Chapter 5

Caleb moved with a ginger, calculated precision. Every time he reached for a piece of gear, the bandages around his midriff tugged against his skin, reminding him of the demonling's claws. He didn't have the luxury of resting until the stitches held. He shoved a spare thermal blanket, two cans of peaches, and a heavy-duty flashlight into his pack. He needed to get out of the glade. The smell of blood was too fresh, and the silence of the woods felt like a predator holding its breath. He stepped out of the camper, the suns overhead casting strange, overlapping shadows that made the ground look like a distorted chessboard. He made a beeline for the SUV. Mason Hayes had left the keys on the driver's seat, a detail Caleb noted with a flicker of relief; at least no one had been paranoid enough to lock the doors in the middle of the wilderness. Caleb yanked the door open and slid into the seat, his wounded leg protesting the movement with a sharp, white-hot spike of pain. He ignored it, reaching for the ignition. His eyes caught a black smartphone plugged into the car's 12V outlet. "Damn it, Mason," Caleb muttered. He turned the key. The engine didn't roar. It didn't even cough. There was only a pathetic, rhythmic *click-click-click* that died out into a low whine. The dashboard lights flickered once, dim and sickly, before going dark. Caleb slumped against the steering wheel, his forehead resting on the cool plastic. The battery was stone-dead. Mason had left his phone charging while they were out at the creek, and the parasitic draw had drained the SUV of its last spark of life. He was sitting in two tons of useless steel. He looked out the windshield at the dirt track leading away from the campsite. The nearest town was eighty kilometers away. On a good day, with a full pack and no injuries, that was a grueling multi-day trek. With a gash in his leg and a hole in his side, it was a death sentence. The first thing that caught his scent would have an easy meal. He was stranded. "I can't just sit here," he whispered. The camper felt less like a fortress and more like a tin can waiting to be opened. He needed an edge. He needed to know what the hell was happening to the world. He looked up at the empty air where the translucent panels usually manifested. "If this stupid system could help out a little and tell me what to do, that would be great," he mumbled, the frustration boiling over into a dry, raspy tone. The air shimmered. [Affirmative. Please explore the system of the multiverse yourself.] The voice was as dull and mechanical as ever, but a new window snapped into existence in front of his eyes. It was crowded with text, flickering with a faint blue light that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. [Dynamic Quests:] [Scourge Hunter (Normal)] [Objective: Kill 10 denizens with demonic alignment, each at least ten levels above you.] [Progress: 2/10] [Reward: +3% All Attributes when fighting enemies of demonic alignment.] [Note: Only one Slayer title can be attained.] Caleb stared at the progress bar. Two out of ten. The Shadow-Hound in the dark and the demonling by the boulder. Both of them had been "ten levels" above him? He felt a cold sweat break out on his neck. If those things were the baseline for this quest, he was lucky to be breathing. But the realization of what he was looking at sparked a new wave of anger. He wasn't a soldier. He wasn't a survivalist. He was a guy who went camping with his friends and ended up in a meat grinder. "What? Why can't I get the tutorial?" Caleb shouted at the dashboard, his voice cracking. "Every game has a tutorial! Teleport me right now! Take me to where everyone else is!" [By accepting Directive Gamma-7, user gained a personalized initiation protocol, a lottery opportunity.] Caleb's hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. "OPPORTUNITY? PLAYING A RIGGED GAME IS AN OPPORTUNITY?!" [Directive Gamma-7 is a unique opportunity. Congratulations, user.] "Congratulations?" Caleb screamed, the sound echoing off the SUV's interior. "I almost died twice in an hour! I'm bleeding out in a dead car! My friends are gone!" He stopped, the echo of his own voice dying away. *My friends are gone.* He looked back at the empty campsite—the chairs still circled around the cold fire pit, the discarded beer cans, the silence. If there had been a tutorial, if the rest of the world had been whisked away to some safe zone or instructional camp, that explained why there were no bodies. Mason, Chloe... they hadn't been eaten. They had been "initiated." He was the only one who had been forced to roll the dice for his life because he'd shared a physical space with that Shadow-Hound. Directive Gamma-7 had bypassed the safety net. He took a jagged breath, trying to slow his racing heart. If he was stuck here while they were safe, he had to get stronger just to survive long enough to find them. He looked back at the blue light of the screen. The quest mentioned levels. The system mentioned his "user" status. He focused on the edge of his vision, searching for more data. If he had killed two things that were ten levels higher than him, what did that make him? He hadn't felt a change, not really, other than the strange surge of strength when he'd swung the axe. He concentrated on the idea of himself, of his own standing in this new, twisted reality. A new line of text materialized, hovering just below his peripheral vision. [Level: 16] Caleb froze. Level sixteen. He didn't know the scale, didn't know if the cap was twenty or a thousand, but the number felt significant. He had skipped the training wheels. He had survived the "lottery," and the system had seen fit to rank him accordingly. He leaned back in the seat, his eyes tracking the intricate lines of the system interface. There had to be more. If he was level sixteen, he had to have more than just a quest log. There were stats, there were abilities—there were things that could keep him alive when the next demonling came out of the trees. He reached out a hand, his fingers ghosting through the holographic text, searching for the core of his new identity. ════════════════════════════════════════