Tutorial Time Remaining: 32 days, 10 hours, 37 minutes.

  Survivors: 827/2000.

  Eight hours. A great nap!

  Problem was, I awoke to several chimpcrete cretins pelting me with bits of concrete. How rude of them. A Feast Beam consumed one of the beasts and the rest fled as I kipped up. The bubble was in the same place and knowing I needed to get there next, I did a quick stretch and began the trek there.

  This bubble was significantly larger than mine, and the city was deceptively large, so it still took me a good half hour to reach the outskirts. As with my own, I could see that the bubble was open in several places, groups of people entering and exiting to fight a variety of monsters.

  There were a lot more people in this bubble, and I could sense their power. Several were significantly higher in level than myself. Perhaps on par with the hamster, if not even a bit higher. Ravenous Cloak kept me hidden as I ran inside a surprisingly intact building that looked like a fancy restaurant that was missing all of its furniture. I darted back into the kitchen space and sat on the tiles, entering my Soul Chamber.

  “You feeling okay, Tree?”

  “I feel better by far than before, but not fully recovered just yet.”

  “Well, you rest. I’m going to do some math real quick.”

  “Do tell!”

  “Do you know what the maximum number of stat points that are given upon getting stronger?”

  “For our gra-?” Tree writhed and a sharp noise emitted from it.

  “Huh?”

  “There are some things the System must want to be kept hidden until later. That hurt.”

  “Okay, fine. The points that my class would have given me per level was 18. So, let’s assume 20 points per level for race, class and professions. My identification can only show me the racial level, which is gained every other class or profession level.”

  “I’m with you so far,” Tree flickered.

  “I have 4,566 total stat points currently. Someone my level would normally have around 2,160.” During my mental mutterings, Tree stopped flickering.

  “I hadn’t considered it in that light before now. How monstrous indeed. I’m glad it was you who freed me from my prison.”

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  “Anytime, buddy! Now, someone the level of the space hamster I ate earlier, which was level 85, should have around 5100, assuming the point loadout is similar.”

  “It is not. Most non-sapient beasts are weaker as they are not as useful for the System except to empower sapients like you, in your case perhaps more literally than for others.”

  I chuckled. “So it is. That makes sense, so I need to be more careful this time. They may actually like their leader too.”

  “That will certainly make things a bit more complicated.”

  “Alright, you keep resting. There are folk about, and I have a series of undoubtedly annoying conversations to have.”

  My vision returned to the kitchen area to find it a lot more crowded than before. A myriad of different humanoid races stood around me, weapons held in hands and pointed in my direction, each wearing a small metal pin shaped like an anvil and blade. A sharkman was a step ahead of the rest of those around me. He wore only a bandolier and leather pants, leaning calmly on a vibrant blue trident.

  “You sit like you were deep in meditation, and we wanted to wait for you to finish up before our little chat,” sharkman’s voice was higher than I was expecting.

  “Before we get into that,” I looked at the others, “does he say jawsome instead of awesome? Because that would be amazing!”

  A few of the others snickered. Sharkman was not amused.

  “You’re lucky the boss wants to speak with you.”

  “Streex, my dude, please take me to your leader. I come in peace.”

  “My name is Silas, dumbass,” Silas said through gritted teeth.

  Squaloan. Level 63. Squaloans are not common among the sapients of the multiverse, as those who mate do not do so often, and battle is the most common cause of death. His highest stat is Strength.

  “That’s fair, Silas. I’m sorry, you’ve caught me in a weird spot and I’ve stuck my foot in my main mouth.”

  Silas only grunted as he led me out of the building and into the bubble. Then he paused and turned to face me, “Wait, what do you mean by ‘main mouth?’”

  I smiled but shook my head. “Now is not the time for that just yet. I can sense your hunger, so what do you have for snacks?”

  “I’m sure there will be something available in the meeting room.”

  Nodding, I followed him deeper into their section of the city. Benches had been constructed along the road and I saw a great many more people here than at my bubble. Guards periodically patrolled, all of them around the same level as Silas, and I could hear the sounds of hammer on steel and various other profession related white noise.

  As we entered a building in what I presumed was near the center of the bubble, I felt several presences in the room we were approaching, and my stomach growled.

  The door opened and heat washed out from the room. The heavy blows of hammer on anvil sounded louder, and the smells of heat and sweat were enticing. The symbol from their pins was emblazoned on the back wall. Identification yielded an interesting result.

  Ferran. Level 75. Ferrans are known for being part-living, part-mineral beings born from an age old pact between Dwarves and Golems, forged in an attempt to merge life with the strength of metal into living form. Her highest stat is Endurance.

  A tall, broad-shouldered woman whose skin carried faint metallic veins that pulsed with molten light with each hammer strike stood at a large anvil hammering one end of a slab of metal into the long tang of a sword. Her voice also bore the echo of smithing, and her presence commanded attention even when silent. She sang a song in a language I did not understand while she worked. We watched and waited. Eventually, she set her tools down, wiped her hands on her heavy apron, and looked over at us.

  Her accent was heavy and difficult to place, “This is the other sphere-holder.”