Philosophy Building, Empty Classroom (Room 205) | December 23, 2029, 12:25 PM
The atmosphere in Room 205 was thick with tension, punctuated only by the strained gasps of four individuals desperately trying to catch their breath.
They had shoved a haphazard assortment of desks and metal chairs against the door. While it appeared to be a solid barrier, Chika understood it was merely wood and metal.
Compared to the chaos raging outside, it feels as flimsy as tissue paper.
He was seated on the floor, his back pressed against the teaching podium. The linoleum felt cool against his legs, a stark contrast to the warmth emanating from his body.
In his grip is a rock, identical to the one he'd used to crush the skull of a corrupted student, its surface felt slick.
He tried to clean his hands on his jeans, but the ghostly sensations of bone and blood lingered stubbornly.
"Thirty minutes," Professor Okafor croaked.
The elderly man slouched in the corner, his white hair matted to his scalp with sweat and dust. He seemed smaller than he had in the lecture hall.
"Precisely thirty minutes of darkness,"
Okafor continued, his voice shaky yet striving for an academic cadence, his familiar refuge.
"This suggests some calculated intent, there must be a reason behind this… this isn't a natural occurrence."
Paul stood at the window, peering through the slatted blinds. The blood drying on his face had fissured like a parched riverbed, trailing from his nose to his jaw.
He ignored the Professor, methodically wiping his knife with a torn piece of shirt, going through the motions like a machine.
Swipe. Check. Swipe. Check.
"Judgment," Paul stated flatly, void of any feeling. "My father said the rapture wouldn't be silent. He claimed nations would bleed before it's all over."
"This isn't the rapture, man. It's a server reset," Abuchi replied, perched on a desk, gripping his makeshift weapon, a broken chair leg, so tightly his knuckles resembled polished stones.
He was trembling, a mix of terror and an odd, frenetic energy coursing through him. "I've seen this in online games, read about it in web novels. The system messages? The countdown? This is a tutorial phase...Chika sef fit relate (Chika too understands)
You don't just hand out power without expecting people to use it."
Use it.
The words hung heavy in the stagnant air, their weight pressing down on them.
Chika cast a glance at his hands again. He didn't feel like a player, he just feel like a hollow shell filled with gasoline.
The rage he'd felt outside, that cold, rational wish to inflict pain, is still coiled in his stomach, lurking in a place he couldn't quite grasp.
"Uhm I think we need to understand what we have become ," Chika said, his voice sounding rusty, as if someone else were speaking through him.
"If this is a game, let's see the stats, explore how to maximize our abilities to survive all of this."
"Let's check the stats together...and figure out the differences."
Paul abruptly stopped cleaning his knife, turning to Chika with a steely gaze. He nodded once.
"Status," Chika whispered... trying the normal web novel troupe.
What appeared wasn't like a phone screen. There was no glow emanating from a source. The blue text simply materialized in his line of sight, overlaying reality like a cataract. It felt intrusive, unsettling in a way that made his skin prick.
[STATUS]
Name: Chika Offor
Race: Human
Realm: Novice (Early)
Rank: X
Affinity: Chaos
HP: 180/180
Stamina: 95/150
Saturation:5%
[SKILLS]
- Pain Spike (Comprehended)
- Type: Chaos Element - Debilitating
- Effect: Attacks amplify target's pain receptors exponentially
- Note: Does not increase damage, Increases suffering.
[TITLE]
- Guardian of Chaos.
The 'X' seemed to vibrate, its edges wavering with static. It looked unstable.
"Read them," Okafor instructed softly. "We need data points."
Chika forced the words out. "Chika Offor. Novice. Affinity: Chaos." He paused, feeling his tongue growing heavy. "Rank… X."
Paul's eyes sharpened as he quickly recited his own stats, like a soldier detailing his credentials. "Paul Okoye. Novice. SSS-Rank. Affinity: Oblivion. Skill: Layered Cut."
[STATUS]
Name: Paul Okoye
Race: Human
Realm: Novice (Early)
Rank: SSS
Affinity: Oblivion
HP: 170/180
Stamina: 75/150
Saturation:3%
[SKILLS]
- Layered cut (comprehended)
- Type: Oblivion Element - Offensive
- Effect: Attacks ignore surface resistance, allowing weapon strikes to penetrate deeper.
- Note: It cannot entirely bypass armor; each strike deepens based on force.
[TITLE]
- Envoy Of Oblivion.
"SSS," Abuchi murmured, momentarily overtaken by the gamer inside him. "God tier." He glanced at his own display.
"I'm SSS too.
[STATUS]
Name: Maduabuchi Nwosu
Race: Human
Realm: Novice (Early)
Rank: SSS
Affinity: Devour
HP: 180/180
Stamina: 120/150
Saturation:1%
[SKILLS]
- Vitality absorption (comprehended)
- Type: Devour element - passive / attack
- Effect: The user drains the energy from their target, gaining a fleeting boost in power; the more formidable the opponent, the greater the enhancement.
- Note: You have to come in contact with the target before it can be activated.
[TITLE]
- Envoy Of Devour.
Affinity: Devour. Skill: Vitality Absorption."
He swallowed hard, staring at the hand that had just incapacitated an arm moments before as he struggled to free it from the doors of this barren classroom.
"It... it felt like sipping through my fingertips."
Everyone's gaze shifted to Okafor.
The Professor stared blankly ahead, his expression vacant. The silence thickened, laden with discomfort and sympathy.
Name: Obi Okafor
Race: Human
Realm: Novice (Early)
Rank: E
Affinity: Earth
Level: 1
HP: 67/180
Stamina: 10/150
Saturation:0%
"Rank E," Okafor murmured. "Affinity: Earth. No skills. No title."
The disparity in the room became stark. It was more than just a gap in power; it feels like a division of species. F, E, D, C... the chasm between E and SSS is an ocean in its own right.
And Chika was in an entirely different realm...the divide between SSS and X is an ocean of its own.
"X isn't on the scale," Paul muttered, pondering the anomaly.
"Standard grading runs from F to SSS. X is... undefined. I've never heard of it," Abuch replied, rubbing his jaw in contemplation.
"It's might be a variable," Okafor stated, his gaze firmly fixed on Chika. "In mathematics, X represents the unknown, a catalyst." He gestured aimlessly toward the others. "Oblivion. Devour. Chaos. These aren't mere elements...heck are those things even elements?, Chika. Fire and Water are elements. What we're dealing with are... primal forces… akin to entropies."
Chika felt the imposing pressure of the title, Guardian of Chaos, bearing down on him. "If I'm a Guardian... and the System has entrusted me with Envoys... then...."
He glanced at Paul and then Abuchi. "It's forming some kind of structure... almost like a hierarchy... we're being shaped into..."
"A unit," Paul interjected. "But a unit must have a purpose."
"To survive," Abuchi added, hopping off the desk and beginning to pace, swinging the chair leg with each step. "Look, if Paul is SSS and the Prof is E, it validates the theory of talent tiers. Prof, you tried using magic before, didn't you?"
"I attempted to connect with the concrete," Okafor admitted, a hint of shame creeping into his voice. "I could feel... some kind of resistance. Like trying to read in a pitch-black room."
"And I barely focused on slicing that thing, yet my knife slipped through bone like it was nothing," Paul said. "The Rank sets the limits and influences the speed of acquisition."
He turned to Chika, the unspoken question lingering in the air: What is the limit for X?
"We can't survive on theories, can we?" Chika remarked, rising to his feet. The sudden movement made the room sway slightly. He moved towards the window, compelled to turn away from this calculations.
Below, the campus had transformed beyond recognition.
It isn't just growth, reality had been rewritten. The once-tidy lawns were gone, supplanted by ferns the size of cars, illuminated by a pulsating bioluminescent violet.
The roots of the neem trees had morphed into massive, knotted ridges, splitting the asphalt into jagged fragments. Vines slithered around the building blocks like constrictors, crushing glass and steel in their grasp.
"The plants adapted," Chika murmured. "The people adapted… into those things."
"If the corrupted are the mobs," Abuchi said, his voice barely above a whisper, "then we're the players. We've got to grind like we're earning XP."
"We need security," Paul interjected, his tone sharp as a crack of thunder. He stepped into the center of the room, instincts of a natural tactician taking charge.
The fear of losing his family flickered in his eyes, but for the moment, he buried it deep, encasing it in discipline. "Prof, you're a liability."
Okafor flinched, visibly shaken by the bluntness. "I… I can help with strategy. I understand analysis."
"In a fight, you're a dead weight," Paul stated matter-of-factly, devoid of cruelty, just being blunt like the weather. "Rank E, zero combat skills. You should stay behind us, always. You're our eyes, and we are the hands."
Paul turned to Chika and Abuchi. "I'm creating a formation."
"What?" Chika blinked. He had taken off his glasses earlier because he could see better now, missing them but hoping for a regular pair soon.
"We'll move in a triangular formation. Chika, you'll be at the point. You have the highest durability and the most aggression. You'll take the hit. Abuchi, you're nimble? You'll flank. I'll take the kill shots." Paul gestured with his knife. "Let's practice, let's move."
It felt absurd. Three frightened students and an old man in a dusty classroom, pretending to prepare for war while the apocalypse unfolded outside. Yet, as Chika stepped forward, his fists raised, the System buzzed in the recesses of his mind.
[Pain Spike]
The idea is there, ready to be unleashed like a trigger, every blow increasing the agony feeling … like a cumulative suffering.
"Chika, adjust your stance," Paul instructed, circling around them. "You fight like a brawler, leaving too many openings. Tuck your chin."
Chika complied, sweat stinging his eyes. "What if there are too many?"
"Then we run," Paul said decisively. "We're not heroes, we're just trying to survive. We need to secure this floor, gather resources. Only then do we think about leaving this building."
They practiced for twenty minutes. Sweat soaked their shirts. The air thickened with humidity, heavy with the scent of exertion and the strange, sweet metallic aroma wafting in from the transformed jungle outside.
Okafor observed from the corner, his gaze flitting from one figure to another, absorbing the scene. "Chika has everyone's attention," he murmured, almost lost in thought.
"His connection... with Chaos. It's so vibrant, both visually and on a deeper level. Paul embodies Oblivion—silent but effective. He's the eraser while Abuchi is the devourer."
"The Tank, The Assassin, The Debuffer," Abuchi gasped, wiping sweat from his forehead. "The classic MMO trio."
"Call it what you will," Paul interjected, raising a hand to stop them. He leaned against the desk, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "But it's effective."
His gaze fell on the barricaded door. "We need to clear the hallway," Paul urged. "Before night falls. If those creatures are nocturnal…"
The implication hung thick in the air.
Chika moved back to the window, thoughts of Judy consuming him. Was she still at the Medical Center? Had she become one of those hunting among the tall grass? Was she…
He tightened his fist. The blue screen flickered back to life.
[Name: Chika Offor Rank: X]
It wasn't merely a gift; it was a burden, a weapon as well... He glanced at the three vacant envoy seats, shining under the meager light. A heavier weight pressed on him; the first two were for those he trusted.
But these three seats...decay, annihilation, despair...
What if they ended up choosing his adversaries? He let out a weary sigh.
"We clear the hallway," Chika asserted, turning to face the group again. His voice steadied, ready to leave the future for a later time.
The nausea had faded, replaced by a steely clarity. "We secure the building. Then we go find our people."
Paul tightened his grip on his knife, Abuchi spun the leg of his chair, and Okafor straightened, a flicker of determination cutting through the shock he had felt.
Outside, the sun sank, casting long, eerie shadows over the university ruins. But in Room 205, the first squad of the new world readied themselves to push open the door.