Cade trudged through the underbrush, boots sinking slightly into the damp moss with every step. The party had moved inland from the landing site, avoiding the lowest, slickest stretches of terrain where brackish pools reflected the sky.

  The landscape reminded him less of the Everglades and more like a Louisiana cypress swamp that someone had fed mana until it bloated with magic. Towering trunks jutted skyward like pillars, their bark veined with soft luminescence. Some trees had roots thick enough to walk across, forming twisted causeways over the boggier patches. Others drooped with heavy moss that glowed faintly in the shade.

  It would’ve been beautiful, if it hadn’t felt like the forest was watching them.

  Cade stepped over a gnarled root and broke the silence. “Okay, I’ve gotta ask. Why are you all so calm about this?”

  The group turned slightly, but none of them stopped walking.

  Amanda was the first to respond. “We already went through the initiation, didn’t you?”

  Cade raised a brow. “Initiation?”

  “When the core formed,” Professor Sanders added. “It wasn’t just a physical implantation. There was… for lack of a better term, information. Data, compressed and uploaded into our minds. Fast, overwhelming. Like having a book jammed into your brain and forced open all at once.”

  Amanda nodded. “Same thing happened when I chose my class. It wasn’t just names and labels—it felt like instinctual knowledge. I knew what the System was. I knew this Tutorial was real. There wasn’t really room for disbelief.”

  “Huh,” Cade muttered.

  He didn’t have a System core or a class. He’d been tossed into this place raw, eyes wide and clueless. But now, he wasn’t sure if that was a disadvantage or a kind of freedom.

  Is that mind control? Cade wondered. Or just forced acceptance?

  He couldn’t decide if he was disturbed or envious. He’d accepted the situation almost instantly—but that was because he’d wanted this. Secretly, selfishly, for years. Not just magic, but the premise of it all. The escape. The chance to do more than his old world had allowed.

  But now that it was real?

  He wasn’t so sure anymore.

  “Did the knowledge come with any side effects?” he asked, casually. “Emotional shifts? Compulsion? Changes in perspective?”

  Professor Sanders gave him a sidelong glance. “Not that I noticed.”

  Nadean flashed a grin. “No weird side effects here but I wouldn’t say no to an upgrade to my charm.”

  They kept walking, weaving through a patch of tall reeds that gave off a faint, cinnamon-sweet aroma. Somewhere in the distance, something let out a deep, throaty bloop.

  Cade kicked at a mushroom the size of a dinner plate, half-submerged in the mud. “Alright. Since y’all have classes, what kind of skills did you guys get with your classes?”

  The group slowed as the ground began to rise, forming a natural ridge where the mud gave way to firmer soil. The air grew cooler, less choked by humidity. Amanda swatted at a glowing insect the size of a hummingbird while Nadean jumped lightly between exposed roots ahead of them, balancing like she was born to move through uneven terrain.

  “Well?” Cade prompted again. “Don’t tell me the System gave you all those fancy classes without at least tossing in some starter abilities.”

  Nadean was the first to respond, flashing him a grin over her shoulder. “I got two. One active, one passive. The passive says it makes me less noticeable.”

  “Less noticeable?” Cade asked. “Like camouflage?”

  “Not exactly,” she said, tilting her head. “It doesn’t make me invisible or anything. I just feel quieter. It’s weird and I’m not quite sure how it works yet.”

  “Sounds like stealth,” Sasesh muttered. “Every cliché rogue has a stealth ability.”

  Nadean ignored him. “The active skill is [Exploit Opening]. It’s supposed to hit weak points for extra damage, but it doesn’t explain how I find those weak points. Guess I’ll have to practice.”

  Cade nodded. “Makes sense. Games usually hide that kind of thing. Probably the same here or something similar.”

  Amanda cleared her throat softly. “Mine’s a little simpler. My active skill is [Restoration Touch]. I can heal wounds, but I have to be in physical contact. My passive skill is [Purifying Presence]. It increases resistance to diseases for me and anyone I choose that is nearby.”

  Cade’s eyebrows lifted. “So, like, an aura?”

  “I’m not sure,” Amanda admitted. “The System didn’t specify. I’ll need to test it somehow.”

  An aura-based buff would be huge, Cade thought. Continuous protection with minimal effort for the one using it. That’s the kind of passive you build teams around and it’ll only get better as she levels up.

  He kept the thought to himself, though—no need to start sounding like an obsessed gamer five minutes into the apocalypse.

  Professor Sanders was next. “I received a passive skill called [Methodical Precision]. When I repeat an process under similar conditions, the variance decreases and my results become more reliable.”

  “That sounds pretty overpowered,” Cade said. “I wonder if it's exponential or additive, either way any improvement through repetition has to be strong.”

  The professor gave a modest shrug. “I’m sure there are reasonable limits, yes. As for my active ability—[Analyze]. It lets me study an object, creature, or process in depth. The longer I maintain focus, the more information I obtain.”

  Cade blinked. “Is that like an inspection skill?”

  Professor Sanders nodded. “Yes, though [Inspect] is a separate, more general ability. [Analyze] is more involved—it provides structure, composition, potential applications, even weaknesses if it’s biological. But it takes time.”

  “You got three skills?” Cade asked, half joking. “Starting to sound unfair.”

  Amanda smiled faintly. “I have [Inspect] too.”

  “Same here,” Nadean said.

  Sasesh raised a hand lazily. “Yeah, me too. Seems like a default.”

  Cade exhaled. “Makes sense. The System probably gives everyone with a Core the skill by default. New world with unknown lifeforms—it’d be a mess if people couldn’t tell what was safe to touch or eat.”

  “Or what might eat us,” Amanda murmured.

  Nadean’s grin faded slightly. “Fair point.”

  Cade looked toward Sasesh, who had been uncharacteristically quiet. “Alright, your turn, Gravity Man.”

  Sasesh shot him a flat look. “You really want to know?”

  Cade smirked. “Come on, you were bragging earlier. Don’t clam up now. You’ve got a rare class—let’s hear the goods.”

  Nadean crossed her arms and nodded encouragingly. Even Professor Sanders looked curious. Amanda stayed silent, watching Sasesh with patient interest.

  Sasesh sighed. “Fine. My passive skill is [Gravity Veil]. It lets me modify my personal gravity to be lighter or heavier.”

  Cade blinked. “That explains why you landed last.”

  Sasesh tilted his chin slightly. “Exactly.”

  “And what about your active skill?” Professor Sanders asked.

  Sasesh hesitated. “It’s called [Earthen Shift]. It moves dirt. Not exactly thrilling.”

  “That’s it?” Nadean asked incredulously. “You can move dirt?”

  He shrugged. “That’s what it says.”

  Cade grinned. “Come on, that’s still huge. You could dig trenches, make walls, maybe even build a house. Sounds perfect for survival.”

  Sasesh waved him off. “It’s not that cool. It says it costs a lot of mana.”

  “Still,” Cade said, “you’ve got a rare class. That skill probably scales like crazy. You should practice. See how it goes.”

  Amanda nodded. “I agree. We should all test our skills before we actually need them.”

  “Yeah,” Nadean said. “Show us what it can do.”

  Sasesh stared at the group, clearly debating whether it was worth it. Then, with a sigh that sounded more like a theatrical groan, he drew his wand.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Fine,” he muttered. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  He flicked the wand toward a raised bank of earth a few meters away. The air shifted—Cade could feel it, a subtle static that made the fine hairs on his arms stand up. The wand’s tip glowed faintly yellow. Then the ground bulged, slow at first, then faster, until a five-foot dome of compacted soil stood before them, smooth and solid.

  The group stared.

  Cade’s eyes widened. “You call that boring?”

  Sasesh looked mildly annoyed by the awe. “It’s just dirt.”

  “Yeah,” Cade said softly, “but you moved it. You shaped it with your mind. That’s not boring—that’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Professor Sanders crouched near the mound, running a hand along the surface. “Fascinating. The soil’s been compressed but retains internal cohesion. The structure’s stable, not just displaced.”

  Sasesh crossed his arms. “And it burned a third of my mana. So yeah—cool, but expensive.”

  “Still,” Cade said, “you’ll get better with use. You could build us a shelter if we can’t find one before dark.”

  Sasesh said nothing, but Cade caught the faintest flicker of pride behind his calm expression. He didn’t look drained. Not even winded. Which made Cade wonder if he was bluffing about the mana cost—or if the effects just weren’t visible.

  Before he could ask, Nadean froze mid-step.

  “Wait,” she hissed, raising a hand.

  The others went still.

  Her eyes darted toward the dirt mound. The faint hum of insects dimmed. For a long heartbeat, the forest held its breath.

  Then came a scrape—low and heavy—from beneath the mound.

  Cade’s pulse spiked. “Uh tell me that was just the dirt settling.”

  Nadean shook her head. “That wasn’t settling.”

  The earthen dome cracked with a dull snap, and a sudden bulge formed in the center of the mound. Everyone stepped back just before the mound erupted.

  A geyser of mud sprayed outward as something tore through the packed earth. A massive creature—like a crayfish, but hideously oversized—thrashed free from the dome’s collapsing lip. It landed with a wet thud, lacquered carapace glistening in hues of rust-brown and deep red. The body was over a meter long, armored in a hardened shell. One of its claws was disproportionately large—easily the size of Cade’s torso—while the other was smaller, twitching rhythmically. Its eyes, beady and black, swiveled rapidly atop pale stalks.

  The tail flicked up and fanned, launching a spray of stinking wet mud into the party.

  Cade stumbled back, shielding his face with an arm as he fought back the urge to panic.

  “What the hell is that!?” Cade yelled.

  “Juvenile Mudburrow Crayfish—Level 1!” Professor Sanders shouted, his eyes clearly focused on a screen in front of him that none of them could see. “Give me a few seconds to [Analyze]!”

  They didn’t have a few seconds.

  The crayfish surged forward, claws raised—and it was fast. Much faster than its bulk suggested. It scuttled toward Amanda, who was closest, legs snapping in rapid percussion over the mud-slick roots.

  Amanda froze, wide-eyed.

  No no no—

  Cade moved before thinking. He lunged for the nearest thing he could grab—a thick, rotted branch half-buried in the muck. He wrenched it free, the bark soggy in his grip. In the same motion he sprinted between Amanda and the incoming crustacean and swung the branch.

  The crayfish raised its massive right claw, ripped the branch from Cade’s hands, and flung it in Amanda’s direction.

  The branch hit Amanda square in the chest and she shrieked and fell back hard from the impact.

  Then a blur from the left.

  It was Nadean.

  She was in motion, silent and low. Her twin daggers flashed in the light, slicing toward the creature’s side—its attention entirely fixed on Cade.

  Its gaze hadn’t tracked her at all.

  Her passive made the crayfish ignore her, Cade realized.

  She struck, one blade aiming for the creature’s eyestalk. A shimmer pulsed through her arm as the strike shifted, subtly corrected by some invisible guide. It hit the base of the stalk—but only a shallow cut.

  The crayfish shrieked—if a thing like that could shriek— and flailed. Its tail swept, dragging a spray of sludge in a wide arc. Nadean ducked and rolled, mud streaking across her armor.

  Amanda scrambled back onto her feet and pressed a hand against her own chest. A soft green glow flared from her palm as her breathing steadied.

  Cade watched, stunned. She just healed herself.

  “Burrow ambusher!” Professor Sanders called. “Lateral mobility is limited on firm terrain. Weak points under the tail and leg joints. The right claw is its main weapon—don’t let it hit you!”

  “Thanks for the warning!” Cade shouted back.

  Sasesh, still a few steps back, raised his wand. The air shimmered—Cade could feel it again, the weight of the atmosphere shifted subtly. The dirt under the crayfish heaved, forming small mounds—micro-berms that boxed the creature in.

  Its legs scrambled for traction, but the uneven terrain slowed it just enough.

  Nadean capitalized.

  Her left dagger slashed across the rear leg joint. A clean, deep cut. The limb spasmed and gave out. The creature’s balance shifted awkwardly, and it sagged to one side.

  It thrashed in response, but couldn’t immediately regain its footing.

  “Flip it!” Professor Sanders shouted. “The gill plates are underneath. The exposed soft tissue is a weak point”

  Sasesh narrowed his eyes, flicked his wand again.

  Part of the dome he’d created earlier slumped, collapsing at an angle. With a flick of his wrist, the slanted wall of mud pushed against the crayfish’s midsection like a crude lever. The creature’s legs slipped, lost leverage—and it tipped, landing heavily on its side.

  Mud splattered all over Cade.

  Nadean dashed forward.

  Her daggers flashed again—quick, clean, and precise—driving straight into the narrow slits just behind the gill plates.

  The crayfish convulsed once, then stilled.

  Silence settled over the clearing. Cade’s ears rang with leftover adrenaline.

  Then—

  Ding!

  You have assisted in defeating [Juvenile Mudburrow Crayfish – Level 1].

  Shared experience awarded based on contribution.

  Another message followed immediately:

  Race: [Human – (H)] has reached Level 1.

  +1 to all stats.

  A soft glow passed through Cade’s chest, and for a moment he just stood there, blinking at the notification.

  “Did—did anyone else level up?” he asked, looking around.

  Nadean raised a hand with a grin. “Yep. Got a Class level and a Race level.”

  Amanda nodded. “Same here. One each.”

  Professor Sanders adjusted his glasses. “Indeed. Class and Race both advanced to Level 1.”

  Sasesh let out a bored-sounding sigh. “Yeah, yeah. Ding, ding, congrats to all of us.”

  Cade stared at them, confused. “So we all got experience from that? Even me?”

  “You did step between Amanda and the creature,” Professor Sanders said thoughtfully. “That act of distraction likely registered as contribution. The System may use a broader definition of impact than expected. Shared XP distribution implies all participants added value—direct or indirect.”

  Sasesh snorted. “Or it just gave out participation trophies.”

  Cade gave him a flat look.

  “And you nearly took Amanda out with that tree branch,” Sasesh muttered.

  “Still,” Professor Sanders interjected, his tone mild but firm, “the point remains: if the System awards shared experience, then it's tracking more than just damage dealt. That’s worth studying.”

  Amanda stepped closer, wiping a smudge of mud from her cheek. “Well that was intense.”

  Nadean cleaned her daggers with a leaf, grinning. “Are you kidding? That was awesome. First fight, and no one died. I call that a win.”

  Cade flexed his fingers. “You were amazing. All of you.”

  “You didn’t do too badly,” Amanda said. “You distracted it.”

  “I hate to admit it but Sasesh is right. Amanda, you were hurt because of my actions.”

  “That overgrown lobster was coming straight for me, who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t distracted it,” she replied. “And besides, I had the chance to use my healing skill and I’m basically fine now.”

  Cade opened his mouth to argue, then stopped.

  Her words echoed in his head and not just the reassurance. I had the chance to use my healing skill.

  A thread connected.

  Nadean used her stealth and [Exploit Opening] to hit the crayfish’s weak points.

  Professor Sanders used [Analyze] to find those weak points in the first place.

  Sasesh shaped the terrain and flipped the damn thing over like it was nothing.

  All of them had done exactly what their classes were designed to do.

  And the System had rewarded that.

  Increase your Tutorial Score by performing actions aligned with your Class or Profession.

  That line from the System’s first message came back to him now, clear as a bell.

  They hadn’t just survived. They had demonstrated their roles and been rewarded for their effort.

  That must’ve been what triggered their Class and Profession levels.

  Meanwhile, Cade hadn’t done any of that. He hadn’t healed, analyzed, ambushed, or cast a spell. He hadn’t done anything class-specific because—well—he didn’t have one.

  But the Race level?

  That was different. He’d still received that. He’d contributed, however slightly. And that meant everyone got shared experience from the creature’s death. Race progression, maybe, was more about presence and engagement—while Class and Profession progression came from action, from fulfilling the expected purpose.

  He rubbed his jaw, glancing between the others.

  “Guys,” he said slowly, “I think I get it. Why y’all got Class levels.”

  Nadean raised a brow. “Because we’re amazing?”

  “Besides that,” Cade said. “You each did something that lines up with your class or profession. Amanda healed. Professor Sanders analyzed the creature. You found weak points and struck. And Sasesh used terrain control to literally tip the fight.”

  “So?” Sasesh said, folding his arms.

  “So,” Cade continued, “that’s exactly what the System told us, well you, to do—to increase your Tutorial Score by performing actions aligned with your Class or Profession. That’s probably what triggered your level ups.”

  Amanda’s brow furrowed. “You think our actions contributed directly to Class experience?”

  Cade nodded. “Yeah. The crayfish death gave shared experience, which explains the Race level. But the rest? It wasn’t just about killing the thing. You each did your job—and the System noticed.”

  Professor Sanders gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “That would align with what we've observed so far. Targeted action, class-aligned execution. It stands to reason that the System is behaviorally reinforcing the function we each chose.”

  Nadean tilted her head, thoughtful. “So we get stronger by doing what we’re meant to do?”

  Sasesh shrugged. “So long as that means I can eventually toss boulders, sure.”

  Cade stayed quiet for a beat, chewing the inside of his cheek.

  There was no “job” for him. No class. No profession. No role to fulfill.

  Just… survive and hope he’ll earn one eventually.

  But another thought surfaced. Does it only count in combat?

  Did Amanda have to heal under pressure? Did Professor Sanders need danger to analyze? Could Sasesh and Nadean earn progress just by training or using their abilities outside of a fight?

  He was still turning that over when a voice broke through his thoughts.

  “Hey,” Sasesh called from near the crayfish’s corpse, “looks like we got more than XP.”

  Cade blinked, pulled back to the present. “What do you mean?”

  Sasesh crouched beside the broken carapace, nudging aside a thick layer of muck with the tip of his wand. Something clinked.

  “Loot.”