Either the apocalypse happened on a Sunday, or people called in sick. The floor I was on had four suites—and all four were empty of employees, save for “Steve,” the name I gave to the zombie who kept slapping the inner plate-glass wall to the “Lumea Wellness LLC” space across the hall. He was a zombie, alright: rotting face, lethargic demeanor—still alive despite suffering severe necrosis. Judging by the man’s ribs, his body would eventually die off; the apocalypse might have started with zombies, but it would end with nothing but animals.

  I slapped the down button for the elevator just for spite, confirming that the power was off. That left one means to get down: the staircase. There's gotta be sixty flights of this bullshit, I thought. Plus…

  I opened the door.

  No lights. It was pitch black, save for the filtered light from the opaque safety windows on every floor. It was brutal—yet strangely fine. My heightened perception let me see clearly. Unfortunately—

  God, the smell! I cried, shutting the door. It was a rotting compost down there, filled with ghastly moans that echoed upward. How the hell am I gonna do this?

  I thought about investing more into Strength and breaking through every floor one by one (because yeah, that was totally a viable option). Of course, that wasn't actually an option, but the brain seems to go through extreme scenarios first, if only to cross them off. I even considered tying Steve's intestines into a rope and then rappelling down to the next floor like a spy. It was all a great big joke at that point—a coping mechanism to process my situation. In reality, there was only one way down: a high-stakes dash through a near pitch-black staircase full of zombies.

  Maximum difficulty, indeed.

  I opened the door and gagged for a few minutes, letting my sense of smell dull. Then, I clicked on the small flashlight, put it in my mouth, and made my descent.

  ***

  There were zombies in the stairwell—a fuck ton of them. And not all of them were as slow as Steve. Four of them were: I stabbed them in their skulls with shocking ease. It was the fifth that was different. That asshole had two years' worth of stored-up energy in his gut, judging by how big his T-shirt was. He ran at me, skinny at last, screaming and crying and slobbering everywhere. He was terrifying—but my perception had drastically changed. The world was as slow as Time Ghost—if not slower—allowing me to see the loose skin on his chin wobble as he ran toward me.

  It felt like I was facing down a fourth-grader as I lifted my boot and kicked him in the shoulder with the whole of my fifty-point Strength stat. The kick sent him hurling into the wall. His back hit first, and the whiplash sent his skull into the concrete wall. Blood splattered everywhere; the body fell to the ground. In the far corner of my vision, I received a pop-up that said:

  You have killed Level 4 zombie.

  Holy hell, I thought. If I had this in high school… there’d be no bullies left.

  It was fun and games and excitement until I heard the Shiki bug. It chittered on the other side of the lower floor’s door. Of course, it couldn’t get through. That was an industrial metal door: fireproof—impossible to break. It was a function-first creation, designed to ensure nothing could go wrong with it. It’d be fine, right?

  The insect released a guttural war cry—

  —and then all fell still.

  One second.

  Two seconds.

  Three.

  Stress and adrenaline percolated in my bloodstream like drip coffee. I held my breath. Then—

  A loud bang echoed in the stairwell. That sturdy metal door now had a huge indent in it, as if a gigantic pitcher had thrown a bowling ball into it.

  Then came the second impact. And then a third. Boom! Boom! Boom!

  (Yeah, no!)

  I flew up the stairs, determined to get back to my floor. I thought I could take the Shiki, but if I blacked out in the stairwell, I’d be zombie food!

  I had descended three flights of stairs to get to that floor, and I flew up them as fast as possible. It still wasn’t fast enough. The door bashed open, hinges screeching as the bug flew into the stairwell. It hopped once, and it already thumped on the staircase below me. It hopped twice, and I could see the freak. It landed on the wall, feet sticking to it, legs bent, ready to rocket toward me.

  I pulled the door handle to my floor as it jumped. There was no time to run inside, so I used it as a shield. The Shiki slammed into the door with horrific force, sending me flying into the staircase. The me from eight hours ago would’ve snapped their spine and cracked open their skull from that impact. The me from now didn’t even bleed; the only liquid on my body was from the busted can of Starbucks Doubleshot Espresso I was counting on for the future! Thankfully, I had the mace in my pocket, or I would’ve released noxious fumes, blinded myself, and died. Instead, I rolled over in time to dodge the next strike.

  Time Ghost!

  Time Ghost was nothing like it was before. The world was genuinely slow—slow enough to see the thing lunge at me from the stairs.

  I didn’t even need my clone to tell me what would happen to me. I ignored it, catching the creature by its thorax midair before releasing the skill.

  I squeezed with my Level 50 Strength stat and felt its thorax crunch slightly. Then, I turned my body and bashed its back onto the stairs like a barbarian, swinging like a Viking would swing a rock to crush an enemy’s skull. Once, twice, three times. I slammed the chittery fuck at least seven times before I got the chime and three notifications.

  You have killed Level 12 Shiki bug.

  You have leveled up! +10 Free points.

  You have reached the Level 10 milestone. Adaptation Rewards unlocked. Two abilities have been added to the Scale of Marico.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Scale of Marico? I wondered, tossing the Shiki bug down the stairs with a squelching thump. Sounds fancy.

  I walked into my old floor, pulling the bent door shut before reviewing my World Screen.

  Name: Kyle Taylor

  Level 10

  Evolution: 0

  Class: Paradox

  Adaptation Points Available: 800

  Free Points: 19

  Status

  STR: 60

  AGL: 65

  END: 60

  PER: 90

  INT: 110 (2)

  Unique Skills:

  Time Ghost

  Grand Lock

  ???

  Adaptation Rewards

  Hmmm… it looks like I get stats and Free points equal to the level, I thought. At least until ten.

  Level 1 gave me one free point, Level 2 gave me two—all the way up until Level 10 gave me ten. That included my stats. All stats increased equally, earning me 55 points in every category since I woke up. If things continued on that path, power would grow exponentially. Then again, harsh leveling requirements might balance it out. It was too early to draw conclusions, so I focused on what I had before me.

  Adaptation Rewards, I commanded.

  A large blue box blocked the screen. It read:

  You have adapted at an abnormal rate. Due to the abnormal adaptation, You have been rewarded 500 Adaptation Points and a platinum reward on the Scale of Marico.

  Achievements:

  1. Killed a post-milestone entity at Level 0.

  2. Achieved your first kill within 15 minutes of entering the New World.

  Note: In the future, you can view achievements in the Scale of Marico upon request. They will not be listed by default.

  I had no clue what was going on, but I was damn stoked about the praise. So, I willed the screen away and stared at my new menu. It had three options:

  Adaptation Points

  Scale of Marico (1)

  Wishes

  Karma

  I opened the Scale of Marico tab, expecting something tasty. It was tasty—but it was also deeply frustrating. The instructions read as follows:

  You have been offered two rewards for your milestone. Weigh your desire from your need carefully.

  Left Scale: Your Desire

  Skill: Ethereal Wings

  Grade: Platinum

  Description: Gorgeous wings made from mana. Soar anywhere!

  Usage Requirement: 1 mana per minute.

  ———

  Right Scale: Your Need

  Skill: Mana Sharpening

  Grade: Platinum

  Description: Turn any object into a weapon by sharpening mana around it.

  Usage Requirement: Variable (1-∞)

  Note: The larger the object you sharpen, the more mana it consumes.

  Warning: The milestone is the only time you may receive skills outside of your class. Choose wisely: you’ll never be offered these skills again.

  The groan I let out was as guttural as the Shiki bugs. “Desires from needs, huh?” I grumbled. “Then why’d you even give me the option?”

  Mana Sharpening was exactly what I needed. Killing aliens with cooking knives wasn’t the best solution. The only reason that the first knife killed the Shiki bug was because it impaled itself through the eye at ninety miles per hour. The next bug was easier to kill with my bare hands, but I had to use the full extent of my perception—and who knew how long it would take my mind to recover. I was already exhausted.

  I collapsed, leaning my head against the door. “Why’d it have to be flying?” I wondered aloud. If it gave me any other option, I’d have accepted Mana Sharpening in an instant—but wings? How do you casually give up flying? I’d be a fuckin’ angel!

  “Then again…” I muttered. “I’m doing well enough without sharpening, aren’t I?” I could splatter humans with a single stomp, and squish throat-ripping super-bugs with my bare hands. “No…”

  My mind flashed back to the executive’s room. Something huge had smashed into the glass hard enough to bust through a double-laminated glass wall—and still survive. Then, it got inside and managed to eat every executive in the room.

  There’s worse things out there… I thought.

  Then again… wings would be mighty good for escaping bad situations, right?

  I groaned again. “I have so many goddamn questions.”

  A red box blinked into my vision. It read:

  You have 1 information request. You can use it to obtain any information on nearly anything within the tutorial’s purview. Would you like to use it?

  Excuse me… what? I reread the notification. “Anything?” I asked aloud.

  Anything. The tutorial screen’s knowledge is nearly omniscient within this dimension.

  I scratched my head, filing through the thousand things I wanted to know. I wanted to know where my sister was. Unfortunately, knowing where she was wouldn’t allow me to reach her—to do that, I needed power.

  “I want to use it,” I said. “Explain the Scale of Marico options, especially why Mana Sharpening is superior.”

  The answer was immediate.

  Request Granted

  While wings have fantastic utility, there are massive flying beasts nested throughout the Columbia Center Tower. If you tried to fly away, you’d be swarmed and eaten immediately.

  I threw my head back, bellowing with distraught laughter. Despite my eyes being closed, the red window was still clear as day in my mind.

  I continued reading:

  Therefore, you would have to forego immediate utility to keep the wings—and utility is what you desperately need. Columbia Center’s staircase has been barricaded, and beyond zombies, other powerful beasts are lurking within the tower—many far stronger than the mutated crickets you’ve been fighting.

  Did you just say crickets? I cried. It didn’t answer me: it simply continued.

  If you want to survive, you’ll need a reliable means to kill beasts—one that will scale with you as you grow and develop. Mana Sharpening is that tool.

  There is an even more important reason—one that has to do with your class.