small. Four feet, maybe. Thin arms. Sharp elbows. Something dragged from a nightmare, unfinished, abandoned by its maker or lost to madness.

Its skin was rough and uneven, green as moss but blotched and unnatural. It borrowed traits from reptiles and bruises, stitched into one form.

The ears twitched constantly. It sniffed the air, slow and hungry. Its breathing twisted in a way that indicated it had already tasted me. Hair, or what remained of it, sprouted in tufts. No order. Only patches clinging to skin that resisted them.

My mind kept trying to assign it a name. Goblin, maybe. But nothing stuck. It did not fit into any of the old fantasy tropes. It just existed, too real and too close.

Then it smiled.

Not friendly. Not curious. Its teeth were jagged and wrong. Yellowed, crooked, sharp in that irregular way that suggested it had used them before. On things that fought back.

The eyes were worse, two tiny black beads locked straight onto mine. There was focus there. Not wild instinct, not dumb aggression. Awareness. It was reading me.

I looked around, quick. No openings. Trees. Shadows. Silence that suddenly felt like it was leaning in.

Just me. One rock. And a creature that had clearly done this before, hunting those who had pleaded.

I inhaled once.

“Back off,” I said, forcing hardness into my voice. No clue if it registered. My throat burned, and the words felt borrowed, foreign in my mouth.

I shifted my stance. Feet apart. Slight crouch. It was muscle memory from some training video I never really watched. Useless. Still, it was something.

The creature tilted its head. It was not scared.

You’ve ever see your own death queued up in real time? Yeah, that was me right then.

That was where the episode ended. Right before the music kicked in and everything went dark. Except this was not anime. There was no “next time.” Just that thing in front of me, and me, pretending I was not half-dead from panic.

I locked eyes with it. If I was going down, it was not getting a clean kill.