A thicker column stands out, perimeter fully cleared. With the reduced illumination from the scarce plants, what appears to be a patch of black is still perfectly clear for me. An entrance.

  I enter the service shaft and climb up. A rusty staircase has been repaired and reinforced over many, many years. Judging by the load I am exerting, my mass has not been modified by the Disguise Skill. Could it do that, and more, in the future?

  Creaking steps bring me up and up, ascending toward the gentlest hints of artificial light. Will the guards be a complication? They’ve sensed my presence, as I have theirs, so my answer will come shortly. Worst case scenario, terminal velocity is not terminal for me, not that I’d reach such a speed before meeting ground.

  Hushed words exchanged in a concerned cadence are translated by my language Skill, questioning why only one of three returns. And so soon. They will probably require an explanation from me. The difficulty with that is, while the Skill does impart the meaning of their words directly and without distorting the underlying language, it draws the line there, granting no more. Fortunately, the door they are stationed at is not well-insulated, letting more words be carried from beyond. Taking my time to ascend, faking tiredness, lets me compile a rudimentary lexicon and avoid having to rely on grunts and body language for my replies.

  With but a few steps left before I am eye to eye with the two—presumably, Discarded—I am welcomed by a window first.

  [You have (1) General Skill upgrade available. Please accept or decline.]

  [Language Understanding (Basic): Understand all languages registered by the System. -> Language Comprehension (Common): Comprehend all languages registered by the System.]

  I accept the hardly-earned and peculiarly-timed upgrade.

  My mind stutters and sticks together for an imperceptible amount of time, feeling inflated and ready to burst. Then, with a fast rip and a little sting, it returns to normal, as if nothing ever happened, those vast mountains of piled up knowledge right out of view.

  I reach the top and stop, my path barred, and thick metal gate closed. Two of the same humanoids are lit up by dirty bulbs casting a dirty light. Less scrounged-up clothing, again accented by plastic, reveals their green skin and oddly-shaped faces, like someone put their hands on each side of a human’s head and squished. Both are armed.

  [Discarded Warrior (Lv. 25)]

  [Discarded Warrior (Lv. 25)]

  “Where are the others?” one guard asks, his words my own. The second is eyeing me warily, hand on his weapon, as crude as the clothing.

  “Dead,” I answer, my voice altered to match the dying panic of who I am Disguised as.

  “Yet you return alive,” the first guard says.

  “Pah! Do not make me answer for weaklings, or you might meet the same fate. Now move. I’ve matters to attend.”

  The first guard laughs, amusement evident on his deformed features. “Slain one beast and a man you’ve become?” His hand tightens around the handle of his jagged sword, tip resting on the ground, free to split me in two.

  The second guard growls under his breath and places a hand on the first’s shoulder. “What man dances to taunts he has earned?” He turns to me. “Report what transpired.”

  “Not enough brains rattling inside. Went after a Tumbler. Got rattled to compensate.”

  “A Tumbler killed them?” the first guard asks. “How?”

  “You know how. Idiots saw it alone and wanted to wrestle it barehanded.”

  While the first guard is still twisting his face into a confused expression, the second guard is reaching to grasp my arm. Even with my superior reflexes, I barely dodge, more tipping back over the railing and falling into the shaft than anything else.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Hmm. The inhabitants of the Tutorial are a lot more complete than I expected. Both are falling after me, equally as unconcerned about the landing as I am. Not a fight I want to take.

  With a large splash and a dull thud, I impact the ground, transitioning into an explosive sprint.

  Exiting the service shaft, I run around the column for cover and take off in the opposite direction I came from. Only a few strides later, two splashes and impacts, very close to one another, sound out.

  I see each loop round a side and pursue. Their speed surpasses my top handedly. Assuming they don’t possess ranged means of attack, they will catch up to me in less than ten seconds. Assuming that they do... Next column is close enough.

  One step. At the same time as I cancel my Disguise, my adaptive coating has already emulated the same subject. Two steps. Clothes bleach, decay, and unravel into tatters, plastic yellowing and crumbling. Three steps. Flesh splits, rots, and falls off as gnarly carrion. Four steps. Picked clean bones find nothing holding them together anymore, clattering and tumbling into the water.

  The disturbance my body makes as it plunges under isn’t perfect, but it will have to do. The fake bones dissolve and disappear, leaving only murky water and sticky mud, completing my concealment. I slowly start to move away from the supernatural crime scene at an angle, careful not to announce my deceit.

  A fissure opens, digging down to hard concrete and biting deeper still. The edge of the attack scrapes against my arm. Coating flows to repair as water flows to fill back in. I take advantage of the added disturbance and tuck myself against the base of the column I was heading for.

  No additional attacks follow. Both guards are stopped in place.

  “We chased a spirit,” the first guard says.

  “What spirit leaves signs on the water in its wake?” the second guard says. He motions in a direction and the two split, looking for any traces left.

  After a short time, the second guard draws the attention of the first with a low sound. He places a hand to his chest and slides it down. The first guard makes his way back to him. They cautiously back away, scanning eyes pinned in my general direction. When they reach the service shaft and enter, a window makes my failed infiltration just a bit more sweet than bitter.

  [You have (1) Class Skill upgrade available. Please accept or decline.]

  [Disguise (Basic): Don a disguise. You can take on the appearance of humanoids roughly equal to you in size. If you are damaged, Disguise breaks. -> Camouflage (Common): Camouflage yourself. You can change your rough shape, and you can control your optical and emittance properties. Camouflage can be damaged.]

  Easiest choice yet. I accept and use the Skill. For fifty mana, absolutely nothing changes, Camouflage replicating the decades of scientific toil that produced my adaptive coating by making some numbers go down for a bit. I can practically hear those responsible—dead or alive—grinding their teeth a universe away. And for a marginal drain, I cycle through water, mud, and air. Additionally, the effect extends to my knife. Neat.

  Satisfied with my new Skill, I go back to a configuration that will hide me and slowly start crawling, before the two guards decide to return with a search party.

  When I’m further away, I stand up. My upper body and my legs are invisible, the two holes where they connect to the submerged parts not there, imitating normal water. Can’t Camouflage the ripples, though. Better pick up the pace.

  The more distance I cover, the more the bioluminescent vegetation returns. And around an hour later, the edge of the subterranean reservoir comes into view, including another service shaft inside a much smaller supporting column. At the base is a mound of rusted metal. I enter, climb on top, and look up. Empty darkness.

  A jump launches me in the air and toward the wall. Fingers find a hair-thin crack and dig in. I launch myself again using only my hands. Haven’t campused in a while, but it’s like riding a bicycle. Probably. Not having muscles certainly helps. Or is it the opposite?

  With only a single sketchy slip, I reach the end. Hanging in a precarious position, my fingers pry away at a rusted door, untouched by another in centuries, assuming this diorama has existed for so long and wasn’t a rush job cobbled together right before its due date. The metal deforms and curls. I make myself just enough space to slip through, and when I do, try to return the door best to how it was.

  I am in a tiny room covered by dust. Each shift of my feet produces puffs, leaving prints of a phantom, my Camouflage keeping me hidden. In front of me is another door, this one in significantly better condition. My hand tries the handle. I pull. Just the softest creak, and it opens, light flooding in.

  A step brings me out under a blue sky, a white star shining brightly overhead, warming the day. The short structure I exited is sandwiched between two tall buildings. They, and every single one around pristine, empty, and not how they always were. There are signs of destruction and efforts of reconstruction. All are blocky, dull, and full of patches. Whatever small windows dot the facades always come paired with heavy-duty shutters.

  Audibly, this city I find myself in is eerily quiet. But in another spectrum, the chatter is deafening. The multitude of signals are undecryptable, not even patterns form in the chaos. A location of interest, though, that is simple enough to trace.