The light faded slowly, like fog burning off under a morning sun. Harry opened one eye, then the other, half expecting to find himself back in his bed, tangled in sheets and regrets.
Nope. Still in the middle of London. Still surrounded by confused strangers, blinking against the glow of their personal apocalypse.
He sat up with a groan and rubbed his eyes. His body didn't hurt, exactly, but it tingled—like every nerve had been dipped in static.
And floating in front of him, just as crisp and surreal as before, was a screen.
WELCOME, HARRY
[ SYSTEM INITIALIZING… ]
[ LOADING STATUS WINDOW… ]
[ CLASS: ?? ]
[ LEVEL: 1 ]
[ HP: 100 | MP: 100 | STAMINA: 100 ]
[ STRENGTH: ?? | AGILITY: ?? | INTELLIGENCE: ?? | DEXTERITY: ?? ]
[ INVENTORY: EMPTY ]
[ SKILLS: NONE LISTED ]
[ ACHIEVEMENTS: NONE ]
"Please proceed with tutorial."
Harry frowned. "Question marks? Seriously?"
Next to him, Susan was standing confidently, swiping through her own glowing screen like a seasoned gamer. "I've got a class. 'Holy Priest.' Buffs, healing spells, a stat sheet that actually makes sense."
Harry waved a hand at his own. "I've got existential dread and a blank character sheet. Do I win something?"
Susan leaned over to peek. "...Huh. That's weird. No stats at all?"
"Not even a lousy starter spell. I feel robbed."
She tapped her chin. "Maybe it's a hidden class. Like one of those OP mystery types in fantasy games."
"Yeah, or maybe I'm just a bug in the system."
A faint pulse of light rippled across the sky again. The massive crack was still there—wider now, pulsing with strange energy like it was breathing. More people were moving, talking, trying to make sense of their new reality. But no one had answers. Only more screens, more stats, more choices.
And then came the second message.
TUTORIAL BEGINS IN 48 HOURS
SURVIVAL IS NOW YOUR PRIMARY OBJECTIVE
A collective gasp spread across the street like a ripple. Some cried. Some cursed. Others just stared, waiting for someone—anyone—to explain.
Harry just exhaled. "Of course. A countdown. Because this wasn't stressful enough."
Susan sat cross-legged on the pavement, her glowing screen hovering just above eye level as she scrolled with purpose. "Okay, so there's an inventory tab, skill list, stat screen, party system... even a friend list. This thing's basically an RPG HUD."
Harry crouched beside her, poking at his own screen. "Mine's like a knockoff version. I've got all the tabs, but everything's either empty or filled with question marks. I can't even equip hope."
"Maybe it's locked until you do something specific? Or—wait. Try saying something. Like a command."
"Like… 'Open Sesame'?"
She smirked. "Try 'status window' or 'inventory' or something."
Harry raised an eyebrow, then cleared his throat. "Status window."
Nothing changed.
"Inventory."
Still nothing.
He tried one last time, flatly: "Cool protagonist moment."
The screen blinked once, then stayed exactly the same.
Susan burst into laughter. "Okay, you're definitely bugged."
"I prefer 'mysteriously unclassified,' thank you."
While they traded jabs, a figure approached from the left—a tall guy with messy dark hair, lean build, and twin daggers strapped across his back. His face was serious but not unfriendly.
"You two look like you're figuring this out faster than most," he said. "Mind if I tag along?"
Harry blinked. "Are we handing out party invites already? Do I need to roll a Charisma check?"
The guy cracked a slight smile. "Name's Marcus. Picked the rogue class, apparently. Good with knives, bad with people. You?"
"Susan. Holy Priest. Healer and certified sarcasm detector."
"Harry," he said. "Professionally unqualified for whatever's happening."
Marcus glanced at Harry's screen. "No class assigned?"
"Nope. Just vibes."
Susan stood up and offered Marcus a hand. "More the merrier. We've got 48 hours until something awful drops on our heads, and I'd rather not face it alone."
He shook her hand. "Same."
A faint ping echoed as Susan tapped her screen and sent a party invite to Marcus. Moments later, Harry's screen lit up too.
SUSAN has invited you to join the party.
[ ACCEPT ] [ DECLINE ]
Harry hit accept, and suddenly their screens synced. A new bar appeared showing their names, levels, and HP.
Susan grinned. "Now we've got a party buff. Plus five percent to all EXP gained."
Harry blinked. "So we've literally just formed a squad. I feel like we need a group name."
"Something cool?" Susan asked.
"Something ironic," Marcus said dryly.
Harry snapped his fingers. "How about: Mildly Concerned But Surprisingly Functional?"
Marcus gave him a look. "...It's weird how that actually fits."
They stood there for a moment, the sky above them still cracked and pulsing, the world around them beginning to shift in ways no one could explain.
Susan glanced back at her screen. "We've got two days to figure out how to survive whatever this tutorial is."
Harry looked at his blank stat sheet, then at the two people beside him.
"We better make the most of it."
The streets of London didn't look the same anymore.
There was no fire or rubble, no monsters yet. But something in the air had shifted. Like the rules of reality were holding their breath.
The trio made their way back toward the hotel on foot. Cars were abandoned in the streets. Storefronts dark. A few pedestrians shuffled by like sleepwalkers, screens still hovering in front of them, eyes glazed with disbelief.
Harry broke the silence first. "So, tutorial. What do you think that means? A pop quiz with extra fireballs?"
"Could be," Marcus said. "Or waves of enemies. Boss fights. Traps. If this is anything like a dungeon game, we're basically at the intro screen."
Susan nodded. "We've got time, but not much. We need to figure out what our classes can actually do."
Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. "You guys have skills. I've got question marks and vibes. Best I can do is provide moral support and maybe some light stand-up comedy."
Marcus looked at him. "Don't sell yourself short. You've got the weirdest profile I've seen so far. That usually means something special."
"Or I'm just the tutorial's designated comic relief."
Susan elbowed him gently. "You're not. You're our bugged-out mystery card, and we're not leaving you behind."
The hotel loomed ahead—one of the few places that still felt real. Familiar. At least for now.
Inside, the lobby was unusually quiet. Most of the staff and guests had retreated to their rooms, waiting for answers that weren't coming.
They slipped into the employee break room. The lights were flickering here, too, but the vending machine still worked. Harry punched in a code and grabbed three cans of cold coffee, tossing one to each of them.
"To the Mildly Concerned But Surprisingly Functional," he said, raising his can.
Susan laughed. "Cheers."
Marcus just smirked and tapped his can against theirs.
They sat in silence for a while, sipping, thinking, watching the sky pulse through the high windows.
Finally, Susan spoke. "Tomorrow, we start training. Testing our limits. There's got to be a way to grow before the tutorial hits."
"Agreed," Marcus said. "We find a safe spot to train. Track our progress. Work together."
Harry nodded slowly, eyes on his empty screen. "And maybe, just maybe... figure out what the hell I am."
The sky cracked again, just faintly. Like thunder on mute.
They didn't flinch this time.