On paper, forming teams looked like the perfect plan. Humans are wired to work in groups—tribal instincts, built over centuries. It makes sense: five people have a better chance of surviving the unknown than just one.
But the problem? Everyone wanted that "ideal" team. The go-to strategy was two warriors, two mages, and a thief. Sounds simple enough, right? Until human nature steps in and logic flies out the window.
"You think I'll be a mage? What, so I can wave a stick around like some kind of wimp? I'm a man, not some spell-caster."
"D-Do I really have to be a warrior? I don't want to be on the front lines! Fighting monsters face-to-face is terrifying. I'd much rather be a mage."
"Bro, are you serious? Why do I have to be the thief? I'll be the first to die if all I can do is dodge and evade!"
Their complaints? Pretty valid. Unknowingly, yet still valid.
Biologically speaking, men and women were different. Men naturally fit into warrior roles, their bodies built for strength and endurance. Women, on the other hand, were often more attuned to magic, with a stronger ability to control mana, making them powerful mages. And thieves? They were a mixed bag—fast, agile, able to skirt the edges of danger without fully engaging.
Gawain listened to the squabbling around him, glancing casually at the people involved. Some of their faces brought back memories—memories he'd rather not dwell on. He could still picture the moments when things went wrong, heads rolling, lives ending in brutal flashes. Even now, it was hard to forget what he'd seen.
'Urgh, stop thinking about that, Gawain,' he scolded himself, shaking his head. It was the past, and he had no time to get lost in it. Slapping his cheeks lightly, he focused again. "I should check my status page," he muttered, and quickly willed the familiar window to appear.
[Ding!]
[Name - Gawain Alaric (Human)
Title -
1) The Last Man Standing - You were the last of your race, surviving against all odds to see the end of your world.
Effects - All stats +20% when fighting alone.
2) The Regressor - You return to the past with the memories of a future already lived, armed with knowledge to change the course of history. But every choice you make carries the weight of unforeseen consequences, forcing you to confront the darkness of your past.
Effects - All stats +20% when fighting creatures and monsters you've fought in your last life.
Class - Thief
Sub-Class - (None)
Level 1 (0/10)
Stats:
Strength - 1
Agility - 1 (+1)
Constitution - 1
Mana - 1
Focus - 1 (+1)
Skill:
1) Backstab
Mana Circles - None
Aura Plates - None ]
Gawain stared at the status window blankly for a moment, before his eyes widened in shock and his heart began thudding in his chest loudly, as the titles sank in.
"Two titles?" he breathed, the disbelief coursing through him like a jolt of electricity. His eyes widened as he read them again, half-convinced he had imagined it. The Regressor—that one made sense. It was inevitable after what he'd been through, dragging himself back from the end of the world, and now "forced" to relive it all. He expected that.
But The Last Man Standing?
He blinked hard, shaking his head as if the words would rearrange themselves into something more believable. But they didn't. It was still there, staring back at him from the status window. A title he thought he'd left behind in that ruined future.
'How do I still have this?' The question buzzed in his mind, but the answer wasn't coming. Titles weren't supposed to carry over into new timelines like this, and yet, here it was. Even the effects were exactly the same.
His eyes scanned the bonuses again. "All stats +20% when fighting alone." And then, "All stats +20% when fighting creatures I've already faced." In layman's terms, Gawain would always be fighting with a boost of 20%, considering there wasn't a single monster or race that he hadn't fought before.
A small, incredulous laugh escaped his lips. "If I'm fighting alone, I'll be two levels ahead of everyone else. And that gap will only grow more and more." he muttered under his breath, voice laced with awe. He could hardly believe it. This wasn't just good; It was incredible.
His mind raced, quickly calculating the numbers. Five base stat points, plus the 40% boost from both titles. That meant an extra two stat points, just like that. It didn't seem like much at first, but those extra points were a huge advantage this early in the game. Most people wouldn't even be thinking about titles or bonuses yet, and here he was, with a head start no one could touch.
His shock turned into a wide, knowing grin. "Good," he whispered, his heart thudding with excitement. Thank you, you imp bastard. This was exactly what he needed. He could already feel the pressure lifting off of his shoulders. He wasn't going to look for a team anyway, but this was even better of an incentive to stay away from one.
In fact, Gawain knew that joining a team would only hold him back. Why? Because it was a trap.
Not a deadly one, not at first. But in the grand scheme of things, it was a snare waiting to tighten around the unwary. People without combat experience instinctively sought safety in numbers, clinging to the comfort of a group. They believed they were stronger together, more capable of handling the dangers ahead. But what they failed to realize was that the very act of sharing experience would stunt their growth.
Gawain's grin widened, his mind already spinning through the advantages he held. While others banded together, thinking they'd cover each other's weaknesses, they were in fact splitting their rewards. The experience points—the crucial fuel for leveling up—would be shared among them all, meaning they'd grow slower. The early stages of the tutorial were crucial, the monsters weak but plentiful. If you fought alone, you could kill more, gain more experience, and level up faster. Simple math.
But no one else seemed to get that.
'Once the monsters get smarter, these teams will fall apart,' Gawain thought, watching the groups form around him. They were still looking at him like he was crazy, standing there on his own, not seeking out allies. Some even gave him pitying looks, as if he was the one making a mistake.
They couldn't be more wrong.
"They're ruining their chances at stronger classes later on," Gawain muttered, half to himself, half to the status window still floating in front of him. By relying too much on their teams now, they were weakening themselves for later. When the real challenges came, when the monsters began to think and adapt, they wouldn't be strong enough. They'd panic, they'd scatter, and that's when they'd fall.
The five minutes went by in a blur, and sure enough, everyone had picked their class. The weight of Mr. Wisp's earlier threat hung over the group like a heavy fog. No one doubted him anymore—when he said he'd kill anyone who hadn't chosen, he meant it.
As if on cue, the eerie black figure appeared once more, materializing on Gawain's shoulder like a shadow brought to life. "Ho?" Mr. Wisp's voice was sharp and teasing. "With all those weapons you've been hauling around, I thought you'd go for the warrior class. But it looks like you're full of surprises…" His long, pointy tail jabbed playfully at Gawain's cheek, as if testing his reaction.
Gawain didn't flinch. He kept his expression calm, letting Mr. Wisp poke and prod, the faintest flicker of amusement sparking in his eyes. He'd seen worse.
The strange creature's attention shifted to the rest of the group, its grin stretching unnaturally wide. "And look at that... all of you picked a class? You're no fun! I was hoping for a little... chaos." His voice dripped with disappointment, as if he'd been cheated out of a good show. The corner of his mouth twitched—was he... pouting?
Gawain kept his focus, ignoring the odd behavior. The others, well, they weren't so composed.
"Anyways," Mr. Wisp clapped his hands together, his voice echoing with an almost playful menace, "since you've all made your choice… here are your starting weapons."
The air shimmered, and with a faint pop, a weapon materialized in front of each person.
"Woah!"
"Holy crap, an actual sword!"
"This is insane!"
While most were happy with their weapons, someone in the back wasn't as thrilled. "Man, I'm supposed to fight with this knife?! I'll be the first to die with this thing!"
Gawain glanced down at the dagger floating in front of him. It was simple, unremarkable—certainly no masterpiece. He reached out, gripping the handle, feeling the weight of it settled in his hand. 'Not bad.' He thought with a neutral expression.
Mr. Wisp hovered closer, his smirk widening as he watched Gawain inspect the weapon. "What do you think, boy?" he asked, his tail still poking at Gawain's side. "Better than the junk you brought with you, isn't it?" There was a teasing edge to his voice, as if daring Gawain to react.
Gawain smirked inwardly but didn't take the bait. He knew better than to poke the monster back. Not now, at least.
Mr. Wisp smirked at Gawain, relishing in his stubbornness to respond, before floating in front of the crowd. "Phew! Now then, humans," it began, its grin unsettling. "We shall start the tutorial now, shall we?"
Everyone gulped, eyes fixed on the creature, their hearts racing. They waited for Mr. Wisp to elaborate, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. As for the creature, it just leaned into their fear, its smile growing wider. "For your first task, you have to just... survive," it declared grandly, clapping its hands.
Almost at that moment, out of nowhere a massive circle materialized beneath their feet, glowing ominously.
"Wh-what is this?" someone stammered.
"I don't know, man. I don't understand a single thing that's happened since I got here!" another shouted, panic creeping into their voice.
Gawain looked around calmly, though a knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach. He'd been here before, and he knew one thing for sure, 'This is going to get ugly…' he thought with a wince. The murmurs among the group grew louder, each person trying to make sense of the situation.
"Now, now. Let's just leave the explanations to your Mr. Wisp, humans," it chirped, its sadistic grin fixed.
"You see…" Mr. Wisp continued, its voice dripping with malice, "…not everyone is entitled to the same resources. Much like how you humans prioritize the more capable among your kind, a similar culling will unfold here." The words sent chills down Gawain's spine.
"Huh? W-what do you mean?" a voice quavered from the sidelines.
"Y-Yeah. W-what does that have to do with what's going on here?" another asked, fear lacing their tone.
Mr. Wisp's grin widened, spreading its arms wide as if embracing the chaos. "This circle you're seeing is your 'Safe Zone.' As long as you are inside, you'll be safe. Nothing can enter this 'Safe Zone.'"
"For real? That's amazing! Thank God. I really didn't want to fight any monsters," someone cheered, relief washing over the crowd.
"I know, right? I didn't want to either," another voice chimed in, optimism creeping back in.
"Now, now. Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Mr. Wisp interjected, maintaining its grin. "Sure, the 'Safe Zone' will keep you safe, but only 20 teams, or 100 people, are allowed in at a time." The words hit everyone like a punch to the gut.
"W-WHAT?!"
"B-B-BUT THERE ARE SO MANY OF US! WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO OTHERS?!"
Mr. Wisp chuckled, relishing their panic. "Hehehe! Well, that is up to you to decide. You have thirty minutes to choose who will and who will not enter the 'Safe Zone.' Make sure you aren't too late. Oh! And one more thing: once the time is up, no one else can enter the Zone."
It smirked again, reveling in their dread. "If there are more than a hundred people in the Zone at that time, the Zone will cease to exist. And keep in mind, all members of a team have to be on the same side of the circle."
"Well then, choose wisely. Mr. Wisp, signing out. Hehehe!" With that, it vanished, leaving pure chaos in its wake.
"What do we do now? No matter what! I'm not leaving the circle!" someone shouted.
"Yeah! I'm not leaving either!" another voice agreed, fear mingling with defiance.
"Oi! Old man, you should leave with your fucking team! You've already outlived your life!" a young voice sneered.
"W-what are you saying, you damn brat?! I'm not going out!" the old man shouted back, indignation flaring.
"Yeah! I'm not going out either! You should respect your elders. You're young; it's your responsibility to protect the women, children, and the elderly!" an elderly woman chimed in.
"The fuck are you yapping about, old man? I'm not dying to save some fossils!" the young one spat.
Gawain sighed in annoyance, frustration boiling beneath his calm exterior. 'It has already begun, huh? That bastard. No wonder so many died in the tutorial. He divided everyone even before the first monster appeared.'
"Everyone, please calm down." A loud, authoritative voice cut through the chaos, commanding attention.
Gawain turned toward the source, immediately recognizing the imposing figure. The man stood at least six and a half feet tall, built like a tank, muscles rippling beneath his shirt. His dark hair framed a face marked by determination, deep black eyes scanning the crowd.
"I'm Lucius Draymore," he announced, his voice strong yet comforting. "I'm an ex-special forces operative. Please calm down and let's not panic. We don't want to antagonize each other."
"We have around half an hour. Let's use that time to decide who should stay out of the circle. I know it's a jarring thought to give up your personal protection, but we sho—"
Before Lucius could finish, a voice cut through the din.
"I'll leave the circle."
_____