“Rising Impatience: This one will answer both questions, Ethan Parker. However, it must warn you that time is running short. It must request that you decide soon, whatever your choice is to be.”

  “To say there would be a better person is missing the point. Instead, say there are many people for the job. The Collective has contacted all who have survived initial attacks and achieved Induction.”

  A fraction of the tension eased from my shoulders at the confirmation that I wasn’t some ‘chosen one.’ I was just one person among many who’d been lucky enough to survive.

  “Deep Regret: Returning to your first question, the Labyrinth cannot be stopped. Such a thing is far beyond any the Collective can bring to bear.”

  “It would devour your planet, remaking it as a World Floor in its own image. This is inevitable.”

  “However, it is possible to distract the Labyrinth, allowing the Collective to begin evacuations and your people to prepare for the change.”

  My gaze flicked to the window for a moment. It didn’t look like that horrible gray wall had grown any closer. “What’s the status now, then? Has it slowed on approach?”

  “Growing Urgency: Incorrect. It would be more accurate to say that we have stopped. This one has shifted us out of phase with time, a situation it cannot maintain for long. The strain is more significant than this one expected.”

  Fragment’s cable erupted again, curving down to touch a spiderweb of glowing cracks across its side.

  “Embarrassed Regret: This one fears it has already been too slow with its initial explanation. This is not a role it is familiar with. Please accept an accelerated explanation.”

  “A significant invasion of the Labyrinth will distract it for a time, delaying Earth’s transition to a World Floor. The risk will be high for all who join. In return for their sacrifice, the Collective will grant their loved ones priority evacuation status.”

  I took another deep breath, struggling to maintain my composure. “This Collective, it’s some group you’re associated with?”

  “Mingled Purpose: Correct. It is a gathering of this one’s brethren, dedicated to minimizing harm caused by the Labyrinth’s expansion.”

  “And you have somewhere safe to take people?”

  “Growing Urgency: Correct. There are a few great civilizations still beyond the Labyrinth’s reach. They will be welcome for a time, long enough for your people to tame some measure of the World Floor.”

  My hands were shaking as I contemplated the choice before me. I’d barely survived already. “How much risk are we talking about here?”

  “Anticipated Mourning: Current models predicate a survival rate below ten percent.”

  If it weren’t for the desk I was leaning on, my legs would have given out. That was near-certain death, or so close the difference mattered little.

  I could hear Fragment speaking again, yet it sounded distorted, almost underwater. A single thought ran through my mind: I didn’t want to die.

  “Helpless Resignation: This one understands that asking this is unfair. You are free to leave instead and make what preparations you can. There is a high chance my brethren will locate sufficient volunteers for an initial delay.”

  “Having passed Integration, there is much you can do with time to prepare.”

  My mind latched onto its words like a lifeline. If I could get to everyone and gather them together, perhaps I could use this System stuff to protect them. And… and…

  And it would all be built on a sacrifice I’d been too cowardly to make.

  The thought struck like a bucket of ice water, shattering my growing panic. Could I step aside while strangers died for my benefit?

  When could I do something to help? All for the potential to maybe survive, to maybe help my family?

  No, I couldn’t.

  A resigned calm descended as my decision crystallized. I was still scared, terrified even, but I was no longer letting it rule me.

  I pushed myself off the desk, a little shaky without the support, yet able to stand under my own power.

  “Alright, Fragment. I’ll join this incursion of yours, just make sure you hold up your end of the deal.”

  Fragment shifted to match my movement, facing me dead on.

  “Eternal Respect: This one salutes your bravery, Ethan Parker. Now, let us use our remaining time to maximize your chances.”

  A new spark of hope ignited inside of me. Of course!

  While the expected survival rate was low, it was across a statistical population—everyone who signed up for this. If I played this smart and used this ‘System’ well, I could skew myself into one of the outliers who made it.

  In theory, at least.

  “Mild Alarm: Please do not tarry, Ethan Parker. Your initial System notification will take you to attribute allocation.” Fragment held its side with a cable as it spoke, the light spilling through more intensely than I remembered.

  That didn’t look good. I’d just decided to rely on this new ally, and all of that would be for nothing if it died from the strain. Or, worse, exploded and took me with it.

  I would have to hurry.

  The System screen reappeared the instant I thought of it, and I felt a touch of haptic feedback as I pressed yes.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  My focus narrowed as I looked over the familiar words. Despite the time gap, I could still remember the most common attribute setup from my old video game and tabletop days.

  They were higher than many games I remembered, more like the versions where attributes skyrocketed over time.

  I also had to admit, with a hint of embarrassment, that it was quite an accurate reflection of who I was. If I had more time, I’d have loved to grill Fragment over how I stacked up, as it was, I pushed the idle curiosity aside.

  Instead, I asked the more pertinent question, “What do these do, Fragment?”

  The creature was listing a little to its injured side, and I immediately regretted asking. Grimacing, I rushed to reassure it. “Just the fastest, simplest explanation you have will do.”

  “Harmless Duplicity: Do not worry, Ethan Parker, this one is fine. Based on its records, it believes you have some level of RPG Literacy. The attributes are similar to what you imagine.”

  “[Strength] followed by [Dexterity] provides the bulk of [Combat] damage, while [Intelligence], [Charisma], and occasionally [Wisdom] perform the same role for the [Mystic Arts] and [Prayer]. As for capacities, [Constitution] provides the most [Health] and [Stamina] while [Intelligence] adds the most [Mana] and…”

  “Got it, that’s enough,” I cut in with alarm as the orange glow under Fragment’s skin brightened. “Don’t push yourself, that's enough to go on.”

  I’d wondered if the creature could lie, and outing itself on being fine seemed to answer the question.

  That or it was a genius at misdirection.

  I shook my head to clear it; I couldn’t keep questioning Fragment forever.

  Instead, I returned my focus to the attributes. I’d been quite good at this back in the day. What was it we used to say in my old gaming group?

  For a brief moment, I allowed myself to fall into warm memories of kinder days. Then it came to me.

  As a general rule, you wanted to be single-attribute dependent rather than multi-attribute dependent—SAD, not MAD. The idea was that spreading your attributes out too thin diluted your overall power.

  And this insane new life I’d chosen would need power.

  I just needed to pick one or two stats to focus on. Increasing [Strength] or [Dexterity] might be a good choice for the next time I’d have to…

  I gripped a bloody tie, white knuckled as blood poured from my side. Never again.

  The vivid memory filled my senses, almost overwhelming my conscious mind. I’d come so close to being torn apart by that thing, I couldn’t go through another brutal, physical fight.

  Not so soon after the first.

  My gaze darted around the screen as I looked for another option. My Intelligence was the highest, which Fragment linked to the Mystic Arts.

  As much as I hated to bother Fragment again, I needed one piece of information to decide.

  “Can I start with magic or spells? Yes or no is fine.”

  “Growing Concern: Correct. Ensure your [Intelligence] is above thirty.”

  I bit my lip; it had stopped lying about being alright. I needed to speed this up.

  A flurry of taps dumped all fifteen of my floating points into [Intelligence], increasing it by thirty-seven. Each added point brought a slight surge of warm potential, as if I could feel the change occurring.

  At the same time, I didn’t feel almost twice as smart as I used to be. Was it not a linear scale? Or did it work differently than I expected?

  I got my answer when I cast my mind back to my old gaming days to see if I was missing anything. The images flashed into my mind in perfect detail, more like images returned from a database than memories.

  It was an incredible feeling, like a kind of data processing upgrade installed in my brain. With the storm of images came an idea from over a decade ago. I’d played a series of RPG games where you could reduce one starting stat to increase another.

  With all those minus buttons on my other attributes, it seemed this was no different. Except here, I had yet to find a cap on how high my Intelligence could go.

  It was a tantalizing option or an early advantage, though I would need to hurry.

  To begin with, I sacrificed my [Strength] dropping until the button vanished at ten. If fifteen wasn’t enough to outmuscule a scaled midget, then it was useless to me.

  Each extra point felt a little more right, and I wasted no time moving on.

  [Dexterity] was next down the list, and I sacrificed it with barely a second thought. Like Strength, my first fight proved that such a small number was pointless.

  The number seemed to glow now with a pleasing inner light, bringing a smile to my face as I moved on.

  [Constitution] gave me a moment’s pause, as I would have died without [Health]. At the same time, I could see how increasing that pool might bring so much more pain.

  I already had some, the ‘base’ [Health] fragment spoke of earlier. Would a little extra be meaningful in staying alive? Or would it just drag out a painful end?

  I didn’t want to find out. If I had to die, then let it be quick and clean.

  Last were [Wisdom] and [Charisma], both of which required brief consideration. Like [Intelligence], Fragment had initially linked them to the [Mystic Arts]. However, it hadn’t mentioned them when I asked about starting magic.

  My thoughts were running faster now, as if I’d finally put enough to boost more than my mental output. If thirty gave me some starting magic, would 60 provide twice as much?

  It seemed like a decent bet. I dropped [Charisma] to 10—always dump charisma, my memories supplied, leaving me with sixty-one [Intelligence].

  If I thought Sixty was the threshold, then leaving wisdom alone might be sensible. At the same time... my glowing [Intelligence] attribute called to me.

  There was still potential on the table.

  Eight more points would be a 13.1% increase in my damage output. That could be the difference between taking down an enemy before they reached me, or being torn to pieces.

  The unknown time limit ticked away in my mind, tugging my attention. In the end, the choice was obvious.

  My [Intelligence] burned with approval at the change, and I confirmed without hesitation.