After passing through the main city gate, we reached the tutorial grounds outside the walls.

The beginner fields were exactly what anyone familiar with RPGs would expect: rolling green hills, peaceful grasslands, and slimes—the legendary punching bags of the genre.

Players were already spread across the field farming them.

The slimes were slow, predictable, and easy to dodge. Even a level-one player could defeat one without a weapon if they were careful.

There was only one complication.

If you failed to destroy the core, the slime divided.

Farther from the main crowd, one player learned that lesson the hard way. One slime became two, and two quickly became four. He tried to backpedal, but the blobs had already surrounded him.

One slammed into his leg. Another struck him from behind, and the rest piled on before he could recover.

His health reached zero.

The player collapsed as though whatever had been holding his body together had suddenly switched off. He lay motionless in the grass for several seconds before the system responded.

A tombstone rose beside him, followed by his travel pack.

His body did not disappear in a flash. Instead, tiny fragments began lifting from his skin, hair, and clothes like ash caught in the wind. He remained recognizable for another moment before the pieces scattered and his body vanished entirely.

The slimes immediately lost interest. One by one, they bounced back toward their original positions, wobbling through the grass as though nothing had happened.

“He messed up,” I said.

Anja looked at me. “What?”

“Slimes are easy unless you ignore the core.” I pointed toward the tombstone. “One became two, two became four, and after that he didn’t have enough room to escape.”

“You’re seriously analyzing how he died?”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s a useful demonstration.”

She considered that, then returned her attention to the tombstone.

Several nearby players were watching the travel pack. One of them took a cautious step toward it.

“Don’t even think about it,” someone warned.

The player stopped. “What? I wasn’t going to take it.”

“Sure.”

A few people laughed, but nobody touched the bag.

A moment later, the dead player respawned near the city gate wearing nothing but plain white boxers.

“Oh, thank God. My stuff’s still here. Thanks, guys!”

Someone waved him over. “Hurry up before somebody changes their mind.”

He ran across the field, grabbed his pack, and immediately began equipping his clothes again. Once he removed the final item, the tombstone sank into the grass and disappeared without leaving a mark.

Anja smiled. “Okay. That was better.”

“There may still be hope for humanity.”

She looked at me. “Was that a joke?”

Before I could answer, her attention shifted toward something only she could see. Her eyes moved rapidly as she read through several notifications.

“My friends!”

“They’re here?”

She nodded and opened another private window. Her expression brightened before changing into the look of someone who had just remembered an appointment.

“They invited me to try Project Babel with them. They’re meeting at the fountain.”

“You forgot about them?”

“I didn’t forget.”

She glanced at me, then toward the tutorial fields, before returning her attention to the message.

“Okay, maybe I forgot a little because I got distracted.”

After closing the window, she hesitated.

“Do you want to come?”

I considered it briefly. Joining an established group would probably make the early levels easier, but I had only just escaped the crowds inside the city.

“Nah, I think I’ll pass. I was planning to explore for a while.”

“Alone?”

“I’m not alone. I’m a solo player.”

She stared at me. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I turned toward the open fields.

“Hey,” she called.

I looked back.

“Don’t die.”

Her smile made it clear she was joking.

“I’ll survive.”

Anja started back toward the city while I headed deeper into the tutorial grounds.

I chose the closest isolated slime and approached it across the grass. 

Now, I can finally start playing.