The first thing I noticed—after the voice in the sky boomed out my zero-star shame for the universe to hear—was the smell.
It wasn't the kind of smell you'd expect in a fantasy world: flowers, maybe, or crisp mountain air. No, this was bad. Like wet socks mixed with mildew and a hint of something rotting in the distance.
I stood up, trying not to gag, and glanced around. The world was…off. Everything had a strange, hyper-saturated glow, like someone cranked the contrast up too high. Jagged rocks jutted out of the cracked ground, pools of sickly green ooze bubbled nearby, and the sky was still that ominous red-black swirl, as if God decided to stage an apocalypse and then got distracted halfway through.
And the people.
I wasn't alone, which was slightly reassuring. About a dozen others stood scattered nearby, all dressed in mismatched, tattered gear like me. Some clutched crude weapons—a rusted sword, a cracked staff, even a frying pan. A few looked confused, others terrified, and one guy was just sitting on the ground, rocking back and forth while mumbling, "It's not real, it's not real."
A faint chime echoed, and text flashed in my vision:
[Tutorial Phase 1: Survive The First Wave.]
Oh, no.
"Oh, no no no," I whispered, the pieces clicking together. I was in Realm Clash's tutorial zone. I'd played this part before—back when I first downloaded the game. Except this time, I wasn't sitting on my couch, casually tapping the screen.
This time, I was in it.
And I knew what was coming next.
....
It started as a distant rumble, like an earthquake far off. The ground beneath me trembled, and everyone froze. Then, the rumble turned into a series of rapid thuds, getting louder by the second.
"W-what is that?" a girl with a chipped dagger stammered.
I already knew, but I really, really didn't want to be right.
The first one emerged from over a hill—a grotesque, hulking thing with mottled skin, glowing red eyes, and far too many teeth. Its body was misshapen, like someone had smashed a troll and a boar together and called it a day.
[Enemy: Ravager Drone]
Then came the others. Ten. Fifteen. No, twenty.
"Oh, this is bad," I muttered, gripping my slingshot—a weapon that might as well have been a soggy piece of cardboard against those things.
"RUN!" someone screamed, and chaos erupted.
We bolted. The ragtag group of clueless nobodies scattered in every direction, and I wasn't far behind.
My heart pounded as I sprinted over jagged rocks and around bubbling pits of ooze, the Ravagers closing in fast. Their guttural growls and the thundering of their claws on the ground filled my ears.
"This isn't happening," I gasped, dodging a swipe from one of the monsters. Its claws raked through the air inches from my face.
I scrambled up a small ridge, panting, only to trip over my own feet and land flat on my back. The Ravager that had chased me snarled and leapt, its massive jaws aimed right for my head.
I raised the slingshot out of pure instinct and fired.
The tiny pebble I'd loaded in the band snapped forward, smacking the Ravager square in the nose.
It didn't hurt it—of course it didn't—but the sudden sting made it recoil for just a moment. Long enough for me to roll out of the way and tumble down the other side of the ridge.
I hit the ground hard, my entire body aching. When I looked up, another player—a guy with a rusty sword—was mid-swing against one of the smaller Ravagers. He managed to land a blow, but the blade barely scratched the thing's hide.
"HELP ME!" he shouted.
I didn't even have time to think. Another Ravager was already lunging at me.
I dove out of the way and took aim with my slingshot again, firing blindly. The pebble ricocheted off the creature's forehead, distracting it just long enough for Rusty Sword Guy to stab it in the neck.
It collapsed with a sickening thud, ichor oozing from the wound.
I stared at him, panting. "How did you—?"
"I don't know!" he yelled back, glancing at the corpse. "I just—"
He didn't get to finish. Another Ravager barreled into him from the side, knocking him to the ground.
.
.
.
I ran. Again.
....
The thing about running for your life is that it's exhausting. I was drenched in sweat, my legs felt like jelly, and my lungs burned like I'd inhaled molten lava. Every time I thought I'd found a safe spot to catch my breath, another Ravager would appear, forcing me to keep going.
Eventually, I stumbled into a narrow crevice between two rocks. The walls were steep enough that the Ravagers couldn't easily follow, and for a moment, it seemed like I'd found a safe haven.
That's when the tutorial message popped up again:
[Tip: Use your abilities to defeat the enemies and survive. Check your character stats for guidance.]
Abilities? Stats? I groaned, pulling up my interface.
Name: Elliot Kane
Class: Sludge Rat Wrangler
Level: 0
Star Rating: 0
Abilities: None
Equipment: Rusted Slingshot (Broken)
"Great," I muttered. "Just great. I'm basically a glorified meat shield with a slingshot."
I closed the menu in frustration and peeked out from the crevice. The Ravagers were still prowling nearby, sniffing the air and snarling.
I had no plan. No strategy. But staying put wasn't an option.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the crevice and loaded another pebble into my slingshot.
"Alright, you ugly freaks," I muttered, aiming at the nearest Ravager. "Let's see how far sheer stupidity gets me."
I fired, hitting it square in the eye.
The creature roared, thrashing wildly, and charged.
"Oh, crap."
I turned and ran, but this time, I wasn't completely panicking. I remembered the layout of this tutorial zone—the rocky ridges, the bubbling pits of acid. If I could just lure the Ravager toward one of those pools…
…..
The chase was a blur of near-misses and adrenaline-fueled panic. I weaved between rocks, ducked under claw swipes, and finally skidded to a stop near the edge of an acid pit.
"Come on," I whispered, watching as the Ravager barreled toward me.
At the last second, I dove to the side. The Ravager couldn't stop in time and plunged straight into the bubbling green ooze.
I didn't stick around to watch it dissolve.
.
.
.
When the dust finally settled, I found myself back with a smaller group of survivors. Only about five of us were left, all bruised, bloody, and exhausted.
The girl with the chipped dagger glared at me. "You're alive? With that piece of junk?"
"Hey," I said, holding up my slingshot. "Don't underestimate the power of low expectations."
She rolled her eyes, but I caught the faintest hint of a smirk.
As we regrouped, another message appeared in my vision:
[Tutorial Phase Complete. Congratulations, Survivors.]
I let out a shaky breath, collapsing onto the ground.
"Tutorial?" I muttered. "If that was just the tutorial, I'm so screwed."