First Quest (4)

The tunnel shook as something massive moved through the passages above us. Concrete dust rained from the ceiling, and the emergency lighting flickered ominously.

"It's reshaping the subway system," Chen observed, his tablet showing massive energy fluctuations. "Sealing off escape routes."

Aurora tested her sword arm, wincing as the movement pulled at her wounded shoulder. "How long do we have?"

The elderly historian—who'd introduced himself as Professor Valdez—checked his own readings. "Minutes. Maybe less."

The three survivors from his group had spread out defensively, but I could see the hopelessness in their postures. The woman with the crossbow had exactly six bolts. The burned teenager's hands shook as he tried to summon some kind of energy weapon. The walking stick in Valdez's hands glowed faintly, but he was clearly past his physical prime.

We were nine people total. Three of us wounded, six of them traumatized and underequipped.

Against a Sentinel that had just demonstrated our complete tactical inferiority.

"About what you said," I began, looking at Valdez. "The System recognizing humans as experience sources—"

"Don't," Aurora interrupted sharply. "Don't even think about it."

"We might not have a choice," Chen said quietly, his voice hollow. "Look at the data."

He turned his tablet toward us. The Sentinel's energy signature had grown stronger just since our encounter. It was learning, adapting, becoming more dangerous with each passing hour.

"At current progression rates, it'll be impossible to defeat conventionally within twelve hours," Chen continued. "But if two high-level users shared the experience from—"

"From murdering our allies," Aurora finished coldly.

The woman with the crossbow stepped forward. "What are you talking about?"

I exchanged glances with Aurora and Chen. How do you explain the unthinkable?

"The System grants experience points for defeating enemies," I said carefully. "Any enemies. Including other System users."

Understanding dawned slowly on their faces, followed by horror.

"You're suggesting we kill each other to power up?" the burned teenager asked, his voice cracking.

"I'm not suggesting anything," I replied quickly. "Just explaining what's theoretically possible."

But even as I said it, my mind was already running calculations. If Aurora and I shared experience from multiple allies, we might reach level ten. Whatever abilities unlocked at that threshold could be enough to—

I stopped the thought cold. What was wrong with me?

Valdez studied us with ancient eyes. "The System changes people," he said quietly. "Makes them think in terms of efficiency, optimization. Resource allocation."

"We're not resources," the woman snapped.

"Aren't we?" Chen asked, his scientist's mind engaging with the problem despite the horror. "From the System's perspective, every human user is a repository of experience points. A battery to be drained when needed."

A loud crash echoed from somewhere above us, followed by the distinctive sound of concrete flowing like water.

"It's getting closer," Aurora observed, her sword materializing weakly.

The tunnel began to change around us. The walls rippled, passages sealing themselves as the Sentinel reshaped our environment. Within minutes, we'd be trapped in a dead-end chamber with nowhere to run.

"There has to be another way," the teenager insisted. "Some tactic we haven't tried."

I closed my eyes, extending my enhanced perception through the Sentinel's expanding territory. The readings were overwhelming—a vast network of coordinated energy, growing stronger and more complex by the minute.

"It's not just one creature anymore," I realized. "The Sentinel is becoming something bigger. A distributed intelligence using the entire local infrastructure."

Chen nodded grimly. "Which means conventional combat is impossible. We're not fighting a monster—we're fighting the environment itself."

"So we go underground," the woman suggested. "Hide until it moves on."

"It's not moving on," Valdez replied sadly. "This is its territory now. It'll keep expanding, keep hunting, until it's catalogued every enhanced human in the city."

Another crash, closer now. The lights went out completely, leaving us in absolute darkness except for the faint glow of our various abilities.

"I could do it quickly," I said suddenly, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Gravity manipulation focused on the brainstem. Instantaneous. No pain."

Silence stretched between us like a chasm.

"Jesus Christ, Nate," Aurora whispered.

"I'm just saying it's possible," I continued, hating myself for speaking but unable to stop. "If some of you volunteered—"

"Volunteered to die?" the woman asked incredulously.

"Volunteered to save the rest," I corrected. "The math is simple. Seven people die now, or all nine die when the Sentinel catches us."

"That's not math," Aurora said, her voice tight with anger. "That's murder."

But I could see Chen running calculations on his tablet, his face pale in the blue glow. Even Valdez was looking at his own readings with a thoughtful expression.

"How much experience would be needed?" Valdez asked quietly.

My heart hammered as I realized he was seriously considering it. "For Aurora and me to reach level ten? Probably four, maybe five people. Depending on their current levels."

"And you think level ten would be enough to defeat the Sentinel?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "But it's our only chance to find out."

The woman backed away from us, crossbow raised. "You're talking about cold-blooded murder."

"We're talking about survival," Chen corrected. "The Sentinel is conducting experiments on us. Learning our limits, our behaviors, our breaking points. Every moment we delay gives it more data."

A new sound echoed through the tunnel—the Sentinel's voice, impossibly calm and precise.

"Specimens detected. Initiating containment protocol."

The remaining passages began sealing rapidly. In seconds, we'd be trapped.

"Decide," Valdez said urgently. "Now."

Aurora's sword flared brighter as her emotions peaked. "I won't be part of this. We find another way."

"There is no other way!" Chen snapped. "Look at the readings! The Sentinel has us completely outmatched!"

"Then we die fighting," Aurora replied fiercely. "But we don't become monsters."

The final passage sealed with a sound like thunder. We were trapped in a circular chamber maybe twenty feet across, no exits except the holes the Sentinel would shortly create to extract us.

"It's too late anyway," the teenager said, his voice cracking with fear. "It's here."

The ceiling began to dissolve. Through the growing opening, silver light poured down like toxic rain.

And descending through that light, the Sentinel's massive form blocked out the sky above.

"Specimen containment complete," it announced. "Beginning extraction sequence."

One of its guardians—the destroyer variant—appeared at the opening's edge. Energy gathered around its weaponized form, preparing to fire.

"Last chance," Chen whispered urgently. "I volunteer. Take my experience and maybe—"

"No," Aurora said firmly.

But as the destroyer's weapon charged, as death prepared to rain down on all of us, I saw something in her eyes.

Doubt.

The terrible knowledge that we might all die here for nothing. That her family would never know what happened to her. That the Sentinel would continue its experiments on other survivors, other families, other children.

The destroyer fired.

Aurora threw up a desperate barrier of lunar energy, but I could see it wouldn't hold. The beam punched through her defenses like they were tissue paper.

In that moment of absolute desperation, with death milliseconds away, Professor Valdez made the choice for all of us.

He stepped directly into the destroyer's beam.

His body simply ceased to exist, vaporized in an instant of brilliant light.

But as he died, his experience flowed into our shared party interface—over 400 points of accumulated power transferring to Aurora and me in a devastating surge of progression.

Experience gained: 425 Level up! You are now level 8.

The old man had sacrificed himself not for strategy or survival, but to give us the choice he knew we couldn't make ourselves.

And as his energy settled into my enhanced stats, I realized with horror that it felt good.

The power, the strength, the sense of capability—everything the System promised when you grew stronger.

That was the most terrifying part.

Not that the System made murder possible.

But that it made murder feel like progress.