Part 1: Graves in the Green

  The earth was soft—too soft.

  Each thrust of the shovel sank into damp soil, loamy and rich with rot. Not the sterile kind of decay that came from garbage or old paper in office parks. No, this was the smell of nature—thick, wild, invasive. It was the kind of soil that had swallowed buildings and streets, the kind that made sidewalks buckle and cars rust to the frame within a month.

  Jacob Stillwater grunted and pressed down harder, letting his weight do the work. The shovel’s handle creaked in his blistered palms, worn smooth from a thousand days of labor. His arms burned. His back screamed. But he kept digging.

  The hole didn’t need to be perfect. Just deep enough.

  Above him, the jungle canopy swayed in a lazy, humid breeze. It wasn’t a jungle when he was a kid—this had been downtown. He could still see the bones of it if he looked closely: a bent streetlight poking out of a knotted tree, the edge of a stop sign half-consumed by bark. What used to be a Chase Bank now lay collapsed beneath a mass of thick ivy and flowering vines, its windows shattered, its insides choked by moss and time.

  This was where they had made their last stand. His mother. His father. Him and Lucy. And now, only half of them remained.

  Jacob wiped sweat from his forehead with a threadbare sleeve and forced down the lump in his throat.

  No tears. Not now.

  The world didn’t care about grief. The monsters didn’t pause for mourning. Magic didn’t wait for you to be ready.

  When the last of the earth had been packed over the shallow graves, Jacob dropped the shovel with a dull clatter. Two crosses stood at the heads—rough things, lashed together from broken chair legs and bits of rebar. No names. No dates. Just symbols. As if anything more would survive the season.

  He stared at them, chest tight, winded from more than work.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. His voice caught. “I should’ve done more. I should’ve… I don’t know.”

  The graves said nothing.

  Behind him, the overgrowth stirred, and light footsteps crunched on dead leaves.

  “Are they okay now?” a small voice asked.

  Jacob turned, heart catching in his throat.

  Lucy stood at the edge of the clearing, half-hidden by a curtain of ivy. Her oversized coat hung down to her shins, sleeves swallowed her hands. The fabric was patched and faded from too many washes in murky water, but she clung to it like armor. Her hair was tangled, pulled back into a messy braid that had mostly fallen out. Dirt smudged her cheeks.

  She looked so small. Smaller than ten. Like the Collapse had shaved the weight of years off her bones.

  Jacob nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. They’re together now. It’s… peaceful.”

  She took a few hesitant steps forward and stood beside him, staring at the graves.

  She didn’t cry. Lucy hadn’t cried since the winter they’d lost her stuffed rabbit to a scavenger beast. Back then, tears had come freely. Now? She just looked.

  He reached down and took her hand. It was ice-cold despite the heat.

  “We’ll be okay,” he said softly. “I promise.”

  They stood in silence for a while. The breeze stirred the grass. Something hooted in the distance—high and too guttural to be an owl, but not close enough to be an immediate threat.

  Jacob had learned to listen like that. Not just with ears, but with his whole body. Sound told stories. Danger had a rhythm.

  This place was quiet. That wasn’t always good. Quiet meant the hunters weren’t hungry yet.

  Eventually, Lucy spoke. “What now?”

  Jacob looked around at their tiny camp. The tarp-roof lean-to. The pile of firewood. The one nearly-empty water jug. Their stash was down to scraps—old tin cans, withered jerky, and a single packet of instant rice that Jacob had been saving in secret.

  The answer came slower than it should’ve.

  “We keep moving,” he said. “Tomorrow. We’ll head for the river and find something better. Somewhere we can build.”

  Lucy nodded once. No questions. No complaints. Just trust.

  He swallowed hard. That trust was too heavy. He didn’t deserve it.

  Jacob bent to pick up the shovel.

  Then the world changed.

  It started with a feeling.

  Not a sound. Not a sight.

  A feeling, deep in Jacob's bones—like the world had stopped spinning for the briefest moment and his body was the only thing that noticed. He stiffened, instinct prickling along the back of his neck. His grip on the shovel slackened, then tightened again.

  The forest went still.

  Not quiet—still. As if something unseen had pressed a pause button on reality itself. The wind stopped. The ever-present hum of insects fell silent. Even the damp leaves under Jacob’s boots no longer crunched as he shifted his weight.

  Lucy felt it too.

  She turned slowly, her eyes wide, lips parting to speak—but no words came out. A strange pressure began to build in the air around them, subtle at first, like a rising humidity before a thunderstorm. It thickened with every breath, filling Jacob’s lungs with something that wasn’t quite air and wasn’t quite heat.

  Then the sky changed.

  Colors bled from it.

  The golden haze of the late afternoon dimmed, not to gray, but to a shifting spectrum of iridescent hues—like oil on water or the shimmer of dragonfly wings. The sun was still there, but distorted, refracted into a thousand glittering points that bent around nothing at all.

  Jacob stepped in front of Lucy, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. She didn’t resist.

  Something vast stirred above them—not physically, but spiritually, like the shadow of a whale passing beneath a diver in open water. It wasn’t a creature. It wasn’t even a presence. It was a concept. A truth that hadn't existed a moment before.

  And then, just above their heads, the world fractured.

  Not with a crack or a boom, but with a chime. One perfect, clear note that rang out in all directions without echo or source. The light around them froze mid-glint. Leaves suspended in mid-fall like they’d been caught in amber. Jacob couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

  A pulse of white light exploded from nowhere and everywhere.

  And just like that, a voice—not a human voice, not a sound in the air, but a message—spoke directly into Jacob's mind.

  [SYSTEM INITIALIZING…][ERROR: BASELINE ENVIRONMENT CORRUPTED – ADJUSTING PARAMETERS…][ERROR: GLOBAL CIVILIZATION STATUS – COLLAPSED][ESTABLISHING MAGIC-CORE FRAMEWORK…][ANCHORING TO WORLD TREE SIGNAL… SUCCESSFUL.]

  Jacob gasped and fell to one knee. His vision swam. His heart thundered in his chest—not from fear or adrenaline, but because it was like something was rewriting the rules of reality around him.

  [Welcome, Survivor.][You have endured through the Collapse.][Ten years have passed. Stabilization threshold reached.][THE SYSTEM HAS ARRIVED.]

  The moment those words etched themselves into Jacob’s awareness, the world unfroze.

  Leaves finished falling.

  The wind kicked up again, scattering dust.

  Somewhere far off, something shrieked—a sound of pure confusion and terror. The monsters felt it too. Everything had changed.

  Jacob staggered to his feet. His breath came fast, shallow. He could barely hear Lucy behind him asking what just happened.

  Then, in the air in front of him—three feet away, floating like a hologram made of starlight—appeared a glowing blue window.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Choose Your Class:

  [Warlock] – Command forbidden forces and strike fear into your enemies. High damage, low durability. Risk-reward oriented.

  [Scout] – Move unseen, strike swiftly, and adapt to the unknown. Balanced class with an emphasis on survival and recon.

  [Craftsman] – Shape the world with tools, traps, and inventions. The backbone of rebuilding. Durable, versatile, and inventive.

  Jacob blinked.

  Then another window appeared beneath it:

  Special Talent Detected: HEADS OR TAILSUpon activating any magical skill or ability, flip a virtual coin:

  Heads: the effect is duplicated, cast twice.

  Tails: the effect fails to activate.This effect is automatic and cannot be turned off.

  His heart sank.

  A gamble.

  Of course. That was his gift. Not strength. Not stealth. Just a coin toss.

  He looked at the class options again, this time with a slow, deliberate eye. He imagined taking Warlock—throwing fireballs or summoning horrors from beyond. And imagined one of those spells failing at the wrong time. A miss in battle could be death. No second chances.

  Scout might be safer, faster. But too reliant on split-second skill use, evasion, and reaction. Not a good fit for someone who couldn’t guarantee his powers would work.

  Craftsman, though…

  His breath slowed. His hands, still dirty from digging, curled slightly.

  Craftsman used tools. Traps. Structures. Gear.

  Even if his magic failed to trigger—he could rely on what he’d made. What he’d built with his own hands.

  In a world full of chaos, he could make order.

  And maybe, just maybe… he could make something last.

  He reached out.

  And touched [Craftsman].

  The moment Jacob touched [Craftsman], the world trembled again—just subtly enough to feel like a deep pulse underfoot, as though something ancient had awakened in the bones of the Earth.

  A new window bloomed into existence.

  [CLASS SELECTED: CRAFTSMAN]The hammer that rebuilds. The knife that reshapes. The mind that adapts.Where others seek destruction, you bring design. Where they wield power, you wield purpose.

  Jacob's ears rang with phantom sounds—metal on metal, hissing steam, the whisper of blueprints unfolding. A soft, golden warmth spread through his chest and down into his fingertips, like fire without heat. His body felt heavier and stronger, not in the way a soldier might grow muscles, but like the frame of a house bracing against a storm.

  [Class Overview: Craftsman]You are a maker, a shaper of tools and constructs.With enough materials and the proper schematic, you can craft nearly anything.

  Crafting Schematics: Unlock new blueprints by leveling up, experimenting, or discovering them in the world.

  Creation Types: Weapons, tools, structures, traps, devices, and magical augmentations.

  Material Dependency: All crafting requires raw materials. Some may be mundane (wood, stone, metal), while others will be magical or rare.

  Durability and Quality Scale with Skill.

  Jacob blinked, heart still thudding. That part made sense. He didn’t mind working with his hands. He’d spent a lot of time repairing what little tech had survived the Collapse… though it had been years since anything with a circuit board still worked.

  But this wasn’t just scavenging and patching up. This was… creation. Magic-backed creation.

  Another window shimmered into view, this one smaller, simpler.

  [Starter Crafting Kit Granted]Basic Craftsman’s Book – A bound tome containing starter schematics.Contents:

  [Simple Axe] – A basic one-handed weapon made of wood and stone or scrap metal.

  [Hot Stone Pit] – A survival structure capable of retaining heat for cooking or warmth.

  [Basic Snare Trap] – A small trap capable of catching animals or injuring light monsters.

  A book appeared in midair with a soft thump—leather-bound, unmarked, aged like it had weathered a decade on a shelf despite being born seconds ago. Jacob caught it before it hit the dirt, thumbing through the thick, parchment-like pages. Each schematic inside was drawn in magical blue ink that shifted slightly as he moved the book.

  It was beautiful. Real.

  A sudden surge of possibility welled up in his chest. He could do something with this. Build something. Survive.

  Another message popped into existence:

  [Level 1 Skill Selection Available]Choose one of the following skills:

  [Arcane Building] – Infuse your creations with magical properties. Allows magical experimentation and minor enchantments.[Speedy Builder] – Increases your crafting speed by 25%.

  Jacob hesitated.

  The second option was tempting—faster builds meant more output, better efficiency. But his thoughts kept circling back to Heads or Tails. If his magic failed mid-fight, he’d need non-magical tools to survive. But if Arcane Building worked with his talent…

  Maybe he’d lose the gamble sometimes—but if he won?

  Two enchantments. Two magical effects. Double the power.

  He reached out and selected [Arcane Building].

  A slow warmth flooded into his hands. His fingertips tingled, as if tiny sparks were dancing under the skin. Not painful—just alive. He clenched a fist, feeling the hum of potential.

  Skill Gained: Arcane Building (Lv. 1)You can now attempt to imbue magical energy into your creations.Results vary based on materials, intent, and luck.Magical constructs may fail or backfire if unstable.

  Jacob let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His new class had settled into him—like a coat he hadn’t realized was tailored just for him.

  And then came the final message.

  [SPECIAL REWARD GRANTED – SURVIVOR’S LEGACY]You endured the Collapse. You lived ten years without aid, in a world without rules. The System honors your endurance.

  Open Survivor’s Reward Box?(Warning: This is a magical ability and will trigger Heads or Tails.)

  Jacob blinked. "Of course it would," he muttered.

  Lucy, who had been watching all of this with silent awe, gave him a nudge. “Well? Flip it. What’s the worst that happens—it stays shut?”

  He gave her a tired smile and accepted the prompt.

  A coin appeared in the air.

  It gleamed gold and silver, spinning slowly, impossibly perfect. No scratches, no marks. Not real—but real enough.

  It flipped.

  He held his breath.

  It landed: Heads.

  [Heads – Effect Successful! Reward Box x2!]Would you like to COMBINE your two reward boxes into a single enhanced item?

  Jacob grinned. “Yes. Definitely yes.”

  The two boxes materialized midair like gifts from some divine hand—then twisted together, merging with a hum and a flash of white-gold light.

  The final result dropped into his waiting hands.

  Heavy. Warm. Pulsing with slow, living energy.

  [You Have Received: Golem Core (Dormant)]A powerful magical construct seed. Once awakened, this core can form the heart of a semi-autonomous Golem. Must be embedded in a crafted body.Status: Dormant. Requires fuel and materials to awaken.Synergy Detected: [Craftsman Class + Arcane Building]

  Jacob stared at it—then laughed. Not in amusement. In disbelief. Of all the things to get…

  He could build his own companion. His own guardian.

  Maybe he wouldn’t have to fight alone after all.

  Lucy’s hand slipped into his.

  He looked down at her and found her eyes glowing with something he hadn’t seen in a long time—hope. Even fear couldn’t hide it.

  “I got my class,” she said softly.

  Jacob knelt beside her. “What are your options?”

  She read from her own glowing window, her voice tinged with wonder:

  Druid – Command the forces of nature and bond with beasts.

  Monk – Channel inner strength and movement into explosive power.

  Priestess – Heal, protect, and perform rituals that alter fate.

  “I picked Priestess,” she said, smiling faintly. “Because it sounds like princess. But also... it’s about helping people. And rituals sound fun.”

  Jacob grinned. “That’s a good reason.”

  She hesitated, then added, “My ability’s called Hungry.”

  His brows rose.

  “It means I burn through food like crazy,” she said, patting her stomach. “But as long as I’m burning calories, I get stronger. Spells hit harder, healing works better. And if I eat special food… I get double the bonus.”

  Jacob gave a soft snort.

  “Oh, like you didn’t eat enough already,” he said fondly, and reached out to ruffle her hair.

  She squawked, batting his hand away—but she was smiling.

  They sat there for a while, siblings staring out at the overgrown world.

  For the first time in years… they had a chance.