Rin Fushiguro replayed the same scene for the sixth time.

  The screen cast a faint glow across the dark interior of his small apartment. The curtains were drawn, as always. It was night outside, though inside, time hardly mattered.

  In the game, the protagonist had just failed to save a side character.

  An unnecessary death.

  A preventable one.

  The story could continue without him. But Rin had already pressed Restart.

  “…One more time.”

  It wasn’t stubbornness. Not even frustration.

  It was habit.

  A mechanism. Almost comforting.

  In the narrative games he loved, there was always a better route. Not the most efficient. Not the fastest.

  The best one.

  The one where no one was left behind — even if it granted no additional reward.

  In real life, Rin had never searched for that kind of path.

  At eighteen, he lived alone. Officially an orphan. The details had never really mattered. Each month, he received state assistance — enough to pay rent, eat properly, and continue existing without drawing attention.

  No one called him.

  No one monitored him.

  No one asked what he intended to do with his life.

  And he was fine with that.

  Rin wasn’t unhappy.

  He was simply… uninvolved.

  The world moved forward without him, and he remained behind, a silent observer — like a player watching a cutscene without touching the controller.

  When the screen went black, it wasn’t because of the game.

  A violent wave of dizziness struck him. So sudden he first thought he was fainting.

  Then the floor disappeared.

  There was cold.

  Then noise.

  Then voices.

  Rin’s eyes snapped open.

  He was standing.

  Around him, unfamiliar silhouettes — just as disoriented as he was.

  An enormous space stretched endlessly outward: collapsed concrete ruins, skeletal building carcasses eaten by rust, a gray sky veiled by distant smoke.

  “W-Where are we…?”

  “Is this some kind of set?”

  “Mom…?”

  A child was crying.

  Rin felt his heart accelerate.

  This wasn’t a dream.

  The air had a smell — metallic, polluted. The ground was cold beneath his feet.

  Too real.

  Hundreds of people. No. Thousands.

  Scattered. Clustered in small groups. Separated by entire sections of ruined structures.

  No one understood.

  No one had chosen to be here.

  A sharp pain pulsed behind his eyes.

  [Connection established.]

  [The System is now active.]

  Words appeared before him.

  Before everyone.

  And the same word left every mouth.

  “The System…?”

  A translucent interface. Cold. Emotionless.

  [Tutorial – Phase 1]

  [Objective: Survive.]

  [Duration: 72 hours.]

  A heavy silence fell over the crowd.

  Then panic exploded.

  “What the hell is this?!”

  “Is this a joke?!”

  “Make it disappear!”

  Rin didn’t scream. He didn’t move.

  He read.

  [Minimal information granted.]

  [No abilities available.]

  [No protection guaranteed.]

  [Death is permanent.]

  A chill ran down his spine.

  Beside him, a boy around twelve tugged at the sleeve of an elderly woman he didn’t know.

  “Ma’am… have you seen my mom?”

  Further away, a woman in her twenties was already studying the ruins with a sharp, calculating gaze. An older man murmured prayers under his breath. An elderly woman struggled to breathe against a cracked wall. And another young man looked around with intense curiosity — not afraid, just interested.

  Rin didn’t know any of them.

  And yet, they were here.

  Together.

  Trapped.

  A sound echoed.

  Scratching.

  Something moved in the shadow of a collapsed building.

  Rin noticed before the others — not out of bravery, but out of habit.

  In games, subtle threats were always the most dangerous.

  A silhouette burst out.

  Small. Furred. Twisted.

  A scream tore through the air as the creature leapt.

  It looked like a rat.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  But too large. Too heavy. Bony protrusions pierced through its skin like malformed horns. Its eyes gleamed with sick hunger.

  It pounced on an isolated man.

  Blood splattered across the ground.

  Only then did the System react.

  [New entity detected.]

  [Threat Level: ★☆☆☆☆☆☆]

  [Hostile creature.]

  [Elimination possible.]

  [Potential Essence: Low probability.]

  The words were clear.

  Cold. Detached.

  “W-We can kill it?”

  “With what?!”

  No one had weapons. Nothing.

  Just debris. Metal bars. Stones.

  Rin felt his legs tremble.

  This wasn’t a game fight.

  This wasn’t a heroic quest.

  This was survival.

  The cold-eyed woman made the first move. She grabbed a piece of scrap metal and shouted for everyone to rush the beast.

  And by pure survival instinct, they followed.

  In the end, the creature was crushed under sheer numbers.

  Not because of brilliant strategy — but because of collective fear.

  When it stopped moving, silence fell again.

  No one celebrated.

  [Creature eliminated.]

  [Essence: Not obtained.]

  Rin stared at the message.

  No reward. Just a fact.

  He looked down at his trembling hands.

  And understood something fundamental.

  In this world, survival wouldn’t depend on strength.

  Nor courage.

  Nor even luck.

  But on the ability to survive — and to understand the rules…

  Before they broke you.

  And for the first time in his life,

  Rin Fushiguro felt exactly where he belonged.

  The mutant rat’s corpse lay crushed beneath a twisted metal bar. Its dark fur was soaked in blood — its own, and that of the man it had attacked first.

  No one dared approach it.

  A sharp, acrid smell lingered in the air.

  Rin slightly turned his gaze away — not out of disgust, but because he had already understood something:

  Staring at death didn’t make it easier to understand.

  Around him, reactions diverged.

  “Is it… dead?” someone whispered.

  “It’s a monster… a real one…”

  “It jumped like an animal…”

  A man in his forties had knelt beside the human body, throat torn open. He trembled silently, unable to close the dead man’s eyes. The young woman vomited against a cracked wall. The boy who had been crying earlier stood frozen now, eyes wide, silent.

  The other young man remained calm.

  Unbothered.

  Rin noticed something.

  No one was looking at the sky.

  Everyone was staring at the ground.

  As if raising their heads might trigger something else.

  The System answered that unspoken expectation.

  [Identification complete.]

  [Entity Name: Sharprat]

  [Rarity: ★☆☆☆☆☆☆]

  [Status: Tutorial Creature]

  [Note: Frequently found in contaminated zones.]

  The name lingered a few seconds longer than necessary.

  Then disappeared.

  “Sharp… rat?” someone repeated with nervous laughter.

  “Seriously? That’s what they’re called?”

  No one found it funny.

  Rin mentally recorded the information.

  A name meant a category.

  A category meant repetition.

  Which meant there would be more.

  He instinctively stepped back, drifting toward a group that had formed near a collapsed wall. He hadn’t chosen it. He had simply ended up there, carried by the general movement.

  They were six.

  A short-haired woman in her mid-twenties. Sharp eyes. Dark circles beneath them.

  A thin man in his thirties. Strangely calm.

  An elderly woman leaning on an improvised cane.

  A teenage boy with a still-childish face.

  A sturdier man gripping a metal bar like a lifeline.

  And Rin.

  He said nothing.

  He listened.

  “We need to stay together,” the man with the metal bar said. “Splitting up means death.”

  “And if more show up?” the teenager asked.

  “Then we run.”

  Simple. Brutal. Logical.

  The silent woman lifted her head slightly.

  “And the System? What even is that?”

  As if responding, the interface reappeared.

  [Tutorial – Phase 1 in progress.]

  [Objective unchanged: Survive.]

  No additional instructions.

  No help.

  Rin felt a familiar tension tighten in his chest.

  This was exactly like a poorly explained game.

  No quest marker.

  No map.

  Just an implicit rule:

  If you don’t understand quickly, you lose.

  “We should move,” the short-haired woman said. “Staying here will attract those… Sharprats.”

  No one argued.

  They advanced slowly through the debris. Each step accompanied by the grinding sound of gravel and rusted metal.

  The silence was deceptive.

  Too thick. Too tense.

  Rin walked at the back.

  Not because he was cautious.

  But because he had never liked being at the front.

  He watched the walls. The blind corners. The shadows.

  Not to lead.

  Just to understand.

  His gaze lingered on dark marks near a pile of old trash.

  Clawed prints.

  Several of them.

  A pack.

  He didn’t have time to warn anyone.

  A scream erupted to their right.

  Two Sharprats burst out almost simultaneously from the gaping entrance of what used to be an underground parking structure.

  [Hostile entity detected.]

  [Sharprat ×2]

  Panic returned — more violent than before.

  “There’s more than one!”

  “Fall back!”

  “No— that way!”

  The group shattered instantly.

  Rin was shoved against a wall, the air knocked from his lungs.

  He saw the sturdy man swing with full force. The metal bar came down on a Sharprat’s skull with a wet crack.

  The second creature sank its fangs into the elderly woman’s leg.

  She screamed.

  The sound was so sharp it made his skin crawl.

  Someone pulled her backward. The Sharprat was beaten with stones, but it didn’t release immediately.

  When it finally did, a piece of flesh remained between its teeth.

  Blood poured out.

  “She’s bleeding too much!”

  “We have to do something!”

  Rin felt his fingers close around a chunk of concrete without realizing it.

  He didn’t strike.

  He didn’t run.

  He watched.

  The chaos wasn’t random.

  It was predictable.

  And within that confusion, he noticed something else.

  Further away.

  In an even darker area.

  A larger silhouette.

  It wasn’t moving.

  It was observing.

  When the System spoke, its invisible voice felt almost… delayed.

  [Alert.]

  [Abnormal presence detected.]

  [Analysis incomplete.]

  [Threat exceeds standard tutorial parameters.]

  A new name attempted to appear.

  Then vanished.

  A cold shiver ran down Rin’s spine.

  It wasn’t for them.

  Not yet.

  But something was there.

  Something waiting for just one more mistake.

  And the tutorial had barely begun.

  The blood wouldn’t stop flowing.

  The elderly woman sat on the ground, back against a cracked pillar. Her leg trembled violently. Her breathing came in sharp bursts. Someone had torn a strip of cloth to make a makeshift bandage, but it was already soaking through.

  “I’ll… be fine,” she murmured, not believing it herself.

  Rin observed from a distance.

  No one knew what to do.

  And more importantly, no one knew who was supposed to do something.

  “We need to stop the bleeding,” said the man with the metal bar.

  “With what?” the short-haired woman snapped. “We don’t have anything!”

  The boy knelt beside the elderly woman. His hands trembled as much as hers.

  “Ma’am… does it hurt?” he asked softly.

  She placed a wrinkled hand on his head.

  “A little,” she said. “But I’ve had worse.”

  An obvious lie.

  Rin noted something.

  The boy wasn’t crying anymore.

  He was watching.

  Trying to understand.

  “What’s your name?” the elderly woman asked suddenly, as if clinging to something real.

  “H-Ha-joon.”

  The name lingered.

  “And you?” she asked, looking at the short-haired woman.

  “Mi-sun.”

  “Alright… Mi-sun…” the elderly woman whispered before briefly closing her eyes.

  The sturdy man exhaled nervously.

  “I’m Dae-hyun,” he said after a moment. “We shouldn’t stay here too long.”

  Just hearing names seemed to slightly calm the air around them.

  As if naming things made them human again.

  “Hey,” a voice suddenly said — far too upbeat for the situation. “Did you see that rat’s face? Looked like a failed mobile game boss.”

  The man speaking was still smiling.

  Rin turned his head toward him.

  Early thirties.

  Too relaxed.

  “Seriously,” he continued, “if this is the tutorial, the rest must be hardcore, right?”

  No one laughed.

  “Shut up,” Mi-sun spat.

  “Ouch. Okay, okay. I’m Jin-woo, by the way.”

  Another name.

  Rin still said nothing.

  He realized no one had asked for his.

  Just as he was about to introduce himself—

  A deep sound echoed through the ruins.

  Not a scream.

  Not scratching.

  Something heavier.

  The System reacted immediately.

  [Warning.]

  [Abnormal toxin concentration detected.]

  [Danger Zone.]

  Mi-sun stood abruptly.

  “We move. Now.”

  “And Grandma?” Ha-joon asked, pointing at the elderly woman.

  A tense silence followed.

  Dae-hyun clenched his jaw.

  “We can’t carry her for long…”

  “If we stay, we all die,” Mi-sun said coldly.

  Calculated.

  Rin felt a strange pressure in his chest.

  Not anger.

  Not rebellion.

  Just realization.

  In this place, time spent deciding was more dangerous than the monster itself.

  The elderly woman opened her eyes.

  “Go,” she said softly. “I’ll slow you down.”

  “No!” Ha-joon protested.

  She gave him a tired smile.

  “My name is Young-mi, little one. And believe me… sometimes surviving means knowing when to let go.”

  Rin didn’t look away.

  The same principle that had forced him to restart games again and again to save even the smallest NPC took over.

  He shouted at Dae-hyun:

  “Take her. With your build, you can carry her for a while!”

  Everyone stared at him.

  It was the first time he had spoken.

  He suddenly realized everyone else had introduced themselves — except him.

  “Uh… I’m Rin,” he added awkwardly.

  But the System didn’t give him time to continue.

  [High mutation zone detected.]

  [Potential dangerous entity nearby.]

  A chill ran through the group.

  In the distant darkness, something moved.

  A massive silhouette slowly rose upright.

  Bipedal.

  Distorted.

  Oozing.

  A suffocating pressure filled the air.

  The System attempted identification.

  [Analyzing…]

  […]

  [Failure.]

  Then a single line appeared.

  [Recommendation: Flee.]

  For the first time since this began,

  no one argued.

  They ran.

  And behind them,

  in the toxic ruins,

  something watched their retreat—

  without pursuing.

  Not yet.