That's what you get when you tell the System to shove its shiny Class list where the sun doesn't shine.
Three steps. Two breaths. One decision.
I broke the distance like it owed me the air in my lungs.
Its smile stalled, then met stone.
Collections visit. My shoulder knocked. The goblin paid. The wall answered.
Bone, stone, impact.
My shoulder hit first. Full weight. I drove it into stone. Chest caved, skull bounced, wet crack.
It sagged and tried to slip, but I stayed inside its arms. Left forearm across its throat, hip to hip, no space.
Its claws scraped low at my ribs. A sharp sting. I ignored it and kept hitting.
I drove an elbow into its temple hard enough to make it black out for a second.
Something shifted in its eyes, the late realization that it wasn't the predator here.
My fists forgot what stopping meant.
For a moment, the entire room was waiting. The world narrowed to blood and bone.
My jaw ached from clenching. Breath came in short, animal bursts. The stone under my knees was warm with blood, my boots slick enough to slide.
I grabbed a broken chunk of floor, fist-sized, rough, grit biting my palm.
I slammed it down. Shock snapped up my wrist. Again.
Wet thud. Then a crack. Spray on my lips tasted like iron and dust.
The twitching got smaller. Then stopped.
No cameras. No caseworkers. No courtroom to decide if my reaction was "proportional."
Just me. And something that thought it could smirk at me.
One of its eyes dangled loose.
I sat there breathing hard, shoulders trembling. The heat in my chest didn't die, it pulled back, slow as a tide, leaving wreckage in its place.
I wiped my face. Blood and grit flaked under my fingers.
I'd never fought like that before, unchecked, vicious. And god help me, it felt good.
That's when I saw the blood.
Not the goblin's.
Mine.
A knife had slipped in low and at an angle, sideways between my ribs.
I'd seen a guy go out like this in County. A shank in low and deep, it's not just the bleeding that kills you, it's the poison you carry inside. Stomach acid leaks out, kisses nerves it was never meant to touch, turns them into white-hot glass. Wasn't pretty... this one looked deeper...
I wrapped my hand around the handle.
The leather grip squelched wetly. Part blood, part sweat.
Breath in. Hold. Pull.
Molten heat ripped up through my ribs, chased by a deep bone-cold that made my skeleton question staying upright.
I clamped a hand over the hole. Warmth spilled out, thick and steady, soaking into the rough cloth. The skin around it felt slick and wrong, like I was holding someone else's wound.
I stared at it.
I felt nothing...
...The chitter came again, high and sharp, carrying the words: "̸̙͊B̶̰́l̴̹̉ḙ̷̾é̵͉d̸͍̕ŝ̷̯ ̶̙̕e̶̎ͅa̶̯̅s̴͙̍y̵͈͐.̵̦̑ ̶͓̄W̷̝͝o̴̖̾n̶̻͝'̸̗̄t̴͔͛ ̷̲̋l̵͎̄a̵̖̐ṡ̸̭t̸͚͌.̴͈̋"̶͔̌
I didn't look for the source, whatever it was, it could wait in line.
If something wanted me dead, it could take a number and join the queue.
My eyes dropped to the goblin instead, sprawled in the dark stain it had become. No smirk now. Just blood and bones, it almost looked like it was sinking into the stone.
And then the prompt appeared.
Blinking into view, bright white letters on a cheerful blue background, like a health insurance portal from hell, big smile, no coverage.
🎉 CONGRATULATIONS! 🎉
You have successfully completed your FIRST Combat Tutorial!
This introductory scenario was designed to gently familiarize new System Users with the basics of post-Integration conflict.
💡 Reminder: Combat is now a normalized and expected part of daily life!
Stay alert. Stay empowered. Stay alive.
This encounter was scaled for minimal challenge and emotional stress.
If you sustained damage, please enjoy your complimentary Healing Potion™.
Well done, valued User!
Would you like to proceed to Tutorial Encounter [2/10]?
(Rest period: 15 minutes remaining)
→ YES
→ NO
I squinted at the screen.
Confetti.
Fucking confetti...
But, Healing Potion™. I almost grinned. Maybe this wouldn't be the dirtiest, dumbest way to die after all.
I pawed at the screen like an idiot, looking for a button, a box, anything. Come on. Claim. Use. Drink. Fix me.
Nothing.
I jabbed harder, like maybe the System just needed a little fucking encouragement.
Still nothing.
And that's when it hit.
Support Level: None. Integration Law something, I think it was. No extras for "non-standard" Users.
The potion? The confetti? The cheery 'congratulations'? Not mine. Never was. It wasn't a trick, it wasn't even personal. I wasn't on the list.
My laugh came out broken. "Yeah, sure. Wave the candy in front of the dog, to watch it beg..."
My fingers had gone cold.
Different place, same rules.
Take the right steps. Follow the rules. Smile for the judges.
Fuck it.
My head dipped.
Vision tunneled, the edges smudged in charcoal and closing in.
Then.
Something shifted.
Not out there.
In me.
Heat flared behind my ribs, sharp, steady, like a heartbeat that wasn't mine.
It felt... old. Mean.
Like it had been crouched in the dark for years, holding its breath, waiting for the System to look away so it could move.
It didn't ask.
It reached into the rage and drank deep.
Then it poured that heat into the stab wound, slowly, deliberately, until the burn stopped feeling like pain and started feeling like ownership.
The heat crawled into my hands next, seeping into the cracks, setting bone and tendon alight with something that wasn't fire but had teeth.
[ROOT RESONANCE: RAGEBOUND – Norse Line: 4%]
[Legacy Function Accessed: "Flesh Forged by Fury"]
[Redirecting internal trauma...]
[Vital degradation slowed]
My lungs unlocked.
Air came back in short, jagged pulls, but it was mine again.
The cold in my fingers retreated, inch by inch, leaving behind a dull, throbbing heat.
The tremor in my hands eased, not gone, just less.
I was still mad. Still ready to rip something's face off.
But the roar in my head had gone quiet, like a beast sitting back on its haunches, watching.
But it wasn't just watching. It was waiting. Patient, heavy, content to crouch in the dark.
Its attention pressed against me, not gentle, not kind, but sharp as teeth grazing the skin. A reminder: this was me now, and it was me because I'd bled for it.
And whatever this Root was, it saw me.
It didn't ask for permission.
Didn't ask for trust.
Didn't take any shit.
I was alive. By all rights, I shouldn't have been. That fact settled in as a perverse little grin tugged at my mouth.
A new window bled into view.
✦ RESONANCE EVENT DETECTED ✦
User has initiated connection with Root: [Ragebound – Norse Line]
Response classified as: Symbolic Synchronization
Resulting Adaptation: Minor physiological reinforcement
Body has been nurtured by mythic resonance.
+1 Strength
+1 Vitality
Note: No further notifications will be provided for nonstandard progression unless legally required.
Not the same voice. This wasn't the thing in my ribs. This wasn't the heat that dragged me back. This was the System, stamping a barcode on something it couldn't touch. Saying this is mine, I made this.
But I felt it.
Muscles tightened under my skin, just a fraction, but enough to notice.
The wound in my side eased. Not gone. Still there, still wet. But no longer trying to pull me under with every heartbeat.
I sat there, breathing through my teeth.
I looked down at my hands.
Knuckles split. Skin raw and swelling. Blood, mine, the gobbo's, both smeared together into one sticky mess.
But the skin was knitting. The cracks in my hands felt warm from the inside, not from blood, but from whatever the hell my Root just did.
That Warrior guy, the one who'd yelled at his class like it was a lottery win and lit up like Christmas morning?
+10 Strength.
+5 Vitality.
Armor. A damn greatsword. Skills.
Instant muscles, like the System had just fast-forwarded his gym membership.
Me?
Two stat points and a hole between my ribs.
And, apparently, some kind of mythic first aid.
Part of me wanted to laugh.
Another part wanted to punch the next thing that moved.
I sat still. Listened. Felt.
Did that "mindfulness" crap people used to tell me to try, the thing I always told them to shove.
My old teacher would be proud.
No box.
No case file.
No label slapped on by someone too lazy to understand.
For the first time in a long time, this didn't feel like a test I was failing.
It felt...
Hard. Brutal. Unfair.
But real.
I'd hit something until the problem stopped being a problem.
And for once, nobody tried to shove me into a cage for it.
[ROOT RESONANCE: RAGEBOUND – Norse Line: 4% → 5%]
Alignment deepened. Symbolic self-recognition recorded.
No fanfare. No warm glow. No smug "Well Done" from the System.
Just a gray box, white text.
I stared at it.
The corner of my mouth twitched, not quite a smile.
"Yeah," I muttered.
"Thought so. You get it."
The message dissolved into nothing, leaving me alone with the smell of iron and the tacky pull of blood drying on stone.
And thinking one thing:
That felt good.
The weight of impact. The jolt running up my arms. The wet crunch of something smug turning soft under my knuckles.
The way that grin, the one that said I was a joke, a footnote, split, then stopped.
I wasn't supposed to feel this. Not with a half-clotted knife wound and a System doing everything it could to forget I existed. But I did.
And the worst part? I liked it.
Not the blood. Not the pain. Not the win.
The moment. That razor edge where the world finally shut the fuck up and listened.
Where there were no forms to sign, no collars to wear, no judges tapping their pens while they decided what box to shove me in.
Just me. My fists. My choice.
I felt,
Alive.
Real.
Undeniable.
I pushed to my feet, staggered once, caught myself.
Rolled my shoulders. The ache was still there, but it felt like proof.
"No gear. No guide. No mercy," I muttered.
"Fine."
Neck cracked.
Fists came up.
Would you like to proceed to Tutorial Encounter [2/10]?
(Rest period: 13 minutes remaining)
→ YES
→ NO
I hit YES.
Not because the System asked.
Because I felt like it.
Because the next thing they dropped in front of me?
I was going to break it.
Let the System leash the rest, polish their swords and stroke their stat sheets.
Me? I don't stroke. I smash.