“I don’t really understand how it works,” Amanda said.

  She sat cross-legged beside Cade, her eyes distant, voice low so as not to wake the others behind them. A soft wind stirred the swamp, rustling reeds and chilling them both.

  “I just think about using [Restoration Touch], and it happens.”

  Cade studied her, then nodded. “So it’s instinctual. Like flipping a switch.”

  “More like nudging one,” she said. “It’s hard to explain.”

  He leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. “Did anything else get uploaded into your brain when you picked your class?”

  Amanda shook her head. “No it was just the basics. I knew I needed to touch someone for it to work. It won’t activate on someone who isn’t injured. And the worse the wound, the more mana it costs. That’s it.”

  “Seems like the System gave you training wheels but no user manual,” Cade muttered.

  She huffed a laugh. “Pretty much.”

  There was a pause, long enough that the distant croak of a frog felt intrusive. Then Cade tilted his head slightly.

  “Would you mind humoring me with an experiment?”

  Amanda raised a brow. “What kind of experiment?”

  “You haven’t had a chance to heal anyone outside of combat. And we didn’t take that many hits yesterday, everyone was careful. Too careful, maybe.”

  Her expression tensed. “Cade…”

  He was already standing.

  Amanda watched, her suspicion sharpening, as Cade walked over to the remains of the fire. He crouched, careful not to disturb the coals, and picked up a half-burnt stick. The tip still glowed with a soft, angry red. The other end was untouched.

  “Cade, what are you—”

  “I’m not asking you to hurt yourself,” he said calmly, returning to her. “That’d be ridiculous.”

  Then, before she could stop him, he pressed the ember-end of the stick against the underside of his left forearm.

  Just for a second.

  A hiss of pain escaped his teeth as the heat bit deep across his skin. He yanked the stick away and winced, exhaling through his nose.

  Amanda snatched the stick from his hand, glaring. “Are you insane?!”

  “It’s fine,” he said, shaking out his arm. “I didn’t hold it long. Besides, I used to accidentally burn myself all the time cooking for my sisters. This is nothing.”

  “Nothing?” she said, staring at the faintly blistering welt.

  He opened his status screen.

  Health Points (HP): 75 / 80

  “My HP only went down by five points. That’s basically a paper cut.”

  “You’re definitely insane,” she repeated.

  Cade chuckled and offered her his arm, palm up. “Now you can try healing me. And this time, focus on the feeling. What’s happening inside you. We need data and this is a safe way to gather it.”

  Amanda looked like she wanted to argue further, but instead she sighed, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Fine.”

  She placed her hand lightly over the burn.

  A soft green glow bloomed from her palm, faint and warm, like sunlight filtered through leaves on an early spring morning. Cade felt the heat first—not the pain of the burn, but a new warmth that spread outward from her touch. Then the tingling started. Tiny pinpricks dancing across his skin. A second later, the glow faded. Amanda let go and he watched, transfixed, as the damaged tissue repaired itself—fresh skin knitting over the burn in real time.

  Cade checked his health again.

  Health Points (HP): 79 / 80

  The burn was gone. Maybe a faint redness still lingered, but it was hard to tell in the moonlight.

  “Huh,” Cade said. “Healed. But I’m still missing a point.”

  Amanda shrugged, eyes on her hands. “Maybe small wounds don’t register completely? Or maybe healing has a ‘success rate’ or threshold.”

  “Or maybe the System’s stingy.”

  She didn’t smile at his bad attempt at a joke. Her face was distant again, unreadable in the dim light.

  “What did it feel like?” Cade asked. “Walk me through it.”

  Amanda was quiet for a long moment before speaking. “It’s like something inside me rushes toward my hand. A pressure, maybe? Then it flows out. I don’t control it exactly, I just—guide it, I guess. Like turning on a faucet.”

  “So you activate the skill, mana rushes to the target, and the effect takes over.” Cade nodded slowly. “It’s probably your mana moving through some sort of channel in your body. Your class must've formed a kind of conduit for the mana to flow.”

  “Maybe.”

  He leaned in slightly. “Do you think you could direct it differently? Heal without touching? Or maybe enhance it?”

  Amanda’s jaw tightened. “Cade.”

  He stopped.

  “I know you’re trying to help,” she said. “Really. But this is a lot. Between the monsters, the survival, the... everything—this? You burning yourself just so I can heal your wound? It’s too much.”

  Cade’s mouth opened, then closed. He nodded once, slowly.

  Amanda stood and dusted herself off. “I’m going to lie down. I need whatever rest I can get.”

  And just like that, she slipped back around and into the dome.

  Cade sat alone, the moonlight colder now.

  He hadn’t meant to push her but he had. Maybe encouraging her to “get stronger” right after she opened up about her family wasn’t just tone-deaf—it was callous. He was trying to help. To make sense of the System. But maybe she didn’t need someone theorizing and analyzing. Maybe she just needed someone to listen.

  He exhaled and leaned back on his hands, staring up through the wall’s opening.

  He felt like an ass.

  Eventually, when the fire was little more than glowing dust, he stood and returned to the dome. Sasesh was already awake, seated cross-legged by the wall, his eyes half-lidded like he’d been meditating.

  He looked up as Cade entered the dome and they exchanged a nod.

  Cade lay down, the ground hard beneath him.

  He shut his eyes but sleep did not come easily this time.

  Cade woke to the sound of distant voices, muffled by the earthen dome walls.

  For a moment, he didn’t move. He stared up at the curved ceiling above him, trying to gather his thoughts. The fire was long dead. The light outside had shifted—brighter, warmer. Morning.

  His body ached. His back especially. Sleeping on the packed dirt had left him stiff, his limbs reluctant to move.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  He groaned as he rolled onto his side and sat up. The dome was empty.

  He heard quiet conversation just beyond the wall but he couldn’t make out the words.

  Cade stretched his arms overhead with a satisfying pop, then winced as his shoulders flared with soreness. Not quite enough for damage, but more than enough to make him miss the warmth of a mattress. He rubbed the sleep from his face and shuffled to his feet.

  Outside, the others stood in a loose semicircle near the base of the hill. Sasesh had his arms folded. Amanda, Nadean, and Professor Sanders were clustered nearby, speaking in low tones. Their conversation stilled the moment Cade stepped into view.

  He hesitated for half a second before walking over.

  Nadean spotted him first and flashed a quick smile. “Mornin’, sleeping beauty. We were about five minutes away from drawing a unibrow on you.”

  Cade managed a weak grin. “Appreciate the restraint.”

  He looked around, taking in the group. Something about the atmosphere felt shifted. Not openly hostile, not even cold, just a little too quiet. Too careful. Amanda gave him a polite nod but didn’t meet his eyes.

  Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was all in his head.

  “Any idea what the plan is today?” he asked. “I saw an island,” he continued, “back when we were falling towards the wetlands. It looked like it was near the center of this quadrant. If anyone else landed nearby, they might head for it.”

  Sasesh snorted softly. “Of course you saw it. Everyone saw it. That’s where we’re headed.”

  Cade bit his tongue. He almost shot something back—something about tone and teamwork—but thought better of it. No one had slept well, combined with the lack of food and the constant damp, morale wasn’t exactly high.

  Instead, he nodded. “Right. Sounds good.”

  “I’m ready when you are,” he added.

  “We all are,” Amanda said, brushing dirt from her leggings.

  Sasesh raised his wand and pressed it to the ground. With a few whispered words, the dome and its walls collapsed inward, folding into themselves like melting clay until all that was left was flattened earth.

  Without another word, they set out.

  Cade walked near the back of the group, one eye on the terrain.

  As they traveled, he kept scanning for an opening—just one moment where he might pull Amanda aside, apologize, explain. But she was never alone. Always flanked by Professor Sanders, or Nadean, or even Sasesh. Cade wasn’t sure if that was just coincidence or if it was intentional.

  The sun hung low behind mist-veiled clouds, casting the swamp in a murky, washed-out gray. The air buzzed with insects and the ever-present stink of rot and damp growth.

  It wasn’t long before trouble found them.

  The first came in the form of a lizard—sleek, mottled, and the size of a golden retriever. It darted from a bush with startling speed, jaws wide as it lunged for Nadean.

  But Nadean was faster.

  She ducked under its leap and rolled aside, drawing her daggers in one smooth motion. Her blades flashed—one stabbed into its stomach as she rolled, the other skittered across the base of its tail. The lizard hissed and twisted. Professor Sanders shouted something about its weak underbelly, and Sasesh followed up with a short, sharp burst of earth magic that disrupted its footing.

  The fight lasted less than twenty seconds.

  The lizard collapsed in a heap, motionless.

  Cade hadn’t moved.

  He’d stayed near the rear, watching. Ready—so he told himself—to act if things got out of hand. But they hadn’t. The others had it under control.

  And the System didn’t ping him for shared experience. No message about him assisting, no credit earned, nothing.

  Cade clenched his jaw and kept walking when the others moved on.

  The second fight wasn’t so clean.

  They were passing beneath a thick copse of trees when the buzzing started. Not the usual drone of swamp insects—this was sharp, shrill, and rising in pitch like an alarm.

  Then they burst from the bark.

  Cicadas. Palm-sized, translucent, and grotesque. Their wings shimmered like glass shards, catching the light. They poured out from holes in the trunk like living shrapnel, dozens of them, screeching and cutting through the air with gleaming mandibles.

  “Shit!” Nadean hissed, ducking just in time.

  The swarm scattered—some diving toward Sasesh and Professor Sanders while others veered for Amanda.

  Cade swung wildly as a cicada latched onto his shoulder, its mandibles sinking in like twin needles. He yelped, flailing. Another smacked into his arm and bit down hard. He stumbled back, trying to swat them off, but more kept coming.

  “Get low!” Amanda shouted.

  Professor Sanders dropped. Nadean danced through them, slashing one from the air mid-dive. Sasesh raised a hand, shouted a word Cade didn’t understand, and the earth itself rumbled.

  A pulse of force rolled out from beneath their feet—then another.

  The swamp churned. Mud buckled. In an instant, jagged chunks of stone burst upward, skewering half the swarm mid-flight with a loud crunch.

  The rest scattered, buzzing away broken and disoriented.

  Then the System chimed in Cade’s mind:

  You have assisted in defeating [Glass-Winged Marsh Cicada Swarm – Level 3].

  Shared experience awarded based on contribution.

  Cade panted, hands trembling, the stick he’d been swinging still clenched tight. His arms were a patchwork of shallow bites and bruises. Blood trickled down his sleeve.

  Professor Sanders groaned nearby, nursing his forearm.

  “They’re easier to crush than I expected,” Sasesh muttered, eyeing the shattered remains. “Once I figured out how they moved.”

  Professor Sanders knelt beside one of the corpses. “Fresh shells,” he said after a moment. “Newly molted.”

  Nadean nodded, brushing bug ichor from her hair. “Good to know.”

  Amanda moved in a blur. She healed herself first—shoulder glowing briefly—then crossed to Professor Sanders and pressed her hand against his injury. A soft green light flickered between them.

  When she looked up, her gaze found Cade.

  She flinched.

  “Y-you okay?” she asked.

  Cade looked down.

  His shirt was torn in places, sleeves soaked in blood and bug fluid. His arms and legs stung where the mandibles had bitten deep.

  He brought up his health screen.

  Health Points (HP): 35 / 80

  That low?

  He hadn’t felt like it should be that low—not really. The bites throbbed, and he was sore all over, but he wasn’t dizzy or seeing spots. Still, the number made something in his stomach tighten.

  “I’ve had worse,” he said, trying to sound casual.

  Amanda didn’t look convinced. She stepped in close, placed a hand on his chest near the worst bite on his collarbone, and whispered her healing incantation.

  The glow flared to life again.

  Warmth spread from her palm. A tingling sensation washed through Cade’s chest and shoulders. The pain ebbed slightly.

  But it only lasted a few seconds.

  Then Amanda pulled her hand back and winced.

  “That’s all I can do for now,” she said softly. “I’m nearly out of mana.”

  Cade glanced at his screen again.

  Health Points (HP): 57 / 80

  Better. Not full.

  “Don’t push it,” he said quickly. “This is fine. More than fine actually, I’m nearly full now”

  Amanda hesitated. “You sure?”

  He nodded. “Really. Save the rest in case someone else gets shredded.”

  He was about to say more—about last night. About the burn and the way he’d disregarded her emotions for a chance to study magic. But he didn’t get the chance.

  Nadean froze, one hand raised. “Shhh.”

  Everyone stilled.

  She turned her head slowly, eyes narrowing. “I hear something.”

  “What kind of something?” Sasesh asked.

  Her voice was low, tense. “Something big and close by.”

  Then her eyes widened. “Voices. People. They're shouting.”

  And just like that, Nadean bolted into the swamp. She vanished into the underbrush like a ghost, blades tucked close as she darted toward the sound of shouting.

  Cade didn’t hear anything at first. Just the wet squelch of the ground beneath their feet as they tried to follow Nadean’s path.

  As they moved forward he caught it. Screaming. Yelling. Something hard slamming into something metallic.

  The rest of the group surged forward.

  Cade ran.

  He was immediately behind Professor Sanders and Amanda, with Sasesh pulling ahead of all of them. Nadean had disappeared entirely, already out of sight among the dense trees and hanging moss.

  The terrain didn’t make it easy. Roots snagged his feet. Mud sucked at his sneakers. Every few steps, Cade had to catch himself from falling flat on his face. His breath came fast, shallow. Sweat clung to his brow and the inside of his clothes.

  And still, the others pulled away from him.

  Sasesh moved like the ground itself favored him. Amanda and Professor Sanders had the benefit of stat boosts, clearly. Despite his advanced age, Professor Sanders’ stride was longer, more determined, more efficient. They all had something—they had roles. The System helped them, gave them stats Cade didn’t have the opportunity to earn.

  Cade just had his legs and his stubbornness to try and keep up.

  He checked his stamina mid-sprint.

  Stamina Points (SP): 21 / 70

  Damn.

  His legs burned. His lungs ached. But he didn’t slow.

  After a few grueling minutes, the trees thinned—and then broke completely into a wide, open bog.

  And there, in the middle of the field, was chaos.

  A massive crustacean loomed over the mire. It stood taller than a truck, armored in thick green-blue plates that glinted with wet sheen. Its claws alone looked like they could bisect a person with a single snap.

  Nine people fought the creature in a loose formation.

  Five surrounded it in close quarters, dancing around its legs. Two more flanked from a distance—one was shooting arrows that bounced harmlessly off its shell, the other was Sasesh who was trying to move the earth under the crab’s legs. Cade spotted Professor Sanders and Amanda joining the rear line.

  He could hear Professor Sanders shouting “It's a Fenbreaker Landcrab. The leg joints are weak, bring the legs down and it will be easy to finish off!”.

  Then Cade saw her—Nadean—under the crab’s belly, twin daggers flashing as she slashed at the leg joints.

  He tried to count how many legs the crab had. Eight? Ten? It didn’t matter. Every time it struck, the earth shook.

  Cade stumbled to a stop near Professor Sanders, heart hammering. He knew—instantly—that if he ran in, he’d die. One hit, and he’d be crushed.

  So he didn’t move. He just stood there, trying to catch his breath, as everyone else threw themselves into the fray. For the first time since entering the Tutorial he felt completely and utterly useless.