Chapter 8 (Continued) : The Quiet Before the Storm
Karis paced the room like a drill sergeant preparing for war, her boots thudding against the floor. Ethan sat on the couch, gripping his metal pipe, while the glowing interface hovered in front of him. She scanned his stats like a teacher reviewing an underwhelming student's test scores.
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Player Profile
Name: Ethan Valen
Level: 5
Stats:
Strength: 10
Agility: 5
Perception: 10
Intelligence: 3
Vitality: 7
Skills:
Survivor's Instinct (Passive): Increases reaction speed in life-threatening situations.
Shadowstep (Active): Temporarily phase through physical objects or enemies for 3 seconds. Cooldown: 1 minute.
Ravager's Pounce (Active): Leap forward with explosive force, dealing critical damage on impact. Cooldown: 1 minute.
---
Karis crossed her arms. "Okay, let's start with the basics. Strength at 10 is decent—high for someone at your level, actually. It means you can hit hard and take a decent punch. But don't let it go to your head; strength doesn't mean much if you can't land a hit."
"Good to know," Ethan said dryly. "So, I'm a heavy hitter who can't aim. What's next?"
"Agility," Karis continued, her eyes flicking to the number. "Yours is a five, which means you're… average. You won't win any foot races, but at least you're not tripping over your own feet. Barely."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Do I get bonus points if I manage to trip the enemy instead?"
She ignored him, pointing to perception. "This is where you've got potential. A 10 in perception is solid. It's why you noticed the Alpha Ravager's weak spot last night. Perception gives you an edge—lets you see patterns, spot traps, and sometimes even anticipate an enemy's next move."
Ethan nodded, filing that away. "Okay, so perception is my 'don't die horribly' stat. Got it."
"More or less," Karis said. She tapped on the intelligence stat with a mocking smirk. "Now, intelligence. Three. Ouch."
Ethan scowled. "Hey, I'm not stupid."
"Intelligence isn't about being 'smart,'" she said, rolling her eyes. "It's about how quickly you adapt, how efficiently you use your skills, and whether you spot strategic opportunities during a fight. Low intelligence means you're going to have to rely more on instinct than strategy."
"Great," Ethan muttered. "So I'm officially a brute with good eyesight. What about vitality?"
"Vitality's your durability," Karis said. "At seven, you're tougher than most newbies, but don't get cocky. A few hits from anything stronger than a Ravager, and you're done."
Ethan stared at the screen, his mind racing as he processed her words. The stats weren't just numbers—they were survival tools, and he'd been stumbling through the Forge with no idea how to use them.
"Okay," he said finally. "So that's stats. What about skills? I've got two actives and one passive. Is that… normal?"
"It's better than normal," Karis admitted. "Survivor's Instinct is rare for someone at your level. It's the reason you didn't get gutted by the Alpha last night. It makes you faster in life-threatening situations, like time slows down just enough for you to react."
"Yeah, I've noticed that," Ethan said. "It's… unsettling, but useful."
"Shadowstep is situational," Karis continued. "Phasing through objects or enemies can save your life, but only if you time it perfectly. Use it wrong, and you'll just end up wasting stamina."
Ethan nodded, glancing at the description. "And Ravager's Pounce?"
Karis smirked. "That one's fun. It's a heavy hitter, designed to knock enemies down or deal critical damage. But it's risky—if you miss, you'll leave yourself wide open. Only use it when you're sure you'll land the hit."
"Right," Ethan said, gripping the pipe. "So, the theme here is 'don't screw up.' Got it."
"Pretty much," Karis said. She leaned against the table, her expression softening slightly. "Look, the Forge isn't fair. It's not designed to be. But you've got potential, even if you're rough around the edges. Use your perception to stay ahead, keep your stamina in check, and don't rely on brute force alone. If you do that, you might survive this raid."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Was that… a compliment?"
"Don't let it go to your head," Karis said, smirking again. "You've still got a lot to learn."
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Raid Countdown: 3 Hours
The notification pulsed in both their vision, pulling their focus. Karis grabbed her satchel and headed for the door. "Three hours," she said. "Rest, eat, do whatever you need to do. Just don't show up to the raid looking like you've already lost."
"Thanks for the pep talk," Ethan called after her as she left. He closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a long breath. The Forge, the stats, the raid—it was all starting to feel real, too real. But at least now he had some idea of what he was working with.
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6:30 p.m.
Ethan stood in the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair was a mess, and the faint scars from his last few nights in the Forge stood out against his skin. He turned his arm slightly, tracing the claw marks from the Ravager, now barely healed.
"Well, Ethan," he said to himself, smirking faintly. "You've got the reflexes of a half-decent boxer, the stamina of a moderately fit jogger, and the intelligence of a rock. If that doesn't scream hero material, I don't know what does."
He splashed water on his face, trying to clear the nervous energy buzzing under his skin. The raid was coming, and there was no escaping it. But if he was going to face whatever the Forge threw at him, he might as well do it on his own terms.
Gripping the edges of the sink, he met his own gaze in the mirror. "You've got this," he said softly. Then, after a pause, he added with a wry grin, "Probably."