Wyn has hunted plenty of monsters before, but never one quite like this. A rat. A really fat one. This beast is the size of a carriage, stomping through the forest underbrush with claws that gouge lines into the dirt. Thick brown fur covers most of its body, but its face? That’s the real nightmare. Bald. Wrinkled. Skin stretched over bone like it’s been forgotten in the sun too long. Two black beady eyes peer out above a mess of twitching whiskers. Honestly, it’s a face only a rat mother could love. And even then, Wyn has her doubts.

  She crouches low on a branch, lips quirking into a grin. Of course, it’s a rat. It’s always a rat. No dragons, no trolls, nothing epic. Just rodents. Big, ugly ones. Still, her emerald green eyes sparkle as she tracks its every lumbering step. Ridiculous or not, the beast is dangerous. And Wyn? She’s not about to let it win.

  Every few steps, the rat stops to take a sniff of its surroundings. Its long snout sucks in gallons of air; nearby bushes sway towards it with each sniff. Its head whips toward a small bush. The rat’s leg muscles tense briefly before launching with a sudden burst of momentum. Wyn’s heart beats faster and faster. The target bush is right under the tree Wyn stands on.

  Could it have sniffed me out?

  Wyn doesn’t have time to think. She has to move. If the rat collides with her tree at speed, Wyn could fall. And gravity is not particularly kind to human bones. Wyn braces against the trunk of the tree, channeling energy into her legs. She pushes off with magically enhanced strength. In midair, she rotates her body, guiding her feet to land on the next tree. She launches again. Pushing herself towards the next tree, and then another, and one more after that.

  Wyn pants from the burst of exertion and reorients herself, her gaze returning to the enormous rat. The maw of the rat is red with blood and viscera. Shattered bones and discarded flesh are all that’s left of the poor deer. Wyn’s stomach churns at the disgusting sight. She’s never had much luck keeping her lunch down, and the smell of vomit would surely alert the rat.

  “Deep breaths, Wyn, deep breaths,” she mutters to herself.

  She takes a few long breaths, calming her body. The rat focuses entirely on devouring its prey. It no longer scans the area with those beady eyes or its powerful nose. Wyn knows this is her best chance; she takes a deep gulp, preparing herself.

  Wyn takes her longbow off her back and draws a slender arrow from the quiver. Wyn furrows her brow, and a small glowing circle appears above the arrow. It gives off a faint orange glow, its elaborate runic marks floating in the air. It hovers over the arrowhead; the circle forming completely, before shrinking down to fit the surface of the arrowhead.

  “Idslah.”

  With that whispered arcane word, the tip of the arrow bursts into flame, lighting Wyn’s toothy grin. She knocks the arrow against the bow and draws it back to its full length. The bowstring snaps, sending the arrow on its course. It soars through the air for 100 feet, the flame fluttering as it flies at great speed. Just as it’s about to strike the rat, the beast shifts its weight to the right, resulting in the flaming arrow landing in a pile of dry leaves.

  “Oh, crap,” she whispered under her breath. The rat and Wyn alike realize the sudden danger. They are in a forest, and Wyn just launched a fire arrow. The rat backs away from the now-growing flame. Wyn debates what to do. Her quest was clear. Go into the forest, and hunt the creature inside. But now, there’s a much bigger threat. One she caused herself. Wyn shakes off her momentary self-doubt. She’s fought worse than this thing in her sleep. She will not be the person who dies to a stupid rat.

  Wyn knocks another arrow and fires it toward the rat. With a start, the rat’s eyes widen. It senses the arrow coming and scurries away, diving to the left, avoiding the attack. For a moment, the rat thinks it’s safe, until it feels the heat crawling up its backside.

  “SCREEEEE!”

  As its fur ignites with magical fire, the rat shrieks in agony; the sound echoes through the air with utter terror. It frantically writhes on the ground, attempting to smother its fiery fur, yet the magical fire refuses to be extinguished.

  “Not this again.”

  With a groan, Wyn desperately scans the area for a path to freedom. Though the mountains were visible, her past adventures had taught her that they often housed larger, more menacing beasts. That could prove disastrous. Beyond the dense forest, a massive lake shimmers. Swimming to safety could work, but Wyn and water don’t get along, so that’s not an option.

  While Wyn wastes precious seconds debating the best plan of action, the rat gets back on its feet and has taken an “If I’m going down, you’re going down with me” approach to its current plight. It charges headfirst, trampling through the undergrowth in the direction the arrow came from. It sprints at full speed from tree to tree, slashing at the trunks and leaving massive gashes behind. Each tree croaks dangerously as chunks of wood fly through the air. Wyn doesn’t even have time to blink before her tree gets the same treatment.

  CREEEAAAAAK.

  The massive tree lets out a pained creak as Wyn feels the trunk shift. She swore to herself, the sound barely audible over the crumbling tree. Wyn, in a panic, tries to jump, attempting to channel energy into her legs, but it is too late. Her legs tense, and she leaps upward toward the nearest tree. Wyn reaches out her arms to grab onto something, praying that it will hold her weight. For the briefest of moments, Wyn grabs hold of a branch before SNAP! It breaks in half, and Wyn plummets 30 feet to the ground.

  Wyn tucks and rolls as she lands, mitigating at least some of the fall damage before she stands. She’s covered in dirt and scratches from the fall, and suspects that at least one of her bones is broken from the landing. But she’s not dead, and at this point Wyn takes that as a victory.

  Wyn feels it before she sees it. A rumbling in the ground comes from behind as the rat charges forward. Not daring to look behind, Wyn sprints through the forest. She dodges left and right between the trees, with the oversized rat right on her heels.

  “I will not die to this damn rat!” Wyn says.

  Wyn’s right knee screams in agony with each step as the chase wears on. She can’t keep this up forever, and she knows it. The scent of smoldering rat flesh hits her nostrils as she takes a sharp left to shake the beast, but it’s too little too late. The trees are getting thinner, and an incline is building as the chase continues. Wyn scans the surroundings and spots the opportunity she’s looking for — a small cave in the side of a nearby cliff face. She could slip through the opening, but it is far too tiny for the rat to manage.

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  With renewed determination, Wyn pushes past the pain in her knee and rockets forward, pouring the last of her strength into reaching the cave. As she sprints tof the raging behemoth get quieter and quieter as she sprints to the cave entrance. For good measure, Wyn casts her flame arrow spell again and tosses the arrow into the ground, hoping the flame will scare off the beast. With one last stretch, she dives into the cave and allows herself to turn around toward the giant rat creature.

  Wyn’s eyebrows furrow. The beast didn’t even attempt to get close to the cave. It stays about 100 meters away, swiping at the ground; challenging Wyn to come out and face it. The magical flame almost entirely burned away its fur and heavily burned its skin. It barely clings to life, and yet it still wants to destroy Wyn. She laughs at the rat and blows a raspberry at it, holding up a customary “L” to her forehead, claiming victory over the beast.

  Wyn freezes as a shiver runs up her spine. There’s something else here. Something far more powerful. Wyn has never felt such potent magical energy. She turns to the shadowed depths and feels a faint trickle of magical energy. Even these faint bits of magic give off an undeniable sense of power. Wyn has never encountered anything like this, and a sense of wonder washes over her.

  Every fiber of Wyn tells her to run; to get out before whatever this thing is gets the chance to hurt her. But something about it feels strangely familiar. Her mind screams at her to run. Whatever this thing is, it can’t be worth risking your life, right? Wyn disagrees. A person can’t gain strength if they’re a coward. Steeling her heart against the danger, Wyn waves a last goodbye to the near-dead rat behemoth, and steps deeper into the cave.

  The cave suddenly opens up, transforming from a narrow crevice into a vast cavern. Iridescent moss lines the cave walls, giving it a faint purple light. A small creek cuts through the base of the cave, weaving in between large stones before vanishing out of sight. In the heart of the cave, a tiered dais of stone rests, cold and silent. Wyn guesses the dais to be about 50 feet across, and 25 feet tall with each tier rising after five feet. On the side, a stairway was carved into the dais, leading to the central platform. The lush cavern is beautiful, though the overwhelming presence sours the overall impression.

  After a few minutes of clambering up rocks, Wyn reaches the central stone dais. The dais shows no signs of wear, yet it feels as ancient as time itself. The entire structure, seemingly carved from a single stone, is covered in complex runes that hum with a silent energy. Wyn’s instincts warn her she must hurry, despite her wishes to stay and examine the intricate details.

  Wyn steps foot on the steps, and a computerized voice speaks into her mind.

  “Warning. This area is considered highly dangerous; turn back now,” the voice says.

  Wyn is taken aback by the sudden voice in her head, but moves forward. No way in hell is she going to come this far without finding out the mystery behind this place.

  “Secondary warning. You are not permitted in this zone. Turn back, or you will be destroyed.” The voice says, increasing in volume.

  “Oh, heck no!” Wyn shouts back.

  Wyn stops taking in the scenery and scrambles up the stone dais as fast as she can manage. Her feet echo against the smooth stone, threatening to throw her off balance, but she stays on the path. With each step, the voice increases in volume; each word carrying increasingly dire warnings of death and destruction. Wyn moves forward, determined, blocking out the intrusive voice from her mind. The magical presence becomes overwhelming as she steps onto the top of the dais. Magic clung to her like a physical weight, pressing down on her shoulders. Reaching the last layer of the stone, she crumbles to her knees, unable to keep herself upright.

  “Final warning. Progenitis Systems is not —”.

  “SHUT UP!”

  She heaves herself to her feet, using her longbow as a very ineffective walking stick. Wyn wills her feet to move. It takes all her might simply to put one foot in front of the other. With each step, the magic gets stronger, threatening to tear Wyn apart. But she has made up her mind and won’t be stopped. The magical presence, whatever it is, fights Wyn as she moves. It releases waves of magical energy that tear at Wyn. Her skin goes red from overexposure as she winces in pain. But against it all, Wyn keeps going. One foot at a time until she reaches the center of the platform.

  Wyn places a hand against the central platform, and the waves of magic suddenly stop. She flops to the ground and pants to catch her breath. She’s done it. Not that she knows what she has accomplished. Wyn casts a simple recovery spell, and she feels her damaged body slowly knitting itself back together. She still hurts all over, but at least the worst of the pain has passed. Now she can get to the important part — finding out whatever the hell could be this powerful.

  Wyn shakily rises to her feet and examines the runic circles. It’s beyond anything she’s seen before, but her instincts tell her it’s some sort of magical seal. She throws a few of her own simple spells at it, but none of them find purchase. Whatever this is keeping locked away, it’s not budging.

  Where’s a wizard when you need one?

  The runes pulse with magical energy, and Wyn stumbles backwards, hoping this isn’t a renewed assault. Not sure what to do, Wyn knocks an arrow on her bow, ready to fire at the first sign of danger. The stone pulses at an increasing speed, getting brighter and brighter. It doesn’t hurt Wyn like before, but the sense of power is stronger than ever. The light gets stronger until Wyn can’t bear to look at it any longer. Blinded, she covers her eyes as a final, searing burst of magical light erupts from the central dais.

  And then, nothing. The magic stops pulsing, and the platform itself opens up. As the stone folds in on itself, acting more like paper than hard rock, Wyn watches with wide eyes, taking a step back. After a brief pause, a round orb of strange, magical energy crackles into existence, rising slowly from the dais. The orb is a smooth, obsidian sphere that crackles with an unusual purple energy, buzzing with a life Wyn has never seen before. This orb is clearly the source of power, but the object’s simplicity disappoints her.

  Is this really it? Just some fancy orb thing?

  Wyn, sensing no danger, slowly approaches it and tentatively extends her hand.

  You have found: Class Token of #ERROR, Exalted.

  An orb containing the powers and abilities associated with a unique Class.

  Accept new class?

  YES / #ERROR

  The hell does #ERROR mean? Did I find a glitch? And why there isn’t an option to select “No?”

  Wyn selects the #ERROR button where the system should list a “No” option. Nothing happens. The screen glitches, disjointedly for a moment, but otherwise shows no response. Wyn, seeing no other way forward, selects “Yes.”

  You have accepted the class #ERROR, congra —

  Wyn’s vision goes red, and bold text appears in front of her, in a much darker font.

  ERROR - YOU DIED.

  System resetting.

  Logging you out. Thank you for playing Eden.