I stood in front of my small dorm mirror. I looked like a real student. My graduation gown was black and itchy. My cap was pinned tight to my hair.
"Just one hour," I told myself. "Walk the stage. Get the diploma. Leave this place forever."
I reached for my desk. I grabbed my senior thesis. It was a huge, heavy book with hard covers and sharp metal corners. I had spent years writing it. It felt solid in my hands.
Then, the air in my room felt weird. It felt heavy, like it was pressing on my skin. A purple crack opened in the middle of the air. It looked like broken glass.
A blue window floated in front of my face.
[WELCOME, VIVIENNE ROMANOV]
[THE FINAL EXAM HAS STARTED.]
Character Profile: Vivienne Romanov
Class: Behavioral Analyst (Evolutionary Path: Neural Architect)
Level: 1
Major: Psychology (B.S.)
Current Status: Senior (Pending Graduation / In Combat)
Core Attributes
Intellect: 18
Composure: 16
Empathy: 12
Agility: 11
Strength: 9
"Am I dreaming?" I whispered. I tried to touch the window, but my hand went right through it. It felt cold.
Suddenly, a loud scream came from the hallway. It wasn't a normal scream. It sounded like an animal. Something heavy slammed against my door. THUD. Red blood started to leak under the door and onto my carpet.
[NEW QUEST: LEAVE THE DORM]
[OBJECTIVE: GET OUT ALIVE.]
My heart started to beat very fast. I didn't scream. My brain was already thinking of a plan. I looked around. I had no gun. I had no knife.
I looked at my heavy thesis book. It was three hundred pages of thick paper. It was heavy enough to break a bone.
"Let's see if this is useful for once," I said. I gripped the book tight.
The door began to break. A grey hand pushed through the wood. The skin was peeling off. The fingers were scratching at the air.
I moved to the side of the door. I hid where the person—or thing—couldn't see me. The door fell open. A monster stumbled in. Its eyes were white and cloudy. It smelled like rotten meat.
The monster looked at my empty bed. It didn't see me.
I lifted my heavy book high over my head. I took a deep breath.
"Class is in session," I hissed.
I swung the book as hard as I could.
I lowered the book. My arms were shaking, but I forced my breathing to slow down. One, two, three, four. In and out. I had to stay calm. If I panicked, I was as good as dead.
The monster on the floor didn't move. I didn't want to look at it too closely. Instead, I turned my back to it and looked at my room. It was small and messy, filled with the life of a student who was supposed to leave in two hours. Now, it was a survival cache.
I grabbed my black nylon backpack from the chair. It was sturdy. I dumped out my extra notebooks and highlighters. They were useless now.
First, I went to my bedside table. I found my heavy metal water bottle. It was full. Water was more important than food right now. I slid it into the side pocket of the bag. Next, I grabbed a portable power bank and its cord. If the "system" was digital, maybe my phone still mattered.
I walked over to my snack shelf. My hands fumbled with a box of granola bars. I shoved all six of them into the front pocket. I also grabbed a small jar of peanut butter. High protein, high fat. Good for energy.
"Think, Vivienne," I whispered. "What else?"
I looked at my closet. I was wearing my graduation gown, which was long and tripped me up. I reached inside and grabbed my denim jacket. It was thick. It might protect my arms from a bite. I pulled it on over my gown, feeling the weight of the layers.
On the floor of the closet, I found my heavy boots. I kicked off my dress shoes—pretty but useless—and laced the boots up tight. I needed to be able to run.
Finally, I went back to my desk. I picked up a pair of heavy-duty scissors. I held them in my left hand and kept my thesis book in my right. One for stabbing, one for smashing.
I looked at the blue window still floating near my bed.
[INVENTORY UPDATED]
[EQUIPMENT: SENIOR THESIS (BLUNT), STEEL SCISSORS (PIERCING)]
The hallway was quiet now, but it was a heavy, scary kind of quiet. I could hear the faint sound of footsteps—wet, dragging footsteps—passing by my door.
I put my backpack on and pulled the straps tight against my chest. I felt heavy, but I felt ready. I took one last look at my posters and my unmade bed.
"Goodbye, normal life," I said softly.
I walked to the broken door and peeked out into the dark hallway.