I’ll Level Up So My Friends Don’t Die

I sat on the edge of a bunk in a gray room that felt more like a storage unit than a dorm. No windows. One bed. One locker. A desk bolted to the wall. I couldn't tell if the air was cold or if I was just shaking.

The ID tablet rested in my hand, screen still glowing. I tapped it again, and a new tab slid open at the top:

[SERO Power Sync System – Access Granted]

Inside, I found a breakdown one more detailed than anything I'd ever seen. Categories, numbers, rankings… this wasn't magic. It was math. Brutal, unforgiving math.

There were five main metrics displayed:

[POWER SCORE]: 110

Your raw output. Everything from strength to speed to sensory range converts into a single combat number. Most untrained humans sit around 10–25. Trained civilians hit 40. Soldiers range from 60–90. You break 100? You're recruit-worthy.

[LEVEL]: 1 (F-Tier)

The organization's universal leveling metric. Everyone starts at Level 1. Each level up increases your body's tolerance, energy reserve, and skill potential. It doesn't happen automatically, you need sync progression and real combat exposure.

[SYNC RATE]: 42%

This is what really mattered. Sync measured how well your body had adapted to "Flow"—the energy humans now use to fight back against dimensional invaders. The higher your sync, the more of that power you can use. 0% is dormant. 100% unlocks evolution. No one under 10% even gets through basic training.

[TRAITS UNLOCKED]: None

Traits? There was no explanation yet. Just a locked section and a line that read:

"Traits are awakened under extreme stress or breakthrough moments. Survive long enough, and you might earn one."

[TIER RANKING]: F-Tier

The hierarchy starts at F and goes all the way up:

F → E → D → C → B → A → S → King-Tier → Emperor-Tier → God-Tier

According to the tablet, this was not just a title system. Your Tier also determined what missions you could join, what weapons you could handle, and which doors in this building would even open for you.

I stared at the screen for a long time. This was no game. No dream. This wasn't leveling up with XP or a kill counter. This was about syncing with whatever "Flow" was pushing your body through pain, near-death, and terror until it changed.

Until you changed.

I tapped the SYNC RATE section. A progress bar popped up:

[Current: 42%]

[Next Milestone: 50% – Physical Reinforcement Stage 1]

Physical reinforcement? I didn't even know what that meant. But I could guess.

You stop being normal. You start becoming a weapon.

I closed the tablet and sat back. Every part of my body still hurts from the mansion incident. The crawling things. My friend's scream. The fire. The—

I forced the memories back down.

"Just level up," I whispered. "Level up so no one else dies."

The door hissed open.

A soldier stepped inside. "You're wanted in the induction hall. Team assignments."

And just like that, my first night in this place was over.

Tomorrow, we will step into the field.

And if what I saw at the War Table was real…

…some of us wouldn't be coming back.

The training hall looked more like a war bunker than anything built for education. Steel walls. No windows. A single row of overhead lights humming like they were tired of staying on.

They led me in through the side. No announcements. No welcome.

Just exposure.

Eyes turned toward me dozens of them. About twenty recruits, maybe more, all wearing the same dark uniform. Black boots. Gray combat fabric. Everyone looked like they knew how to fight. Or had been forced to learn.

I froze.out of instinct. Where I came from, you don't enter a room full of strangers without reading it first.

The first one I noticed was Naevia.

She stood near the far wall, arms folded. Silver eyes. Pale skin. No expression. She didn't talk, didn't nod. Just stared through me like I wasn't even worth blinking at.

Next was Shane tall, smug, already throwing punches in the air. Each one lit with flickers of orange fire around his gloves. Show-off. His eyes locked on me and I could almost hear the laugh in his head.

Then there was Rael.

Quiet. Void-marked. A dark streak ran across his left cheek like ink soaked into the skin. He sat alone, watching me too long. Too still. Like he already knew something I didn't.

The others blurred together. Faces I didn't recognize, and probably wouldn't remember if they didn't live past next week.

There was no talking. No greetings.

Just tension. Like everyone here knew this wasn't about making friends.

It was about surviving the first round.

I sat on the bench at the edge of the room, pretending to check my boots, but really just trying not to bolt.

This wasn't like the gang. There, you knew who was in charge. What to do. What not to do.

Here? I was back to being the smallest rat in the room.

Overheard whispers floated through the noise.

"—Crucible Trials start tonight."

"—One in five make it through."

"—Last year, a guy exploded. Just exploded."

They weren't joking. Their eyes were flat when they spoke, like this was just the norm.

My stomach dropped. My palms went cold. My brain screamed:

"You don't belong here. You're a thief, not a soldier. Not a killer."

But that was the problem.

I was a killer. Had been since I was twelve. And whether I liked it or not, that's what this place wanted.

That's what it would sharpen me into.

Then something happened.

A sharp pulse at my wrist. The sigil. The one Director Sael branded me.

It glowed blue and a screen popped up in front of my eyes not visible to others, just me.

LEVELING POTENTIAL: HIGH

SYNC RATE: 47%

I stared at it, heart slamming.

I didn't understand all of it, but one thing was clear: this system… whatever it was… it had chosen me.

Or maybe it had seen me clearly the version I've tried to hide from.

There was no going back.

The lights suddenly dimmed.

Then red. Every bulb in the room turned blood red, casting the training hall in a sick glow.

Sirens blared.

A heavy metal door at the far end hissed open.

And Director Sael's voice echoed through every wall, every screen, every cell:

"Welcome to SERO. Training begins now."

My throat clenched.

The air shifted.

Screams echoed from down the hall beyond the open door, real ones. Not drills.

Something was already happening. Something violent.

I stood. Legs shaking. Heart pounding.