Tutorial II (8)–the last tutorial quest....
----
[You’ve completed the quest!]
[Your rewards are being given!]
“Haa… Haa…”
My chest heaved violently, lungs burning as I gasped for air.
Every breath felt like fire clawing up my throat.
My hands still trembled from the fight.
I looked around slowly.
The lake’s surface had risen slightly from the downpour and battle.
Ripples rolled gently outward, reflecting the pale, cloud-streaked sky.
All the monsters that had swarmed us earlier… were gone.
They had retreated, slinking back into the depths of the rising waters, as if mourning the death of the guardian beast.
Scattered across the muddy, trampled field were the remaining players.
Some leaned against broken trees, clutching wounds hastily patched with bandages and scraps of cloth.
Others simply lay back, staring blankly at the sky, too exhausted to move.
Blood painted the field in wide swathes.
The air still carried the heavy, copper scent of death.
Over a hundred players… dead.
Injured, trampled, impaled—some torn limb from limb.
Their gear lay broken or half-sunk in the mud, weapons jutting from the earth like the aftermath of a forgotten war.
‘Well,’ I thought bitterly, wiping blood from my eyes, ‘at least the numbers have gone down before the final quest.’
I chuckled under my breath, but it came out more like a cough.
And then—a voice echoed out.
“Congratulations, everyone!”
Eyes turned—groggy, confused, some filled with resentment, others with dull interest.
From behind the line of ruined trees, three familiar figures stepped forward.
The junior lackeys—Gilbert and his two companions—dressed in clean, neat clothes.
Their expressions were unreadable.
“Since you all managed to survive this… impressive,” Gilbert said, smirking. “Here’s your reward.”
He snapped his fingers with an almost lazy motion.
And then—it happened.
Fwoosh!
The bodies of the fallen monsters scattered across the battlefield shimmered, then disintegrated into fine glowing particles.
Each one dispersed like ash caught in the wind.
One by one, the players’ interfaces lit up.
[You’ve received a lot of TP!]
[Your contribution rate is the highest!]
[You’ve received: Bison Horn (Rare Material)!]
The reactions were almost instant.
Wounded players gasped.
Some smiled.
Others clutched their rewards like precious treasures, hands trembling either from fatigue or relief.
Even those who had looked half-dead moments ago straightened up slightly.
Cheers erupted in small patches, some hugging their companions, others quietly thankful they survived long enough to be rewarded.
Gilbert stepped back, his job done.
“Congratulations once again,” he said, waving a hand. “There are only three more days left before the final quest begins. Rest well. Prepare.”
And just like that, the three vanished.
Their presence disappeared like a mirage—leaving behind only silence and the gentle lapping of water.
Players slowly began settling back down, some returning to their camps, others simply resting where they stood.
I got to my feet.
Every joint screamed in protest.
My legs felt like iron rods filled with shattered glass.
But I moved.
No one stopped me.
They watched, quietly. Some in awe. Others in fear.
That was fine.
Let them think what they wanted.
A monster?
‘Heh… not bad, actually,’ I mused.
I walked away from the center of the battlefield, trudging through the blood-muddied ground until I reached a rock jutting out near the lake’s edge.
A quiet spot, away from the others.
I sat down slowly, pulled out some roasted meat from my inventory, and began to eat.
The warmth helped. The taste was bland, but after that hellish battle, it felt like a feast.
‘Three more days,’ I thought, chewing slowly.
‘That’s all the time we have left.’
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
In that time, there was nothing else I really needed to do.
Hunt. Rest. Recover.
As for the other two bosses lurking in this region… I considered it.
But dismissed the thought just as quickly.
One could fly—swift and elusive.
The other could burrow through the ground like a worm, disappearing the moment it sensed danger.
Fighting them now would be pointless.
They’d escape long before I could do real damage.
‘Waste of time.’
For now—I rested.
I closed my eyes for a few hours, letting the world turn without me.
Letting the pain ebb slightly and the pounding in my skull fade.
---
The sun had begun to dip beneath the horizon by the time I stirred.
Crimson and gold streaked the sky, the lake shimmering like a bed of molten coins.
My fatigue had dulled.
My muscles no longer screamed—but they still whispered threats if I pushed too hard.
I rose again, stretched, and readied myself.
Time to hunt.
And so I did.
---
Three days passed.
One by one, like chapters in a book closed and turned.
Each day was filled with hunting—slaying wandering beasts, gathering resources, collecting what little experience I could squeeze from the monsters that remained.
The sun rose and fell.
The air grew cooler.
And now—
The sun rose once more.
Bright and harsh. The sky, a vast dome of perfect blue.
A Flapping Rabbit hopped across a distant hill, its oversized ears flapping like wings as it bounced cheerfully along.
But then—
SLASH!
My blade tore through the air with practiced ease.
Its head separated clean from its body, blood spurting in a brief arc before the corpse slumped to the ground.
[You’ve slain a Flapping Rabbit!]
[Your level is too high compared to the monster slain!]
[You’ve gained some TP!]
[No EXP received.]
The message repeated itself, again and again.
Every monster I fought, every creature I hunted—it was the same.
Too weak.
Too low.
They no longer gave experience, only a trickle of TP.
My level had risen a lot.
I was at level 30.
And the difference in level was a lot between me and the monsters here.
The system had deemed them unworthy of granting growth.
Only the two bosses remained strong enough to give me exp.
But again, they’d run the moment I got close.
Fighting them now was meaningless.
I sighed, looking down at the rabbit’s body, then sheathed my sword.
‘Well… this is it.’
Three days gone.
No more distractions.
No more hunting.
No more stalling.
The Final Quest—was about to begin..
----
I soon reached the center of the clearing, where other players had already begun to gather.
Some sat on the ground patching up their equipment, while others stood in small groups talking in hushed tones, tension still thick in the air after the recent battle.
"Hey, what do you think the last quest is going to be?" someone asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.
"How would I know?" replied another, shrugging, his face pale and tired. “Could be anything at this point.”
"I just hope we don't have to fight some ridiculously strong monster again. I’m honestly sick of near-death experiences."
"Yeah. I’m barely holding myself together after the last fight..."
Despite their weariness, conversations sprouted like wild grass.
Everyone was anxious.
"What kind of place is the Tower anyway?"
"We’ll see soon enough, won’t we?"
"They say it’s where the real challenges begin... The guide mentioned we’d gain superpowers or something once we start climbing."
Excitement and fear mingled in their voices.
Many were curious, even hopeful.
Others were cautious.
Some stood silent in the corner, arms crossed, face unreadable.
Sssk!
Suddenly, a shimmer of light rippled through the air, like the surface of a disturbed pond reflecting the sun.
The players instinctively turned their heads.
Four figures emerged from the glowing portal.
Three of them were familiar — the junior guides, all of them still maintaining the appearance of teenagers, with smug smiles and polished uniforms.
But the fourth... he was different.
He was tall — an adult man, easily over six feet.
His presence radiated authority, his dark robe swaying with each step, lined with silvery runes that shimmered faintly.
His expression was calm but carried the weight of someone who had seen countless trials unfold.
“Hello, players,” the man said, his deep voice echoing across the field. “I am Senior Guide, Sébastien.”
A hush fell instantly.
He glanced over the crowd, his eyes scanning everyone as if measuring their worth in seconds.
“Since this is your last tutorial quest, I will personally oversee it.”
His presence felt crushing.
Unlike the junior guides who often joked and played around, Sébastien exuded something far more intimidating — raw pressure, power that made some players instinctively step back or lower their heads.
Even the loud ones fell into silence.
“First of all, congratulations to all of you for reaching this stage,” he said, his voice steady, eyes unmoved. “You have survived battles, faced horrors, and grown stronger.”
Some players exhaled in relief, thinking perhaps this would be a reward.
“But…” Sébastien continued, “…not everyone will enter the Tower.”
The hopeful air instantly turned heavy.
A few players frowned. Others exchanged confused glances.
“What does he mean?” someone whispered.
Sébastien raised his hand.
“From this Zone, only 270 individuals are allowed to proceed,” he said. “But as of now… you number are 416.”
Gasps and murmurs broke out.
“So reduce the numbers. That—” he snapped his fingers, and a sudden ding! echoed in every player’s mind.
Ding!
---
[New Quest – Last Tutorial!]
Type: Survival
Difficulty: C
Objective: Only 270 players can enter the Tower.
Reduce the numbers.
Conditions: none
Description:
Congratulations on reaching this stage of the Tower Trial.
However, space is limited.
Only the worthy will be granted entry.
You may use any method.
Time Limit: 24 Hours
Rewards:
- Unlock: Class Awakening
- Unlock: Tower Entrance
- Tower Points (TP) +5,000
[Quest Begins! Good Luck!]
[416 / 270 Remaining]
---
A deathly silence settled.
And then—
“What…?”
“Wait, what does it mean by ‘any method’?”
“Are they asking us to kill each other?!”
"No... no way. There must be another way to reduce numbers, right?"
A surge of panic rippled through the players. Some stepped back, some clutched their weapons tighter.
Confusion spread like wildfire.
Everyone had the same thought but didn’t want to voice it.
"Wait! Don’t act rashly!" one player shouted.
“Maybe there's a hidden task or puzzle!”
“They wouldn’t make us kill each other in cold blood… would they?”
But Sébastien remained silent now, observing like a judge waiting for the chaos to begin.
The junior guides simply smiled, amused by the tension boiling in the air.
[416 / 270]
That counter glowed in the air above everyone’s heads, a brutal reminder that survival meant elimination.
Some players had already begun backing away from the crowd.
Others kept glancing around, as if searching for someone they didn’t trust.
Whispers grew louder.
Suspicion settled deep.
The camaraderie built during the previous battles was quickly unraveling.
And thus, the final tutorial began.
Not against monsters.
Not against the environment.
But against each other.
Human nature was now the enemy.
"Aggh!"
The scream pierced through the thick air like a dagger, sharp and raw with fear.
And then—
[415/270]
A single digit dropped.
Someone had died.
“He… he killed someone!”
“No! Die, you bastard!”
“Wait—stop! STOP!”
But it was too late.
The spark had lit the wildfire.
Chaos erupted in an instant.
Screams, steel clashing against steel, the sickening thud of flesh being torn.
Blood sprayed into the air like crimson mist.
People, once comrades, now lunged at each other like starved wolves.
Friends turned into murderers in the blink of an eye.
“Hey! Don’t do this!” one cried, hands raised.
“There must be another way!”
“STOP! EVERYONE JUST STOP!”
Gavin was among those trying to stop the madness.
He stood tall, gripping his spear like a wall between the slaughter and the defenseless.
He knocked away blades, disarmed panicked players, and shouted commands to restore order.
But peace was not welcome here.
SLASH!
An axe cleaved into Gavin’s back.
Blood gushed out, warm and sticky, splattering onto the ground as his body staggered forward.
A pained gasp left his lips.
He turned his head with trembling disbelief.
Standing behind him was Bargan—a man he once trusted, now painted in red.
Gavin’s eyes widened in shock. “Why…?”
Bargan’s expression was twisted, not with malice—but with guilt.
"You’re too soft... and too good for your own damn self!" Bargan roared, raising his axe again.
Gavin, heart pounding, tried to raise his spear to block the blow—but—
Thwip!
An arrow tore through the air.
Thunk!
It pierced his chest just above the heart.
He gasped again, blood dripping from his lips.
He turned to the side, seeing Marra—another trusted companion—lowering her bow, tears in her eyes.
“Sorry, Gavin... but why did you insist on protecting the weak?” she whispered.
He fell to his knees.
His spear clattered beside him.
And then he was gone.
His ideals died with him.
'In the Tower, goodwill is a double edge blade.'
I stood there, watching it unfold.
The slaughter. The betrayal. The madness.
A twisted grin stretched across my face.
‘It looks nice.’
The blood. The desperation.
The true nature of mortals laid bare.
No matter friends, family, weak, strong, rich or poor.
When in front of death, they all react same.
Screams and wails echoed from all sides.
People wept, begged, laughed hysterically.
Some tried to flee, others hunted them down.
Steel clashed. Flesh tore.
The air reeked of blood and burning emotions.
This was humanity under pressure.
This was survival.
[330/270]
‘Wow. The numbers are dropping fast.’
Then I noticed them—eight players encircling me.
They hesitated.
Their weapons trembled in their hands, eyes darting, sweat dripping from their foreheads.
The scent of fear clung to them like rot.
"Are you all planning to fight me, now?" I asked, cracking my neck.
My voice was calm, almost bored.
They flinched.
“H-He’s alone! We outnumber him!” one shouted, trying to rally courage.
“Everyone, charge!”
They surged forward, a mess of weapons and shaky coordination.
Pathetic.
What are they even thinking?
I'm stringer than them.
Not because of status or level.
I'm naturally stringer than them.
It was the simple fact:
I had no hesitation. No guilt. No fear.
While they did.
The man in front rushed ahead, swinging his axe wildly.
I lunged forward and grabbed his wrist mid-swing.
Crack!
I twisted it, bones snapping under my grip. He screamed.
I tore the axe from his hand and with one fluid motion—
SHUNK!
I swung the blade leftward.
“AGHH!!”
“AAAAHHH!!”
Two players to the left—one male, one female—had their arms severed at the elbows.
Blood sprayed from their wounds like red geysers.
They collapsed, writhing and screaming.
The others froze. But I didn’t.
I slammed my foot into the axe-man’s knee, forcing him down.
PSSSK!
The blade tore through his throat, severing muscle and windpipe.
A bubbling gurgle escaped his mouth as blood fountained out.
He collapsed, twitching.
“Bargan!!”
“Nooo!!”
The others wailed.
Two tried to flank me from behind.
I spun to the left—CHOP!—severing one’s leg at the thigh.
“AAAAAGHHH!!”
He crashed to the ground, screaming in agony, clutching the pulsing stump.
The other brought down his katana from the right.
I caught it mid-swing.
“Too slow.”
I yanked him forward by the blade, then headbutted him—CRACK!—breaking his nose.
He stumbled back, dazed.
I raised the axe and hacked downward.
CHOP!
His arm flew off.
“AGGGHHH!”
He screamed, falling to his knees, clutching the ragged stump, blood soaking his tunic.
“So noisy,” I muttered.
I raised the katana, now mine.
SLICK!
The blade sang as it sliced clean through his neck.
“Denver!!” someone shrieked.
I didn’t stop.
I walked over to the one-legged man still crawling, dragging himself away, sobbing.
SHHK!
I drove the blade through his back.
He stopped moving.
I stood up slowly, letting the blood run down the katana.
Swish!
Suddenly—an arrow.
It pierced my stomach.
A sharp burst of pain. But I didn’t even flinch.
I looked down at the shaft sticking out, then gripped it.
Shlk.
I yanked it out.
Blood ran—but quickly, the wound closed. My flesh sealed with the faint pulse of regeneration.
I turned.
A female archer stood at a distance, panic in her eyes.
I raised my hand and hurled the axe.
THWACK!
The blade sank deep into her chest, splitting bone and bursting from her back.
She collapsed, her body twitching.
“MARRA!!”
“No!”
The remaining three players screamed in horror and bolted.
I didn’t laugh.
I didn’t chase.
I just walked forward.
[316/270]
The bloodbath had only just begun.
