BOOOONNGGG.
A deep, ringing gong shook the clearing.
Wave 1 Complete.
I collapsed onto my knees. Holy shit. I actually survived.
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THE LOOT & REWARDS
Next wave will commence in 2 hours.
All participants will receive rewards based on contribution.
Contribution calculated.
Reward – HP & MP fully restored for next wave.
Reward – Crude Wooden Club.
New Ability Unlocked: LOOT.
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ALRIGHHHTT!
I got a reward! And I gotta say, I’m a big fan of two of them.
Having my health and mana fully restored? Huge.
The second reward? Also huge.
If I was right about what it did…
I opened my status screen and scrolled to my new ability.
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NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: LOOT
By touching fallen enemies, they will be transformed into usable parts depending on the creature.
Possible chance of finding a random item upon looting.
Upgradable.
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Oh mama.
What a gift. Who doesn’t love to loot? My face split into a stupid grin.
I wonder what Chaos Spawn will give me? Probably nothing too great, but still—
I couldn’t wait to find out.
Great. A wooden club. Exactly what every warrior dreams of wielding.
I sigh as the notification blinks in my status screen.
Would you like to receive quest reward: Crude Wooden Club?
I confirm. Pop. The club drops at my feet. I pick it up. Light, rough, primitive—like something a caveman would use. Whatever. It’ll do.
Now that I’m healed and armed, I turn to loot—then freeze. Something’s off.
Did I ever get a kill notification for that mountain lion?
Nope.
-
Uneasy, I retrace my steps. The body is still there, right where I left it. But something is wrong.
It moves. Just barely. A shallow rise and fall of its ribs. It’s still alive.
My grip tightens around the club. That doesn’t make sense. It had been bleeding out for fifteen minutes. How? More importantly, why didn’t the chaos spawn finish it off? They focused everything on me. Did they see me as the bigger threat? Can those little monsters even think like that?
Questions for later. Right now, I have a problem.
I step closer, fingers clenching around the club. One hit. That’s all it would take.
Its sides rise and fall in ragged gasps. Blood mats its fur. It doesn’t move. Doesn’t fight.
Just dies slowly. When it was chasing me, it looked so… powerful. Now?
I should finish it. It would be the smart thing to do. So I raise the club.
And then, I make a mistake. I look into its eyes.
It doesn’t snarl. Doesn’t bare its fangs. Just stares.
Wide eyes. Trembling breath. And fear.
My stomach twists. I have to look away.
Demon spawn are one thing. They’re monsters. Mindless. Probably.
But this? This is different. There’s intelligence behind those eyes. It fought to survive, same as me.
And I… I can’t do it. I make my decision. It’s a stupid one.
I almost died once. Now I’m about to heal the thing that nearly got me killed. Brilliant.
First, I need to see what’s actually killing it. I step around its body, but it’s lying on top of something, concealing the wound. Whatever it is, it’s the reason it’s still bleeding.
There’s only one option. I have to move it.
The cat is too weak to fight, but I hesitate. What if shifting it opens the wound and it bleeds out? What if I try to save it and just end up killing it?
No choice.
Before I move it, I cast Weak Regeneration. If I’m doing this, I’m not letting it die on me.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
With a grunt, I shove both arms under the cat’s limp body and lift. It hisses weakly but doesn’t fight.
Beneath it, buried in blood and dirt, is the jagged base of a flagpole.
Yeah. That would do it. What are the odds? Now comes the risky part.
I take a breath. “Alright, you. Listen up.” I brandish my new club. “I really don’t want to use this, but let’s be clear—I will. Hopefully, you grasp the situation you’ve put us in.”
The cat just stares at me, unblinking.
I sigh. Screw it. I cast Weak Heal.
My grip tightens around the club as I watch for a reaction. Between this and Weak Regeneration, the cat should have at least 7 HP by now—assuming it was down to 1 in the first place. No way to check its stats. No way to tell if I need to heal it again.
I wait.
It’s ears twitch. His breathing steadies. But he stays put.
For the first time, the big cat doesn’t seem so dangerous. Maybe it’s the way he’s sprawled out, too weak to move. Maybe it’s just that he isn’t trying to maul me anymore. Either way, I keep my distance.
"Alright, big guy. I could probably get you back to full health, but let’s be real—I don’t trust you at full health. So, I’ll leave you like this for now. Hope you understand."
Nothing. Just more staring.
I smirk. "You know, you really are a walking disaster. First, you nearly get me killed, then you make me risk my neck healing you. Guess that makes you a big, furry ball of mischief."
The cat doesn’t react.
"Mischief it is, then."
I back away slowly, keeping him in my peripheral vision. Regen will do its job—eventually. In the meantime, I have spoils of war to collect.
I move to the first Chaos Spawn I stomped. Its back is bent at a sickening angle, eyes bulging, tongue lolling. My own vomit coats its corpse.
It takes everything in me not to hurl again.
I steel myself. The system says I just have to touch it to loot it.
I close my eyes, take a breath, and gingerly press two fingers to the least disgusting part.
Pop.
The body vanishes in a cloud of smoke, replaced by a small pile of items.
I frown. I have no idea what I’m looking at.
I grab a small vial filled with thick, bright yellow liquid. My stomach churns. Maybe I’ll get a pop-up menu? Some kind of explanation?
Nothing.
Annoyed, I open my status screen.
Crushed Chaos Spawn Eyes – Used for alchemy (Effects: ????)
Delightful. As if their buggy little eyeballs weren’t gross enough, now they’ve been smashed into paste.
I grimace and set it aside, moving on.
Chaos Spawn Tooth – Used for alchemy (Effects: ????)
Minor Chaos Shard Fragment – (Collect 10 fragments to complete a Minor Chaos Shard)
Chaos Spawn Meat – Safe for human consumption, though not generally considered appetizing.
I rub my temples.
Okay. Mixed bag. Loot is loot, but most of this is just… gross. The Shard Fragment stands out, though.
The description is vague, and that bothers me.
I need more information. I proceed to loot 15 more creatures. Same routine. Same results.
Teeth. Eyes. Meat. Every. Single. Time.
The fragments, at least, are rarer—I’ve collected 9 so far. Just one more, and I can finally combine them. Hopefully, that’ll tell me what they’re actually for.
The 17th corpse gives me nothing new. Just another pile of disgusting parts. But when I loot the 18th?
Something different.
On top of the pile, half-buried in the dirt, is a crude-looking dagger. I pick it up. It’s rough, unbalanced, and barely a weapon.
Crude Serpent Dagger
No damage bonus. No hidden perks. Just a basic, worthless knife.
Still, it’s something. I toss it aside and move on.
Number 19 is the jackpot. My 10th fragment. Finally!
I’ve been stacking my loot in neat little piles, and now I place the last shard with the others.
The moment it touches the stack, they begin to glow. The light builds, bright enough that I have to look away.
Then—
Ching.
A soft, wind-chime-like sound. I pull up my status screen.
You have successfully combined 10 Minor Chaos Shard Fragments into 1 Minor Chaos Shard.
Minor Chaos Shard – This shard can be combined with items to produce unknown effects.
AWESOME!
But also—SCREW YOU, SYSTEM.
No prompt. No confirmation. Just "Hope you don’t screw yourself over, buddy!" I’m seeing a pattern here. No safety nets. No “Are you sure?” pop-ups. It never even asked if I wanted to enter the dungeon in the first place.
No more sarcasm. No more screwing around. I need to be careful.
…
…
But not right now.
Right now, I want to see what happens when I combine this thing with an item.
-
The obvious choice is my club. It’s a system reward, and if anything counts, it’s that. Plus, if this shard can boost damage, I need that badly.
Decision made, I place the club on the ground and kneel beside it. The shard feels oddly warm in my palm.
I try setting it next to the club. Nothing.
I pick it up and press it against the club, holding it there. Five seconds pass.
Nothing.
I stare at the shard. Then at the club. Then back at the shard.
Oh, come on. I’m missing something. Think, idiot. Video game logic.
Is this skill-based? Do I need to be an enchanter or something?
I’m not ready to give up yet. There’s one more thing I can try.
Earlier, when I cast my spells, I could feel mana surging from my chest, down my arms, and out through my hands. Even now, if I focus, I can still feel it—a slow, faint current in my core.
What if the shard needs mana to activate?
I shift into a cross-legged position and focus. First, I try to disrupt the flow—just to see if I can.
It takes a minute. A struggle. But then—a shift. It’s subtle, but it’s there.
I let out a slow breath. I’m trying too hard.
When I cast spells, mana just flows. I don’t force it—I just let go. So I do.
I relax. Let the mana move. It flows down my arm, into the shard—igniting it.
A circuit forms. Power loops between me and the shard, swirling in a steady cycle. This is it. This is the key.
I press the charged shard to my club.
[System Alert] Upgrade Successful: Crude Wooden Club → Spiked Crude Wooden Club.
New Effect: Increased chance to cause Bleeding.
I did it!
…but I was expecting more. I pick it up. It looks almost the same. Just… uglier.
Now, four jagged, two-inch-wide blades pierce through the wood. It’s like one of those bats with nails in it—except shorter, heavier, and designed to ruin someone’s day.
Not flashy, but damage is damage. I’ll take it.