[Announcement: Congratulations, Contestants. A player procured 100 points. Rental Restrooms have been implemented. Do not abuse this function.]

A conspicuous door appeared to my right. A sign dangled precariously.

10 Points to Use

I slapped it, and the sign spun around on the piece of twine it hung from, coiling to a stop, then twirled in the other direction.

"Can't even shit for free."

[Announcement: Congratulations, Contestants. A player procured 500 points. Leaderboards are now available in your safe zone. Holding the top spot for more than 24 hours grants free use of Rental Restrooms.]

"Money grubbers."

The second announcement was one of the main villains. They killed over 30 people after leading into a trap. I never specified how, but I remember writing it since it would spur other cast members to try harder.

"I'm lagging behind."

There are two currencies in The Box. Points and Shares.

Points were scraps harvested from the souls you kill. You could think about it as exp, in a way. Except points were a currency used to buy anything from weapons and armor to luxury meals and favors. Sponsors would offer easy access to such things if you purchased from them directly rather than safe zone employees.

These 'soul' points were valuable enough to the aliens that they spent a mind-boggling amount of resources to put on a galaxy-wide gameshow and squished an entire planet like a child with play-doh.

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If Points are gasoline, then Shares are like unrefined coaxium.

If even one strong player gave up 30% shares of their soul, the game hosts would already receive a considerable return on their investment.

With the ignorance of the average contestant coming, they would make a killing.

'Fair deal' isn't in their vocabulary.

Sighing, I tried to focus.

"If the announcement has appeared already, that means McTavish will run into Asteria soon. I need to find Asteria before that happens."

I needed a dwarven runestone, a map, a decent weapon, and a particular easter egg.

I'm getting all itchy just thinking about it.

Winding around a bend in the tunnel, I came across fresher signs of life. I wasn't a tracker, but even I could distinguish animal droppings from human shit.

Glowing red eyes shuttered open.

Six sets stared, swaying suspiciously.

I cursed under my breath.

"ComCats."

A blur shot past me

"Tch!"

A long scratch appeared on my forearm. I felt at the wound and concluded it was skin-deep. Swinging the torch around, I fended myself off for a moment and counted my enemies.

One, two... six cats.

I called them cats, but there were discrepancies. They bounced on coiled legs, which gave them the name Compression Cats. As a result, they were constantly moving, ready to spring into action. Also, they lacked mouths or noses, unable to bite their prey. It meant they couldn't eat either. They killed for fun.

Or for a master.

They bounced off the walls and ceiling in a blurring display of chaos. The stinging pain came in a disorienting rhythm that irritated me. I wasn't in a whole lot of danger, but if I did nothing, I would eventually succumb to a death of a thousand cuts.

My arm, legs, my side, and my back. They didn't attack anywhere lethal and instead were trying to wear me down.

I obliged them and didn't move. I didn't bother trying to follow them with my eyes. Reaching out my free hand, I concentrated on the pattern. It was obvious they took turns to attack because I wrote it into their attack patterns. McTavish would be able to dodge them and cut them all down within ten seconds.

It took me four aching minutes. If I didn't have Zeke's body, the cuts might have been deeper and the damage unbearable, but I finally did it.

"!!"

I caught one.

Before it struggled and tore my arm to ribbons, I tightened my grip and snapped its neck.

Then I set it on fire.

The bouncing stopped, and my prey stared. The dirty corpse slopped onto the floor.

I shook out my hand and grinned.

"ComCats make great appetizers."