"You know, it's times like this I wish I had company," Richter groaned, wincing as his thigh pulsed with pain at every step. "But hey, at least you trees are here for me. Way more loyal than my ex…" He muttered, his boots sinking into the damp, moss-covered ground as he trudged forward.
He winced slightly at his cringy attempt at humor. Richter exhaled deeply, diverting his frustration by sending a pebble skittering along the path with a flick of his boot. It jumped across the narrowing tree line before disappearing into the underbrush, causing him to sigh once more.
The day had worn on with Richter's trek, and now evening was drawing near, painting the sky with light shades of dusk. His journey so far had been monotonous at best, just trees, bushes, and… more trees.
Oh, but there was one thing that he had come across, and he would say that the trek has been far worth it so far to discover this item. There it lay: not a branch, not a mere piece of kindling, but a stick. Not any stick—this was Excalibur in timber form, commanding its presence among the foliage.
It screamed ‘premium hiking stick,’ so naturally, it would be criminal not to knight oneself with such nobility. In a moment that would change the course of pedestrian travel forever, Richter crowned it as "Charles." Oh yes, Sir Charles of Stickdom, knighted with grand pageantry within the confines of Richter's imagination.
Richter spent an exuberant quarter hour shearing Sir Charles of its gnarled armor—its battle scars from clashes with the wind’s cruel whip. Now refined and smooth to the grip, Sir Charles was primed for his new role: Trailblazer—quite literally. And what started as a joke and a way to keep his sanity, the system took it… quite literally.
[You have discovered: General Crafting!]
[You have crafted a Common item! Experience earned!]
[A new item has been brought into this world! Bonus experience earned!]
Yeah… Richter could barely fathom what the system was prattling on about. Really, he’d simply fancied a gnarly twig and whittled away its prickly bits. But hey, he wasn’t going to argue. Plus, his new companion was official!
[Name: Sir Charles of Stickdom (Common): A noble and steadfast companion on any journey, this stick does not simply 'stick around'—it leads the way with dignity. Whether for fending off the brush or doubling as a make-believe sword, its lacquered surface gleams with the promise of adventure. They say it's just a stick, but what do they know?
Special attributes: N/A
Yup, the verdict was irrefutable—the system's grip on reality was even looser than Richter's slipping sanity.
As the day continued to bleed into night, Richter continued the long trek to the mountain. Other than the monotonous scenery and his finding the coolest stick in the land, he hadn’t encountered much. Every now and then he’d cross paths with some less welcoming sights, but it was nothing he couldn’t avoid. He had spotted quite a number of anomalies to his great dismay. Initially, he held onto the hope that there was just the one, and nothing more.
However, he and Charles soon realized that their expectations were unrealistic. While the forest itself didn’t seem outlandishly different than one would have found in the old world, the creatures certainly were. Richter had dabbled in hunting back in the old world, he was big on outdoor activities. He had grown accustomed to trapping boars for food back on Earth, but here… such creatures were replaced by behemoths that appeared to mock their terrestrial cousins in both stature and ferocity.
One such creature, resembling a boar with tusks as tall as adolescent trees, ravaged a nearby underbrush to forage for food. Its hide seemed impenetrable, like woven steel fibers covered in rough mud-brown fur. Richter kept still, observing from what he hoped was a safe distance. He noted that this creature had no fear – its eyes didn’t even search for threats; instead, they focused solely on saiting an endless hunger.
[Titanium Tusk Boar - ??] A simple wildlife animal of the newly initiated planet, Earth. Warning: This creature is far above your level. Do not proceed.]
Simple? Right… Needless to say, Richter wanted no part in interacting with it. Sir Charles was quick to agree.
Another startling encounter came as a flock of birds passed overhead—though calling them birds seemed almost an insult to the word. These avian creatures had wingspans that cast shadows like clouds moving across the landscape. Their screeches resonated with an almost metallic timbre, leaving Richter wondering if they were communicating or brandishing some kind of natural weapon.
On land, even some of the insects defied common understanding—Richter witnessed some mantises donning vibrant exoskeletons that looked capable of deflecting arrows and scorpions that looked like they could decimate entire fields of elephants.
Most wildlife had similar mutations, but some others appeared perfectly normal. Richter couldn’t be sure if they were true wildlife from his home or some alien creatures, but either way, he was certain they wouldn’t last long in this new world. He managed to change his direction several times and pass by them all untriggered, but he knew his streak of luck couldn’t last forever.
The day’s exhaustive trek hadn’t been fruitless. He was a little more familiar with the anomalies and forest creatures now that he had a chance to observe them without the distraction of fighting them. For example, he realized the anomalies had terrible vision, as he had an extremely close encounter with one of them. He had walked right into a clear view of one as it ripped at the dirt, probably searching for small rodents to snack upon. Luckily, it didn’t notice him, as he’d probably be dead by now if it had. He was still in no shape to attempt another cage fight. Maybe they didn’t attack unless the system triggered them, that could be a possibility as well. Either way, it was good that he had the opportunity to explore, it would certainly help him survive this hostile world.
*___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________*
“Well, would you look at that, Sir Charles?” Richter said with a sly smirk, using the butt end of the stick to push away some shrubbery. The sun was just starting to crease the horizon for night to come, and Richter had decided to look for an area to call home for the night. And just as he was about to plop down in the dirt and rest in some thick shrubbery, Charles happened to hit something hidden amongst the foliage of the forest floor.
In the shrubbery was a small, elegant lockbox constructed of metal he was unfamiliar with. It was gorgeous, sleek, and absolutely unblemished with what one would expect a crate lying on the forest floor to look like. Strangely, he had felt almost drawn to the area before even finding the crate, almost as if a magical hand was beckoning him to find it. He wasn’t sure how, but it probably had to do with some system-fuckery he didn’t know about. Either way, crates could only mean one thing, loot!
“Nice work buddy!” Richter smiled, giving his friend a high five. Richter knelt down to check the crate out, but as soon as his hand brushed the cool surface, a notification materialized before his eyes.
[Lockbox (Uncommon)- A lockbox randomly placed by the system. Random loot will be given once opened. Open the lockbox? Y/N]
Richter couldn't help but chuckle at the pop-up before him. "Ah, the old 'yes or no' conundrum," he mused aloud. "What do you think Charles, is this one of those ‘curiosity killed the cat’ situations or ‘fortune favors the bold’ kind of deals?"
Richter leaned in, putting the stick next to his ear, nodding his head until Charles simply nudged the butt of his head towards the box, as much as a hallucinatory companion could manage.
“Alright alright, but if it’s some type of bomb or something, the blood is on your hands. Or, wood, or whatever.” Richter said, propping Charles up against a nearby tree as he opened the lid on the crate with anticipation.
“What the hell… is this some type of joke?” Richter picked up the long piece of clothing inside the crate, another notification immediately following up.
[Dress of the bumblebee (Uncommon)- A long dress made by a skilled crafter. Dedication was put into the craftsmanship, and it empowered the material considerably. The material used to craft it helps reduce damage from slash attacks. Gives a slight increase to stats.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
+5 endurance. +3 vitality. +2 strength. Enchantments: Self-repair]
“The ruthlessness of the heavens truly knows no bounds.” He moaned, hoping the system could hear his sarcasm. Truly, the system was a sinister entity with no room to repent, taking pleasure in not just his attempted murder, but also wanting to add salt to his wounds by embarrassing him.
Richter sighed at the sight of the dress, glancing down at his tattered clothes. The fight with the anomaly had left his shirt and pants completely ruined, forcing him to discard most of the torn fabric along the way. The tattered material got caught up on the bushes and branches as he carved a path through the woods, making him borderline clothless through his trek. One of his boots had also been lost to a forest beast. But, he had managed to keep his foot, so that was a plus. And so he had decided to discard the other and boot and continue barefoot.
He rolled the fabric between his fingers, “Assholes” he whispered to himself, not really wanting to piss the “system” off until he was healed. That’s if anyone or anything was even listening to him. He had yet to figure that out, but with the timing of this… gift, he’d have to assume he was at least being monitored in some type of way. For a being that was able to destroy entire planets, he didn’t think that was such a crazy scenario. Only time would tell, though. Richter shook his head, bringing his attention back to the dress.
Richter couldn’t believe this was what he was given. The shape of the dress reminded Richter of something popular in the Victorian era. It was a full gown covering everything but the arms, littered with black and yellow polka dots. It looked like a bad rendition of a homemade costume someone made for Halloween. It was god awful, but he desperately needed it, and he rolled his eyes and grunted before pulling the hideous garment from the box. It was surprisingly thick and heavy to the touch.
“Self-repair,” he muttered under his breath. “Handy for both tattered fabrics and tattered egos, I suppose.” Richter threw a sideways glance at Charles, who merely vibed with the ambiance of the night.
“I bet you’re laughing so hard right now, aren’t you Charles?” Richter said, rolling his eyes as he fiddled with the fabric.
Charles seemed to shudder in agreement—or was it just a breeze?
"Ah, I get it. Silent treatment until I put it on, huh?” Richter loomed threateningly over the stick who couldn’t loom back if it tried—though that didn't stop Richter from venting.
"I’m starting to think the universe has a personal vendetta against me," Richter grumbled under his breath. "Survive fights against batshit crazy monsters, my entire world gets destroyed, everyone I love is dead, get stranded in the middle of nowhere, and what do I get? Fancy dress wear!"
Charles remained silent—a good stick knows when to let a man rant.
He glared down at the garment again. "You know what? Maybe it's brilliant. Maybe I'll waltz right past those anomalies in my bee-inspired ball gown and they'll die laughing!" Richter angrily shook his head at the garment, not believing this was something he’d even have to consider. The stats were simply too good to pass up. They would give a huge increase to his fighting capabilities, and with the amount the dress gave him, it could truly mean the difference between life and death.
With a sigh so heavy it might have toppled a skyscraper, he stood up, tore off the last remaining pieces of his past, and reluctantly donned the gown.
Now, Richter would have never classified himself as a small guy by any means. Standing at an impressive 6'5, he boasted a broad frame and an even more impressive physique thanks to his regular time spent at the gym. While definitely not on the same level as a professional bodybuilder, he was far from scrawny. So when Richter said that attempting to squeeze into a Victorian-styled dress might be the most humiliating experience of his life, he truly meant it.
Once he pulled and stretched the material to meet the contours of his frame, he rolled his shoulders back and forth, testing the seams for give. His eyes widened in surprise when he realized the dress somehow adjusted to him and his size once he wore the garment, and whistled a sigh of relief that the ridiculous get up wasn’t going to suffocate him.
His muscles immediately flexed the moment he accepted the dress and he felt the stat increase kick in. Power coursed through his veins as his muscles and skin tightened, and his body felt healthier, restored well beyond his old baseline. He could physically feel his skin tightening and hardening from the extra endurance, and a warm feeling flowed through his blood, making him feel rejuvenated at the increased vitality. The feeling faded after a few seconds, but he could feel the change. Richter glared at the lockbox one last time before kicking it over on its side
He stood, smoothing out gown. “See, it's not so bad, right Charles?” He said with a fake smile, trying to convince himself that he didn't look as ridiculous as he felt. He felt his own lie. But after taking the first few steps, he knew it had been a smart choice to accept the package. With steady, pain free steps, he continued his journey through the forest with renewed vigor.
______________________________________________*
The cloak of nightfall finally wrapped its shroud around the forest as Richter, steeled by Sir Charles' silent encouragement, decided it was time to set up a makeshift camp. Selecting a small clearing that seemed less ridden by the forest's monsters, he gathered kindling and fallen branches, leaving Sir Charles at the ready, propped up like a sentinel beside him.
While tending to his meager fire, barely more than a flickering heartbeat against the encroaching darkness, Richter couldn’t shake the unease creeping into his bones. The symphony of night had begun—filled not with the gentle chirp of crickets or the hoot of owls but with guttural roars and spine-chilling howls that danced upon the cold wind.
Richter collapsed to the ground, his back resting gently against the rough bark of a large pine. The fire cast a warm glow across the small clearing, throwing dancing shadows onto the dark canvas surrounding them. It was in this veil of half-light and solitude that Richter's thoughts began to crawl back through the winding paths of his mind.
A thousand scenarios played out in his head—what if one of those boars charged through his camp? Or worse, an anomaly? What would he do if those cries came closer to his camp? Richter chided himself for thinking he’d find safety in such an untamed world, realizing that sleep wouldn’t be likely tonight.
Richter sat for a while, as he waited for the night to pass. "I remember a time," Richter murmured, his voice but a whisper amongst the symphony of echoing roars, "when life was simpler, hey Charles?" Richter's grip on Sir Charles tightened, his knuckles whitening from the strain. The fire's glow casted flickering shadows across his weary face, highlighting the creases of concern etched deeply into his skin.
"You know," he said, his voice threading through the void of solitude surrounding them. "I once believed in a world governed by reason." His fingers traced over Sir Charles’s smooth surface fondly. "And yet here we are—you, anointed nobility by an edge of sanity slipping away—and I…" he paused, rubbing at his temples as if to squeeze reality back into focus. The stick remained silent, its lacquered surface reflecting the shimmer of lost stars above.
He shook his head slightly and turned to Sir Charles once more. "Even so, we’re here," Richter mumbled, his eyes not seeing the stick but visions of a life long gone. "Fighting to survive another day in this nightmare—a knight and his… loyal squire," he managed a weak laugh before exhaling deeply.
Low growls rumbled like distant thunder, moving through the brush with predatory patience. Richter's ears twitched at the scrape of claws against bark, a sound that seemed to come from every shadow. A sudden screech rent the air, high and piercing, before it was lost to the sound of leaves in the wind. From somewhere deep within the darkened thicket, a throaty chuckle bubbled up—a mockery of human sound that set Richter's hair on end. Twigs snapped rhythmically as if some unseen creature were pacing, keeping time with Richter's racing heart.
“I don’t think I’ll ever feel safe again in this world.” Richter said, clenching Charles tightly. “Still… being out here, in the wilderness with nothing but a campfire… It brings back memories of an old friend. I wonder if you're still out there, Joseph?” Richter said, gazing at the vast night above.
“Oh, you wouldn’t know him,” Richter said, quickly realizing that Charles didn’t know who he was referring to. “He was a friend before this hell started. A great friend… I think you two would have gotten along quite nicely.”
Richter let out a sigh, the sound mingling with the crackle of the fire. "Joseph would have loved this, you know? The real camping experience," he said with a hollow chuckle, a sliver of nostalgia piercing his heart. "We used to hike up the old Millers' trail, back when the world was still...right. He always brought this ridiculous fishing hat—said it was lucky." A sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he remembered.
"And I guess he was right, somewhat. We always caught more than we could eat, laughing and joking by the river till sundown. It was a good time. He was practically a brother to me, Charles,” Richter confessed, his voice trailing off.
“I remember the day we went hiking, just before... well, you know. We reached the top of the ridge, and Joseph said, 'Look at that view, Richter. It’s ours for the taking!' It was so freakin cheesy, I hated it. But he was always so optimistic." Richter's voice wavered.
“It's funny..." Richter's voice trailed off as he stared into the flames, lost in the embers of the past. "I never thought I'd miss something so ordinary, but it's those moments, those simple pleasures, that haunt you."
"Optimism just doesn't last long in this place," he continued, a hint of bitterness seeping into his tone. "No room for it amongst these beasts with their ravenous eyes… And I’ve tried. I’ve tried since I’ve got here, to look at things from the optimistic side, even after everything that's happened. And what do I get through all that? A dress… It’s like the hours go by and I can slowly feel my mind slipping away." His voice faded as his gaze fell back to the small fire struggling for its life against an indifferent night.
"The thing is, Charles,” he continued after a moment's silence. “Joseph didn't make it when all this started. Didn’t even have a chance. He was killed, along with my entire world and everything I knew. And here I am, talking to you,” his words faltered as if recognizing the depth of his loneliness for the first time.
He leaned forward softly pressing his forehead against Sir Charles' smoothed-over bark. "I hope you made it out somehow... or found peace," he whispered, saying a silent prayer in Joseph's memory. As Richter's words hung heavily in the air, he pulled the dress tighter around himself. The fire crackled and popped—a somber rhythm that didn't quite pierce the thick silence surrounding them.