Chapter 3:The Wasteland Beckons
**Chapter 3: The Wasteland Beckons**
Aris stumbled as the world around him twisted and blurred. The colors swirled, dragging him from the familiar streets of his city into something completely different. His heart pounded in his chest, and he swallowed hard, trying to push down the fear clawing at his throat.
When everything finally stopped spinning, he found himself standing on cracked, dry ground. The sky was a weird, sickly green, like it had been poisoned. All around him was just emptiness, a wasteland stretching as far as he could see. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. This was the Wasteland—the place he'd chosen.
His wrist felt heavy. He looked down and saw a device attached to it, glowing faintly. The Echoer. Everyone who came to the Wasteland got one. It was supposed to help you survive here, but right now, it just felt like a weight dragging him down. He pressed a button on the side, and a screen flickered to life. It showed a bunch of options: **Public Forum, Skill Inventory, Clan Registry**—and one that made his stomach twist: **Skill Lottery.**
The lottery. He'd heard stories about it. The first time you entered the Wasteland, you had to draw a skill. Some people got lucky and became powerful overnight. Others… didn't. Aris's hands shook as he tapped the screen, and the wheel started spinning, images flashing by so fast he couldn't make them out. His mouth was dry. This would decide everything.
The wheel slowed down, and Aris held his breath. When it finally stopped, an image appeared: a bright light, almost blinding, with the word **"Inspiration"** beneath it. The Echoer chimed softly, and the word **"SSS Rank"** flashed across the screen. Aris blinked. SSS Rank? He'd heard of those, but… how? Why him?
His whole body felt like it was buzzing. He opened the Skill Inventory, his fingers fumbling as he read the description:
_"Inspiration: The ability to observe others' powers and techniques, then create a more powerful version."_
Aris stared at the words, his mind spinning. This wasn't just any skill. It was one of the rarest, the kind that could change everything. But with that power came pressure. What if he couldn't control it? What if he messed up?
He clenched his fists, trying to steady himself, and felt something shift. It was like a door opening in his mind, letting in the knowledge of a thousand different powers. He could sense them, faintly, waiting for him to grasp and shape them. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.
Aris took a deep breath, but before he could process any more, the Echoer chimed again. He remembered the other thing he needed to do: find a clan. The Wasteland was full of beasts, and no one could survive alone.
He opened the Clan Registry and scanned through the options. He needed to find a group—people he could trust, people who wouldn't turn on him the moment they found out about his skill. But that was easier said than done. Trust was hard to come by in a place like this.
His thoughts were interrupted by a notification from the Echoer: **"Public Forum Message: New Player Entering Zone 7."** He quickly pulled up the forum. It was buzzing with messages, players already talking about him, speculating on his skill. The Wasteland wasn't just dangerous because of the beasts. People could be just as deadly.
He felt a cold knot of fear in his stomach. The Wasteland was vast and unforgiving, but the real danger was the other players—those who would stop at nothing to gain more power. Aris knew he had to be smart, had to keep his skill a secret as long as possible. He didn't know who to trust, but he knew one thing: he couldn't afford to fail.
With the Echoer's screen still glowing faintly, Aris started walking, each step echoing in the silence. The Wasteland stretched out before him, full of danger, but also full of potential. He didn't know what was going to happen next, but he had no choice but to move forward. This was his new reality, and he had to survive. For himself, for his mother, for everything he'd left behind