Dave stood a few feet behind, gripping a bloodied length of PVC pipe like a club. His torn shirt and scraped knuckles told their own story, but he stood steady.
Bob had sent them to help the people in the campgrounds. They had helped that crazy man with the frying pan kill the chipmunks attacking him and his family. How had he repaid them? By hitting Dave with the frying pan.
They couldn’t communicate. He didn’t speak English. They finally got him and his family to the restroom and left him with Jill and Alice. Now they were out looking for any others they could help.
George exhaled and shook his head. “Empty.”
Dave pointed toward the trees near the east picnic area. “I think I saw some movement back there, near the fire ring.”
They moved quickly, staying low. The acrid stench of burned plastic and blood hung thick in the air. A distant scream echoed faint, but urgent.
Passing a scorched tent, they heard a low growl, then a sharp, desperate cry. “Help! Someone Please!”
George broke into a sprint, weaving around a crumbling fire pit and past a turned over picnic table.
There. Two teenagers, maybe eighteen, crouched behind an overturned bench, shielding a younger girl between them. Her leg was a mess—skin torn, blood soaking through her ripped jeans.
A monstrous chipmunk crouched just feet away, its oversized body twitching with cruel anticipation, teeth chattering. It was toying with them.
“Hey!” George barked. “Over here, asshole!”
The creature snapped its head toward him with an unnatural twist of its neck, black eyes locking onto him like it understood the insult. It shrieked and charged.
George didn’t wait. He raised both fire pokers, feet wide, weapons angled low. The chipmunk barreled toward him, low and disturbingly fast.
“Get the kids and run!” he shouted at Dave.
An impact came a heartbeat later. George swung hard, his left poker met fur and muscle with a sickening crunch. The blow didn’t slow the beast and its claws raked across his forearm as it used his arm to spring into him, causing his right fire poker to soar high, missing the chipmunk.
The impact caused a system message to flash in George’s eyes.
DAMAGE RECEIVED
HEALTH -12
This distraction made him trip on the broken tent poles on the ground. George hit the ground hard, a fire poker skidding from his grasp.
The chipmunk twisted, readying to leap back at the girls as they tried to follow Dave. Its eyes locked on the wounded girl he was helping.
“No you don’t!” George shouted.
Dave heard George and turned, swinging the PVC pipe like a bat and striking the rodent square in the ribs as it leaped at them. A sickening crack echoed through the air. The chipmunk howled and twisted, claws flashing but was pushed into a tent.
George pushed himself up, gripping his remaining fire poker with both hands. But wasn’t able to help as the chipmunk came flying out of the tent and slammed into Dave’s chest.
“Dave!” he shouted.
Dave grunted, holding the chipmunk back with one arm as it snapped inches from his face. “Kind of busy!”
George surged forward, vision narrowing. With a roar, he slashed the poker diagonally across the creature’s back.
The chipmunk shrieked once, then collapsed—twitching violently before going still.
System screens blinked into view. George glanced at them, smiling at the results:
NEW SKILL LEARNED: DUAL WIELDING (RANK 0)
YOU HAVE TAKEN YOUR FIRST STEPS TOWARD MASTERING THE ART OF WIELDING TWO WEAPONS AT ONCE. YOUR COORDINATION, BALANCE, AND FEROCITY WILL SET YOU APART—IF YOU CAN SURVIVE THE LEARNING CURVE. SKILL BASED ON DEXTERITY STAT.
LEVEL 1 CHIPMUNK KILLED
EXPERIENCE GAINED
CREDITS EARNED: +10
Dave shoved the creature off with a grunt and rolled onto his side, gasping. “Thanks,” he panted. “That thing was… heavy.”
George offered a hand. “You good?”
Dave nodded, shaky but upright. “Yeah. Just scratched.” He winced. “A lot.”
They turned toward the teens. The older girl knelt beside the younger one, who lay pale and limp, blood soaking steadily through her shredded jeans.
“She needs help. Bad,” the older girl whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”
George crouched beside them. “Can you grab something for a bandage? We’ll probably need a tourniquet.” He glanced at the wound, voice gentle but firm. “We’re taking her to the restrooms.”
The girl nodded, tears in her eyes. “But she can’t walk.”
“We’ll carry her,” George said, glancing at Dave.
“No problem,” Dave replied, crouching as he held out a strip of cloth.
Together, they wrapped the wound, then lifted the injured girl. George lifted her legs and Dave grabbed her under her arms. The older two followed, wide-eyed and silent.
They moved quickly through the wreckage, hearts pounding, but no more monsters emerged.
The restroom building came into view, its blocky silhouette rising like a fortress in the smoky twilight. An unknown soft golden glow flickered in the doorway as they approached.
Relief hit George like a crashing wave when they arrived.
Alice stood by the door as they neared, ushering them inside. “Is she injured?”
George nodded. “Bad. I don’t think she will make it.”
Tami was already moving. “Bring her here.”
They laid the girl gently on a pile of sleeping bags as Tami pressed her glowing hands to the wound. The bleeding slowed. The girl’s breathing steadied.
George leaned against the wall and exhaled, sweat running down his back. His mouth hung open as he watched.
Light, real light, pulsed from Tami’s palms in soft waves, wrapping the wound like liquid gold. Flesh knitted together before their eyes. The bleeding stopped. The girl’s chest rose evenly. Her eyes fluttered but didn’t open.
Dave stared, eyes wide. “What the…?”
“I know,” George said quietly, voice catching. “I saw it too.”
“That’s… magic.”
Tami didn’t look up. Her hands stayed steady, glowing a moment longer before dimming. “It’s called ,” she murmured. “I picked it as my first class skill.”
“Well, it works,” Dave said, kneeling beside the girl. “She was fading.” Dave checked her pulse. “Now she’s breathing steady.”
George swallowed, his throat dry. “She was screwed. She needed a hospital…” Pausing, he stared at Tami. “But we have a healer?”
Tami finally looked up. Her face was pale, exhaustion etched deep on her face but in her eyes was something steadier. Resolve. Or maybe shock.
“I didn’t want to fight,” she said softly. “I still don’t. But I can do this. People need it.”
“You’re right they do,” Dave said. “You just saved her life.”
George nodded slowly. “You’re a cleric. Like, an actual cleric.”
“I guess so,” Tami whispered.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Distant battle sounds echoed faintly through the campground, but inside the restroom, the air felt heavy—almost sacred.
Then Dave let out a long breath and shook his head. “Alright. We’ve got a healer. Weapons. George yelling at squirrels. Maybe we survive this after all.”
George chuckled tiredly and clapped Dave on the shoulder. “One miracle at a time.”
Then Bob limped in, bloody clothes and sledgehammer in hand.
Silence. All eyes focused on him.
Bob’s voice cut through the room. “We’re not done.”
The heavy silence lingered a moment longer after Bob’s words, the weight of unfinished business settling over them all. Outside, the distant echoes of chaos still rattled the air, a reminder that danger hadn’t vanished, only paused.
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Bob rubbed the back of his neck, wincing as pain flared in his leg. He glanced around at the weary faces crowded into the cramped restroom building. The survivors, the fighters, the ones who had made it this far.
“We can’t just sit here waiting,” Bob said, his voice steady despite the ache. “There may be more people out there who are injured, scared, or maybe worse. We need to find them. Bring them here, somewhere safe.” Locking eyes with Tami. “Tami, can you help more wounded if we bring them in?”
Tami looked tired as she nodded and turned to help settle the teenage girl that she had just healed.
Bob met George’s gaze then Dave’s. Each nodded silently. Around the room, others began to stir a quiet resolve spreading like sparks catching dry grass.
“Alright,” Bob continued, drawing a breath. “We’re going to split into teams. Sweep the campground and the nearby woods. Look for survivors. Bring everyone back here. No one gets left behind.”
Tami looked up and met Bob’s eyes. For the first time, a flicker of determination shone through her exhaustion. “I’ll be ready,” she said softly.
Bob looked over the gathered group. “Weapons ready. Stay sharp. Keep close. Move fast, but be careful.”
He stood straighter, ignoring the throb in his leg. “Let’s do this.”
They headed out of the cabin and broke into groups of three or four, slipping out into the smoke, eyes sharp for movement, ears straining for cries in the distance.
They disappeared between tents and shattered campsites calling out for anyone who could hear. Weapons drawn and wary of what they might find. The mission was clear: find anyone still alive and bring them back.
Bob stayed behind, watching them vanish. His leg still ached, but it held. Around the restroom building, other survivors huddled in small groups. Most were shell-shocked, silent, waiting for someone to tell them what came next.
Bob knew he should do something or at least say something to comfort them but didn’t know what to do. He decided to walk around the outside of the restroom building to get away from their watchful eyes.
As he was walking, Kent returned, moving briskly but with purpose. His expression was grim.
“We’ve got some survivors,” he said, glancing toward Tami. “They are injured. Where should we put them?”
Tami looked around. “There’s no more room inside.” She pointed to a spot beside the building beneath a few aspen trees. “Put them there.”
Kent nodded and left. He soon returned with his group helping another family. He led them to the spot Tami had indicated and they started getting them settled on the ground.
Tami hesitated, then looked down, her voice so soft that Bob could barely hear it. “I am going to need help. I don’t know how much more I will be able to cast Minor Mend. But I…” She looked at Bob as Kent walked over. “I got a quest. I need to see if I can heal them even if I can’t use my skill.”
Bob and Kent exchanged surprised glances, but before either could respond she shared her quest screen:
QUEST PROGRESS: HEAL THE BROKEN (4/20)
“You got that from helping with my leg?” Bob asked.
“No.” Tami hesitated. “I got it back at the cabin, as soon as the tutorial started. I was going to nursing school before I dropped out. That’s why I chose Cleric. I didn’t say anything earlier. I was embarrassed.”
Bob could see how uncomfortable she was. She’d never mentioned nursing school, and it clearly wasn’t something she liked talking about.
“It doesn’t matter why,” Bob said, putting his hands on her shoulders forcing her to look at him. “If you think you can help these people, then you should try.” He looked at Kent. “Can you give her a hand?”
Kent nodded and walked with Tami to the shaded area where several people lay on the ground. Soon Tami had him hanging sheets between tree branches to create some privacy.
Bob watched for a moment, then sat down nearby to give his leg a rest but close enough to step in if needed. Blake joined him, and together they sat in silence, watching as Tami began working with the injured.
***
Tami walked with Kent, her hands clammy and her steps unsteady.
The injured were gathered beneath a large tree, makeshift blankets spread across the grass. Groans. Shallow breaths. Blood-streaked clothes and pale faces.
Tami froze. Her feet locked in place as if the earth itself had risen to trap her.
Kent turned, catching her eyes—quiet, steady. He gave her a small nod, a silent . She swallowed hard.
“Kent, can you hang sheets between the branches? Just enough to give them some privacy?” She didn’t say it, but the barrier was as much for her as it was for them. Nothing could block out the pain, not the pain in the air, nor the pain in her heart.
A low moan broke through her spiral. A teenage boy lay nearby, clutching his side, blood soaking through a torn hoodie. Tami’s eyes locked onto the boy’s trembling form—then the quest description pulsed again in her mind.
She exhaled slowly, her body shaking.
Her legs moved again. She crouched beside the boy, her breath shallow as she reached out. “Hey,” she said softly. Her voice didn’t shake. “I’m here to help, okay?”
The boy blinked up at her, eyes glassy, lips dry. He didn’t answer but he didn’t pull away either.
Tami placed a hand gently over the wound. She thought about every time she’d bandaged a sibling, comforted a friend, pressed a cold cloth to a fevered head.
The faint golden glow shimmered from her fingertips—warm, subtle. The boy’s breathing began to slow.
MINOR MEND ACTIVATED.
+15 HEALTH
Tami blinked, exhausted.
Okay… okay.
The boy was still bleeding, but noticeably slower. Tami could feel the difference.
She had to wait between uses of her skill. Kent had said it was either a cooldown or she was out of mana. She hadn’t had time to sit down and figure out which. She just knew when she could use the skill again. It was a feeling.
While waiting, Tami started bandaging minor wounds. She even had Kent fetch some clean water and cloth to help clean the injured.
When she used her skill again on the teenage boy, a different prompt appeared.
MINOR MEND RANK +1
MINOR MEND ACTIVATED.
+20 HEALTH
The young boy seemed to have fallen asleep after the second healing, his face calm and peaceful.
QUEST PROGRESS: +1 HEAL THE BROKEN.
EXPERIENCE GAINED
Tami stood and turned toward the next patient, her inner voice quieter now—but steadier.
***
Tami moved quietly among the wounded, her hands glowing faintly as she crouched by each camper. The golden light of her healing skill shimmered in the growing dusk. Bob and Blake sat a short distance away—close enough to react if anything attacked, but far enough not to get in her way.
“Thirty-five credits,” Blake muttered, checking his notifications again. “Same titles as you, but way more credits.”
Bob rubbed his leg where the squirrel had attacked him. “Probably because I didn’t actually do much. You got the kill.”
Blake shot him a sideways glance. “You distracted it. That gave me the opening I needed. Don’t downplay that, it mattered.”
Bob shrugged. He wasn’t convinced.
The two fell into a companionable silence, each quietly replaying the fight in his head. The moment stretched until the rustle of movement drew their attention.
Groups began returning from the sweep. Campers emerged from the trees and shadows in small clusters, families, couples, lone stragglers, faces streaked with ash, clothes torn, eyes hollow. The survivors moved like ghosts, drawn to the restroom building as if it radiated safety. Bob counted at least forty now. All looking at him and his friends to save them.
Blake glanced up, then away, his voice too casual. “How many squirrels and chipmunks do you think we took down?”
George ran a hand through his sweat-matted hair. “Dave and I got a squirrel and two chipmunks. Kent, you got a couple too—maybe more?”
Kent gave a quiet nod in confirmation.
George turned back with a smirk. “Did you guys get any, or did you just trip and injure yourselves for dramatic effect?”
Bob looked down, sheepish. Blake snorted. “We got one,” he said, grinning.
George raised an eyebrow. “There’s a story there, and I’m going to hear it.”
Bob gave him a pleading look, silently begging him to drop it. George did—for now. But Bob knew better. George had a nose for stories and wouldn’t let this one go forever.
“I did get a couple of titles,” George said, his tone turning more thoughtful. “Boosted some stats and unlocked new skills—Running, Dodging… and Dual Wielding.” His fingers flexed slightly, itching to test the skill again.
“Didn’t feel like it made much of a difference mid-fight, though,” he admitted. “Too much chaos.”
That opened the floodgates.
Everyone began comparing notifications and sharing system messages, trying to piece together how it all worked. It turned out everyone had gained something, whether it was a stat bump, a title, or a new skill.
“I got another point in Strength and Vitality,” Bob offered quietly.
“Dexterity and Vitality for me,” Blake added, “plus skills in Running and Daggers.”
“Not bad,” George said, nodding with approval. “We’re all growing. I love the instant sense of accomplishment.”
Dave looked down at his fingers, moving them with new-found ease. “It’s crazy how, as my Dexterity has gone up, I can move in ways I never could before.”
Bob didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what felt worse—that the system was guiding them like game characters… or that it might stop.
After a few more minutes of comparing stats and speculating about the mechanics, Kent suddenly straightened, eyes wide. “There’s a ranking system!”
Heads turned.
“What?” George asked.
“I found it while digging through the menus,” Kent said, already navigating his interface. “I was trying to find mechanics we hadn’t triggered yet, and boom—leaderboards.”
He stepped closer, waving his hands to bring up the system interface in front of him. “It looks like it tracks Power and Wealth.” Kent explained to everyone how to access the Leaderboards.
Bob followed his directions, and sure enough, a new prompt popped up before him:
SECTOR RANKINGS
TO ACCESS THE RANKINGS, YOU MUST ENTER YOUR IDENTITY, WHICH WILL BE DISPLAYED PUBLICLY.
ENTER NAME?
The group murmured, some cautious, others curious.
“Should we use our real names?” Jill asked.
“Why not?” George shrugged. “It’s not like we’re trying to stay anonymous from the squirrels.”
“I already used my go-to gaming name,” Kent said. “Wolf.”
“Of course you did,” Blake muttered, smirking.
Bob hesitated, then without overthinking it, typed: Felix. He followed Kent with his gaming name. It was familiar. Safe.
The leaderboard loaded as soon as he entered the name.
SECTOR RANKINGS
POWER
- WOLF – 559
- BMAX – 332
- GEORGE – 302
- CECIL – 277
- ???? – 274
- ???? – 235
- FELIX – 209
- ???? – 191
- ???? – 167
- BETTY – 155
- BMAX – 332
***
WEALTH
- WOLF – 330
- BMAX – 305
- GEORGE – 265
- ???? – 255
- CECIL – 230
- ???? – 210
- ???? – 210
- ???? – 210
- BETTY – 200
- ???? – 195
- BMAX – 305
***
- FELIX – 101
***
Bob stared at the numbers. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but the gap between Kent—Wolf—and everyone else was jarring.
“Damn, Kent,” Dave muttered, “you’ve been hoarding stats like you’re trying to solo a raid boss.”
“Guess all those ‘try everything’ instincts paid off,” Kent replied with a grin.
Bob didn’t miss his own numbers; seventh in Power, not in the top ten in Wealth. Ten credits somehow translated to 101.
“There’s a third board,” Kent added. “Combined rankings. It looks like it averages your combat strength and resource totals.”
Bob didn’t check it. He already felt behind.
They quickly figured out the question marks were placeholders for people who hadn’t entered a name yet or hadn’t opened the menu. The system showed only the top ten, plus your personal entry if you weren’t listed.
Most of the top five were recognizable.
“Wolf is Kent,” Bob said quietly.
“Bmax’s gotta be Blake,” Jill added.
“Cecil?” George blinked. “Dave, is that you?”
Dave shrugged unapologetically. “It’s my middle name. Don’t judge me.”
“And George… is just George,” Blake said, grinning. “Seriously? You didn’t even try?”
George raised his hands. “Hey, I’m not hiding. Let ‘em know who’s beating them.”
Laughter rippled through the group, brief but welcome relief disguised as banter.
Tami, still working quietly nearby, hadn’t checked hers. Neither had Jill or Alice. None of them were on the boards.
Bob glanced down again at the glowing numbers. He hadn’t realized until now how much this was becoming real. Systems. Stats. Rankings. Whatever they were caught in... they weren’t alone. And they were being watched.