I conclude my very calm, entirely dignified five-minute lecture directed at the rat—and the previous eleven generations of its disgraceful bloodline—with a soft sigh. Truly, I am magnanimous. A lesser being would still be screaming.
The new gashes in the trees around me? Probably bears. Very aggressive, recently emotional bears.
The suspicious boot-shaped dents in the grass, arranged in a pattern that might appear similar to someone stomping in childish fury? Wind. Extremely judgmental wind.
I flick my hair back, mentally deleting the entire event with the smooth efficiency of a professional arsonist wiping fingerprints. It never happened, therefore it cannot be embarrassing.
With my flawless dignity restored, I scan the forest and spot another low branch, perfectly sized for a smug fox girl who has totally not just been emotionally defeated by a rodent. I approach, hop up, and climb without effort. Naturally. Gravity simply respects me more than it respects other people.
Settled comfortably with my tail swishing in a pattern that does not imply irritation—but rather regal atmospheric flourish—I summon my status window.
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Lyn
Health: 100 / 100
Stamina: 132 / 140
Mana: 0 / 0
Race: Foxkin (Level 1 | Tier 0)
Class: Warrior [Common] (Level 1 | Tier 0)
Aspect:
Traits:
Titles:
Stats
Vitality: 10
Strength: 12
Dexterity: 14
Perception: 12
Wisdom: 10
Intelligence: 10
Charisma: 10
Free Points: 2
Class Skills (1/8):
[Slash (Common)]
General Skills (1/8):
[Inspect (Common)]
Racial Skills:
Vulpine Senses
Special Skills:
[Universal Translation]
Tutorial Points: 3
Tutorial Countdown: 49 days, 23 hours, 32 minutes
Skill Selection available
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I nod approvingly. Everything looks normal and expected, especially the part where I have two free points, which I absolutely do not need right now. Hoarding resources is a perfectly valid strategy and definitely not procrastination dressed up as tactical planning. I will save them for later impulse spending.
I focus on the flashing notification.
A new, aggressively cheerful blue panel brightens my vision, like a sales clerk who refuses to acknowledge your “just browsing” face.
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Skill Selection activated
Please choose a Skill
[Dash (Common)] {New Skill}
A fundamental movement skill for physical combatants.
(Active) Dash forward rapidly at the cost of Stamina.
Scales with Dexterity.
[Poke (Common)] {New Skill}
A simple thrusting technique refined through the defeat of a fearsome enemy.
(Active) Lunge forward and strike a single target for increased damage at the cost of Stamina.
Scales with Dexterity.
[Lesser Constitution (Common)] {New Skill}
A basic durability enhancement Skill.
(Passive) Increases maximum Health by 10%.
[Lesser Strength (Common)] {New Skill}
A basic physical power enhancement Skill.
(Passive) Increases striking power by 10%.
[Lesser Dexterity (Common)] {New Skill}
A basic agility enhancement Skill.
(Passive) Increases movement speed by 10%
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I narrow my eyes.
"Fearsome enemy."
I have absolutely no memory of defeating someone worthy of such a title. The system must be confused. A clear bug. A mistake. A cosmic glitch.
Certainly not referring to a rat.
…any rat.
Moving on swiftly before reality catches up to me, I skim the list. Some options are practical. Others are dull. One is… insulting.
But the correct choice is obvious.
Speed is key.
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Skill Selection confirmed.
You have gained the Class skill [Lesser Dexterity (Common)].
Skill has been automatically placed into an open slot.
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With a dismissive flick of my hand, the notification vanishes. I slide off the branch and land lightly on the grass, zero knee bend, full superhero energy. I nod once, satisfied.
Ten points for the landing.
…
My knees hurt.
A small, noble sacrifice. Greatness demands pain. Style, doubly so.
Carrying this profound wisdom like a monk from a very fashionable temple, I resume my journey. My body leans forward and I sprint full speed down the narrow forest path. My hair streams behind me like a flag on a particularly windy day, and my ears pivot and twitch, searching for threats, adventure, or, preferably, something I can stab dramatically.
Minutes pass. No screams, no monsters, no terrified villagers begging for protection.
Boring.
Then the system inserts itself into my view like a passive-aggressive coworker with paperwork.
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You have gained the general skill [Running (Common)]
Skill has been automatically placed into an open slot
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“Huh.” I murmur, tilting my head.
I summon my status and inspect the newest addition.
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[Running (Common)]
Unlocked by running 1 km without stopping, or 4 km total within a single day.
(Passive) Increases movement speed by 10% and reduces Stamina consumption while running by 10%.
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A simple skill… yet unreasonably valuable. I can already imagine infinite scenarios where this skill would be helpful, whether for travel, combat, or fleeing in abject horror from whatever god-forsaken nightmare creatures lurk in the dark forests, caves, and streetside motels of this new reality of mine.
Especially the fleeing part. Preferably from moths. Moths are nature’s most terrifying flying fiends.
Shuddering at the image, I dump that horrifying thought train into the mental garbage chute labeled “Trauma Later.” Then I take off again, slightly faster this time. My fox tail streams behind me as I run.
With how nimble I am now, I’m confident I could outrun Olympic athletes—or at the very least ruin their careers by existing in the same race—once I reach around 25 dexterity.
For just the briefest of moments, my usual detached smile melts into something unguarded. A bright, almost reckless grin. The wind, the trees, the low hum of the wild, everything feels alive, sharp, and mine.
For the first time, I feel… free.
“The blue box is still annoying,” I admit aloud, “but maybe this isn’t—”
And then it hits me.
My heart stops. My soul collapses.
…What about Mr. Prickles.
The grief hits like a freight train loaded with emotional damage and questionable life choices.
Never again will I feel the comforting judgment of his spiky body. Never again will I wake with new puncture wounds, affection carved into flesh.
And…
Who will water him?
The world goes cold.
…
Then logic returns.
“…Eh. He’s a cactus. He’ll be fine.”
Existential tragedy resolved, I resume running.
But only for a few seconds—my ears twitch.
A… sound.
A wet, slurping, suction-cup sound. Like someone dragging a plunger through a swamp in slow motion.
That sound can only be one thing.
Sword drawn, I creep forward, dodging branches intent on ruining my hair further, a crime I will someday avenge.
The creature comes into view.
Inspect fires automatically.
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Green Forest Slime (Level 1 | Tier 0)
Species: Slime
A harmless slime that feeds on small plants and the occasional insect. Widely regarded as the weakest monster in all of Asteria.
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I stare at it.
It jiggles.
I feel my soul sigh.
“…I don’t even have the energy to be disappointed.”
Blade raised, I speak for dramatic effect, even though no one is here to witness my brilliance:
“Slash.”
One clean motion. Body and very obvious core severed. The slime collapses into a pleasantly scented puddle that is somehow more pathetic than before.
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You have slain Green Forest Slime (Level 1 | Tier 0)
You have gained 1 Tutorial Point
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I exhale slowly.
“…Fantastic. I killed biodegradable disappointment.”
And so continues my noble crusade against the defenseless ecosystem.
Three hours pass. I eliminate seven more slimes and four rats, none emotionally prepared for death.
The only notable development:
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[Running (Common)] has been upgraded into [Running (Uncommon)]
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[Running (Uncommon)]
Unlocked by running 5 km without stopping, or exceeding 20 km within a single day.
(Passive) Increases movement speed by 15% and reduces Stamina consumption while running by 15%.
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Silver lining, I now have 15 Tutorial Points, which naturally places me at the top of humanity. Obviously.
Not that I have any evidence.
But when you’re a genius, evidence is optional.
Unfortunately, the sun begins sinking, bleeding through leaves, dimming the forest.
I stamp my foot in righteous indignation.
“Why did we get thrown into the new world at 4 p.m.?! Noon exists! Use it!”
For once, the sky offers silence.
Rude.
I look around until I find yet another suspiciously convenient tree with an equally convenient climbing pattern and a perfectly sized branch for a fox nap. All inside a small opening in an otherwise thick forest. Immediately visible from the path.
This is a pattern.
“This world is curated,” I mutter. “Someone designed the trees. I am living in a tutorial theme park.”
The only real question is whether this place is handcrafted or procedurally generated. Then my eyes return to the one tree—just one—standing perfectly centered in a clearing that’s suspiciously circular.
One ear flicks. Menacingly.
Annoying. Efficient. Acceptable.
Too bad it won't be helpful after day 3. After all, skeletons have bows. This is common knowledge.
Before climbing, I unsheathe my sword and shift into a stance, the same one from my first duel with The Rat I Am Absolutely Not Still Emotionally Invested In.
I practice.
Minutes stretch, the world darkens, and my form sharpens—faster, cleaner, smoother.
Finally:
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You have gained the general skill [Basic Swordplay (Common)]
Skill has been automatically placed into an open slot
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[Basic Swordplay (Common)]
Unlocked by achieving fundamental proficiency with a sword.
(Passive) Increases the effectiveness of all sword attacks by 10%.
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I lower my blade and finally lift my head, expecting the forest to look exactly as it had minutes ago.
It doesn’t.
The sunlight—once warm and golden—has thinned into the faintest amber thread clinging to the horizon. Shadows stretch long and sharp between the trees, and in the space of a single blink, daylight gives its final bow.
The world shifts.
Color drains, then returns in a new palette entirely.
The leaves overhead darken, and the ground glows faintly beneath me, washed in soft twilight hues. The air grows still, cooler, heavy with the scent of moss and distant blooming flowers. Somewhere far off, insects begin their strange chorus, not chaotic chirping, but slow, rhythmic notes like the breath of sleeping earth.
And then—
—the sky reveals itself.
Not slowly. Not timidly. But like a curtain ripped open onto a stage meant only for gods.
Above the dark canopy, an unfathomably wide river of starlight cuts across the night. Not a band like the Milky Way, but an ocean.
A cosmic highway.
A shimmering tapestry of blues, violets, golds, and impossible shifting colors. Nebulae bloom across the heavens like ink dissolving in water, forming swirling clouds of luminous dust. Stars are scattered through them in layers, bright ones near, faint ones deep behind, and still others blinking in slow rhythmic pulses, almost like heartbeats.
Constellations I don’t recognize draw patterns across infinity—animals, weapons, spirals, wings, runes I feel rather than see. Some seem to move, shifting ever so slightly, as if alive or aware.
And then the moons rise.
Two of them, equal in size but opposite in presence.
The first glows a deep sapphire blue, cool and elegant, casting a gentle ethereal radiance through the trees.
The second burns in a muted crimson red, not harsh or violent, but warm, like dying embers in a hearth.
Their combined light washes the world in violet, a soft, impossible shade that makes the grass shimmer and the bark glow faintly as if dusted in stardust.
I exhale slowly.
And the sky reacts instantly.
The stars don’t awaken, they notice.
Like a room full of eccentric relatives suddenly realizing their favorite child walked in.
For one heartbeat, the night is serene.
Then—
“LYYYYYN!!”
The first voice booms directly into my skull, dramatic and far too loud for something light years away.
Another follows, sparkling and breathless:
“You’re alive! She’s alive! I told everyone she’d live!”
A third sighs, offended:
“Oh please, you also said she’d reinvent cheese, dismantle capitalism, and marry the cactus.”
A cluster of smaller stars giggle—actual giggling —like children hiding behind celestial curtains.
My ears flatten.
“…It's been five seconds. How are you already chaotic?”
The sky responds with the equivalent of a shrug, a ripple of shifting constellations, rearranging themselves into a vaguely fox-shaped outline waving enthusiastically.
“New world! New rules!” one chirps. “Also we have always wanted to talk to you.”
That part is quieter. Sincere.
Warm enough that my chest tightens despite myself.
I stand a little straighter.
The night is alien, the constellations strange, their shapes unfamiliar, their meanings unwritten. But the feeling is the same.
Home wasn’t Earth.
Home was the stars.
They settle, somewhat, though the occasional whisper continues like gossip at a family gathering.
A soft notification appears in my peripheral vision, almost shyly, as though trying not to interrupt the chaos.
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Trait Detected.
A Trait is revealing itself.
You have gained the Trait [Starborn].
Your Status has been updated.
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A slow smile curls onto my lips, quiet, smug, satisfied.
The stars hum in response, pleased.
One voice coos:
“She’s smiling— write it down someone, quick—she’s smiling!”
Another immediately panics:
“WAIT NO DON’T LOOK AT HER DIRECTLY YOU’LL DIE SHE’S TOO PRETTY—”
A distant star dryly mutters:
“…She’s going to ignore all of you”
An immediate response from another:
“Yeah but she will get lonely and come back”
I flick my tail once, haughty.
“That was one time.”
A pause.
Then the entire sky answers in perfect chaotic harmony:
“More like one hundred.”
I inhale.
I exhale.
And with all the grace and dignity of someone who absolutely will not argue with celestial family:
“…We’re moving on.”
The stars laugh—fond, bright, and irreverent.
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