The jungle air hung thick and heavy, a smothering blanket after the sterile confines I'd just escaped. "A jungle?" I muttered, disbelieving. My rant died in my throat when unmistakable sounds of pursuit crashed through the jungle heavy footsteps, guttural shouts. They were close. Too close.
Panic clawed at my throat, but years of military training kicked in. I bolted, the surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins, and veered toward a dilapidated storage shed. Desperation propelled me inside. The flimsy door offered little protection, but it was better than nothing. I pressed a hand to my mouth, stifling the sounds that dared to come out of my mouth as the sounds of my pursuers grew louder, closer. They stopped right outside.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a deafening drum in the suffocating silence. When by some miracle my gaze fell upon a hatch hidden under a rotting floorboard, resignation started to creep in. Instinct took precedence. I ripped it open and plunged into the darkness below.
Flipping a switch, I revealed a small, spartan room – a cot, a table, a chair. But it was the axe leaning against the wall that drew my eye. Without hesitation, I grabbed it, the weight familiar and comforting in my trembling hands. I killed the light, plunging the room back into darkness.
Breathing slow and steady, I moved with the practiced silence of a soldier. The hatch creaked open. Voices, harsh and triumphant, echoed above. Just as planned.
A figure came down, silhouetted against the dim light from above. I struck with brutal efficiency the axe a hammer of righteous fury. A sickening crack reverberated in the confined space, and the figure collapsed in a heap at the bottom of the ladder. I snatched the fallen man's weapon, a Glock, its cold steel reassuring in my grip.
But the noise had triggered the others. I heard them scrambling towards the hatch. No time to waste. I melted into the shadows, repositioning myself so the hatch was still visible with the Glock trained on the opening.
A head appeared, cautiously peering into the darkness. I held my breath, waiting, as the figure came into full view. Then BANG. The Glock bucked in my hand, the shot sounding in the small space. The figure disappeared with a strangled cry.
I didn't wait to see if the shot was fatal. I knew better than to linger. I burst from the shed and sprinted into the dense jungle, the sounds of pursuit spurring me onward. Thorns tore at my skin, branches whipped at my face, but I didn't dare look back.
Finally, when my lungs were burning and my legs were screaming in protest, I collapsed behind a thicket of ferns, gasping for air.
Just then, a familiar chime echoed in my mind. [CONGRATULATIONS, HOST. TWO TARGETS ELIMINATED. CALCULATING OPTIMAL CLASS ADVANCEMENT.]
Three options materialized before my eyes:
[ASSASSIN]
[NECROMANCER]
[?]
A question mark? Curious, I concentrated on the third choice. "System, what is that third option?"
[INFORMATION UNAVAILABLE. THE HOST WILL DISCOVER THE NATURE OF THIS CLASS UPON SELECTION.]
I frowned. There was something about the system's response that felt…mischievous. I shrugged it off. What could possibly go wrong?
Without further hesitation, I tapped the question mark Just then...