Apocalypse Tutorial System

Chapter 2 : Shadow Combat

The sunlight beat down on the open grass of Central Park, but Rendi only saw the flicker of orange light at the edge of his vision. He stood with his fists clenched, his lungs burning from the dash across the street.

“Square up! I guess!” Rendi yelled, looking at a patch of empty space near a startled poodle.

[ TARGET LOCKED. LEVEL 1 WRAITH INITIATING AGGRESSION. ]

“Ayo, move!” Rendi shouted at a couple nearby. “Deadass, get out of the way! You’re in the hitbox!”

“Is he... is he yelling at the grass?” the girl whispered, clutching her iced latte.

“Looks like a bad trip, fr,” her boyfriend replied, reaching for his phone. “Or some weird TikTok challenge.”

Rendi didn't look back. A sudden rush of cold air hit his chest, and he stumbled backward.

“Woah! Bruh, that’s a violation!” Rendi swung wildly at the air. “Did you just try to phase through my ribs? That’s literally illegal!”

[ DODGE SUCCESSFUL. COUNTER-ATTACK NOW. TARGET IS LOWER LEFT. ]

“Lower left? Say less!” Rendi threw a haymaker into the void. His fist hit something that felt like gelatinous cold smoke. “I felt that! I actually hit him! Take that L, you invisible creep!”

“Sir? Are you okay?” a park ranger called out, stepping off the paved path. “Do you need medical assistance?”

“I’m doing great, Officer! Just clearing the plague!” Rendi shouted over his shoulder, his eyes wide. “Keep the perimeter clear! This is some main character energy you don’t want a piece of!”

[ COMBO INITIATED: THREE HITS REMAINING. ]

“Three more? Bet!” Rendi started a clumsy shuffle. “Left hook! Uppercut! Mid-tier kick!”

“Yo, Rendi? Is that actually you?”

Rendi froze, his leg halfway through a roundhouse kick into nothingness. He turned his head to see a familiar face standing near a cluster of bushes. It was Adit, his phone already out and positioned horizontally.

“Adit! Man, shut that off!” Rendi wheezed, his face bright red. “Stop filming, you’re making it look weird!”

“Making it look weird?” Adit laughed, his fingers tapping the screen. “My guy, you are shadowboxing with the ozone layer. This is gold. This is peak content. The group chat is already losing their minds.”

“It’s not shadowboxing! There’s a wraith! Look at the stats!” Rendi gestured frantically at the air in front of him. “Wait, you can’t see the stats. System, can he see the stats?”

[ SYSTEM INTERFACE IS PRIVATE. ONLY USER RENDI CAN OBSERVE INTERACTION. ]

“Big yikes!” Rendi ducked as another wave of cold air swept over his head. “Adit, get back! He’s using an AoE attack! You’re gonna get debuffed!”

“Debuffed?” Adit stepped closer, grinning. “What are you on? Whatever you took, I want some. Or maybe I don’t. You look like you’re having a literal meltdown in 4K.”

“I’m saving your life, fam! Help me out!” Rendi yelled, jumping sideways to avoid a phantom swing. “Grab a stick! Something!”

“I’m grabbing the footage, that’s what I’m doing,” Adit said, following Rendi’s erratic movements with his camera lens. “Wait, keep doing that shaky-hand thing. People in the comments are saying you look like a broken NPC.”

“Broken NPC?” Rendi grunted, lunging forward with a straight jab. “I’m the protagonist! Tell them to sub for more! No, actually, tell them to call a therapist because if this Wraith hits me again, my heart is gonna stop!”

[ WRAITH HEALTH: 10%. EXECUTE FINISH MOVE. ]

“Execute? How do I execute?” Rendi hissed under his breath. “Give me a move list!”

[ SUGGESTED ACTION: DOUBLE-PALM THRUST TO THE LOWER TRUNK. ]

“Ayo, that looks so goofy,” Rendi complained, even as he squared his hips. “Fine! Whatever! Just finish it so I can stop being a meme!”

Rendi let out a primal scream—part genuine effort, part sheer humiliation—and thrust both palms forward into the empty air.

“Kamehameha!” he shrieked.

A shockwave of air rippled outward, knocking over a nearby trash can. Adit stumbled back, nearly dropping his phone.

“Whoa, what the heck was that?” Adit stared at the rolling trash can. “How did you... did you just wind-blast a bin?”

[ QUEST COMPLETE. EXPERIENCE QUOTA REACHED. ]

[ REWARD: +1 STRENGTH. +5 AGILITY. ]

[ STATUS: LOCAL INFAMY LEVEL UP. ]

Rendi collapsed onto the grass, gasping for air. His shirt was soaked in sweat, and his limbs felt like lead.

“Did I get it?” Rendi asked, looking at the blue box. “Is it dead?”

[ LEVEL 1 WRAITH NEUTRALIZED. DATA GATHERED. ]

“Rendi, look at me,” Adit said, his voice dropping an octave as he lowered his phone. “How did you actually knock that bin over? You weren't within three feet of it.”

“I told you, man,” Rendi wheezed. “Combat feasibility. I’m leveling up. It’s the Real Game.”

“You are high-key scaring me,” Adit said, though his thumb was already busy typing a caption. “Look at this. ShadowboxCrazyman is already starting to move in the local tags. You’re at forty shares in five minutes.”

“Forty shares?” Rendi’s head hit the grass. “That’s so many L’s. My career is actually over before it started.”

“Career? You’re a junior data entry clerk, Rendi,” Adit reminded him. “Or you were. If your boss sees you screaming 'Kamehameha' at a park ranger, you’re getting the boot.”

“The System said I have to,” Rendi groaned. “It’s mandatory. I do the tasks or my heart quits. Literally.”

“Is that the script for the video? Is this a viral marketing thing for a new movie?” Adit squinted at him. “Tell me the truth. Is this for 'The Real Game' movie launch? Are you an undercover ambassador?”

“I wish, bruh. My salary is zero. My compensation is ‘not dying’,” Rendi said, closing his eyes. “Can we just go? I need to hide for like, three years.”

“Nah, stay right there,” Adit said, raising the phone again. “I need a follow-up shot. Do the look. Give me the ‘tortured soul’ vibe.”

“Go away, Adit!” Rendi swat his hand at the camera. “I’m not a prop!”

“You’re a gold mine!” Adit countered. “Stay focused. Wait... look at the notifications. People are asking if you’re available for birthdays. To fight imaginary friends? That’s cold, man. Pure disrespect.”

Rendi stared up at the sky. A new window was pulsing, and this one wasn't orange. It was a sickly, bioluminescent green.

“Oh no,” Rendi whispered. “Not again.”

“What? What do you see now?” Adit looked around. “Is there another ghost? Let me get the angle right.”

[ NEW TASK: NUTRITIONAL CALIBRATION. ]

“Nutritional?” Rendi felt a knot of dread in his stomach. “Is it a steak? Please tell me I have to go to a five-star buffet. System, I need a W. Give me a cheat meal.”

[ REQUIREMENT: CONSUME 5KG OF ORGANIC MATTER (BIO-SLUDGE) LOCATED IN USER RESIDENCE BIN. ]

“Bio-sludge?” Rendi sat bolt upright. “Are you actually capping right now? Bio-sludge? That’s literally garbage, System!”

“Who are you talking to?” Adit asked, taking a cautious step back. “And why did you just say garbage? Rendi, don't tell me you're about to do a mukbang.”

“I have to eat... something,” Rendi stuttered, his face turning pale. “The bin at my place. Five kilograms.”

“Five kilograms of what?” Adit asked, horrified. “Rendi, no. Whatever the voice in your head is saying, don't do it. That's toxic, fr. Zero stars. Do not recommend.”

“I have to,” Rendi said, standing up on shaky legs. “Or I die. That’s the deal. It’s always the deal.”

“Rendi, wait!” Adit yelled as Rendi started a slow, miserable jog back toward his apartment. “I’m still recording! Say something for the fans! Give us a teaser!”

Rendi didn't look back. He was already thinking about the week-old leftovers and the damp coffee grounds waiting for him in the kitchen waste.

“It’s so over,” Rendi muttered to the air. “I’m gonna be the first human in history to get a virus from his own game stats.”

[ THIRTY MINUTES UNTIL BIOMETRIC DEGRADATION BEGINS. ]

“I’m moving! I’m moving!” Rendi screamed, his voice echoing across the park as he sprinted for home.

Adit watched him go, the camera still rolling.

“This guy,” Adit murmured, looking at his growing view count. “Is either a genius or completely cooked. Either way, my follower count is going to the moon.”

Rendi burst through the entrance of his apartment building, ignoring Mbak Sari who was still eyeing the sidewalk where her laundry rack had perished.

“Back for more, weirdo?” she shouted.

“Can’t talk, Mbak! I have a lunch date with destiny!” Rendi yelled back as he scrambled up the stairs.

He reached his door, fumbled with the keys, and practically threw himself into the kitchen. He stopped in front of the plastic bin under the sink. The smell wafted up—bitter, damp, and thoroughly unappealing.

[ ORGANIC MATTER DETECTED. COMMENCE CALIBRATION. ]

Rendi looked at the bin, then at the floating prompt. His hand shook as he reached for the lid.

“I hate this game,” Rendi whispered, his eyes tearing up. “I high-key, absolutely, unironically hate this game.”