Max’s stomach growled—loud enough to make him flinch.
He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the fighting stopped. Now that his blood wasn’t pumping with panic, he could feel the hollow ache in his gut, like something gnawing from the inside out. He looked over at one of the scorched mutant rat corpses nearby and made a face.
“…God, I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”
It smelled awful—burnt fur, charred meat, and something that might’ve been bile—but his options were limited. Hesitantly, Max dragged the least-destroyed body toward his shelter. The outer fur was a lost cause, but maybe… maybe the meat beneath it was edible?
He scavenged a few more dry branches and tried to spark a fire. After twenty frustrating minutes of slamming rocks together and angrily muttering at sticks, he nearly gave up—until a thought struck him.
He glanced at his staff. “Okay, you shot fireballs before. How about just… fire?”
He focused, channeling just enough of the remaining mana he had left. A small, controlled flame ignited at the tip. With a grin of triumph, Max leaned the staff toward the pile of twigs. The dry wood caught with a satisfying crackle.
He whooped quietly, then quickly went to work, using the blade of a sharp rock to slice and cook chunks of meat from the mutant rat. It wasn’t gourmet—hell, it barely qualified as food—but once the grease began to pop and the smell changed from “burnt rat” to “vaguely like roast pork,” his hunger overpowered his hesitation.
It was tough. Greasy. Slightly sour.
But it was warm, and it filled his stomach.
After his crude meal, Max wiped his hands on the grass, took a deep breath, and stood. “Alright. Fire? Check. Food? Barely. Mana? Still screwed.”
He looked toward the treeline. The sun—or whatever passed for a sun here—filtered dimly through the canopy. Still enough light to explore before nightfall.
With staff in hand and a now-somewhat-full stomach, Max set off, weaving through thick trunks and dense underbrush. The deeper he went, the more alive the forest felt. Strange insects buzzed in colors he didn’t recognize, vines shifted like they had somewhere to be, and the birds never stopped shrieking above.
Then something dropped onto a branch just ahead of him.
At first, he thought it was just a normal squirrel. Then it looked at him—and screamed.
Its eyes were glowing white, its mouth full of needle-like teeth, and its tail bristled like a spiked club. Before Max could speak, it launched itself at him like a dart.
“Come on! The squirrels too?!”
He swung his staff reflexively, catching it midair. It bounced off the trunk with a shriek but spun instantly and came at him again.
This time, Max had just enough mana to conjure a small fireball. The spell burst from the staff and smacked into the squirrel's chest, sending it crashing to the ground in a smoking heap.
Max stood there panting, waiting… but it didn’t move again.
Then came the ding.
[Level Up]
Stolen story; please report.
You have reached Level 2!
Stat points allocated
+3 Free Points Available
A glowing window appeared, showing his basic stats and a simple prompt to allocate his new points.
Max stared, breathing heavily.
“Finally,” he muttered. “Something good.”
He collapsed onto a nearby root, pulling up the window to look over his stats for the first time with a tired, satisfied grin.
With sweat cooling on his skin he called up the glowing system window hovering just above his eye line. This one was new—slicker than the quest pop-ups, with a faint hum of power behind it. His Character Status page.
It unfolded with a soft whirr, lines of clean text and numbers glowing against a faint blue background:
[Max - Initiate Mage | Level 2]
Health: 120/120
Mana: 60/60
Vitality: 12
Endurance: 10
Strength: 10
Intelligence: 14
Wisdom: 16
Available Stat Points: 3
Passive Effects:
? Arcane Efficiency – Mana cost of spells reduced slightly
? +2 Wisdom (Worn Initiate’s Robe)
? +1 Wisdom +1 Intelligence (Cracked Apprentice’s Staff)
As Max’s gaze lingered over Wisdom, a smaller tooltip window blinked open:
[Wisdom]
Increases maximum Mana and Mana regeneration rate.
Improves magical resistance and spiritual perception.
Higher Wisdom allows for more spellcasting and faster recovery between fights.
Max exhaled slowly. “Yeah, okay. That sounds like exactly what I need right now.”
He selected Wisdom and allocated two points. His Mana bar ticked upward slightly, and he swore he could feel the difference—like the spark in his chest burned just a bit brighter.
Wisdom: 21
New Mana Total: 130/130
One point left.
His muscles still ached. His legs felt like jelly, and every rat bite throbbed with dull pressure. He hovered over Endurance, and another tooltip appeared.
[Endurance]
Increases total Health and physical durability.
Slightly boosts stamina and resistance to status effects.
A tougher body survives longer. Simple as that.
“Sold,” Max said, jabbing the point into Endurance.
Endurance: 11
New Health: 115/115
The system chimed softly—an affirming tone, almost like it was congratulating him.
Max closed the menu, already feeling a little more… solid. Stronger. Just barely. But enough.
He rolled his shoulders and stood, brushing dirt from his robe. “Alright,” he said to the forest, staff tapping lightly against his palm. “Level two. Let’s see what else is out here.”
Now that his mana problem was temporarily solved, Max finally had room to breathe—and to think. With some power back in the tank, he could start focusing on the bigger picture: figuring out how this bizarre tutorial world actually worked.
He knew that leveling up would eventually unlock access to the Tutorial Store, though he had no idea what that even looked like. A marketplace menu? An actual shop building? “Whatever that is,” he muttered to himself. For now, though, his priority was survival—familiarizing himself with the environment and making sure nothing nearby could kill him as easily as he’d dispatched those rats.
As he stepped away from the battle with the squirrel, Max’s thoughts drifted back to his class.
Mage
A student of the arcane, just beginning to grasp the true potential of magic. Mages specialize in ranged elemental attacks and mana-based abilities.
The description made sense—at least the "ranged elemental attacks" part did. Fireballs, lightning bolts, maybe even ice shards. It seemed simple enough: point, cast, boom. He’d managed a few blasts in the heat of battle, but when he tried to recreate the fireball at will, it was like the magic refused to answer.
He’d tested it earlier, after his first few encounters with the mutant rats. Sitting by the fire, staff in hand, he tried summoning the flame—just something small, something simple—into the palm of his hand.
Nothing.
He focused harder, visualizing heat, imagining sparks dancing across his fingers.
Still nothing.
At one point, he thought he felt something—a faint tingling sensation on his palm, like the first twitch before a muscle cramped. But it vanished just as quickly as it came. Max wasn’t sure if that meant he was getting closer… or if his brain was just messing with him after all the stress.
Maybe it only works when I’m in danger, he thought. Or maybe I need the staff to cast anything. Or maybe I’m doing it all wrong.
Whatever the reason, it was clear he still had a lot to learn. If he wanted to survive whatever this world had in store—and maybe even thrive—he’d need to understand not just how to use magic, but how it worked.
