System Fall

Sitting alone in the corner, I observed the scene unfolding before me in the waiting room of the challenge hospital. Silence hung heavy in the air as a badly wounded man lay ignored on the floor, his agonized cries for help falling on deaf ears. The group seemed more interested in their formal introductions than offering help.

To me, it was a chilling reminder of the old world, where people turned a blind eye to those in need. As those gathered began their introductions, the group as a whole distanced themselves from the wounded man, their attention drawn to a nearby counter, drowning out his pleas with their conversations.

[System Fall Notification]

 

Title: Medical Mayhem

 

It’s time for System Fall to start re-imaging what your values are.

Here, within the walls of this hospital, you're presented with a choice to advance, or make no choice and all perish. Pick two unfortunate souls from your group who must meet their end at your own hands. Survival of the fittest at its finest, don't you agree? Discern the feeble, the weaklings, those who barely contribute, and gift them an early exit. This choice is yours and yours alone. After all, it's you who are best able to determine whom among you is truly worthy of advancing.

 

Zagren’s voice broke the silence, its voice heavy with exhaustion. ["You don’t have time fof despair. This is what makes our game truly exquisite. Your faith in each other, your bonds... all reduced to mere commodities. What's your life worth to your comrades, I wonder?"]

"The robot is right. We don’t have time to mope, and now that we can talk," a calm middle-aged man spoke up, his voice resonating with a detached calmness. "Let's approach this together as reasonable people. Random acts of aggression will only breed distrust. How can we trust those who resort to violence without at least thinking it through completely?"

"Yeah, that makes sense, we need to think this out. We need to make the best call," chimed in a woman with spiked knuckles, her office attire clashing with her fierce appearance. "If we have to vote, we need to discuss and decide who's best suited to stay."

Their discussion, though polite and positive, felt distant, as if none of them had considered the possibility of being chosen for elimination. They agreed that strength and capability were key factors. From what I could gather, it seemed that appearing strong was more important than showing empathy, or humanity. I cared more about those I could trust going forward. I was strong enough by myself, I just didn’t want to worry much about betrayal. A knife in the back killed just as easily as a knife in the ribs.  It reminded me of a classroom, where raising your hand got you noticed, raising your own stock while others faded into the background.

As they circled around the question of who should live and who should die, I started to feel general unease towards the group’s one-minded focus. They were blind to the greater question of who they, as a group, were willing to sacrifice. It echoed a story I once read about firing squads, where most guns fired blanks, allowing each member to believe they hadn't taken a life. They carried on, free from guilt, convinced that their bullet was harmless. In much the same way that their voice with be harmless.

 

In this twisted similarity to firing squads, none of them seemed burdened by the responsibility of causing another's demise. They sought to keep their hands clean while we all shared the guilt. I found myself trapped in this moral dilemma along with the rest of them. I couldn’t resist the [Admin] or any of the managers, and there was no way to avoid the inevitable outcome. Just like the rest of them, I searched for someone else to be sacrificed so that I could secure my own survival.

As the introductions began, I continued to observe the spectacle, contemplating the choices they were about to make. I was willing to take things into my own hand if whom they chose went against my interests.

"I'm Kenny. I used to work in construction," one man said. "I have a war-hammer as my main weapon, and I'm good at finding food and clean water. I’ve been a bit of a survivalist and it’s helped me and everyone I’ve teamed with so far to survive."

Someone else added, "I used to work in an office. I can cook and do math, and I know how to scavenge this hospital for supplies. I can teach all of you too."

The first round of introductions began, and one by one, they shared their previous occupations. As I listened, a pang of jealousy stirred within me. While their old lives had only recently come to an end, mine had been snuffed out years ago, leaving me with nothing but memories of battles fought and victories won.

Among the group, there were office workers, baristas, musicians, and a variety of other professions. Each of them held onto the hope that they could find a new purpose in this world. But I knew that only the strongest would prevail, and the weaker ones would be weeded out along the way. For some, this hospital would become their final resting place unless they could transform themselves into something more, a new identity as adventurers, guild leaders, craftsmen, tanks, porters, mages, monster hunters, healers, or fearless frontliners. It was a chance to reclaim some power for themselves and embrace the dangerous path that awaited them.

As each person stepped forward to introduce themselves and make their case for why they deserved to continue and fight for their right to live, I observed them closely. I studied their equipment, their physique, and the fire that burned in their eyes. I made mental calculations and predictions, envisioning the potential classes and roles they could adopt within the system. Who among them had the true grit and indomitable willpower to survive the trials that lay ahead? The answer would reveal itself regardless of the outcome of the groups decision.

“That one could be a blacksmith, that one an archer, that one a potions master, or maybe an alchemist if she enjoys exploring for ingredients. The edgy girl… maybe a thief, or assassin…,” I thought to myself, ticking them off one by one. Then, I turned my attention back to the man on the floor who had remained motionless. I had a strong feeling that this was the end of his journey.

Perhaps this ordeal of choosing two people to die had pushed him to his breaking point. Or maybe he carried burdens heavier than the rest of us, like a family. I didn't have siblings, and my parents hadn't been in the picture for a long time, but something about this man gave me the sense that he was a family man.

 

The man's moans finally ceased, and a heavy silence settled upon the room. I realized it was my turn to step forward and make my introduction. With a no-nonsense approach, I declared, "I'm skilled with a sword, and I prefer to operate solo."

In contrast to everyone else who had taken a minute or two to discuss their strengths and weaknesses, even mentioning some of their [Skills], minus a trump card of two they should have kept up their sleeves, I kept my introduction brief.

"That's it?" Edgy Girl, who had yet to introduce herself, questioned with a skeptical look. "Buddy, I'm not sure you're doing a great job of selling yourself right now. That sale’s pitch leaves a lot to be desired.”

"I do hope there is something more as well. Would you happen to have any skills that might be of help to us? People’s lives are in danger, this needs to be carefully considered, for the good of all. " The middle-aged man, whom I now knew as Kenny, inquired.

I responded with an indifferent shrug, which smoothly transitioned into me drawing my new sword. "I’m good with a blade. I didn’t hear any of the rest of you say you could fight well. Come at me if you feel strongly about it. All of you. I’m the only one claiming I’m good in a fight."

I gripped Legender in my hand and the tension in the room grew. It was about sending a message just as much. Their was a decision to be made, and my name wasn’t going to be on the list.

The others backed away from the counter and gave me space. I was the guy everyone in the room seemed to be wary of, and now they believed they had a good reason for it.

I didn't want to antagonize them, but I also didn’t intend for somebody to monopolize the group. There were no particularly strong skills or traits among them, but they had potential to be nurtured into something more. The construction worker, Kenny had the skill called [Copycat]. It was a skill that could temporarily copy aspects of anyone else. It wasn’t a perfect copy and how it could be applied depended on his growth of the ability. In his case, he could copy a skill for five uses over an hour.

A skinny, timid-looking guy had the spark to one day become a Healer with his [Body-Stitching] technique. It was limited, since it could only manifest a sterilized thread out of thin air.

Initially, all skills were limited in this way. The office lady could light a fire by snapping her fingers, which would come in handy if someone needed a fire but lacked a lighter or didn't know how to make one. It was also a skill that as it evolved could become something useful like [Hellfire] or [Holy Fire] depending on how she managed to ultimately evolve it.

Kenny, cleared his throat and took a step forward. "As we start the vote, please consider the capabilities each person brings," he suggested, his voice tinged with a mix of pragmatism and empathy. "We need to ensure that our group is well-rounded and equipped to handle whatever is waiting for us once we get out of this waiting room. Let's prioritize those who offer the most value and have the greatest potential for growth, and those who can balance out weaknesses and teams.”

"Well, I guess that's that," Edgy Girl concluded as she slapped the counter. “Let’s finish this.”

I gave her a questioning look.

"Aren't you forgetting someone?" the office lady, pointedly asked.

"Oh, right! This guy." Edgy Girl leaned down over the bleeding man, patting his shoulder. "You in there? Anyone home? What skills do you have?"

He stirred but didn't really move. He was still alive, but I knew it didn’t matter. I recognized the look. He had given up. Not that it mattered with his injuries. His fate had been sealed as soon as he attacked Zagren.

"Well, I guess I'll introduce myself.” The Edgy Girl spoke up, “I'm Lydia, the last few days for me have been hell. I’m sure it’s just like the rest of you. I'm Strength-focused and before this all, I worked as a travel nurse, maybe that's why I unlocked this item."

She revealed a dagger that I instantly recognized.

I kept that recognition to myself.

"The reason I called for introductions is, well, my dagger is called Last Kiss and it has a pain-dulling effect. Very merciful."

I suspected that most people would conveniently overlook the fine line between pain-dulling and painless.

People would choose to believe whatever was most convenient.

The Healer chimed in, "Does it really work as you claim?

Lydia's features momentarily twisted, offering a momentary glimpse of a sharp smile crossing her face before being replaced by a more peaceful expression. I doubted anyone else caught that subtle shift in her demeanor.

"Allow me to demonstrate, since our friend ground obviously isn’t making it out of this room," Lydia calmly said as she held the black ornate dagger in a reverse grip. Before anyone could protest, she stabbed it downwards into the poor man's chest. There was no resistance from him, no flailing, no screams. Still, the blood beginning to stain the floor in a large puddle was unmistakable. "See? Gentle. Merciful. He was already on his way out."

"Oh hell," I muttered under my breath as a suspicion confirmed itself.

She was one of those.

That dagger was notorious, and once known, its possession would become a cause for rightful concern among every survivor.