Michael let his shoulders relax, a quiet breath slipping between his lips. He was strangely grateful that no more arrows ca.
Not being targeted again was a relief, but it wasn’t comfort. The encounter had etched sothing sharp into his awareness: this space was crawling with hunters.
The archer was gone, but there were nine thousand others left. Any one of them might be watching him at this very mont.
He forced himself to focus.
With a thought, Michael pulled the panel open again, eyes flicking to the tally.
[Active Participants: 4,861]
The number dropped even as he watched—another reminder that the challenge wasn’t pausing just because he stood still.
Michael closed the panel.
But before he could do anything, he froze.
A shimr rippled through the mist three ters ahead of him.
Michael’s dazed eyes locked on the distortion as it coalesced into shape—limbs, armor, the faint gleam of steel.
A figure materialized in front of him.
Another awakener.
One who had just been dropped into the challenge.
The figure that materialized barely had ti to adjust when cold steel pressed against his throat.
His eyes widened, panic flooding him.
I just got here—
That thought was all he managed before the spear thrust cleanly forward, and his consciousness was snuffed out in an instant.
To the vast challenge and its shifting numbers, he was nothing more than a tick downward on the counter.
The body dissolved into motes of white light before him, scattering like dust on the wind. The spear in Michael’s hand remained steady, but his eyes lingered on the space where the awakener had stood.
The counter at the edge of his vision pulsed.
[Points: 1]
Michael exhaled slowly, lowering the weapon. His expression didn’t twist in triumph. If anything, his gaze was conflicted, shadowed by the weight of what had just happened.
The awakener hadn’t even had ti to draw breath before his life was extinguished.
This exam setup was brutal. Ruthlessly efficient at cutting down numbers—sothing Michael suspected was the real reason behind it, especially when one considered the endpoint being "public awareness."
To be honest, the way it was arranged, coupled with the fact that tomorrow’s exam for Awakeners would take place in the Land of Origin under the exact sa conditions, made him more than a little suspicious.
Was the Federation simply looking for cheap entertainnt fodder?
With how unfair the test felt, it certainly seed that way. Still, whatever their intentions, it didn’t matter. His job wasn’t to question the rules but to play the ga as best he could.
Expecting everything to favor him was impossible—and unrealistic.
Tomorrow, when it truly counted, he would show them what the real Michael could do.
And then Michael noticed sothing else.
When the figure vanished, it was only the body that dematerialized. Everything else—the belt, the cloak, the boots—remained scattered in the grass. Even the standard-issue garnts that had cost nothing from the system nu were left behind.
Michael’s gaze lingered on the remnants.
The body had vanished, but not the gear.
He crouched, fingers brushing over the discarded boots and cloak before settling on the belt. Even the plain linen tunic that had hugged the awakener’s chest lay crumpled on the ground.
"...so that’s how it is," he murmured.
Kill, and you gained more than points. You gained whatever the fallen carried.
This awakener seed to have been a mage since a staff dropped as well.
The real prize was the potion belt. Six potions. Four mana potions, two health potions.
Michael clipped the new belt to his side, adding the weight of another’s provisions to his own. Seven mana potions. Five health. A handful of wealth.
Michael turned toward the shifting fog.
Moving now was the smart choice. Staying in one place ant inviting another ambush. But before that, there was sothing he had to test.
His eyes flicked back to the [Skills] column on his panel.
[Skill: Summon Undead]
[Description: Call forth skeletal soldiers. Summoned undead scale to half of the summoner’s current level and attributes. Duration: 10 minutes. Summons are autonomous but follow simple ntal commands. Limit: 5 summons.]
To be honest, Michael was quite interested in this skill. If there was a chance to learn it in the real world, he’d take it without hesitation.
From what he had seen, everything here wasn’t just digital fluff—the skills that existed in this virtual construct mirrored those of reality.
Of course, there were differences.
In this world, it was truly just a skill: simple, clean, system-regulated.
And unlike the real world, there was no concept of mastery here.
That ca with its own pros and cons.
The con: the system skill could easily be stronger here than what it would translate to in reality.
But the pro: it could also be weaker.
In any case, Michael decided to test out the skill. The ti limit was short, but at least the summons could scout for him for a while.
If the creatures truly carried half his stats, then they weren’t just fodder—they should at least be durable enough to tank so hits.
Better to have a few following him than to march through this mist alone.
With that thought in mind, Michael extended a hand and activated the skill.
The air in front of him rippled, faint lines of gray light threading upward from the soil.
The mist itself seed to recoil as the ground split open with a brittle crack.
Skeletal fingers clawed through the dirt first—long, pale bones tipped with jagged nails.
A second later, two skeletal soldiers hauled themselves into being. Their eye sockets burned faintly with baleful blue light, their forms lean but balanced, carrying bone-forged short swords.
Armor? None.
But their movents weren’t clumsy—they stood ready, heads tilted toward him as though awaiting command.
Michael tapped the butt of his spear into the earth. The two skeletons shifted in unison, their heads jerking toward him like dogs awaiting orders.
"Scout forward. Twenty ters. Circle back."
The thought alone was enough. The summons lurched into motion, their footsteps eerily silent for creatures of bone. They vanished quickly into the fog.
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