The confirmation appeared in front of me, a quiet pulse of light rather than anything dramatic. But the moment I accepted, something shifted, subtle but unmistakable. Like a spark being lit at the center of my being. As if something that had been dormant finally had a direction to grow toward.

  A sensation spread through my chest and up the back of my skull, not pleasant but not painful either, more like pins and needles in places I didn’t know could go numb. My vision sharpened slightly, not in clarity but in awareness; I could feel the space around me in a way that hadn’t been there before, like a faint static hum brushing against the edges of my thoughts.

  A notification popped up in front of me.

  Another line appeared.

  I could feel it, I didn’t know how, a moment ago the world was the same as always, but now, I could feel the barest hint of energy, like a static on my skin, it was inside me, in the air, in everybody… then I turned around and looked at Aurelia.

  A shiver went down my spine. I couldn’t really begin to understand the divide between her and us, but to my budding senses it felt like trying to look at the sun. I diverted my attention but noticed her smirking a little at my probing.

  One thing to note, though, despite the new class and skills, I was no better at facing dangers; I had no means of attack or defence. I had to rectify it, and soon.

  I approached Mattew, he was still talking with people and gathering information, the guy was efficient and precise, if nothing else.

  “Alright,” I said, exhaling slowly as the lingering buzz of new senses settled into something bearable. “Mat, I just took the mage class and got no attack skills or anything useful for our current situation, so I’ll have to buy something. What are the best choices?”

  Matthew straightened a little, looking grateful for the concrete question. “We, uh, put together a list,” he said, tapping on his floating interface. “Just basic recommendations. Stuff everyone should probably buy no matter their class.”

  He passed a paper to me as he shared the compiled note:

  Suggested Essentials

  ? Shield and Spear or crossbow and bolts – cheap, sturdy, can be used in a group and by anyone even without skill

  ? Low-Grade Potion Set (Health, Stamina, Mana) – one of each

  ? Rations bars (3 days worth)

  ? Waterskin

  ? Backpack

  ? Sleeping Bag

  ? Traveller’s Knife – multipurpose tool; cutting, prying, minor defence

  “All of that comes to around 350 points,” Matthew added. “Affordable enough that nobody has an excuse to go out there empty-handed.”

  A few people nearby muttered in agreement, others clearly didn’t like the idea of being “guided,” but Matthew’s tone was neutral enough to avoid setting them off.

  Tom crossed his arms. “We also made lists of suggested items based by class choice,” he said. “Mage had the longest list. Magic crap everywhere in that shop. Books, crystals, enchanted trinkets – half of it we don’t even know what it does despite the shop descriptions.”

  Rhea nodded quietly beside him, confirming without speaking.

  I scrolled through the mage list they’d put together. It was thorough: staffs, wands, catalyst stones, beginner spellbooks, and robes with weak enchantments. Enough to get started, but…

  None of it was what I needed. Not for this.

  Aurelia’s hint was still echoing in my mind.

  Improve your Trait.

  If she’d nudged me toward it, then there had to be something I could do, some way to grow it.

  I opened the shop and typed Trait into the search bar.

  The results were… expensive. No, absurd.

  The least expensive item was a thin, dark-bound tome floating on a velvet display:

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  My stomach dropped. That was more than two times my current total. I couldn’t get it. Not even close.

  But Aurelia had smiled when I’d asked. She wouldn’t have done that if the door was locked.

  Fine. Another angle.

  I erased the search and typed a different word.

  Curse

  The shop reacted instantly.

  A flood of results poured in, so many….

  Cursed weapons.

  Cursed armour.

  Cursed bloodlines.

  Cursed consumables.

  Cursed skills.

  Dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands.

  And the prices… a tenth of the usual cost. Sometimes less. Like the system wanted people desperate enough to roll the dice.

  I swallowed hard.

  This wasn’t a path for sane people.

  But sanity wasn’t something I’d been gifted with, was it?

  I focused on a few of the options.

  I exhaled slowly, reading the descriptions again.

  They were powerful. Too powerful for the price.

  And they were traps. Big ones.

  But… they also weren’t impossible to manage. Not with planning. Not with someone on your side who understood curses...

  My eyes slid towards Aurelia, who watched from a short distance, pretending not to.

  Right. This path had been laid out for me; now I just had to decide whether to walk it or not.

  A flare of bright light distracted me from my thoughts. It came from the door that will bring us into the tutorial proper.

  A guy crossed the threshold and was swallowed by the light. Some were already starting to move on; it didn’t matter, they were not part of my group. People were murmuring now while watching the door, but many were still overwhelmed by the class choices and the shop.

  The tug hit the back of my mind like a hook being pulled. A quiet tightening in my chest, a whisper that I didn’t hear with my ears. My curse was acting up again.

  I closed the shop window with a thought.

  No more time for myself.

  The curse wasn’t satisfied unless I was… helping. Guiding. Organizing. It didn’t care that I wanted five minutes to think. It never cared.

  And people still milled around in confusion, arguing, pacing.

  So I went.

  A cluster of three were staring blankly at the class selection window, the kind of lost expression people wore when reality simply refused to make sense. I walked over, calm, approachable, steady, the role the curse loved.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked gently.

  They spilled their worries at once. No idea what to choose, no guidance, afraid of picking something irreversible.

  I helped them one by one. Broke down the basics. Explained the difference between skills. The risks. The potential.

  And then they chose.

  And I wanted to throttle them.

  Twelve of the twenty-eight chose crafting classes. Crafting. Or administrative classes barely above useless in a survival-oriented tutorial. A carpenter. A textile weaver. A bartender. A data manager. One woman picked 'professional archivist' like it was a badge of honour.

  Archivist. In a magical death-world. Fantastic.

  Internally, I was seething.

  We are about to be thrown into danger we don’t understand. We need combat power. We need healing. We need flexibility. Why are you clinging to what you were?

  I am a lawyer. I had spent years shaping my life toward a single path. And the moment this world appeared, I didn’t hesitate to drop it, curse or not curse. Because survival didn’t care about résumés.

  But outwardly, my smile never cracked.

  “You’ll be fine,” I told them warmly. “Every class has potential. We’ll find ways to make it work. Focus on staying together; coordination is more important than individual strength.”

  Some believed me and relaxed.

  Some looked guilty.

  Some walked away, defensive and stubborn.

  The curse was satisfied with the effort, not the outcome.

  Luckily, not all was hopeless.

  Of the sixteen who chose more practical paths, the results weren’t bad.

  Two healers, actual healers. Mary with Soothe Wounds and the doctor with Basic Recovery. Not miracles, but potentially lifesavers.

  Rhea took Ritualist; the girl had some peculiar interest beneath her calm disposition. Tom took a soldier, expected but good anyway.

  And we got a rogue: a wiry kid with quick eyes and quicker fingers, no surprise there.

  Three Fighters, each with at least one offensive skill. Good.

  And eight mages.

  Eight.

  The problem? Only two of the mages gained anything close to an offensive spell. A weak beam for one, a small firebolt for another. They tried their spells on a wall and honestly, I was pretty disappointed by the results. A gun would have been much more effective.

  The other six?

  Skills like mine.

  Foundational. Sensory. Manipulation. No bite.

  And unlike me, they didn’t have the points to buy the expensive skill tomes from the shop.

  Still, we made do.

  Matthew was walking among them, repeating for the tenth time, “Just get the essentials. Shield and spear, crossbow and bolts, potion set, rations, waterskin, don’t skip the knife. Everyone needs a knife. And listen, if you’re a mage, try to get at least one ranged skill. Please.”

  Rhea echoed the sentiment softly to another small group: “Distance is safety. If you can throw anything—mana, fire, ice, even rocks—you should.”

  Mary, calm as ever, gently urged people to buy extra mana potions and first aid kits. “You’ll run out faster than you expect. Trust me.”

  Tom stood like a quiet pillar near the fighters, advising them on armour choices and how not to waste points on showy but useless crap.

  And me?

  I was drifting between clusters of people, speaking when spoken to, offering clarity where the system hadn’t bothered to.

  Smiling at the crafters like I wasn’t screaming inside.

  Encouraging the mages like I wasn’t terrified half of them would die because they couldn’t cast a spark.

  Steady, calm, reassuring.

  The curse approved.

  It hummed faintly, pleased, and loosened its grip.

  I’d earned myself a sliver of freedom again.

  But inside, where no one could see, frustration simmered, sharp and cold.

  We’re going into the unknown. And half of you brought knitting needles to a battlefield.

  Some were refusing to buy weapons altogether, dead weight the lot of them.

  But fine. We adapt. We plan around your choices. We make it work.

  I forced the tension out of my shoulders and moved to the next group.

  Anything to improve their chances of success. Because they were the same as mine too.