Her son Finn’s scream shattered the silence of the living room, louder than the crunching of metal and shattering glass. Clara Becker, who had just been staring at her invisible screen, looked up - and her heart stopped. A car, an old, rusty pick-up, had smashed through the wall of the house. Dust and plaster rained down, the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline hung acridly in the air. Finn, her eight-year-old son, was lying on the ground, his knee bleeding profusely, a sharp splinter sticking out of the wound. Lily, his eight-year-old twin sister, stood rooted to the spot, her small hands in front of her mouth, tears streaming down her face.

A soft moan came from inside the car. Clara looked there; her eyes, which had just been focused solely on Finn, widened in shock. A figure was slumped in the driver’s seat, his head banging against the steering wheel. Another man, the passenger, pressed himself against the shattered dashboard, gasping. They were alive. The driver was a middle-aged man, his clothes showed him to be a handyman; the passenger, a young man who covered himself with his hands, had his eyes fixed on an invisible screen.

"Mom! Finn is bleeding!" Lily screamed again, her voice thin and panicked.

Clara felt a strange inner emptiness, coupled with an urgent need to do something. Her gaze flitted over Finn’s bloodied knee. How could she help? She thought of her doctor’s bag, of the medicines she always had on hand at the hospital - but they were out of reach, outside the rubble. In that moment of urgent need, when her thoughts turned to healing and she remembered the absurdity of the "start game" interface, she felt a vague impulse. Her mind groped cautiously, anxiously, then demanding. And it appeared. The game menu.

Skills. Her eyes immediately fixated on it. Healing (physical). Defensive magic. First aid. Reassurance. She mentally clicked on healing (physical). Would it work? Was it magic? A hallucination? A small icon for "equipment" appeared underneath, showing her a simple healer’s robe and a few glowing bandages. And a storage area? She could put things there. Perhaps important things that she could protect from the chaos. Her primary focus was on her child, and this menu promised to give her the means to do so. She had to heal Finn now. And she would use every feature of this bizarre "game" to do so.

Her equipment menu lit up. Glowing bandages, a small, glowing stick. She had to act. Now. She bent over Finn, her fingers, skillful and gentle from years of grooming, groping over his bloodied knee. She mentally activated the "healing (physical)" ability. A warm tingling sensation ran through her hands and a soft, golden light surrounded Finn’s wound. Her son’s whimpering became quieter and the bleeding slowed noticeably. It was working. A wave of relief flooded through her, but the relief immediately gave way to renewed panic. Finn was not yet out of danger. And they were not alone.

She approached the wreckage cautiously, her newfound ability a cool guiding star in the cacophony of shock. The level 1 healer’s robe materialized around her, protective as a second skin. The glowing staff lay firmly in her hand. The passenger’s life was more important. The driver - she recognized it with the trained eye of a nurse - had fatally rammed the steering wheel against his chest. His pulse was weak, his gaze lifeless.

"Hang in there! I’ll help you!" Clara shouted to the gasping passenger. She squeezed into the car, feeling the sharp metal on her shoulder. The young man, whose thieving gaze was still fixed on the invisible interface in front of him, was beside himself with shock. His legs were trapped. Clara concentrated her healing ability on him. The golden light enveloped his trapped limbs. The swelling went down, the pain subsided. Enough to perhaps free him. Clara pulled with all her strength; Lily called her name, but Clara ignored her. Inch by inch, she pulled the young man out of the wreckage; his skin was pale, but he was breathing. He staggered out, his eyes still staring into space. She tried to dress his wounds with the glowing bandages while she checked Finn with a quick glance. He was still whimpering, but his wound was slowly healing. She had to stabilize him.

Almost an hour had passed since the initial shock. Clara had tended to Finn, rescued the two men from the wrecked car and healed their worst wounds. The passenger was now sitting on the floor of the living room, glassy-eyed, unable to respond to her questions, but alive. The driver of the car, however, had succumbed to their efforts; his body hung limply in the harness, his breath had gone out.

The sirens outside were sporadic, the general screaming had turned into a diffuse murmur of despair and confusion. Clara had tried countless times to use her cell phone. Emergency call, police, hospital - nothing. Just static or dead lines. The normal world had collapsed. She was on her own. The world was in chaos, but Clara Becker, the healer, had a mission. And it began with healing.

At that moment, as Clara looked up exhausted, her hands resting on her knees, a glistening light pulsed outside on the street. The asphalt cracked open, not like an earthquake, but like an invisible hand pulling the ground apart. A portal. Right in front of their house.

Out of the crack they crawled. The creatures - brown, slithery, with too many legs and almond-shaped heads - charged toward the overturned vehicles and the shocked neighbors still paused in the streets. The screams grew louder as the insectoid beasts plunged into the crowd.

A young man, who had just tried to pull a driver out of a strange wreck on the road, was caught by one of the monsters. He thrashed about wildly, but his fists slipped through the monster’s body. Its face contorted in shock and pain. Clara saw it: helplessness. The man in the living room (the passenger from her accident) tried to pull out a cell phone, but his eyes were glued to the invisible interface.

Clara stood up, Finn and Lily behind her, the glowing stick firmly in her hand. She saw the desperate fight in the street. Men with baseball bats, women with kitchen knives - all useless. The creatures were instinct-driven, aggressive, but... they were vulnerable if you had the right tools. She knew that now.

She saw the young man who had been pulled to the ground by the monster. A pop-up appeared in front of his face. "Start game." Clara yelled, her voice rough with panic and adrenaline. "Click on it! The interface! Choose a class! You have to play! It’s the only way!"

She set Finn and Lily down carefully, her hands still over Finn’s wound to enhance the golden light. Then she stormed off, not with attack but defense in mind. The glowing staff in her hand radiated a gentle, calming aura. She would heal Finn. She would protect Lily. And maybe she would be able to help those on the street, too. She had to. She was a healer.

Next Chapter: Cost of profit