It only occurred to me right then, staring at the spider, that I had severely fucked up. Why didn’t I just jump from the fourth-story window? I wondered.

  That was a viable option, in retrospect.

  It wasn’t an option yesterday, which is why I hadn’t considered it, but with the current state of my stats, I probably could’ve jumped down from four or five stories without injury. Of course, this was a “maximum difficulty” tutorial, so there were probably monsters on those floors, but this spider? It was on the level of the Obsidian Prowler—I could feel it.

  Now, I was stuck dealing with it because it was the only exit that wasn’t barred with webs. The spider was heinously smart and built its web above the door, luring victims in. So, there were clear glass walls that would act as my escape route. This was the only way.

  I checked the time.

  Tutorial: Regroup at Seattle Public Library

  Time remaining: 00:27:14

  I’m gonna need Time Ghost for this thing—aren’t I?

  (No.)

  I wouldn’t allow it. At guaranteed risk of people calling me a cocky asshole, I’d say I was pretty damn cool at the moment. I could transform metal doors into grenade shrapnel with a punch, and throw grown humans like shot puts. I had magic—the ability to stop time (kinda). The thought of losing all that just to survive felt wrong. Time Ghost wasn’t an option—I had to prove I had grown.

  Or… that I was a beast at running. Yeah, that was the better option. No, it was the only option. I needed a plan to do it.

  I contemplated my position and came to a decision. First, I would goad the spider into attacking me from a distance. That would give me time to dodge, even if it were faster than me. Then, I would dodge its attacks as I ran for one of the plate-glass walls, which I would bust out with a kick. If an evolved bird could do it, an evolved human could… right?

  I’d have to gamble on it: it was my only choice.

  Reaching into my satchel, I grabbed a cooking knife. I got lucky on my last throw… I thought. But it’s worth a shot.

  I wrapped a steak knife in Mana Sharpening—and pitched it at the spider. The blade launched out of my hand like a bullet, spinning fast as it flew at the arachnid.

  It missed—but my plan worked.

  The spider shot toward me as fast as a bullet, closing fifty feet in a split second. I barely managed to dodge and keep my footing. Then, I dodged when it planted its feet and hopped at me again. And again. And again. To my surprise, the more I dodged, the easier it became. Reality proved the information request right: my evolution had truly synced my body’s movements—and I was adapting to it.

  Gaining confidence, I sprinted across the room, dodging attacks. It seemed like it would be easy, but when it shot in front of me, I noticed it was shooting scarlet silk wherever it moved. That silk then stuck to the floor and stretched to the next spot it jumped, creating a labyrinth of clotheslines and trip wires for me to navigate.

  I avoided it by default, but I avoided it more diligently when I brushed a string and my superhuman side split on contact. I barely touched it!

  Fuck, that's dangerous! I thought, blood dripping from my side. I need to hurry!

  I avoided that for dear life after that, jumping and ducking and weaving as I moved to the door. I managed to avoid further injury—but it killed my momentum. Could I break through the window without a running start? I didn’t know.

  The spider shot at me again, cutting off all my paths with crimson silk. There was no choice but to face the silk head-on. So, I sharpened my trusty chair leg and swung down on it.

  To my delight, I easily cut through the silk. It had the opposite reaction. Realizing that I had a means to escape, the spider stopped playing around. It let out a terrifying screech, and suddenly all the spiders on the nearby walls jumped into the fray, shooting their webs and bodies at me.

  Fuck kicking—I had to charge the window with a shoulder check!

  Charging at full speed, I rammed a glass wall with my shoulder. The entire window blasted outward, sending me rolling into the street.

  I immediately laughed. I survived!

  I wanted to just lie there in the street, chuckling like a madman. Unfortunately, the spider scurried out of the lobby like a serial killer who was determined to drag his victim back into a house by their hair.

  “Just die!” I cried, searching for my desk leg. I had dropped it, and didn’t have time to find it. So, I jumped to my feet and ran behind a silver Toyota Prius with an Uber sign in the center of its windshield. I thought the car would provide good cover (because it was a car, obviously), but it didn’t do jack. The spider T-boned the car with its body, and all the windows blew out in a rain of glass. The flying car bashed me, throwing me into a Ford F-350’s door. Fiberglass molded to my skin as the two vehicles skated across the road and slammed into the wall across the street—but I survived.

  I actually survived!

  Somehow, I had been smashed between two vehicles after the equivalent of an eighty-mile-per-hour collision—and I was alive.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  That was… thrilling. My power was surreal!

  Perhaps it was the adrenaline; perhaps I had damaged my head after all. Whatever the case, I suddenly wanted to fight the spider, so that’s what I decided to do.

  I threw off the totaled Prius so hard that it rolled, exposing its undercarriage. Then, I grabbed a thick metal bar between the two wheels and ripped it out like a savage. Weapon in hand, I kicked the car below the bent wheel, sending the vehicle spinning out of the way. The motion cleared the road, allowing the spider and me to face off.

  The spider scuttled backward, bending its back legs to hop at me. I sharpened the bar, enjoying its weight in my hand.

  We stared at each other—

  —and then a blue arrow of raw mana pierced one of its eyes. I watched it in slow motion, expecting the laserlike arrow to plow right through the creature, shooting blood everywhere.

  But it didn’t.

  Only one of its two dozen eyes splatted—and that was it. The only other effect it had was sending the arachnid into a fury.

  “What?” I heard a man say slowly, his words elongated due to my heightened perception. I turned and saw a party of four. The archer had sandy-brown hair and a crisp dress shirt. There was a bodybuilder wielding a car door as a shield, a blonde-haired college-aged male with glasses and a diamond checkered Polo shirt, and a redhead around my age, who was clearly abducted in the middle of a run. She wore a black sports shirt that exposed her belly button, white-and-black mesh shorts, and hideous neon-purple-and-teal Adidas running shoes. The team looked relatively put together, but the look of shock etched into their faces indicated they had never encountered an evolved entity.

  “Run!” I screamed—but it was too late.

  The spider pounced—rocketing thirty meters toward them. Its six legs pierced the archer’s torso, an action that made biting his neck unnecessary. Yet it did, sinking its jaw right into the man’s throat in a grotesque scene of animalistic violence.

  It won the battle—but lost the war. That brief period gave me time to catch up. I closed the distance, swinging the bar in one smooth motion. The pipe sliced clean through the spider’s thorax. The spider screeched, gushing acidic green blood that covered the redhead’s forearm. She screamed, skin and muscles boiling and dissolving and smoking on contact.

  “Get away!” I screamed. To the party’s credit, they acted. The redhead threw up a golden barrier with her good hand, and when the spider jumped into it, the golden sphere cracked—but held. The blonde man in the Polo shirt threw up his hands and screamed, “Heal!” Her arm then glowed green, skin mending as the bodybuilder jumped in front of them with his car door shield out. It was great teamwork—but ultimately useless against an entity of that caliber.

  Luckily for them, the injured spider fled. I flew after it, determined to finish it off. It wasn’t just to obtain its soul force at that point—it was personal.

  “No, you don’t!” I screamed as it jumped onto the nearby Starbucks window, crawling up it as half its body dangled limply. I bounded toward it, shocked to find that I could jump ten feet as I lifted my pipe and slashed down. The sharpened pipe cut through three legs, splashing hot acid onto my face. I didn’t even feel it. My adrenaline was pumping, and victory was in my grasp. So, I let my body fall back to the road, and then spun around to finish off the spider. It had fallen onto the sidewalk in a gory heap—but it was still alive. So, I swung at it repeatedly, swung like a farmer swings a hoe, swung like a lumberjack cuts fallen logs, swung like my life depended on it—and then got the chime.

  You have killed Level 39 Scarlet Silk Spider.

  You have leveled up! +10 Free points.

  You have leveled up! +10 Free points.

  You have leveled up! +10 Free points.

  You have leveled up! +10 Free points.

  You have leveled up! +10 Free points.

  I immediately summoned my stats.

  Name: Kyle Taylor

  Level 36

  Evolution: 1

  Class: Paradox

  Adaptation Points Available: 1500

  Free Points: 260

  Status

  STR: 320

  AGL: 325

  END: 320

  PER: 380

  INT: 379 (3)

  I took three deep breaths, trying to process what I had just experienced. Somehow, I had survived being crushed between a Prius and a Ford F-350 pickup truck—and survived. I then sliced right through the spider’s body without resistance, even though the archer’s arrow barely popped an eye. All of it was unbelievable—but it was true. This was the nature of this world. It was a world where entities of the same size and species could wield wildly disproportionate power.

  I had to keep getting stronger. Otherwise, I’d be like that party—nearly wiped out in a matter of seconds.

  A notification flashed into my vision:

  Notice! There are fifteen minutes left until the end of the tutorial “Regroup at Seattle Public Library.” Hurry up! Failure to meet up will result in elimination.

  I turned to address the party and team up with them. I figured it wouldn’t be easy. They had just lost someone—a harsh loss—and it would be rude to talk logistics immediately afterward. Still, I didn’t expect the reception I received. The group, which had gathered around the dead archer, looked up in unison—not a spark of gratitude in their eyes.

  No. The redhead had her fingers laced behind her head, arching her back with a grimace. There was gratitude laced in her grieving—but the others were different. The man with the car door shield glanced at me and immediately turned away, and the blonde male in the beige, forest green Polo shirt was staring at me with bloodshot eyes more lethal and primal than any zombie I had encountered.

  What? I wondered—

  —and then I saw it.

  My pipe had cut the archer in half when I sliced through the spider’s thorax. It wasn’t my fault, but it was truly a macabre scene. I wouldn’t have faulted them for fearing me, but—

  “You killed him…” the blonde kid muttered, staring at the archer through his tear-streaked glasses. “I could’ve healed him… I could’ve…” He laughed darkly. “But you… you killed him.”

  The redhead reached out her hand. “Jacob. That’s not true. He was—”

  “No! I saw it!” Jacob slapped away her hand. “He was still breathing!”

  She turned to me, “Sorry. He’s coping.”

  “Don’t know about that,” the bodybuilder, the car door shield said. “He could’ve just slashed the spider.”

  “Tyler, we’re lucky he slashed through it at all,” she said. “That arrow did nothing. I would’ve swung with everything I had, too.”

  “Yeah, but…” Tyler waved around the lead pipe as a form of shrug, face twisted in depressed resignation. He then pointed the pipe at the archer, who had bled out in a small lake of blood. The redhead reappraised the scene and turned away, no longer arguing.

  Her resignation pissed me off—so I strode up.