Far above the cavern and hovering over multiple tutorial islands, the control room hummed with steady life. Crystals pulsed in rhythm with the island itself, feeding streams of data into glowing runes that floated above a wide obsidian table. Dozens of figures watched in silence, their eyes fixed on the shifting images that replayed the battle below.

  Gemly Ironmantle stroked his braided beard, leaning forward as the vision crystal zoomed in on Max’s collapsed form. The young human lay sprawled in the middle of the ruined goblin stronghold, a hastily pitched tent at his side. His chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of exhaustion, but around him lay nothing but ruin and silence.

  “Well now,” Gemly rumbled, voice carrying the weight of stone and smoke. “He’s cleared the council. Better than most.” His eyes glinted with something between curiosity and concern. “Looks like it’s almost time for the final challenge.”

  A younger dwarf beside him shifted uneasily. “Do you think he’ll survive, sir?”

  Gemly let the silence stretch, only the crackle of runes filling the air. At last, he muttered, “That depends. He’s strong, aye… stronger than he should be. But strength alone won’t see him through what’s coming.”

  The younger dwarf nodded, still watching the human on the crystal’s surface. Gemly turned, his gaze sharp. “And don’t forget—I want the after-action summary on my desk as soon as this phase closes. Every detail. No excuses.”

  “Yes, sir,” the younger dwarf stammered, bowing quickly.

  Gemly’s eyes returned to the slumbering human on the crystal. His voice dropped to a low growl, meant only for himself. “It will be interesting to see what the boy is really made of.”

  Max woke groggy, every muscle aching as if he’d been trampled by the collapse itself. The acrid tang of smoke was the first thing to hit him, clawing at the back of his throat as his senses returned. Then came the sight. All around him lay carnage: shattered huts reduced to splinters, embers glowing faintly where fire had licked the stone, black soot smeared across the cavern walls. The goblins’ own panic had fueled the destruction—torches hurled blindly, lanterns shattered in their flight. Most of the fires had smoldered out on the stone floor, but the smell of char and blood lingered thick in the air.

  Ben.

  The thought hit like a hammer. Max’s pulse spiked as he staggered toward the great chamber, now nothing more than a jagged ruin of rubble. He scanned the devastation, dread building with every step. Then he saw it: a single green leg, much too small to be one of the leaders, jutting from beneath a slab of collapsed ceiling. His stomach lurched.

  “Ben…”

  He dropped to one knee, pressing his hands against the stone, straining with every ounce of strength his levels had granted him. The slab didn’t budge—not an inch. He tried again, harder this time, until the edges of his vision went white. Still nothing. His chest heaved, and for a long moment he just knelt there, head bowed, hand on the stone.

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  “I’m sorry.” The words scraped out of his throat, raw and useless. At last, he pushed himself to his feet and turned away.

  There was nothing more he could do.

  Looting the rubble-bound leaders was out of the question—Max doubted even a wrecking crew could shift those boulders. But the tank and the warlord had fallen clear enough of the collapse to offer spoils.

  He approached the tank first. The massive shield lay beside the corpse, its face marred with scratches but otherwise intact.

  Shield of the Unyielding (Rare)

  You are immovable while blocking with this shield.

  “That could be useful,” Max muttered, though he wasn’t sure if it fit his fighting style. Still, he stowed it away. Better to have options than regrets.

  The real prize glittered on the hobgoblin’s finger—a storage ring. The moment Max tugged it free, his own ring pulsed with a strange vibration, almost… eager. He slid the new one onto the same finger, and as before, it was absorbed into his own. Probing with his senses, Max grinned. The storage space inside had nearly doubled.

  The grin faded as he sorted through the contents. Clubs, chipped daggers, food so moldy it was barely recognizable, herbs long rotted into mush. A hoarder’s junk heap. But beneath the refuse gleamed something worth keeping: eight Genesis Crystals.

  “Finally.”

  Max opened the tutorial store right there in the cavern and unloaded the worthless gear. Even junk had value in bulk—the sheer volume netted him over six thousand credits.

  Then he turned to the leader.

  The armor was ruined, split nearly in half by his strikes. Worth little more than scrap, but Max scavenged what he could. No ring, no pouch on his belt. For a moment he thought the warlord had carried nothing at all—until his fingers brushed a recessed latch in the chest plate. Hidden, almost invisible. He pried it open and withdrew a small satchel.

  The bag was spatially expanded, like his potion pouch. His heart beat faster as he pulled it open. Inside he found five health potions, five mana potions, and a glittering mound of Genesis Crystals. Nestled at the very bottom, wrapped in a scrap of cloth, was a single brass key accompanied by a folded note. The script was in a language he couldn’t read.

  Max turned the key over in his hand, its edges worn smooth from years of handling. “If he kept this on him… it must matter.” He tucked it carefully away. Whatever it opened, it was meant to come later.

  With nothing else tying him to the ruin, Max climbed out of the cavern into the fresh night air. The cool breeze washed away the stench of blood and ash, though the weight in his chest lingered.

  By the time he returned to his hut, exhaustion was pressing hard at the edges of his mind. Still, he forced himself to sit down and open his status menu.

  Name: Max Elion

  Race: Traveler

  Class: Initiate Mage

  Level: 14

  Health: 185/275

  Mana: 380/530

  Vitality: 26

  Endurance: 29

  Strength: 31

  Intelligence: 44

  Wisdom: 60

  Luck: 11

  Free Points: 12

  The battle had netted him two levels. With his banked reserves, he now had twelve points to spend. For the first time, he hesitated. He was comfortable with his current build—but what did Luck really do?

  Half curious, half reckless, Max funneled six points into it.

  Luck: 16

  Then he split the rest, bolstering his body instead of his mana.

  Endurance: +3

  Strength: +3

  As the changes settled into him, Max leaned back against the wall of his hut. His eyelids grew heavy, but his mind churned with a single thought:

  The quest was done. The goblin threat eliminated.

  So what would the System throw at him next?