Alvin's laughter—a dry, hacking sound that was half-sob, half-bark—finally died in his throat. He was left in the oppressive, pine-scented silence of the forest, staring at the blue notification box.
[Current Estimated Wait Time: 485 Years]
"Right," he said to the glowing butterfly, which had now landed on his shoulder. It pulsed with a soft, turquoise light, seemingly unbothered by his existential crisis. "Four hundred and eighty-five years. Guess I'll just... die of old age, then. Assuming something doesn't eat me first."
The thought sobered him instantly.
He was in an unknown forest. He had no food. No water. No shelter. And his stats confirmed what he already knew: he was, in technical terms, a wimp. A Stamina of 3 didn't just mean he was 'winded'; it meant a brisk walk felt like a marathon.
He had to move.
With a groan that seemed to come from his very soul, Alvin pushed himself to his feet. His body ached, but it was the dull ache of a badly-slept-on mattress, not the all-consuming, cellular-level agony of dying in a heat-oven. He'd take it.
"Okay. Priorities. Water. Find water," he mumbled, dusting moss off his new linen pants. "Even an idiot intern knows the 'survival' thing. Find water. Follow it downstream. Find civilization. Hopefully, civilization with... I don't know... Wi-Fi? A help forum?"
He picked a direction. It was as good as any.
He'd been walking for maybe three minutes when his lungs started to burn.
"You... have got... to be kidding," he panted, leaning against a tree that looked infuriatingly sturdy. His 'Stamina: 3' was not a joke. He was already tired. Everything was a slight incline. The ground was uneven. His comfortable-looking tunic was already starting to get a little damp with sweat, and the phantom-smell of Mr. Fluffles' recycled fur briefly flashed in his memory, making him gag.
"No. Not doing that again. I am not dying of sweat."
He pushed on, forcing himself into a slower, more deliberate pace. The glowing butterfly from before, which he'd decided to name 'Glitch,' fluttered lazily ahead of him, its light a weird, unnatural beacon in the sun-dappled woods. It didn't fly like a real butterfly. It moved in short, jerky motions, sometimes stopping in mid-air and vibrating for a second before zipping to a new spot, like its animation frames were dropping.
He was so focused on Glitch's erratic flight that he almost didn't hear it.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
It was a wet, sticky sound, like someone dropping a half-full water balloon on a tile floor.
Alvin froze. He scanned the woods, his heart suddenly trying to escape his ribcage. "Hello? Is someone... mopping?"
Plop. Plop. Gloop.
He saw it.
About twenty feet to his left, emerging from behind a large, mossy boulder, was a... blob.
It was a perfectly unremarkable blob. It was roughly the size of a beanbag chair, a translucent, Jell-O-like blue, and it jiggled. As it moved, it left a faint, glistening trail of slime on the forest floor.
Alvin stared. A thousand webnovel chapters and anime episodes flashed through his mind.
"A slime," he whispered. "The starter monster. The 'Hello, World!' of fantasy creatures."
He felt a strange, giddy sense of relief. It was a slime! It was weak! He could probably just... punch it, right? It was a level-one mob for a level-one hero.
The slime 'plopped' in his direction. It seemed to have 'seen' him, though it had no visible eyes. It was, to be fair, adorable.
He looked around, his confidence swelling. He was the Isekai'd protagonist! This was his moment! He just needed his [Starter Sword] or [Beginner's Magic Missile].
He remembered his stats. Mana: 0.
He remembered his skills. [Submit Support Ticket (Lv. 1)].
His confidence vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp dread.
"Oh," he said quietly. "Oh, no."
He looked around frantically, his eyes darting for a weapon. He grabbed a stick. It was about as thick as his thumb and damp. He grabbed a rock. It was the size of his fist and disappointingly light.
"Okay. Okay, rock beats... Jell-O?"
The slime 'plopped' again. It was closer now. About fifteen feet. It was also, he noted with growing alarm, picking up speed. Its 'plops' were becoming 'pl-pl-plops.'
Alvin did what any sensible, non-powered hero would do. He turned and ran.
He made it about ten steps before his 'Stamina: 3' kicked in. His lungs were on fire. His legs felt like lead bags full of soup.
"I HATE... MY STATS!" he screamed, stumbling to a halt and gasping for air.
He looked back. The slime was relentless. It just... kept coming. It wasn't fast, but it was consistent. It was the world's most terrifying, gelatinous marathon runner.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
"Stay back!" Alvin shouted, waving his flimsy stick. "I'm... I'm a... User! A valued customer! Back up!"
The slime plopped. It was now ten feet away.
Alvin, in a fit of panicked, squirrel-brained desperation, did the only thing he could. He threw the rock.
It was a terrible throw. It sailed wide, missing the slime by a good three feet, and bounced harmlessly off a tree.
The slime, perhaps offended by the poor display of athletic ability, suddenly lunged.
It wasn't a plop. It was a full-on, airborne splat. It covered the remaining ten feet in a second, landing directly on the stick Alvin was holding.
Sssssssss.
A horrible, sizzling sound filled the air, along with the smell of burning, wet wood. Alvin shrieked and dropped the stick, which was now visibly dissolving, the end of it melting into a black, bubbling goo.
"Acid! It's an acid slime! Are you kidding me?!"
Alvin scrambled backward, falling over a tree root and landing hard on his butt. He was trapped. His back was against a large, unhelpful tree. The slime, having finished its "snack," gathered itself, jiggled menacingly, and began to plop towards him again.
Five feet.
He was going to die. Again. His second death was going to be... dissolving. Which, he decided, was somehow even less dignified than dying in a fur suit.
He was out of options. He had no weapons. He couldn't run. He couldn't fight.
He had... one thing.
The single, most idiotic, useless, and bureaucratic skill in the history of any world.
"This is stupid," he whimpered, his eyes wide with terror as the slime advanced. "This is the stupidest idea I've ever had. It's never going to work."
But what choice did he have?
He squeezed his eyes shut. "Activate skill: Submit Support Ticket!"
A 'ding' sounded in his head. The translucent blue box appeared, but it didn't block his view of the approaching, jiggly doom.
[New Ticket (ID #00000002)]
[Subject Line: ]
[Body: ]
[Skill Cost: 1 minute of focus. Skill cannot be canceled once initiated. Moving or taking other actions will result in submission failure.]
Alvin's blood ran cold.
One minute of focus?
Cannot be canceled?
He looked at the slime. It was three feet away. It was slow. Agonizingly slow. It would take... maybe fifty seconds to reach him? Sixty?
This wasn't a fight. It was a game of chicken. A game of chicken against a blob of acid, where the prize was not being melted.
"Fine!" he screamed. "Fine! Let's go!"
He jammed his back against the tree, his body rigid with terror, and forced his mind to focus. He began "typing" his mental ticket, his thoughts flying with a speed born of pure, unadulterated panic.
[Subject Line: CRITICAL! BUG REPORT! HOSTILE ENTITY IN NEWBIE ZONE! I'M BEING ATTACKED!]
Plop...
The slime was two feet away. He could smell it now. It smelled like bleach and old lemons.
[Body: TO WHOMEVER IT MAY CONCERN, I AM USER #8,388,609. I AM AT... I DON'T KNOW... 'FOREST_START_AREA_01'? AND I AM CURRENTLY BEING ATTACKED BY A HOSTILE ENTITY 'BLUE FOREST SLIME' (ACID TYPE)!]
Plop...
One foot. It was at his boots. He could feel the heat radiating from it. He instinctively tried to pull his legs back, but the skill-description flashed in his mind: Moving... will result in submission failure.
He held his ground, tears of terror and frustration streaming down his face. He had to keep typing.
[I HAVE NO WEAPONS. I HAVE NO MANA. I HAVE NO ATTACK SKILLS. THIS IS A MASSIVE, GAME-BREAKING, NEW-USER-EXPERIENCE-DESTROYING BUG. A STARTER ZONE SHOULD NOT HAVE A MONSTER THAT CAN ONE-SHOT A NEW USER. I AM LITERALLY ABOUT TO DIE. ESCALATE THIS IMMEDIATELY! P0! S0! WHATEVER YOUR HIGHEST PRIORITY IS, THIS IS IT!]
The slime jiggled... and then lunged.
It landed on his foot.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"
Alvin screamed, a raw, primal sound of agony. Sizzling. The smell of burning linen and... was that... was that skin? He could feel a sharp, biting, chemical burn on his ankle.
He had to move. He had to kick it off.
But he just... didn't.
With his last ounce of will, his mind still locked on the blue box, he finished the ticket.
[...FIX IT! FIX IT NOW! SEND HELP! SEND A GM! SEND A FREAKING DEVSWORD! I AM BEING MELTED! HELP!]
He smashed the mental 'Send' button.
[Focus time (1 minute) complete. Submitting query...]
The ding chimed in his head.
[Thank you for your query!]
[Your ticket (ID #00000002) has been successfully submitted.]
"IT'S NOT A QUERY, IT'S A DYING PLEA!" Alvin shrieked, writhing as the slime began to slowly crawl up his shin. The pain was excruciating.
But then, a new notification. A different one. The blue box flashed, and the border turned a bright, angry red.
[SYSTEM ALERT: CRITICAL TICKET (ID #00000002) RECEIVED.]
[Query identified: 'Hostile Entity Spawn in Non-Combat-Tutorial Zone (NTZ)'.]
[This is a Priority 1 (P1) Violation of the New User Covenant. Escalating to Tier 2 System Administration.]
[Awaiting Administrator Action...]
"AWAITING?! IT'S AT MY KNEE!" Alvin howled, beating on the ground with his fists. "DO SOMETHING!"
As if in response, a new sound echoed through the forest. It was a loud, digital, BZZT-POP!
The slime on his leg... froze.
It stopped sizzling. It stopped moving. It just... stopped.
Alvin panted, staring at the blob, which was now flickering in and out of existence, like a bad hologram.
Another red box appeared.
[SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT (User #8,388,609)]
[Bug confirmed. Hostile Entity ('Blue Forest Slime' - Asset #440-B) has illegally spawned in a designated NTZ. This is a severe infraction.]
[Deploying emergency hotfix... Patch 1.0.0b is now being applied to your local instance...]
The slime flickered violently. It seemed to... stretch. Its blue color desaturated to a dull grey.
And then, with a sound like a vacuum cleaner being suddenly unplugged, the slime just... vanished. It didn't melt, it didn't explode. It de-rezzed. It was gone.
Alvin was left alone, panting, hyperventilating. The only evidence of the encounter was the smoking, tattered ruin of his left pant leg and the angry, red, chemical burn on his shin and ankle.
A final, cheerful ding sounded.
[Patch complete. The offending entity has been removed from your instance. We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience and the... uh... 'pre-alpha' nature of your experience.]
[As compensation for your P1 Bug Report, please accept the following:]
[(1) Title: 'Bug-Finder (Beta Tester)']
[(1) Item: 'Basic New-User Starter Kit (Slightly Damaged)']
[Ticket ID #00000002 closed. Your feedback is important to us and helps us make Aethelgard a better world! Thank you for your cooperation!]
Alvin just sat there, his entire body shaking. He looked at his burning leg. He looked at the empty space where the slime had been. He looked at the glowing butterfly 'Glitch,' which was now doing a little loop-the-loop around his head.
"I... I complained it to death," he whispered, a note of pure, stunned disbelief in his voice. "I literally... I submitted a ticket... and it worked."
In front of him, with a soft thud, a small, plain wooden box appeared on the moss. It was about the size of a shoebox, though one corner looked slightly singed.
The Basic New-User Starter Kit (Slightly Damaged).
His compensation.
Wincing, he dragged himself forward, his injured leg throbbing. He reached out with a trembling hand and placed it on the lid. This was it. His reward for almost being melted.
His first-ever loot drop.