By the time Cade made it back to the base of the banyan tree, the adrenaline had worn off and exhaustion had fully caught up with him. Every muscle throbbed with fatigue. His shoulders burned from pulling the bow back, then swinging the axe, and finally carving into the snake’s body to harvest its core. His fingers were stiff from dried blood and crusted grime, and his ribs twinged every time he breathed too deep. His whole body hurt in a way that he had never experienced before.

  He’d wiped what he could from his face but the scent still clung to him—mud, blood, and whatever musky stink the serpent had left behind. His skin felt stretched too tight, scraped in too many places. Even the wind against it felt sharp.

  Cade collapsed at the base of the massive banyan tree and let his back fall against the gnarled trunk. He let his body sag there, shoulders slumped, his legs sprawled out on the mud and flattened reeds. A ring of ruin from his fight with the boar and then the serpent lay in front of him.

  The serpent had claimed the banyan as its den, and if Cade had to guess, no other predator in the swamp had dared come near it while Lord N’zhal lived.

  With Cade feeling a modicum of safety, that meant it was time to see just how far he’d come. He opened his status screen.

  STATUS

  Name: Cade Whitehollow

  Age: 26

  Race: [Human (H) – lvl 5]

  Health Points (HP): 82 / 190

  Stamina Points (SP): 87 / 180

  Mana Points (MP): 190 / 190

  Statistics:

  Strength: 18

  Dexterity: 16

  Endurance: 18

  Vitality: 19

  Wisdom: 15

  Intelligence: 19

  Willpower: 24

  Titles: [A Brutal Welcome], [Coreless Conqueror]

  Quests: Tutorial Quest: Lords of the Swamp

  Race Skills: [Unbroken Will]

  He stared at the numbers, letting them burn into his mind. He could still remember his first readout from not even a full day ago. Everything had been 7s and 8s. Now? Now, he’d nearly doubled some of them.

  Not from training or practice but from killing and surviving. From clawing his way through two impossible fights.

  He exhaled sharply. He had grown more today than during both days he’d spent with the others combined.

  And he’d almost died multiple times. The bruises and split skin were a reminder of just how close he’d come.

  Cade’s eyes scanned his Dexterity stat—16. That caught his attention. Something wasn’t adding up.

  He started doing the math. Base Dex had been 4, and each level of Human [H] gave +1, bringing it to 9. The title A Brutal Welcome added a flat +5 bonus, so that made it 14.

  So why was it showing as 16?

  Then it clicked. The percentage boosts. A Brutal Welcome gave +5% to all stats and Coreless Conqueror added another +15%. If those were additive, that meant a +20% bonus on top of the flat numbers.

  Twenty percent of 14 was 2.8. 14 + 2.8 = 16.8 yet his Dexterity sat solidly at 16.

  The System must have rounded down. But still, +20% was no joke. If he ever got a stat to 100? That would be a +20 bonus just from these two titles alone.

  He let that realization settle in. The swamp around him was quiet. Wind rustled through the reeds and water burbled somewhere close, hidden behind the thick clusters of growth that hadn’t been affected by the recent battles.

  He was alive and, according to his stats, he was stronger than elite athletes and smarter than most geniuses.

  But he didn’t feel like a superhuman.

  Cade lifted his hands and flexed his fingers. They still trembled from exertion. He didn’t feel like someone who could punch through a wall or leap across rooftops.

  He glanced toward the serpent’s body. The corpse was half-submerged in muck, the massive form coiled into a lazy sprawl like it had just fallen asleep. The broken axe still jutted from its skull.

  Curious, Cade pushed himself up with a groan and limped over. His boots squelched through the churned earth, and he gripped the haft of the weapon, yanking it free.

  It slid out with a wet, sucking noise. The blade was cracked and useless but the spike was still intact.

  He turned it over in his hands. It was still heavy—but not nearly as heavy as before. He could swing it now with just one hand. That shocked him. Before, it had taken everything he had to control it. Now? It moved like an extension of his arm.

  That was proof. He was stronger.

  So why didn’t it feel different?

  Maybe the System did something. Recalibrated his body. Smoothed the change so that it didn’t feel too dramatic. The gap between baseline human and superhuman was sanded down to a manageable state.

  One of his favorite protagonists from a webseries he used to follow would’ve called it System fuckery.

  Cade chuckled under his breath, the sound low and cracked. “Yeah,” he muttered, slinging the ruined axe over his shoulder. “System fuckery.”

  There were still a thousand questions running through his mind.

  But he was stronger. He had a quest. He had loot—though he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

  Most importantly?

  He had survived.

  Cade trudged back to the banyan and dropped back down with a groan. The tree didn’t creak. Its massive trunk was like leaning against a wall of living stone.

  He let his eyes drift closed.

  He was so damn tired.

  His thoughts started to fuzz around the edges. The wind brushing the reeds became a lullaby, and his heartbeat slowed to a faint patter in his ears.

  Finally, finally, he could rest—

  You have reached the experience limit for your current grade. Evolution available.

  Evolve now? (Yes / No)

  Warning: You will not be able to gain additional racial experience until you evolve.

  Cade’s eyes snapped open, and he groaned, dragging a hand across his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  He mentally jabbed No and tried to settle back in.

  You have reached the experience limit for your current grade. Evolution available.

  Evolve now? (Yes / No)

  Warning: You will not be able to gain additional racial experience until you evolve.

  He sat up halfway, squinting into the empty clearing. “System, are you screwing with me?”

  Silence.

  No reply, not that he’d expected one.

  Cade exhaled through his nose, scowling. “Fine.”

  He hit Yes—and the world exploded into white.

  There was no falling or sound. Just a deep uncomfortable pressure surrounding his body, pushing in from all directions.

  Cade floated in an endless white expanse. Not a void—this wasn’t empty. It felt dense, full, like being submerged in gelatin made of light. The air, if it even was air, pressed in from every direction. Moving his limbs felt like trying to swim through wet concrete.

  The buzzing started softly—like static against his skin.

  Then it deepened. Crawled beneath his skin, through veins and marrow, into his lungs, his gut, behind his eyes. Every inch of him buzzed. Every cell vibrated like a tuning fork struck by some invisible force.

  He tried to scream, or speak, or even think a full thought—but the sensation swallowed it all. There was no pain. Just intensity. A fundamental wrongness that stretched into something unbearable.

  And then—

  Nothing.

  The buzzing stopped. The pressure vanished.

  Cade blinked.

  He was back.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  His spine was against the banyan tree. The broken axe was still lying beside him. The wind still teased the reeds.

  But a new System notification hovered in front of his face, waiting.

  Cade blinked several more times, waiting for his vision to adjust, half expecting the world to shimmer again and pull him into another System dreamscape.

  But nothing changed.

  He looked up and the artificial sun was still in place, exactly where it had been before. He listened but there were no signs of creatures nearby. No rustling aside from the lazy wind.

  Had it even taken any time at all? Had he gone anywhere? Or had it all happened inside his head?

  He rubbed at his arms, remembering the sensation of the buzzing in his bones. It hadn’t felt imaginary.

  His attention returned to the glowing prompt still floating in his vision.

  Congratulations, you have evolved your race from Human [H] to Human [G].

  +1 to all stats per level.

  Skill selection available:

  [Identify] – Analyze the nature of objects, items, or creatures.

  [Survival Instinct] – Grants a heightened awareness of danger.

  [Meditation] – Enter a trance that severs awareness of the outside world to accelerate stamina and mana recovery.

  Cade sat up straighter, scanning the lines, his tired mind sharpening with focus.

  Human [G]. So the letter had changed. A rank-up. He figured [H] was probably the starting point, which made [G] the next rank up. If the pattern held, the progression would go [F], [E], [D] and maybe all the way to [A]? Or even beyond?

  The stat line caught his attention next. +1 to all stats per level. He frowned. That was the same bonus he’d gotten at the [H] grade. Maybe it was the minimum the System offered. Did that mean later ranks gave more? +2 per level? +5? He didn’t know.

  It didn’t answer the question he wanted most: how many racial levels would it take to evolve again?

  Still, a racial evolution had to be a good thing. If nothing else, it meant progress.

  His attention shifted to the next part of the screen.

  Skill selection.

  Cade leaned forward, interest piqued. Aside from the quest, this was easily the most game-like moment the System had given him so far. A choice of skills, something he got to pick.

  He eyed the options one at a time.

  [Identify] was first and it was immediately familiar. It was the same skill everyone else in his Tutorial group had been given by default. Nadean had used it constantly, calling out creature levels or materials like it was second nature.

  He remembered how badly he’d wanted it back when they were all together.

  With it, he could figure out what was safe to eat, if gear or items were magical, or maybe even learn creature stats before going toe-to-toe with them.

  Still, a small knot of resentment twisted in his gut. He had to earn the skill the others got for free.

  But bitterness wouldn’t help him now. It was a powerful utility skill, no denying that.

  He moved on to the next option.

  [Survival Instinct].

  The description was vague—heightened awareness of danger—but Cade figured it had to be passive. “Instinct” didn’t exactly scream “active ability.” That could be useful. No—very useful. Especially here, in a swamp where everything either wanted to eat you or infect you.

  A passive danger sense? That could mean the difference between walking into a predator’s ambush or slipping away with time to spare.

  He bit his lip. That one was tempting.

  [Meditation] was last.

  Another classic. Enter a trance, shut out the world, and regenerate mana and stamina faster. Cade’s eyes narrowed. The stat recovery part was great—his stamina still hadn’t recovered from the back-to-back fights, and mana, while untouched, felt like it would matter more eventually.

  But the part that bothered him was the cost: “severs awareness of the outside world.”

  So, he’d sit there like a lump while recovering? Blind and deaf to the world?

  One hungry creature, and his life was over without him knowing what hit him.

  He exhaled through his nose and mentally dismissed [Meditation] from the running. The risk was just too great right now.

  That left two.

  Between [Identify] and [Survival Instinct], the latter was probably the smart pick. Surviving the swamp would be a lot easier if he could feel danger coming.

  But…

  Cade hesitated.

  He wanted an active skill. Something he could trigger, test, learn the mechanics of. [Identify] wasn’t flashy, but it was something he could use right now. Experiment with and learn from.

  And knowledge was survival, wasn’t it?

  He made the call and mentally, he selected [Identify].

  Pain bloomed behind his eyes like someone had just pinched a nerve deep in his skull. Sharp and sudden but gone in less than a second.

  He blinked rapidly, vision swimming.

  You have gained [Identify (lesser)] – Analyze the nature of objects, items, or creatures.

  “Lesser?” Cade muttered. He squinted at the screen. The System hadn’t said that part before.

  He reread the text, frowning.

  What the hell did lesser mean? Was there a greater version? A way to evolve or rank up a skill?

  If so, how?

  More questions. It seemed like he always had more questions. But for now, he had a skill.

  He turned his head, scanning the clearing for something to test it on.

  Cade’s eyes drifted toward the broken axe lying beside him. It was the easiest target. He didn’t even have to get up.

  He focused on the battered weapon, willing the new skill to activate. “Identify,” he said aloud, just to test it.

  Nothing.

  No screen. No buzz. No response.

  Okay, so it wasn’t verbal at least not just verbal.

  He tried again, this time thinking the word Identify with focus, pushing the intent toward the axe, commanding it to show him more information.

  The notification bloomed instantly in his vision.

  Broken Battleaxe — A starter-issue battleaxe granted to a participant in a Tutorial of the 111th Integration. The axe head has been broken and now requires repair.

  Requirements: Tutorial participant.

  Cade exhaled and slumped a bit.

  “That’s it?”

  He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Secrets? Stats? Hidden properties? At least something more than what he could already tell just by looking at it.

  Still, it worked. The skill worked.

  He spent the next hour slowly scanning everything he could see from where he sat, letting his body rest while his mind stayed active. The feeling of exhaustion slowly giving up ground to Cade’s growing wonder and excitement.

  Common Reeds — Tall, hollow wetland plants prevalent throughout the swamp quadrant. Useful for cover, cordage, simple thatch, and crude shafts.

  That tracked.

  Cattails — Broad-leafed marsh plants with brown seed spikes, prevalent throughout the swamp quadrant. Roots are edible if cooked; the expanded fluff can serve as tinder and insulation.

  “That seems pretty useful,” Cade murmured. He made a mental note to collect some later. Dry tinder in this hellhole could be the difference between warm food and cold stomach cramps.

  Next, his gaze fell on the hulking corpse lying half-coiled in the reeds. The body of the serpent Lord N’zhal.

  He hesitated for a second, then activated [Identify].

  Corpse of Lord N’zhal, Devourer in the Reeds — Level 7

  A slain apex predator. Its onyx scales are exceptionally durable, and the hide would make excellent armor in the hands of a skilled leatherworker. The meat is edible, even raw.

  Cade blinked.

  That was unexpected. He wasn’t planning to start gnawing on raw snake meat but it was good to know in case he couldn’t get a fire going. More importantly—this told him something about the System. When Nadean had identified the crayfish, she said the meat had to be cooked. But here? Even eating the snake raw was fine.

  He wasn’t sure what made the difference. Species? Level? The Lord designation?

  He didn’t have enough data to guess. But [Identify] had confirmed something useful, and that meant it was already worth it.

  Next up was the boar. The one that Cade had shot with arrows and eventually killed before N’zhal slithered down from the tree’s crown.

  Corpse of Juvenile Reedmane Marsh Boar — Level 5

  Camouflaged by reed-like bristles that double as natural armor. Their meat is usually laden with parasites; while technically edible, it must be thoroughly cooked before consumption.

  “Now that sounds more like what I expected.”

  Cade frowned, comparing the two descriptions.

  Why did the boar have parasites but the snake didn’t? Something about reptiles? Or was it that Lords were immune? Or maybe just this particular one?

  Again, he felt like [Identify] didn’t give him enough information.

  But now he had another question to add to his growing list.

  Finally, he turned his gaze toward the banyan tree itself. It was massive and ancient looking. The trunk soared above the reeds, its aerial roots curling down like thick ropes.

  He activated the skill.

  Blackflake Bastion Banyan — Level: ??

  A vast aerial-root fortress. Former lair of Lord N’zhal, Devourer in the Reeds.

  Cade read the text twice, then a third time.

  “A tree with a level?”

  The System hadn’t given him a number. Just a couple of question marks. That probably meant its level was way above his own.

  Or maybe it wasn’t hostile, and the System treated it differently?

  It had a name, too. Blackflake Bastion Banyan. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Not when N’zhal’s scales were so dark they looked like polished obsidian.

  Was the serpent born here? Mutated by this place?

  Or did the System somehow pair monsters with terrain like a video game boss arena?

  Cade let out a slow breath and leaned back again, eyes drifting up the vast trunk.

  The banyan towered above everything else around this area of the swamp. Its branches vanished into the thick canopy high overhead, a woven tangle of roots and limbs that looked more like a fortress than a tree.

  Blackflake Bastion Banyan — Level: ??

  The name stuck in his mind.

  Blackflake Bastion. It wasn't just flair. The System didn’t seem to just name things willy-nilly. If it named something, there was surely a reason.

  Cade narrowed his eyes at the twisting branches. The massive serpent—Lord N’zhal—had made its home here. That alone was telling. This wasn’t just the tallest tree around, it was important somehow.

  Was there something hidden up there?

  Treasure? Shelter? A vantage point? N’zhal had claimed the tree for a reason after all.

  Cade stood, stretching slowly. His muscles complained but he was feeling better after sitting down for a while. He picked up the broken axe and put it into the holster on the side of his armor.

  “I need a view to get a better lay of the land,” he muttered. “And maybe I’ll find some answers up there.”

  Then, with a glance toward the tangled network of roots and low-hanging vines, he started to climb.