Accidental Healer

Richard had been at a campground, gearing up for a weekend hunting trip, when the induction hit.

Originally, he'd planned for a quiet, solitary excursion—his girlfriend's alternative plans had already annoyed him—but nothing could have prepared him for this.

The world stopped turning. The Voice had spoken. And suddenly, Richard wasn't just a weekend hunter anymore.

He was something more. The induction scared Richard, at least at first. Then—excitement.

Because when the voice laid out its cryptic instructions—when the list of classes appeared, shimmering before his eyes—one option stood out to him like a spotlight.

Archer.

A class built for tracking, killing. Hunting had always been a thrill for Richard. He ate what he killed but that's not why he did it.

It excited him. He relished the feeling of superiority.

The moment his fingers brushed the selection, he felt a surge of power. Like the world itself had just opened up to him.

This was it. This was what he was meant for.

One by one people were released from their tutorial with the voice. Many of the campers gathered together to discuss the bizarre event. The air was thick with anxiety and awe.

Richard counted forty people—mostly young to middle-aged, mostly fit.

But only seven of them had chosen combat-oriented classes.

The rest? Crafting. Support. Some kind of blacksmithing class. Maybe these classes would eventually be helpful.

But that wasn't Richard. It was clear there would be fighting in this new world. Richard would never let someone else do it for him.

The group huddled together, whispering about what to do next. Richard immediately noticed the other campers with weapons.

"Look, I'm not saying we need to go full commando," Richard scoffed. "But if the world really has changed, then rules have too." A few people nodded along. That felt good.

Jared folded his arms, one of the non-combatants. "And what does that mean, exactly?"

"It means we do what we have to," Richard said. "And maybe we stop wasting time debating it."

"Richard, I'm not denying the rules have changed," His tone was cautious, scanning the group like they might shatter if he said the wrong thing.

"But maybe we should gather more information before we charge headlong into this trial?"

Richard's eyes flashed.

"What's the point, Jared?" he snapped. "The Voice already gave us the details. I'm not sitting around waiting for something to happen. If you want to waste time–suit yourself—I'm leaving in an hour."

The Voice had been clear. The trial dungeon was already here. Everyone had five days to join a party or attempt it solo. After that?

The trial would start automatically, like it or not. And there would be no help.

It also warned that the difficulty wouldn't scale—whether you went in alone or with a group, the challenge remained the same.

Numbers were an advantage.

Which is why Jared, Matt, and a few others were desperate to keep people together.

"We have five whole days," someone argued. "Can't we take just a little time to get our bearings? We don't know what's waiting for us in there!"

Jared rubbed his temples and turned to Matt—one of the few who actually seemed capable.

Matt crossed his arms. "I think we should face the trial together," he said simply. "We're not all built for combat, and there's strength in numbers. I'm not willing to risk going in alone."

"I've had enough waiting around," Richard muttered, mostly to himself.

But Janette, his girlfriend, heard him.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

She placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Babe… maybe we could just take a little longer?"

Richard was getting impatient. He wanted to know what they were going to face. Why wait?

"How many times do I have to say it?" he huffed exasperatedly. "I'm not here for some campfire sing-along. Am I the only one who cares about what's happening?"

A murmur rippled through the group. People exchanged uneasy glances.

"Richard, I don't think we want to wait around." Matt ran his hands through his hair. "Just relax, let people settle in."

Richard couldn't miss that Janette nodded agreement. Of course people would agree, Matt wasn't a leader though. How was it that Richard was the only person who saw that waiting would only hurt them?

"Fine. Let's wait."

By the end of the day, the majority agreed to enter the trial together. The first wave was chaos.

Chaos Spawn—twisted, jagged creatures—descended on them.

Some panicked. Some fought.

Richard remained calm. He moved with purpose—he killed some with arrows, and some with his knife when they got too close.

Matt held the front line, a shield and short sword braced against the mini demon's. The first wave was surprisingly easy.

And after it was over, they had time to prepare.

They set up barricades. A couple archers took safer positions, not Richard. He wanted to be in the thick of it. The waves kept coming, each one multiplying in size.

The fourth wave was massive. Chaos spawn swarmed. Richard deftly picked them off one by one. He was a machine. He must look so legendary protecting everyone. He felt legendary.

The wave ended. People cheered. Richard stepped forward, expecting a wave of praise.

No one so much as looked his way. The cheers weren't for him. They were for Matt. Why were they only cheering for Matt?

I killed just as many. Probably more. But no one cared. They only saw Matt. Something inside Richard burned. Part of him wanted to join in the celebration. But why should he have to go to them?

Richard wiped blood from his knife, stepping over a body—only to pause. He frowned. An arrow stuck out from a Chaos Spawn.

His arrow.

But when he glanced at the pile it was in… His stomach twisted. That was Matt's pile.

"What the hell?" he said, stalking over. "Matt—why is my arrow in your pile?"

Matt blinked. "I wasn't keeping score," he said, confused. "I figured we were all in this together."

Richard scoffed.

"Together?" he repeated, shaking his head. "Look around."

Jared pointed to the crafters still huddled in the barricades. "How are they in this with us?"

Matt's jaw tightened, he exhaled before he spoke. "Everyone contributes in their own way. If we make it out of here you'll be glad to have them."

"Well we're not out of here are we? So don't touch my loot."

"Fine," Matt said, his voice calm—but a muscle in his jaw twitched. "I'll be more careful."

Richard saw the twitch. So…Matt thought I was being petty? He smirked.

Perfect little Matt was getting pissed? Good.

Let him stew in it.

***

GONG!

The final wave ended, the group reassembled, weary but victorious.

"Everyone okay?" Matt asked, scanning the crowd. His eyes flicked past Richard. No pause. No acknowledgment. Like he wasn't even there.

"Mostly," Jared said. "A few cuts, but nothing major."

One of the younger fighters, Alex, grinned. "I was behind that big rock, when that freaky centaur sent Matt flying."

Matt chuckled, rubbing his shoulder. "My shield took most of the hit."

"Oh really?" Someone snorted. "Your shield was just soaking up damage as you cartwheeled across the dirt?" It was Elise, the lone healer in their group. "Is that why I had to use all my mana to get you back on your feet?"

Matt scratched the back of his head as people laughed. It was the kind of laughter that only comes after surviving something brutal. The kind that made you feel like a team.

Richard just leaned against a tree, watching.

He should've been standing there with them. He'd fought just as hard. Hell—it was his arrow that finally brought the monster down.

But no one was looking his way. No one cheered for him. Just Matt. Always Matt.

His fingers dug into the bark. He could still feel the weight of his bowstring on his fingers. He could still see the kill shot. So why wasn't anyone else seeing it?

Everyone was still deep in excited conversation when Matt raised a hand.

"Did anyone else… get a notification about clearing three dungeons to claim a territory?"

Heads turned. People checked their own screens. Nothing. Richard looked to his screen—his eyes narrowed.

Matt explained the objective, outlining what the system had chosen to reveal to him and only him. Of course it did.

"Here we go again. What is with you all and waiting?" Richard stretched casually. "Dungeons mean fighting, fighting means levels. What am I missing?"

Matt ignored him. "We need to explore our surroundings. If we see a dungeon, we'll mark it and decide what we'll do from there."

"And maybe," Jared added, "While you're scouting we can start building? At least get some walls up so we can defend ourselves."

Richard snorted. "Start a little town?"

Matt's composure finally broke. "Richard! That's enough." His voice cut through the discussion like a blade. "Everyone's doing their best. If you're not going to contribute, then maybe you should sit this one out."

The words hung between them.

For a moment, Richard's cocky smirk faltered. His jaw worked. Then, after a long pause, he forced out a clipped response. "Fine."

His smile returned, but it was thin, barely concealing the sting of pride underneath.