Skyscrapers in every major city bore massive digital clocks, ticking down with unyielding precision. News broadcasts ran nonstop, offering speculation and panic in equal measure. Protests erupted, doomsday cults formed, economies wavered. The world was holding its breath, teetering on the edge of an unknowable future.
And Richter? He was in the thick of it, part of one of the government research teams tasked with unravelling the mystery. As one of the leading ecologist in Britain he was flown out to America, to help with the project. But despite their best efforts, despite simulations and quantum calculations, the only certainty they found was that no one knew anything.
And now, time was up.
The lab was silent. No frantic chatter, no last-minute theories—just the hum of machines that would never solve the mystery in time. Richter glanced at his phone. One unread message. He knew who it was from without looking. His sister. He had promised her answers. But now, the screen was frozen on the countdown. He’d never get to reply.
Richter sat in the dim glow of his office, the flickering light of his monitor casting shadows across the stacks of reports and data drives littering his desk. The final seconds of the countdown pulsed on the screen, each number a hammer blow to his chest.
00:00:03
He exhaled; his breath unsteady. For months, he had poured over theories, run calculations, and simulated possibilities. And yet, as the final moments arrived, he had no more answers than when the countdown first appeared.
00:00:02
His fingers twitched over the keyboard, instinct screaming at him to do something—anything. But what was left to do? The world had already braced itself. Military installations were on high alert. Shelters were full. Every possible action had already been taken. All that remained was the unknown.
00:00:01
Richter’s eyes locked onto the screen. His mind raced. Maybe this was nothing. Maybe it was a grand hoax, an anomaly, some cosmic miscalculation.
Or maybe it was the end of everything.
00:00:00
The world went dark.
A sharp, piercing tone filled Richter’s ears, rising in intensity until it was all he could hear. His body seized, every muscle locking in place as if reality itself was constraining him. A crushing pressure bore down on his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs. Then—release. The sound vanished, the pressure lifted, and for a fleeting moment, he felt weightless.
Then he was falling. Or was he? His limbs flailed, searching for resistance, for anything to grasp onto—but there was nothing. No wind, no weight, no gravity. Just an overwhelming absence. It wasn’t like falling through air. It was like falling through existence itself, untethered, slipping away into an abyss without end. No walls, no ground, no sky—only the vast, infinite blackness stretching beyond comprehension. It was not merely dark; it was an emptiness that swallowed all concept of direction, space, and time.
Richter’s pulse pounded in his ears, loud and erratic. Panic clawed at the edges of his mind. He tried to move, to stabilize himself, but his limbs felt sluggish, disconnected. He reached out instinctively, but his fingers met nothing. It was as if his body was dissolving, unravelling at the seams. His body felt weightless, untethered from reality itself. Was he dead? Dreaming? Trapped in some simulation?
Light slashed through the void, burning symbols into the nothingness. A deep, emotionless voice resonated, vibrating through his skull, demanding to be understood. The words weren’t just being shown to him—they were being etched into his consciousness, absolute and undeniable.
SYSTEM NOTICE
The world designated ‘Earth’ is no longer a viable environment for human habitation.
All remaining human life is undergoing Integration.
Richter’s breath caught in his throat. The words burned into his vision, his mind struggling to process their meaning. No longer viable? Integration?
[Humanity has been selected as a New Race in the System’s Grand Integration Initiative.]
As such, the species will be transported to the designated world: Eden.
Eden is a System-regulated planet designed to accommodate newly Integrated races.
Eden? A planet created for humanity. Richter’s mind reeled. This wasn’t just an evacuation—it was relocation on a cosmic scale. The System wasn’t saving humanity, it was restructuring it, moulding them into something that fit into its grand design.
He swallowed hard, a bitter taste rising in his throat. If Earth was no longer viable, then what had happened to it? Had it been wiped clean in an instant, reduced to nothing? Or had it been abandoned, a husk left to decay while humanity was forcibly dragged to this so-called Eden? The weight of billions of lives simply displaced pressed against his thoughts. Were they all here? Or had some been lost in the transition, discarded like faulty data in a corrupted file?
The more he thought about it, the colder his blood ran. The System spoke in absolutes, in finalities. It did not ask. It commanded. He had spent months trying to decipher the countdown, running models, testing every possible theory with some of the brightest minds on the planet. And yet, the truth had never been within their grasp. The answer had been decided long before the countdown ever appeared.
Because the System had never intended for them to understand.
This wasn’t an invitation.
It was a forced reset.
Eden. A planet made for them. What did that even mean? Was it a paradise, or a cage? A testing ground or a battlefield? The word itself carried connotations of new beginnings, of utopias—but Richter doubted the System cared for such things. It was a machine, a force beyond human understanding, and it had placed them here not out of kindness, but out of necessity. For what purpose, he couldn’t begin to guess.
And that uncertainty terrified him.
The blue screen continued, heedless of his turmoil.
[All humans will be assigned a starting zone within Eden’s Tutorial System.]
Duration: 1 Year.
Primary Objective: Survive.
Failure Condition: Death.
His stomach churned. A tutorial? A survival test? It was like something out of a game—but this wasn’t a simulation. He could feel his body, the cold sweat on his skin, the hammering of his heart. This was real.
Failure Condition: Death.
Richter inhaled sharply. No retries. No do-overs. If he failed, that was it—his existence erased. The System had no concern for fairness, no safety nets. This wasn't some game where he could reload a save or grind experience until he felt ready. Survival wasn’t just a challenge; it was an ultimatum.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
His mind whirred, piecing together the implications. If death was permanent, did that mean the System intended to weed out the weak? Was this a test? An experiment? A form of population control? Or was it something even more sinister—was humanity now just another race to be integrated, judged, and discarded if unworthy?
His grip tightened. If that was the case, then survival wasn’t just about making it through this tutorial. It was about proving that humans deserved to exist in this new reality.
And there was no way out.
A new notification flashed across the screen, forcing Richter’s gaze forward.
[System Directive: Class Selection Imminent]
All Integrated Humans must select a class suitable for survival in Eden.
Richter exhaled sharply, his mind still reeling. His entire existence had been uprooted, torn from Earth without warning, and now, before he could even process what that meant, the System was already pushing him forward. Forcing him to adapt.
The blue screen shifted, lines of text unfolding in an orderly sequence.
[Choose Your Class]
- Heavy Warrior – A heavily armoured frontline fighter specializing in high defence and durability. Excels at drawing enemy aggression and absorbing damage. Their slow movement and low agility make them vulnerable to ranged or agile opponents.
- Medium Warrior – A balanced combatant who wields a mix of armour and mobility. Can handle both offense and defence but doesn’t specialize in either. Lacks the raw defences of a Heavy Warrior and the agility of a Light Warrior.
- Light Warrior – A fast-moving melee combatant focused on speed, critical strikes, and evasive combat. Excels at flanking and quick assassinations. Fragile in prolonged fights, relying on mobility rather than endurance.
- Archer – A ranged combatant specializing in precision attacks from a distance. Excels at battlefield control and high single-target damage. Limited in close combat and reliant on positioning.
- Caster – A magic user with access to a wide range of offensive and utility spells. Excels in burst damage, crowd control, and large-scale destruction. Often fragile, with limited stamina and high reliance on mana management.
- Healer – A support specialist focused on sustaining allies with healing and protective magic. Excels at keeping a team alive and mitigating injury. Poor in direct combat, often requiring allies for protection.
Richter’s analytical mind kicked into gear. He had spent years studying ecosystems—decoding how predator and prey, environment and adaptation, death and rebirth wove together into complex, interdependent networks. Now, he faced a new kind of ecology: one shaped not by evolution, but by the System’s brutal, manufactured logic
The class choices followed traditional RPG archetypes, but that didn’t mean they were balanced. Heavy Warriors were the frontline, absorbing damage, but their slow movement meant they would be vulnerable in any situation requiring adaptability. Light Warriors and Archers had high mobility and damage potential but suffered from fragility. Casters wielded the most power—yet they were bound by resource management, meaning they might burn out in prolonged engagements.
And then there was the Healer.
A class rarely played for its own strength, but one indispensable to any long-term survival effort. In games, healers were always undervalued until they weren’t. A party without healing would crumble under attrition. But here, there were no game mechanics to fall back on, no safety nets, no respawns.
He crossed his arms, his mind racing through scenarios. This wasn’t just about power—it was about staying alive. If the System truly intended for this to be a brutal, year-long trial, the ability to mend wounds and sustain himself might outweigh sheer damage potential. But would it come at the cost of being defenceless? What if he couldn’t fend for himself? What if being a healer meant relying on others—and they decided he was expendable?
He exhaled, staring at the glowing menu before him. There was no telling what dangers lay ahead. No rulebook, no walkthrough, no meta-strategy to exploit.
He had already made his decision. It could be the wrong one—he had no way of knowing yet—but with limited information, he had to trust his instincts.
The moment he confirmed his selection, a surge of warmth flooded his veins, unfamiliar yet not unwelcome. It wasn’t just energy—it was awareness. A pulse of something unseen yet deeply intrinsic, as if his body had always been capable of wielding mana, but only now had the key to unlock it. A new notification appeared before his eyes. He had always gravitated toward support roles in games, not because they were the easiest, but because they were the most vital in the long run.
[System Notice: Healer Class Assigned]
- Base Attributes Adjusted
- Strength: 5
- Agility:5
- Intellect:7
- Wisdom:7
- Vitality:7
- Endurance:5
- Toughness:3
- Perception:6
- Level up bonus: Strength: +2, Agility: +2, Intellect: +3, Wisdom: +3, Vitality: +3, Endurance: +1, Toughness: +1, Perception: +3, +2 Free stats
- Starting Skills Acquired
- Healing Touch (Common): Channel healing mana into your hands, restoring a small amount of HP to yourself or a target upon physical contact. Healing scaling with Wisdom
- Mana barrier (Common): create a weak mana barrier which will absorb a small amount of damage before dissipating. Skill durability scales with Wisdom and Intellect.
- Mana Bolt (Inferior): Condense mana into a small projectile and launch it at a target. Skill scales with Intellect.
Richter frowned at the numbers on the screen. Strength: 5. Agility: 5. He had never thought of himself in terms of stat points before, but now? These values could define whether he lived or died.
His researcher’s mind kicked in, analysing the numbers like data points in an experiment. Strength and Agility were average, neither giving him an edge nor making him a liability. But Toughness at 3? That was low. Too low. A direct hit from something strong could be fatal.
Intellect and Wisdom at 7, though—that was interesting. Those stats likely governed his mana reserves and regeneration, and if this world operated on RPG logic, then his effectiveness as a Healer would hinge on how well he managed them. Vitality at 7 was a welcome surprise—it might mean slightly better survivability than he had expected.
As he processed the numbers, the air around him shifted. A shimmering wave of light engulfed his body, sending a brief yet potent pulse of energy through him. His skin tingled, as if unseen threads were weaving something into his very existence. His casual attire dissolved into motes of light, reforming into a simple white robe with golden embroidery—light and breathable but offering little in terms of protection.
At the same moment, a wooden staff materialized in his grasp. Its surface was smooth, cool to the touch, but faint runes pulsed along its length as though reacting to his presence. The weight was unfamiliar, yet balanced, like an extension of himself rather than just a weapon. As he tightened his grip, a faint warmth pulsed from within it, syncing with the new energy thrumming in his core. This wasn’t just an item—it was a tool, an artifact granted by the System to shape his role.
Richter exhaled slowly, absorbing the transformation. Everything had changed, but the real test had yet to begin.
Another notification followed.
[Starter Equipment Assigned]
- Initiate’s Healer Robe (Inferior): A set of white robes issued by the System to newly Integrated Healers. The fabric is enchanted to provide slight resistance against both physical and magical attacks.
- Initiate’s Healer Staff (Inferior): A basic wooden staff issued by the System to newly Integrated healers. Though simple in design, it is imbued with minor supportive enchantments. While wielding this staff, healing spells restore slightly more HP, and shield abilities absorb additional damage.
- Basic Utility Pouch (Contains: 2 Health Potions, 2 Mana Potions, 2 Stamina Potions and a Mana flint)
Richter exhaled slowly, adjusting his grip on the staff. This was real. There was no turning back. No second chances. He was no longer a researcher in a government lab, analysing distant threats from the safety of his desk.
He was a healer.
And the trial had only just begun.
Before he could fully process the transformation, the void trembled. The weightless abyss around him cracked—no, shattered—splintering into shards of light. A force wrenched at his body, pulling him downward at impossible speed. He barely had time to brace himself before—
Impact.
Richter hit the ground hard, dirt and grass cushioning the fall. His breath left him in a sharp gasp, and for a moment, all he could do was lie there, feeling the solid earth beneath him. No more void. No more emptiness. Just the scent of damp soil and fresh air.
He rolled onto his side, blinking against the sudden brightness filtering through the trees. He was in a clearing, a wide, open patch of dirt surrounded by towering trees that loomed like a natural wall. Their thick trunks rose high into the sky, their canopies stretching far above, enclosing the space in a dome of shifting green. The bark was rough and natural, a comforting contrast to the alien patterns he had feared. Patches of bioluminescent mushrooms nestled at their bases, casting a soft, eerie glow at the edges of the clearing. The ground beneath him was firm but uneven, a mixture of packed earth and scattered tufts of grass. The air was thick with the scent of damp soil, fresh leaves, and the quiet hum of unseen life rustling beyond the tree line. This wasn’t just a random landing spot—it felt designated, intentional.
The clearing was eerily silent.
But he wasn’t alone.