Brett stood motionless, the damp forest soil seeping cold through the soles of his sneakers, watching his best friend transform.

  It wasn't a physical transformation, not exactly. Josh was still Josh, broad shoulders, messy hair, that goofy grin that usually preceded a bad idea. But as Josh tightened the straps on his new armour, checked the breakage on his sword with a practiced thumb, and slung the blue-and-white shield over his arm, the air around him seemed to shift.

  Typical Josh, Brett thought, a mixture of envy and affection twisting in his gut. Drop him in a nightmare, and he finds a way to treat it like a theme park.

  While Brett’s nerves were fraying like the cord of a cheap game controller, buzzing with a static hum of panic, Josh looked like he had stepped straight out of the box art of a high-fantasy RPG. He looked… capable. He looked ready.

  Brett, conversely, felt like he was vibrating out of his skin.

  The initial shock of waking up in a strange forest, the smell of ancient pine, the unnatural size of the ferns, the lack of traffic noise, had given way to a creeping, icy dread. And now came the suffocating realisation that settled heavy in his lungs: We aren’t dreaming.

  This was real. The blue boxes floating in his peripheral vision weren't a hallucination induced by bad takeout. They were an operating system for reality. Stats. Classes. Skills. And the terrifying implication of those things: Monsters.

  The messages said they were expected to survive here. To fight. To become "heroes" in a realm that didn't ask for their consent. It demanded their violence.

  The problem was, Brett wasn’t a fighter.

  He knew his strengths. He was clever, agile, quick on his feet, and even quicker with his words. He was the guy who read the instruction manual while everyone else was mashing buttons. But when trouble came knocking in the real world, the kind of trouble that involved fists and adrenaline, it was always Josh who answered that door for the both of them.

  Brett’s mind flashed back to a dive bar three years ago. Some guy twice Brett’s size had taken offense to a sarcastic comment Brett had made about the local football team. Brett remembered the sudden drop in his stomach, the realisation that his mouth had written a check his body couldn't cash. He remembered flinching.

  And then he remembered Josh stepping in. Josh didn’t even throw a punch; he just put himself between Brett and the guy, a wall of calm, smiling muscle, and bought a round of drinks to diffuse the tension. Josh took the heat. Josh took the hits. Even when Brett deserved it—especially when Brett deserved it.

  Now, Josh had done it again. He’d chosen the Warrior class without hesitation, throwing himself onto the front lines. A protector. A tank.

  Brett watched Josh draw the sword, the steel singing softly against the scabbard. Even here, in a world full of things that wanted to eat them, Josh was standing in front of him. Shield raised.

  Brett’s throat tightened, his vision blurring for a fraction of a second. The irrational, clawing terror of being torn apart by a wolf or a goblin receded, just an inch. I have to fix this, Brett thought fiercely. I can’t just be the guy hiding behind the shield anymore. I have to be the reason the shield doesn't break.

  He sniffed once, hard, and forced a half-laugh to shake the rising emotion. He wouldn't let Josh see him spiral.

  “Okay,” Brett said, his voice sounding thin in the vast quiet of the woods. “So, which class should I go for? I don’t think I’ve got the bedside manner for healing. Not unless you want sarcastic motivational speeches mid-surgery. ‘Stop bleeding, you baby,’ isn’t exactly a cure-wounds spell.”

  He flashed Josh a crooked grin, masking the tremor in his hands. “And I don’t think we need two fighters. I mean, I’d look amazing swinging a great axe, going shirtless, obviously, for the aesthetic, but you’ve got dibs on the warrior thing, so I’m willing to sacrifice my modelling career for the greater good.”

  Josh snorted, not looking up from his inspection of the shield, but the tension in his shoulders relaxed. “Please keep your shirt on. For the sake of the local wildlife.”

  “That leaves me with Ranger or Mage,” Brett continued, turning his attention back to the glowing blue interface hovering in the air.

  He focused on Ranger. The text promised stealth, precision, and deadly attacks from the shadows.

  “Let’s be real,” Brett muttered. “Sneaking through shadows and stabbing people in the back? Not exactly my style.”

  He paused, frowning as he played out the scenario in his head.

  “Okay, I have played rogues in games before. I liked the high crits, the agility, the smug satisfaction of being the clever one who didn’t get hit. But that was on a screen. Behind a keyboard with a bag of crisps.” He gestured vaguely at the dense, tangled undergrowth around them. “The idea of actually creeping up behind a living, breathing thing? Sliding a knife between its ribs? Feeling the hot blood on my hands and hearing the... the gurgle?”

  He shuddered, a full-body convulsion of distaste.

  “No. Hell no. It’s one thing to roll a stealth check in D&D. It’s another to be elbow-deep in someone’s intestines because you wanted a sneak attack bonus.”

  Josh looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Graphic. But point taken.”

  “I like staying out of direct danger,” Brett admitted, his eyes sliding toward the final option on his screen. “But not if the trade-off is stabbing rats in the spine or hiding in bushes like a serial killer. I think I’d rather stay at range and fling fireballs from a nice, safe distance, thank you very much.”

  He tapped his chin, a dry smirk forming. “Plus, cloaks are cool. But robes? Robes are a statement.”

  Josh chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, go for it. Mage suits you better. Maybe we can find you a droopy wizard hat to complete the look. You can lecture the goblins to death.”

  Brett shot him a look, half-scowl, half-grin but there was real warmth behind it. Josh believed he could do it. That was enough.

  Turning back to the glowing screen, Brett took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. He pressed his mind against the Mage option.

  The interface shifted instantly. The text didn't just scroll; it bloomed, shimmering with a faint, arcane blue light that seemed to hum against his optic nerves.

  [Congratulations, Aspirant. Class Confirmed: Mage]

  You have taken your first step on the path toward mastering the arcane. Magic is the language of creation, a force that bends the world to the will of those who dare to wield it.

  Brett read on, absorbing the information. It wasn't just flavour text; it was a manual for his new existence.

  [Foundational Skills Unlocked:

  Spellcasting (Basic): The ability to shape mana into form. Capacity: 10 Spells.

  Meditation (Basic): Regenerate mana through focus and breathing.

  Mana Sense (Basic): Perceive the flow of energy in the world.

  Arcane Focus (Basic): Channel power through a wand, staff, or crystal.

  Sage (Basic): Decipher magical texts and runes.]

  “Sage,” Brett whispered. “Finally, a skill that rewards me for being a nerd.”

  The list continued, populating his mind with the specific spells he now ‘knew.’ It was a strange sensation—like remembering a song he hadn't heard in years. The words weren't in English, but he knew exactly how to pronounce them, exactly how they should feel in his mouth.

  [Current Spells Memorised:

  Firebolt: Launch a focused bolt of flame.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Shield: Summon a barrier against projectiles.

  Light: Illumination.

  Ensnare: Traps.

  Mage Step: Short-range teleportation.]

  The System offered a final piece of advice: To flourish, focus on Intelligence for effectiveness and Wisdom for efficiency. Constitution is key to survival.

  “Constitution,” Brett muttered. “Don’t die. Got it.”

  A soft thump at his feet broke his concentration.

  Brett looked down. A satchel had appeared on the forest floor, identical to the one Josh had received. But unlike Josh, who had torn into his supplies like a starving viking, Brett crouched down with measured curiosity, amazed at the amount of items that fit inside his friend's satchel in comparison to it’s size… the shield alone was bigger than the satchel.

  He opened the drawstrings. Inside, he saw the basics: jerky, cheese, a waterskin. But tucked alongside them were the tools of his new trade.

  He reached in and his hand closed around smooth, cool wood. He pulled. And pulled.

  He blinked. He was pulling a six-foot-long staff out of a bag that was barely two feet deep.

  “No way,” Brett breathed. He fully extracted the staff, a sturdy, polished length of oak topped with a clear, rough-cut crystal encased in iron bands. He looked from the staff to the bag, then back to the staff.

  He shoved the staff back in. It slid into the bag effortlessly, vanishing into a dark, spatial fold without poking out the bottom.

  “Josh,” Brett said, his voice trembling with glee. “Josh, look at this.”

  Josh looked over, chewing on a piece of jerky. “What?”

  “The bag.” Brett picked up the satchel; it weighed no more than a few pounds, despite containing enough wood to build a small fence. “It’s a dimensional pocket.” He grinned, a genuine, wide smile spreading across his face. “It’s a Bag of Holding, Josh. I have a Bag of Holding.”

  “Neat,” Josh said, though he clearly didn't appreciate the physics-breaking magnitude of the situation. “What else did you get?”

  Brett dug around, giddy. “A standard mage’s robe, blue, very classic. A spellbook. Charcoal pencil. A dagger, a bit small, probably for cutting cheese or desperate self-defence.”

  He stood up, clutching the staff. It didn't have the heft of a sword, but the crystal at the tip seemed to vibrate slightly in his grip, reacting to his touch. It felt... alive. It felt like an extension of a limb he didn't know he had.

  “Okay,” Brett said, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “Stats first. The System said Intelligence and Wisdom.”

  He focused on his status screen. He had 10 points to spend. He didn't hesitate. He dumped 5 points into Intelligence and 5 points into Wisdom.

  The effect was subtle but profound. It wasn't the physical rush Josh had described. It was like putting on glasses after years of squinting. The world snapped into a terrifyingly high resolution. He could hear the specific rustle of a beetle under a leaf ten feet away. He could feel the humidity in the air as a tangible weight. His mind felt sharper, his thoughts connecting with a speed and clarity that made his old brain feel like a dial-up modem.

  “So…” Brett hesitated, looking at his friend. “What do we do now?”

  Josh shrugged, practicing a low sweep with his sword. “Well, I figure we should test your spells. You know, before a slime tries to eat my face? Do you know how to use them yet?”

  Brett looked at the staff. “Not really. I’ve got the spell names in my head, and these... feelings? Like I know the shape of the energy, but I don’t know how heavy it is. I guess I just… try?”

  He stepped away from Josh, finding a clear line of sight to a gnarled oak tree about twenty paces away. He squared his stance, feet shoulder-width apart. He pointed the staff.

  He focused on the concept of Heat. Fire. Projectile.

  The mana inside him surged. It felt like swallowing a mouthful of hot coffee, burning pleasantly in his chest, then rushing down his arm.

  “FIREBOLT!” he bellowed, unable to help himself.

  CRACK.

  It wasn't a little puff of flame. A lance of condensed fire, bright orange and screaming like a bottle rocket, shot from the crystal tip. It crossed the distance in a blink and slammed into the tree.

  BOOM.

  Bark exploded. Smoke hissed into the air. A scorch mark the size of a dinner plate smouldered on the trunk, the wood glowing red at the centre.

  Brett stood frozen, his mouth open. He looked at the staff, then at the tree.

  “Holy shit,” he whispered.

  He glanced at his HUD. MP: 145 / 150. Five mana cost. I can do that thirty times before I run out.

  He turned to Josh. His friend was grinning from ear to ear, eyes wide.

  “That was awesome! What the hell was that?!” Josh shouted.

  “Firebolt,” Brett said, a laugh bubbling up in his chest. “It’s just the basic attack. But... yeah. I think it’ll do the job.”

  He twirled the staff. He felt powerful. For the first time in his life, he was dangerous.

  “I’ve got more,” Brett said, the adrenaline spiking. “I have a shield spell. But I need a test dummy. Pick up some stuff. Nothing sharp. Or big. Or heavy.”

  Josh was already moving, eagerly gathering pinecones and fallen branches. “On it.”

  A moment later, Josh stood twenty feet away, armed with a rotting stick the thickness of a baseball bat. He squinted one eye, taking aim.

  “All right, go easy!” Brett warned, raising his staff horizontally. He focused on the concept of Barrier. Hard air.

  “Shield!”

  He didn't shout it this time, but the word carried power. He clenched his eyes shut and braced for impact.

  A sound like a heavy gong vibrating underwater filled his ears.

  He opened one eye. Hovering in front of him was a translucent, golden hexagon, shimmering like honey.

  “Throw it!” Brett commanded.

  Josh hurled the heavy stick. It tumbled through the air, aimed straight for Brett’s chest. Brett flinched, but he held his ground.

  THWACK.

  The stick hit the golden light and shattered. Splinters rained down on the forest floor. The shield didn't even ripple.

  A grin broke across Brett’s face. He turned to look at Josh—and the shield flickered and vanished.

  “Ah,” Brett muttered. He checked his mana. 125 / 150. “Okay. It works, but it’s fragile. Movement disrupts it, and it eats mana like crazy. About ten points a second.”

  “Still,” Josh said, walking over and kicking the broken stick. “That would have left a bruise. What else you got?”

  “Movement,” Brett said.

  He focused on a spot behind Josh, near a large fern. He visualized himself occupying that space. He felt a tug in his navel, a sudden compression of reality—

  POP.

  The world blurred into a smear of grey and reassembled instantly. He was standing behind Josh. His stomach did a somersault, and he stumbled slightly.

  “Nice shield,” Brett said casually to Josh’s back.

  Josh yelped and spun around, sword half-drawn. “Jesus! How did you—?”

  “Mage Step,” Brett smirked, leaning on his staff to hide the fact that he was slightly dizzy. “Short range teleport. Very disorienting. I would not recommend doing it on a full stomach.”

  He checked his mana again. 110 / 150. Expensive.

  “I have a light spell, too,” Brett said. He whispered the word, and a soft, white orb floated up from his staff, hanging in the air like a relentless firefly. “Low cost. Good for caves. And a trap spell called Ensnare, but I need to visualise roots for that one.”

  He spent the next twenty minutes testing the limits. He found that he didn't need to scream the spell names like an anime character, focused intent worked better and didn't give away their position. He scorched three more trees with Firebolt, refining his aim until he could hit a specific knot in the wood.

  “Okay, one last test,” Brett said. “Shield again. But hit it for real. With the sword. Flat of the blade.”

  Josh hesitated. “You sure?”

  “If we get jumped by a bandit, he’s not going to throw pinecones at me. I need to know if this thing can stop steel.”

  Josh nodded grimly. He stepped in, raised the sword, and swung.

  “Shield!”

  The golden hexagon snapped into existence. Josh’s sword connected with a ringing, metallic clang that vibrated through Brett’s teeth. The shield flared brilliantly and then shattered into a thousand sparks of light.

  Brett stumbled back, the feedback hitting him like a physical shove.

  “You okay?” Josh asked, reaching out to steady him.

  “Yeah,” Brett gasped. “It broke, but it stopped the swing. That’s... good to know. It’s a one-hit wonder against heavy hits.”

  He looked at his MP bar. 15 / 150. His head was pounding, a dull ache behind his eyes that felt like dehydration mixed with a hangover.

  “I’m tapped out,” Brett said, rubbing his temples. “I’m running on fumes. The System gave me a skill called Meditation. Says it regens mana faster. I need to try it.”

  Josh nodded, swinging his sword through the air again. He seemed tireless. “Go for it. I’ll keep watch. And practice not cutting my own legs off.”

  “Solid plan.”

  Brett moved to the base of a large tree and sat down, crossing his legs. He placed the staff across his knees.

  “How long?” Josh asked.

  “No idea. Hopefully not long.”

  Brett closed his eyes. The forest was noisy, insects buzzing, leaves rustling, Josh grunting as he performed lunges. Brett tried to push it all away.

  Focus inward.

  He imagined a pool of water in the centre of his chest. Right now, it was a muddy puddle, nearly dry. He focused on his breathing. In. Out.

  Slowly, the noise of the world faded. The ache behind his eyes began to cool. He felt a sensation like cold water trickling into his veins, a soothing, electric current that washed away the fatigue.

  The darkness behind his eyelids began to glow with a faint, blue rhythm. It was peaceful. It was powerful.

  This is it, Brett thought, the anxiety of the morning finally quieting down. I’m not the sidekick anymore. I’m the artillery.

  He took a deep breath, and let the magic flow.

  Brett Simpson

  Age - 22

  Level - 1

  Class - Mage

  SP Available - 0

  HP - 100

  MP - 150

  Str - 10

  Dex - 10

  Con - 10

  Int - 15

  Wis - 15

  Skills 5/10

  Spell casting - Basic

  Meditation - Basic

  Sage - Basic

  Mana Sense – Basic

  Arcane Focus – Basic

  Learnt spells:

  Firebolt

  Shield

  Light

  Ensnare

  Mage Step

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