Nero had been in Etheria for approximately two hours, and he was 'this close' to leaving a one-star review.
The ogre was gaining on him. He could hear it—trees snapping like toothpicks, that horrible breathing that sounded like a diesel engine with asthma. His Debug Mode kept helpfully informing him that he was absolutely, categorically screwed.
DISTANCE: 300 meters
YOUR STAMINA: 35%
SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 0.2%
NEAREST SAFE ZONE: Grayhollow - 1.8km
HELPFUL TIP: Have you considered NOT RUNNING IN A STRAIGHT LINE?
"Oh, fuck you too, glitch system," Nero panted, veering left around a massive tree.
The ogre smashed through it.
His lungs burned. His legs felt like jelly. The bleeding debuff was still ticking away his HP. At this rate, he'd collapse before the ogre even reached him.
Think. THINK. You're a developer. What would you do if this was your game?*
I'd report the difficulty spike as a bug and get it patched, his brain offered unhelpfully.
Another roar, closer now. Nero risked a glance back and immediately regretted it. The thing was twelve feet tall, covered in matted fur and crude armor made from what looked like entire tree trunks. Its club was literally a boulder tied to a log.
And it was definitely gaining on him.
His Exploit Detection pinged something ahead—a cliff edge, twenty meters away. His Debug Mode calculated trajectory, fall distance, survival odds...
CLIFF HEIGHT: 15 meters
WATER DEPTH BELOW: Unknown
FALL DAMAGE: Potentially Fatal
BETTER THAN BEING CLUBBED BY AN OGRE: Marginally
"Marginally works for me!"
Nero put everything into one final sprint. The cliff edge rushed toward him. Behind him, the ogre bellowed in rage, close enough that he could smell it—which was a mistake, because it smelled like death and rotting meat and—
He jumped.
For a brief, weightless moment, Nero Cross was flying. The wind rushed past his face. The forest canopy blurred. Below him, dark water glittered in the afternoon sun.
This is either really smart or the dumbest thing I've ever—
He hit the water.
Cold. The word didn't do it justice. Every nerve in his body screamed. The impact drove the air from his lungs. Water rushed into his nose, his mouth, pulling him down into darkness.
Nero kicked frantically, his wounded back protesting, his new sword dragging him down like an anchor. His vision dimmed at the edges. The surface seemed impossibly far away.
No. Not like this. I didn't survive a goblin ambush and hack reality just to drown in a fucking river.
He kicked harder. Pulled himself up. His hand broke the surface first, then his face, and he gasped in air like a man possessed.
The current was strong, pulling him downstream. Nero let it, too exhausted to fight. He just focused on keeping his head above water and not passing out.
The roar of the ogre faded behind him. His Debug Mode confirmed it wasn't following—apparently ogres couldn't swim. Small mercies.
[STATUS UPDATE]
HP: 45/100 (CRITICAL)
STAMINA: 5%
STATUS EFFECTS: Bleeding (Moderate), Exhaustion, Hypothermia (Mild)
CONGRATULATIONS: You survived an encounter with a Level 15 Boss at Level 2!
+0 XP (fleeing doesn't count, sorry)
ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: "Tactical Retreat Master"
"Bite me," Nero muttered through chattering teeth.
The river carried him for what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes. Eventually, the current slowed, and Nero managed to paddle toward the shore. He dragged himself onto a muddy bank, rolled onto his back, and just lay there, staring at the sky through the trees.
Everything hurt. His back was on fire. His lungs ached. He was pretty sure he'd swallowed half the river.
But he was alive.
"Etheria," he said to the sky. "Beautiful place. Terrible hospitality. Two stars."
He forced himself to sit up, taking stock. His new sword was still miraculously attached to his belt. His clothes were soaked and muddy. His HP was low enough that another goblin could probably sneeze on him and he'd die.
He needed healing. Food. Shelter. In that order.
A sound made him freeze—voices, carried on the wind. Human voices, speaking... was that English? Common, his brain supplied. The system translated everything automatically.
Nero crept through the underbrush toward the voices, every survival instinct screaming at him that this could be bandits or worse. But his Debug Mode wasn't showing any hostile tags, so either they were friendly or his system was about to get him killed.
He pushed aside some ferns and saw them.
Three people—no, adventurers, his brain corrected, noting their equipment. Two men and a woman, sitting around a campfire in a small clearing. One of the men was massive, easily six-foot-five, with arms like tree trunks and armor that looked like it had seen some shit. The other was lean and sharp-featured, cleaning a wicked-looking dagger. The woman was adjusting a bow, her movements precise and practiced.
The big guy was talking, his voice a deep rumble that somehow managed to sound cheerful.
"...so I told him, 'Mate, if you're gonna challenge a Level 20 to a drinking contest, at least have the decency to *stay conscious* for the aftermath.' Three healing potions! THREE! Just to cure his hangover!"
The other man snorted. "Kade, you realize you're the one who challenged *him*, right?"
"Details, Finn. Unnecessary details."
The woman—who Nero's Debug Mode identified as [Lyra Ashford - Level 12 Ranger]—looked up from her bow and locked eyes with him through the ferns.
Nero froze.
"We have company," she said calmly, already reaching for an arrow.
The two men were on their feet instantly, weapons drawn. The big one—Kade, apparently—hefted a shield that looked like it weighed more than Nero.
"Come out slowly," Lyra called out. "Hands where we can see them."
Well, shit.
Nero stood up slowly, hands raised, painfully aware of how he looked: soaked, muddy, bleeding, level 2, and clearly one goblin sneeze away from death.
"Hi," he said, trying for a friendly smile and probably achieving something closer to a grimace. "I'm not a bandit. Or a monster. Just a really unlucky guy who jumped off a cliff to escape an ogre and would very much like to not die today."
The three adventurers stared at him.
Kade lowered his shield slightly. "Did you say you jumped off a cliff?"
"To escape an ogre?" Finn added, skeptical.
"Level 15," Nero confirmed. "Big guy. Smelled like garbage. Had a boulder for a club. Real charmer."
Lyra's eyes narrowed. She studied him with the intensity of someone doing mental math on his likelihood of being a threat. Her gaze lingered on his sword—clearly new—then on his wounds.
"You're hurt," she said finally. It wasn't a question.
"Yeah, about that. You wouldn't happen to have any healing potions, would you? I can pay. Well, I can't right now, but I'm good for it. Probably. Eventually."
Kade barked out a laugh. "Mate, you look like you got in a fight with a forest and lost. Finn, toss him a minor heal."
The lean man grumbled but pulled a small red vial from his belt and threw it. Nero caught it clumsily, unstoppered it, and drank. It tasted like cherry cough syrup mixed with regret.
[MINOR HEALING POTION CONSUMED]
[+30 HP]
HP: 75/100
[BLEEDING STATUS: REMOVED]
The relief was instant. The pain in his back faded to a dull ache, and he could breathe without it feeling like his lungs were full of glass.
"Thank you," Nero said genuinely. "Seriously. You just saved my life."
Kade waved it off. "No worries. So, you got a name, cliff-jumper?"
"Nero. Nero Cross."
"Kade Morrison." The big man grinned and stuck out a hand the size of a dinner plate. Nero shook it and felt his bones compress. "This is Finn Cooper, professional pessimist and knife enthusiast. And that's Lyra Ashford, our fearless leader and resident 'I told you so' specialist."
"I'm only the leader because you two would walk into a dragon's mouth arguing about whose turn it was to scout," Lyra said dryly, though Nero caught the hint of a smile.
Finn sat back down by the fire. "So what's a Level 2 doing solo in the Thornwood? That's basically suicide."
Nero's mind raced. How much do I tell them? 'Hi, I'm from another world and I can hack your reality' seems like a bad opening line.
"Honestly? I'm new to the whole adventuring thing. Woke up in the forest this morning, got jumped by goblins, survived by sheer dumb luck, and then the ogre showed up. It's been a day."
"Woke up in the forest," Lyra repeated slowly. "Like... spawned there?"
"Something like that."
The three exchanged glances. Some kind of silent communication happened between them.
Finally, Kade slapped his knee. "Well, Nero, you've got stones, I'll give you that. Most Level 2s would've been paste on that ogre's club. You headed to Grayhollow?"
"That was the plan, yeah."
"We're heading there ourselves," Kade said. "Just finished clearing a small dungeon nearby. You can travel with us if you want. Safety in numbers and all that."
Lyra shot him a look. "Kade—"
"Oh, come on, Lyra. Look at him. He's like a wet cat that got thrown in a river. What's he gonna do, stab us with his starter sword?"
"I might be a bandit," Nero pointed out. "Very good bandit. Brilliant actor."
Finn snorted. "Mate, you can barely stand. If you're a bandit, you're the worst one in history."
"Fair point."
Lyra sighed, but Nero caught the way her expression softened. "Fine. But if you slow us down or cause trouble, you're on your own. Understood?"
"Crystal clear."
"Good." Kade patted the ground next to him. "Sit. You look like you're about to fall over. We've got some food—nothing fancy, but better than whatever you've been eating. Which is probably nothing."
Nero sat gratefully by the fire, accepting a chunk of bread and some dried meat from Finn. The warmth seeped into his bones, and for the first time since arriving in this world, he felt something other than mortal terror.
Maybe even hope.
"So," Finn said casually, still cleaning his dagger. "You got a class yet?"
"Not yet. Been a bit busy not dying."
"Well, we'll get you sorted in Grayhollow. The Guild does basic assessments. Though fair warning, if you keep jumping off cliffs, you might get classified as 'Idiot' instead of a proper class."
Kade roared with laughter. Even Lyra cracked a smile.
And despite everything—the death, the goblins, the ogre, the drowning—Nero found himself grinning.
Maybe this world isn't so bad after all.