It didn’t take me too long to return to the guild to take another quest. It only took me 30 bullets to finish the quest, but I already had the feeling that I somehow understood how this world worked. This world was far from realistic, heck, the opposite of it. Hell, even the loot got automatically transported into my inventory.

“I already knew the quest is too easy for you, Ain,” the guild receptionist said.

[Eleanor - Goblin Summoner - Lvl.100]

“Anything you recommend, Eleanor?” I asked.

The small goblin thought for a second. “Let’s see, maybe basic corrupted hunting would do, and probably would be way more challenging as well. You haven’t been shot yet, have you? It will teach you a thing or two.”

As I walked back toward the village, my mind drifted to the chatter I’d heard around town about the “corrupted.” Everyone mentioned them like some common threat, but no one had actually explained what they were. Were they people infected with some kind of virus? Zombies? Mutants? I couldn’t tell.

It was starting to bother me. Were they humans who’d lost their minds? Or maybe something more sinister, like a force that took over and twisted people beyond recognition? Like the one that happened in Dead Space or Alien with necromorph and xenomorph? I wasn’t sure. I never played those games, I was too scared to death, honestly speaking, if that was the case.

“What is corrupted, exactly?” I asked, needing to get a clear answer.

The female goblin gave a weary sigh as if she’d answered this question one too many times. “Corrupted? They’re people who’ve fallen under the influence of a psionic wave emitter. When someone dies within its range, their body doesn’t just stay down—it gets revived, brought back with… let’s say, significantly less humanity.”

I stared, trying to wrap my head around it. “So, these are like… resurrected bodies?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but twisted. A lot of high-level fighters died out there, still geared up with their weapons and skills. Some time after death, if they’re in that psionic field, they don’t just rot away—they come back but corrupted. Strong, hostile, and completely devoid of reason. For every powerful fighter who dies in the emitter’s range, we’ve got a potential nightmare on our hands.”

I shivered. “Sounds like a mess.”

“It is. Still, it could be worse,” she added with a shrug. “At least we’re not up north in the mesa, dealing with the Unions. Now that’s a nightmare. And rumor has it, some folks here eventually get mixed up in weird stuff—bank heists or who knows what.” She gave me a pointed look. “Girl, just stay out of trouble.”

“Noted,” I replied, nodding, though I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of curiosity.

So far, I’d come to one bizarre conclusion: people didn’t seem to stay dead here, which was... oddly funny, in a twisted way. Between the psionic wave emitters reviving people into corrupted forms and the “Freshly Revived” debuff I’d picked up, it was clear that death was more of a temporary inconvenience than a permanent state in this world.

The laws of physics and nature seemed to be bent out of shape, too. Things just didn’t operate like they would back home. It felt more and more like I’d been dropped into a game world, a place with its own quirky logic and rules that didn’t quite line up with reality. I wasn’t sure what my purpose was here or what I was supposed to do, but the possibilities were strange, vast, and honestly, kind of exciting.

Especially since the biggest consequence of fucking around was absent.

“Eleanor, what’s the use of gelatinous substances?”

"Hmmm, food? Yeah, you cook it down until it thickens up, and turns into jell-o, marshmallows, pudding—whatever you’re in the mood for. Simple, right?" She chuckled, then added with a sly grin, "Funny enough, there’s actually a pretty high demand for ballistic gel around here, but honestly? I mostly use the stuff as food."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

She leaned in as if sharing a secret. "Tell you what, here’s a recipe from me. Good for keeping the energy up, and it won’t taste half bad. Just, uh, don’t burn the tent down, okay? We’re all a bit tired of newbies setting the place on fire because they’ve never so much as touched a stove before."

[Eleanor’s Pudding Recipe Has Been Added]

I opened my inventory and pulled out the piece of paper from thin air, looking over Eleanor’s recipe with a smirk. A caffeine-laced chocolate pudding? Not bad—honestly, it sounded pretty great. The recipe was straightforward; coffee, chocolate, the gelatinous substance, milk, mix it all together, then boil it on the stove.

“Anyway, back on the topic,” the female goblin said, leaning forward. “I’ve got a job that might suit you. There’s a spot near the main road where a bunch of newbies just bit the dust. Figured it’d be a decent warm-up for you. The reward is 3,000 UC. Interested?”

I raised an eyebrow. “What’s their threat level?”

She shrugged. “They’re broke newbies—armed with an assortment of basics. AKMS, ADAR, and some pistols. Nothing fancy. Keep your distance, and you should manage just fine.”

I considered it, weighing the risk. Sounded straightforward enough. “Alright, I’ll take the task.”

[Kill Corrupted Targets: 0/?]

The goblin’s eyes gleamed with approval. “Excellent. Hey, a little bit of heads up, if you’re in doubt, just spray and pray, it usually works.” She then smiled. “You might want some extra magazines and ammo from the depot, talk to Wilhelm first.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

“No problem.”

With the job set, I left the guild building and made my way back to the arms depot. Sure enough, Wilhelm was there, his small handlebar mustache meticulously groomed and still as peculiar as ever. But after learning his name, “Wilhelm,” it somehow all fit together. Of course, the guy with the World War I vibe would have a name like that. It was almost… endearing, in a strange way.

He looked up as I approached, giving a slight nod. “Back so soon, young angel? What can I do for you?”

“Bullets, I guess?”

“Oh, bullets, is it?” Wilhelm grinned, clearly in his element. “Alright, for 5.56, I’ve got some options for you. Looking for M855, maybe? Standard issue, good for most tasks. Or, if you’re looking to punch through a bit more, there’s M855A1, which has a bit more armor-piercing capability.” He raised an eyebrow. “And if you’re really looking for top-tier, I can get you M995 armor-piercing rounds. Not cheap, but they’ll do the job on tougher targets.”

There were too many bullets, no, I don’t even know what those things were.

“Something for low-level corrupted, I guess?” I said.

Wilhelm eyed me with a smirk. “Ohhhhh, thinking about M855, are we? Hmmm… might be a bit much for you, even if it’s just 1 UC per round. Now, how about something a little simpler? Basic 5.56 FMJ—full metal jacket. Nice, cheap, and I sell it in bulk. 30 UC for 120 rounds.”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully, clearly enjoying his sales pitch. “And for the full setup, I can throw in a couple of Magpul mags. Normally, that’d be 80 UC total, but for you, dear girl, I’ll give a discount. How’s 60 UC sound?”

I nodded, weighing the offer. For 60 UC, a bulk deal like that sounded pretty good, and I could tell Wilhelm was enjoying the negotiation almost as much as I was. “Sounds fair. I’ll take it.”

Without another word, Wilhelm placed four magazines on the table, each one loaded and ready to go. I picked them up, watching as they vanished neatly into my inventory. A notification flashed in my HUD as the 60 UC transferred automatically to his account.

“Have a nice hunt, young girl,” he said with a warm smile.

“Thanks, Kaiser,” I teased.

His smile widened, clearly amused. “Ah, so you caught on to my mustache’s meaning. Sharp eye. Tell you what, young angel—keep that sense of humor, and I might just throw in an extra discount in the future. Don’t expect me to throw discounts for an armored frame, though.”

“Much appreciated.”

With that, I made my way back to the village gate, stepping out once more but with a new destination in mind. This time, I was heading further down the road, toward the spot where the corrupteds had last been seen. A small mission objective marker blinked steadily at the edge of my vision, guiding me like a compass.

The road was as quiet as ever, the only movement coming from the occasional slimes bobbing through the grasslands, minding their own business. They dotted the fields like bizarre, jelly-like decorations, completely oblivious to my presence.

I kept walking, eyes scanning the landscape for any sign of human—or rather, corrupted—figures. So far, nothing. Just the peaceful stretch of road and the endless sway of grass in the breeze. Had this world’s easiest way of grinding for cash was not killing, maybe this grassland would already be filled with houses.

Continuing down the road, I eventually spotted several figures in the distance, moving in that unmistakable, unsettling limp—like zombies. But unlike the mindless undead, these corrupteds clutched weapons in their hands, their fingers still tight around the triggers. Eleanor hadn’t been lying; they weren’t brainless. They still had enough coordination to handle guns, even if their movements were stiff and unnatural.

I squinted, trying to get a clearer view. Their eyes had a vacant, glazed look, confirming my suspicion that whatever mental faculties they had left were limited at best. They might still be able to aim and fire, but strategy? Thought? I doubted it.