Nathan Pov
They were briefed, prepared, and had the survival training for this, yet Nathan still felt overwhelmed by everything that happened.
"Well, that was something…" His friend and mentor muttered.
"No shit," The redhead replied, "You don't need to tell me that. Does this mean that it had already started? The entire test, I mean," he clarified before asking again. "What are we supposed to do now? What's the plan?"
Michael mulled over his questions before answering. "That… I don't know yet… but, I say… I say that we should first analyze the situation and try to formulate a course of action based on what we know and the resources we have on our hands."
"Yeah… that is as good of a start as any. But what's clear is that at one point we would have to get out of here if we don't want to fail. Neither you nor I have enough points to pass ŧhe rite. Only Miss Čakarević has enough points to pass without doing anything."
The woman in question only raised a delicate eyebrow at him for that remark, making him blush while stammering some apologies.
She chuckled.
"Miss… Čakarević's good fortune apart…" He couldn't mistake the mocking mirth which his friend began ŧalking with for anything else. "This means that we'll have to fight monsters sooner or later. So, procuring and arming ourselves with some weapons should be one of our priorities, guns being out of our options for obvious reasons. "
Nathan loudly cleared his throat, hoping to push past his embarrassment. "Well… we gotta need info on monsters for that too. You know, if they're werewolves or vampires or zombies…"
Chuckling, Miss Čakarević joined in. "That's not a problem. I can help with that."
"Oh?" Michael exclaimed. "Is that so?"
"Yes, with my bronze grade, I think I have access to a lot more interesting things, notably detailed information on monsters."
"If it's true, then that's not bad. Not bad at all. Knowing is half the battle. That neatly solves a problem."
"Are you sure though?" Nathan questioned, sounding slightly unsure. "Wouldn't it be best if you save those points? You are automatically passing if I'm not wrong."
"No," she answered, shaking her head. "What good will it do? Sure, if the test only lasted for 3 days or something. Then yes, saving my points as much as possible would be logical. But, it'll last 33 days. 33 days. A lot of things can happen in a month. In this configuration, those points are only supposed to give me an earlier advantage, an edge. And at the end of the day, I still need to eat and drink. If I use all my points to only buy things like food and water, then I will eventually run out of points without much to show for it."
"She's right," Michael nodded. "The correct course of action is to use those points to buy tools that will help you amass more points. It's a 'give a man fish to feed him for one day vs teach a man to fish to feed him for a lifetime' kind of analogy."
"I see…"
"Now, obviously, we need to find this terminal if we're going to buy those tools."
As soon as Miss Čakarević finished talking, a shout of exclamation coming from the back of the court was heard, making them all turn their head in the direction of it.
"What was that about?" Nathan asked as they exchanged questioning glances between themselves.
"That," Michael trailed off. " I don't know," he said, frowning. "But we should probably go take a look. Let's go."
Watching his friend leave, he exchanged a last glance with Miss Čakarević. The woman, for her part, simply shrugged before walking after his friend.
Nathan swept his hand through his air, trying to shake the apprehensive feeling raging inside his gut.
'What am I afraid of? We're prepared for that. We can do it. C'mon, let's do this.'
Was his thought, as he followed after his colleagues.
…x…x…x…x…x—---------------------...x…x…x…x…x…x----------------------------...x…x…x…x…x
Ian Pov
The mood in the gymnasium was heavy.
Shortly after Evangeline's official announcement, the oppressing silence that had settled over initially hadn't lasted long. Instead, it quickly shifted into this tense atmosphere.
Some people were guarded and on edge, eyeing each thing and persons around them with apprehension. A few others were pacing around the court, mutterings and swearing under their breaths. And others were just sitting on the ground, or leaning with their back against a wall, staring into space with a look of hopeless resignation on their face.
Once upon a time, he was the same as them. Not hopeless or resigned, no. Just in a perpetual state of mind saying 'I must be dreaming'.
He couldn't believe what was happening to him.
He couldn't believe that any of it was real. After all, how could it be real? This didn't make sense, he didn't even die. Nor did he go to bed, sleep, and wake up here. No, one moment he was taking the stairs toward his dorm room, and the next moment he was in this white room, in front of an honest-to-god angel.
He had been summoned, isekai'd. Like what happened in those power fantasies he used to binge-read all day and night. He was now the protagonist of one of those stories he had read so much and wished to be in. He even had access to a system. A system.
He was a fucking main character now.
However, reality was harsher than fiction.
At his first encounter with a monster… a real monster. At the first sight of an inhuman creature, at the first sign of danger… he had folded. All his bravado, all his confidence, all his excitement, all of that left him.
He ran.
What did he expect? What was he thinking? One day, when a squirrel entered his dad's car, they had fucking screamed in fright and surprise. When a duck had bounced for him another day in the park, he had, again, screamed while running away from it.
What did he expect to do against a fucking monster when he was afraid of ducks and squirrels?
Again what was he thinking?
He knew what he was thinking.
He had thought that it was like in his stories, he was the protagonist, he must be. Surely, he should have a cheat and unique skill. With a cheat, he could maybe wield a unique overpowered magic system, or create any skill he wishes and make it easily OP.
That's how it normally goes, right? It wasn't a far-fetched presumption, right?
Reality was harsher than fiction.
Without a special unique ability, without a cheat, without an essence of some sort, without the courage to fight– and lacking the conviction to risk his life or even to be hurt, a compromise had to be found if he wanted to save his life. He had to find another way to pass this trial. And this slightly less dangerous and easy way to collect the points necessary to save his life, he ended up finding it.
Playing bait.
By acting as bait for the people with the strength and courage to fight those monsters.
If there was one single thing which he was good at, if there was one thing which he could say with certitude he excelled at, one thing which he had confidence in.
It was running.
Running as fast as possible over long distances.
After all, he had played football since elementary school, and later on, he played as a right back for his high school football team. To be able to play at this post, you needed to have good stamina and be fast. You have to. Ideally, good full-backs are typically known for their ability to deliver good crosses, bring an offensive surplus in attacking phases, and quickly track back in defense in case of a counter-attack.
So that's what he did to survive, he integrated himself into a group, did all the menial, thankless tasks nobody wanted to do, and ran, again, and again, and again.
7 points.
That's what he had managed to scrape together after 33 days. 2 points from killing and ambushing some ratmen with a stone, always while being as far away as possible from them.
And the other 5 points… that, he decided to attribute to luck. Pure luck. With hindsight, he realized how lucky it was that the party leader had respected their initial deal. They had all the powers in their hands, and there was a real possibility that he could have gone back on the deal struck with him. He sure as hell wouldn't have been able to do shit about it.
For whatever reasons, be it by honor (he doubted it), or because he was impressed enough with him, the leader had decided to give him those points.
His reasons didn't matter, because that had allowed him to pass, to live. It didn't matter back then, it doesn't matter now.
Because he won't find himself in the same spot. Again.
'Never again.' Ian thought, scowling even as he made his way toward the terminal.
From the court, or the bleachers, the terminal wasn't easily visible. It was hidden away, in a small corner at the very back of the court, just between the wall and the side of the bleacher. The terminal was a weird blend of sleek futuristic looking with the classical aesthetic of a 70s computer.
Once in front of it, he turned on the machine. And as advertised, the screen easily lit up, and immediately after, the small, square opening hole beneath the screen started to emit light at its edge. The light kept shifting from white to purple, to blue, to green, and so on.
Ian promptly pressed the back of his right hand against the opening. With an electronic whirring sound, the terminal began scanning the black symbol on his hand.
Five seconds later, it ejected– from a compartment beneath the scanner– a small and transparent white card the size of a credit card with a blue highlight running along the card's edge.
On the terminal screen itself, some instructions were slowly appearing, the words being quickly written word by word. He easily ignored it in favor of picking up the card and double tapping its surface with his thumb.
Letters started materializing in the space in front of him, in the form of a projection.
[Player's identification process has been completed. Start Of Synchronization.]
[...Starting Player's Synchronization…]
[... 14%...]
[... 42%...]
[... 68%...]
[... 91%...]
[Synchronization Completed! Optimal Level Of Resonance Reached!]
[...Starting Installation of Inv_Patch_Language_installer.exe]
[C:\Players\ibosworth\OccipitalLobe\Wernicke'sArea\MotorCortex\Broca'sArea\Local\Temp\install.log]
[Inv_Patch_Language Installation Completed!]
[System Tutorial Guide]
[Player's Informat–]
Ian immediately skipped past the system introductory tutorial's guide to look at his stats.
[Players stats]
[General Rating: 03]
Strength: I-02
Perception: I-04
Endurance: I-01
Stamina: I-06
Agility: I-05
Intelligence: I-02
Ether Proficiency: N/A
Stat points: 0
No displayed level.
The [General Information], [Traits], [Skills], or [Specials] page window was unavailable too.
And on top of that, his stats were all in the single digits, along with a general rating in the same digit. What greeted him was a far cry from what he was used to seeing. But it tracked with what he felt like since coming back.
Weak.
Pathetically so.
His body felt weak, his mind sluggish and his sense enfeebled. Forget about an arrow, even a well-placed pebble can… no, will probably kill him.
With those stats, even if he wanted to act alone, he wouldn't be able to really stomp the Tutorial. Oh, sure, if he played it smart, finishing with a high score wouldn't be a problem for him.
But it wasn't enough, no way was he going to be satisfied with a 'high score', settling for less than that would be shameful. He may as well not participate if he was aiming for this much. No. He had to stomp this trial. No other alternatives.
After all, weak stats or not, he has the experience and the skills to finish first by a landslide, just not all of them nor some of his specials.
He certainly didn't need a screen listing or telling him all his skills to remember how to fight. 'And there's a lot of monsters that are smart and cunning enough to lay traps or ambushes, use weapons, and know the benefits of fighting in groups…'
His biggest weakness at the moment was his low stats along with any types of enemies with a range option. Encountering those could be deadly. More so if they managed to successfully take him by surprise.
Though eventually, he could manage to bring his stats to be at the higher end of what's strictly expected for a candidate in this trial. That would help him square this weakness as much as possible.
"Whooaa– Holy shit! Is that a hologram? Where did you find it?"
Someone shouted in exclamation upon looking at his projected status screen. That brought him out of his musing.
Sighing, Ian swept his thumbs over his card's surface, shutting off the projection. "Terminal." He curtly answered, pointing his head in the direction of the machine.
"This looks really cool! Is that this terminal thing that the woman was talking about?" Said the man– an average guy in his mid-twenties– while looking at the computer on-legs. "How do I use it? She said that we need to scan our mark right? How did you manage to do that?"
Their discussion managed to catch the attention of a group of people, a dozen or so in size, who quickly made their way toward them.
"What is happening over here? Oh– that's the terminal?" The intimidating middle-aged man, Michael, said upon seeing them near the terminal. "It looks different from what I would have thought."
"I know right? It's really sci-fi looking. I'm pretty sure that we're dealing with aliens instead of Angels or some other nonsense."
"From a certain standpoint, we are dealing with aliens," Interjected Miss Čakarević, her other bodyguard, Nathan, was trailing right behind her. "After all what's the definition of an alien if not that of a being, hypothetical or fictional who is from another world? Our overseer said as much in her presentation. We are in an alternate world, meaning she is from an alternate world, aka technically an alien."
"I supposed…" The man reluctantly conceded, pursuing his lips.
"Well, I reckon that we need to print our information card to have access to a store or some sort of system?" She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her escort, who was poking and probing the terminal. "Well… what are we waiting for?"
"To figure out how this is supposed to work," Michael replied, scratching his chin in thought.
"That's what I was asking him before you arrived," The man said, pointing at the back of a now-leaving Ian. "Hey! Wait a second! You didn't tell us how you managed to print your card!"
"It's easy," Ian began to answer, walking away. "Press your mark against the small shining opening beneath the screen for 5 seconds or so. Then, once your card is printed, you just have to double-tap on its surface and read the instructions. Just follow the guide."
However, before he could sneak out, someone stopped him in his tracks.
"Hey," The redhead, Nathan, if he remembered right, gripped his arm. "It would be nice of you if you could stay here, and you know… show us how you did that." The grip on his arm tightened, Nathan asked smilingly. "Don't you think so?"
He wasn't really asking, was he? He certainly didn't miss the hint of a threat in his tone.
Nothing that intimidated him, truly.
"No, I don't think so."
"Ah," Nathan blinked, surprised. But that look of surprise quickly got replaced by a sneer. He quickly got closer, entering his personal space to loom over him, his frame towering against his short one. Nathan increased the pressure on his arm. "Oh, and why is that?"
Fighting against the instinctual physical response of wincing in pain; Ian tellingly looked at the hand clutching his in a vice-like grip, then inclined his head to look at him, then looked at his hand, again, then at him. He repeated the motion multiple times, back and forth. Not deigning to respond to him, he instead slowly raised an eyebrow at him as if telling him 'Well, your hand is kind of holding my own and it's inconvenient, can't you see how rude it is? Where are your manners?'
But he doubted that this dumbass could catch the full meaning behind his intricate use of body language.
And expectantly, he didn't.
"What? Can't use your words?" Snickered Nathan with a mocking smirk playing on his face. It honestly annoyed him more than he thought it would. "I think I didn't understand what you said the first time, thought I heard that you will be delighted to show us how to operate the terminal, correct me if I'm wrong."
His placid expression slowly melted from his face, Ian frowned in annoyance. He swallowed the one-line reply of 'you are' that was on the verge of leaving his lips.
After his first uttered sentence, he'd already decided to not waste on him his daily reserve of the little amount of fuck he had to pretend to give.
If he was going to respond to this dumbass it wouldn't be with words anymore.
No. He was done talking.
However before Ian could act, someone came to his aid.
"I think that this is unnecessary."
The man who spoke was of an imposing stature. He was tall, taller than Nathan by two inches or three, and also muscular– possessing a clean shaved head, a well-groomed black beard, and a pair of glasses affixed on top of his nose; he has the typical stern bookworm but somewhat chill gym-uncle look to a T.
He noted that it was also the same man that had previously come to the rescue of the middle-aged bald man forcefully accosted.
"You're clearly making him feel uncomfortable," he said, "And everyone else for the matter with your attitude." He stated, referring to the small audience that had initially gathered around for the terminal, but that was now watching them with some visible discomfort. Still, other than the man, nobody decided to step in. "Besides– look, your friends have already figured it out. There's no need to force the kid and put him on the spot like this."
And he was of course right, behind them, Ian could see that the blonde woman in a suit had managed to print her card and was now reading her projected information. The man escorting her, on the other hand, was scanning his mark.
Seeing this too, and obviously aware of how it was looking for everyone else on the scene, Nathan let go of his arm.
Chuckling, he patted his shoulder, "Of course, it isn't like that. I was just asking him for his help," then, said in a fake apologizing tone while somewhat managing to smile disarmingly. "My bad, sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, it wasn't my intention to. I hope there aren't any hard feelings about it."
Ian only scoffed, slapped his hand off his shoulder, and walked off.
"Insolent brat." Nathan cursed under his breath while watching him leave.
As he was about to walk past the shaved-headed man, he stopped.
"Thank you for your help."
Even if he hadn't needed his help, thanking him wouldn't hurt, seeing as the guy has intervened two times when others haven't.
At least, his seeming good-naturedness and initiative made him a good prospect to team up with.
"You're welcome kid," the man replied. "But you should try to be a little less… standoffish."
Smiling, Ian nodded.
As if sensing that he wasn't honestly agreeing with him, only placating him, the man hastened to add. "Not that I'm saying that the way he basically forced you to help was right. Of course not. But it won't hurt to be a little more polite, people will be more inclined to help you if you're a little more helpful."
"I'll keep that in need for next time, thanks again."
"You're welcome, kid," he said, waving away his thanks. "You're welcome."