A burned-out tarp fluttered in the breeze. Flies buzzed over a pile of corpses. They were dead. All of them. Massacred by a single psychopath.

  They thought numbers would protect them. Safety in the herd. That if they stuck together—shared food, took turns on watch, fought as a team—they’d have a better shot at making it through the Tutorial alive.

  They were wrong. Humanity was fucked.

  It only took one person to wipe out an entire encampment. One monster dressed in human skin. Outnumbered? Surrounded? Outflanked?

  Didn’t fucking matter.

  All that mattered now was power.

  Earl had seen that truth bleed across at least a dozen battlefields in the last thirty days. Tactics, loyalty, teamwork—all of it could get you killed if you didn’t have the raw power to back it up.

  And the bastard who’d done this?

  He had power in spades.

  Earl had been through hell. Literal firefights. Human cruelty. He’d watched men scream with their insides hanging out, seen children with bombs strapped to their chests. But nothing had prepared him for the shitshow that was this System Tutorial.

  Thirty days. That’s how long it had been since the System arrived and punched reality in the dick.

  At first, he’d been excited. Giddy, even. He’d gotten a System Core, which apparently only a fraction of humanity qualified for. One minute he was watching TV, the next he had a glowing notification in his vision and a burning sensation low in his gut—right below his navel.

  Then the knowledge came flooding in. Stats, skills, Classes, monsters. Mana. Experience points. Dungeons. Fucking dungeons.

  And most importantly—the path to power.

  The System handed him three Class choices. He barely even glanced at the others. The second he saw [Berserking Behemoth], it was game over. A rare class that grew stronger the angrier you got? That rewarded fury with strength?

  That was the one for him.

  For the first time in his life, Earl’s rage was an asset.

  He didn’t have to pretend anymore. Didn’t have to bottle it up. Out here, his rage was a fucking weapon, not a weakness he had to hide away. And it was keeping him alive.

  The first few days were glorious. He smashed through monsters, carried his group through thick marshes and shallow hellholes. Nothing could stop him—not gator-wolves, not mudleeches, not even the spikeback hydra that tried to eat Krystal in one bite.

  Every fight made him stronger. Every kill fueled the fire.

  Then the beam appeared.

  Violet light, thin as a laser and bright as a star, lanced up into the sky like the gods had pissed through the clouds. That was when the Tutorial shifted.

  Everything after that beam went to shit.

  The monsters got nastier. Smarter. Hungrier.

  And people? People got worse.

  There was something about the System that brought out the rot in human souls. Gave power to the wrong hands. Let the wolves dress like men.

  Earl had been a Marine. He’d seen the worst of humanity—war crimes, civilian casualties, friendlies turned hostile. He thought he’d been hardened.

  He hadn’t seen real monsters until the System.

  And the worst of those monsters looked just like the rest of them.

  Richard. Slimy fucking Richard. That smile. That smirk. That greasy used-car-salesman charm that somehow worked on the others. Earl never trusted him. Didn’t like how Richard never got his hands dirty. Always talked about “strategy” and “resource pooling” and “making the Tutorial work for us.”

  Bullshit.

  Richard was a snake. And worse—he had power now. Power that bent people like they were twigs. Power that manipulated minds. Earl had heard the whispers, seen their eyes go glassy, and watched his friends—the people he had been protecting—start nodding along to whatever Richard said.

  So he walked.

  He gave them a chance. Told them to come with him. Told them he’d keep them safe.

  They didn’t listen.

  Earl exhaled through his nose; his chest rising with a slow, steady breath. Anger coiled in his gut, but he didn’t let it explode. His [Clarity Through Rage] kept it simmering, refined and controlled.

  He knelt beside one of the bodies—a girl he didn’t recognize. Maybe seventeen with a sword still clutched in her hand. Throat cut. Her final expression was frozen in shock.

  This wasn’t some random monster raid.

  The man that had butchered these people had known them. They had trusted him.

  A rustle in the trees pulled Earl from the bodies.

  He dropped into a crouch, one hand sliding to the hilt of his axe strapped across his back. His eyes locked on the tree line, breath shallow. The hairs on his arms rose.

  A moment later, he stepped into the clearing.

  Richard.

  The smug bastard strolled out of the woods like he was walking into a board meeting. His white tunic was spotless, his boots polished, not a single hair out of place. The blood and carnage of the massacre didn’t faze him. If anything, he seemed energized by it.

  They locked eyes across the ruined camp.

  Earl straightened slowly, keeping his weapon ready. His muscles tensed, that familiar molten heat beginning to boil in his gut.

  Richard smiled like they were old friends catching up over coffee.

  “If you’re looking for your little friends, Earl,” Richard said, voice smooth as ever, “you’re too late. They’ve already met their fate in this wonderful little Tutorial.”

  Earl narrowed his eyes. “The hell are you talking about?”

  Richard sighed dramatically. “Still dense as ever, I see. I’ve got to admit—part of me admires that about you. So blissfully, stubbornly simple.”

  The ex-Marine bristled. “Try me.”

  “Oh, come now,” Richard chuckled. “I suppose subtlety was never your strength, so let me spell it out for you: I killed them. Every single one. The ones you ‘protected.’ The ones you abandoned.”

  Earl’s grip tightened on his axe handle.

  “Poor things,” Richard said with a mock pout. “They couldn’t resist my charm. Or maybe it was the way I whispered into their minds while they slept. So easy to nudge. A suggestion here, a compulsion there…”

  He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “Except you. You resisted. A wall of stubborn meat and rage.” Richard’s tone darkened. “I hated that.”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Earl’s boots dug into the blood-slicked ground. “You wanna dance, motherfucker?” he asked, voice low and razor-sharp. “Let’s fucking dance.”

  “Oh, I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Richard's shadow began to writhe.

  At first it was subtle, like a heat shimmer. Then it twisted—detaching from his feet like oil poured onto water. It swelled, expanded, and bloomed into something monstrous. A hulking, jagged shape formed with long claws and dozens of flickering eyes burning red in the gloom.

  The shadow let out a shriek that didn’t come from any earthly throat and lunged.

  Earl’s blood surged.

  “[UNBRIDLED RAGE]!” he roared.

  His muscles exploded in size, veins bulging, skin flushing crimson as stamina flooded his body. The axe came off his back in one smooth motion, and he met the shadow head-on, roaring as the impact cracked the earth beneath them.

  The shadow screeched and clawed. Earl swung wild, massive blows carving through the creature’s smoky flesh, dissipating chunks of dark matter with each hit. Its claws raked across his shoulder, drawing blood—but Earl barely felt it. His rage was too thick. Every strike he landed hit with the force of a falling tree.

  It was almost even.

  Until Richard smiled again.

  “You didn’t think I’d come with just one, did you?”

  From the edges of the camp, more shadows emerged—two, then four, then six.

  Another monstrous shape surged forward, joining the first. Then a third. A fourth.

  Earl’s eyes narrowed. His breath came fast and furious. He kept fighting, shifting his stance, driving his axe through another shadow’s chest—but the odds were stacking against him.

  He didn’t panic.

  Not anymore.

  The old Earl—the early-Tutorial Earl—would’ve kept swinging until the last breath left his lungs.

  But this Earl was different. Stronger. Smarter. More dangerous.

  [Clarity Through Rage] let him think even when filled with the bloodlust that fueled his Class.

  And what he saw was a losing battle.

  His body burned. Every muscle screamed from the strain. Cuts bled freely down his arms. A lesser man would’ve fallen already.

  If he stayed, he’d die. And Richard would feed on his corpse just like the others.

  No fucking way would he let that happen.

  Earl gritted his teeth and shifted his stance. Dodged low beneath a swipe. Slid under a claw, twisted mid-roll, and burst into a sprint. His stamina surged as he activated his escape plan.

  “[BLOOD BURST]!” he roared.

  Stamina flooded into his legs. The muscles tore as they supercharged, his own power shredding his limbs from the inside.

  But the speed—he needed the speed.

  He launched forward like a cannonball, leaving the shadows howling behind him.

  And behind it all, Richard’s voice called after him, smug and echoing:

  “Run, little behemoth. Run while you can. I’ll catch up soon enough.”

  Earl didn’t look back.

  He ran through branches, through briars, past twisted trees and bubbling marshes. Beasts scattered in his wake, sensing the fury burning off of him in waves.

  But the shadows were still chasing.

  How far could they stretch from Richard? Earl didn’t know.

  He crashed through a line of brush, vines whipping past his face, thorns catching in his arms—but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

  His lungs burned. His legs were shredded from the inside out, muscle fibers fraying under the weight of his own desperate power. Every step was agony. But the shadows were still on him, slithering between the trees like living smoke.

  He needed cover. Shelter. Something. Anything.

  Instead, he broke into a clearing.

  The change in terrain was sudden. The dense swamp gave way to an unnatural stillness, a circle of open air hemmed in by towering, ancient trees. The ground beneath his boots turned from mud and root to solid stone, circular and too perfect to be natural.

  In the center of the clearing, a figure stood alone.

  Wrapped in a billowing white cloak, motionless against the light breeze, the person stood with their back to Earl, facing away, head slightly lowered.

  Earl’s breath caught.

  Shit.

  Another person. Another life about to be crushed.

  He didn’t hesitate.

  “RUN!” Earl shouted as he barreled across the platform, sprinting straight toward the figure. “GET OUTTA HERE! SHADOW MONSTERS—RIGHT BEHIND ME!”

  The figure didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch.

  They stood there, calm, unmoved, as if Earl’s shouting hadn’t reached them at all.

  Earl cursed. Was this some delusion? Some swamp-wrought hallucination? Or just a fucking idiot?

  He didn’t have time to think it through. If this guy wouldn’t move, then Earl would just carry him.

  He was used to that.

  “I SAID RUN, DAMN YOU!”

  He didn’t slow. As he neared the figure, he reached out, preparing to grab the stranger by the waist and scoop them up mid-run—no time for pleasantries.

  His arm extended. His speed didn’t falter.

  And then—

  CRACK.

  He collided with the cloaked figure like he’d just slammed into a solid steel wall. Every ounce of his momentum halted instantly. He crumpled mid-step, the air punched from his lungs, and he dropped hard onto the stone platform.

  The cloaked figure didn’t budge. Didn’t stagger. Didn’t even react.

  Earl lay flat on his back, dazed, stars in his eyes. The wind had been knocked clean out of him.

  He blinked and looked up, meeting the man’s gaze for the first time.

  His blood ran cold.

  There was something unnatural about the man’s eyes. Twin orbs flickering with veins of lightning arcing and dancing across his irises like miniature storms frozen in glass. The air around him hummed, faint and electric.

  Earl gawked up at the stranger. The feeling this man gave off was not of any human he had come across. Less of a man and more of a force of nature hiding inside of a human suit.

  Earl had fought monsters. He’d stared down beasts the size of buses and clawed his way through nightmares.

  But this was different.

  This wasn’t a monster.

  This was something worse.

  And right now, it was staring down at him.

  The man bent at the waist and extended a hand.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, voice calm, even friendly. “I was looking at my System screen. Didn’t notice you coming.”

  Earl blinked.

  The man’s fingers curled around his wrist, and Earl felt himself lifted effortlessly off the ground like he weighed nothing.

  “Are you alright?” the man asked, brushing dirt from Earl’s shoulder like they were old friends.

  Earl’s mouth opened but no words came out.

  The pressure this guy gave off hummed in the air like a barely leashed storm. But his tone was light, his expression kind. Friendly, even.

  “I—uh—” Earl stammered, shaking his head like it might realign his senses. “We gotta run.”

  The man raised an eyebrow.

  Earl finally got his words out. “There’s a guy—Richard. His fucking shadows are coming. He’s a monster. Killed an entire camp full of people. My friends—gone. He’s chasing me now.”

  That wiped the casual look from the man’s face.

  Earl pressed on, urgency returning to his voice. “You don’t understand. He’s killed dozens. Maybe hundreds. He’ll kill us too if we don’t move. He’s right behind me and he—”

  A voice interrupted.

  “Well, I certainly hope I haven’t made that poor of an impression.”

  Earl stiffened and looked around the cloaked man.

  Richard stepped onto the stone platform like he was strolling through a garden. His slick, too-polite smile was in place, and his corpse-pale skin glittered faintly beneath the sun’s light. Around him, ten shadows prowled like leashed predators, their inky forms rippling and twitching, mouths where no mouths should be opening and closing in rabid anticipation.

  Earl’s heart dropped.

  Ten shadow monstrosities was too much for anyone to handle.

  His legs tensed. He prepared to run again, even though his muscles felt like they were ground-up rope soaked in acid.

  The man in white glanced behind him, looked at the shadows, then back at Earl.

  “That the guy?” he asked mildly.

  Earl nodded. “Yes,” he said, voice raw. “That’s Richard. And we need to go. Now.”

  The man didn’t move.

  Instead, he raised a hand and called out across the platform. “Hey!”

  Richard tilted his head, surprised. “Hmm?”

  “Are you here to kill us?”

  Richard’s smile widened. “That was the plan.”

  Earl’s eyes went wide. “What the hell are you doing?!” he snapped, already crouching to bolt.

  Before he could move a muscle, the shadows surrounding Richard moved.

  Five of them lunged forward, streaking across the platform in a blur of smoke and teeth.

  Earl barely saw the claws aimed for his face. He reflexively flinched, bracing for the end.

  But the pain never came.

  Instead, a wall of white particles erupted outward from the man in white, shimmering like pearlescent snowflakes suspended in a cyclone.

  The shadows hit the barrier and disintegrated. Their forms unraveled into shrieks of vapor and vanished, torn apart by the dancing white motes that circled the cloaked man like hungry spirits.

  The air fell still.

  The particles slowed, spiraled, and then were drawn back into the folds of the man’s cloak as if nothing had happened.

  Earl stared, jaw slack.

  “You…” he whispered. “You just…”

  The man didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked bored.

  “Sorry,” he said, offering his hand to Earl again. “I’m Cade. Good to meet you, now why don't you explain why Richard here is trying to kill us.”