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"What… Donation System?" Ezertze blurted out, the words scraping from his throat like rusted hinges.
[Hello, I am the Donation System. It's great to meet you.]
The voice was soft and calm—too calm—ringing inside his skull like the Liberty Bell.
"What's going on…? I've never heard of some random thing called the 'Donation System.'" He paused, hesitant, his breath clouding in the cold, dusty air. "How are you even in my head?"
[I am a fundamental artificial intelligence made by the true god Dezlo.]
A chill that wasn't from the wind prickled his neck, as his fingers trembled ever so slightly. Dezlo—the god no one spoke about, the one whispered in alley curses, painted in myths as a villain.
Ezertze's brows knit, but before he could form a thought, the system spoke again, like it had been reading his mind.
[Yes, that god. But you humans have been lied to—Dezlo is the god of giving.]
His frown deepened. "God of giving? Sure. I'm the God of Disappointment."
[Do you wish to be called that?]
"Shut up about the gods, religions, and stuff," he said aloud, voice firm, if only to keep the creeping unease at bay.
"Tell me what you even do, other than speak inside my head, read my thoughts, and annoy the hell out of me.
If you think I'm converting because of this stupid God Proselytizer, then you're mistaken. There's zero chance."
[Sorry, you're mistaken. Dezlo has sent me, Donato—the Donation System—to you after seeing your incredible deeds.]
"Cool. Tell him to send you back."
[Sorry, that is impossible.]
Ezertze let out a slow exhale, watching it curl into the night like smoke. "So you're stuck with me. How annoying."
"Tell me what you can do. I don't want some voice in my head speaking like an idiot."
[Sorry for my inconveniences…]
He cut it off mid-sentence. "No need to say sorry every single sentence."
[Sorry, I will do that right now.]
"Sorry, I'm so sorry. You know what they call me? Sorry," he stated, trying to mock the System.
[Sorry. Do you wish to convert my tone?]
Ezertze's jaw flexed. "I'm not calling you Donato anymore. Donasorry fits you better."
[Do you wish 'sorry' to be banned from my vocabulary?]
"No. Just shut up and tell me what you do."
[Understood. I, Donato—]
"Donasorry."
[Do you wish for me to be referred to as Donasorry?]
"Yes. What do you think?"
[System updated. New name—Donasorry. Ongoing request? What is my system capable of?]
[Answering request—I, Donasorry, am capable of granting you power, access to the Gift Store, and increasing your stats…]
"Such as?"
[Magic capacity, intelligence, strength, speed, agility… boosting efficiency with each element, and unlocking new ones.]
His tone shifted—still guarded, but tinged with curiosity. "Really? You're more useful than I thought."
[I am glad to hear that. As I, Donasorry, grant you Donation Points.]
"Donation points?"
[From quests and the Donation Translator. Each donation you receive will result in SDP—Smaller Donation Points. Each donation you make will also result in SDP.]
"So I get stuff for giving and getting stuff? Neat."
[Precisely. Amount depends on item value; graded beforehand. 100 SDP = 1 Donation Point at Level 1. Each level increases by 10.]
He let out a low whistle. "A hundred? And it goes up? You're a scam artist in god's clothing."
[Yes. I look forward to our cooperation. To gain more info, you must first level up and test the system.]
The voice faded, leaving only a cold, metallic aftertaste in his mind.
Wow, Donasorry… how kind of you, leaving me with only questions.
This Donation System might just be his ticket to survival.
"Wait… I can gain Magic Capacity and elements? Donasorry… you still there?"
[System Denied. Donasorry Advice unavailable until Level 2.]
He scowled. "Stupid. Useless. Can't even confirm the basics. Donasorry, I'm so sorry for your ignorance, as your extremely incompetent self is so sorry sleeping."
⸻
The dark night pressed against him like a suffocating blanket. The air was sharp, the streets slick with frost that glimmered under a fractured moon.
Ezertze stood naked, save for a pair of dull silver earrings. The chill gnawed at his skin, as his veins were ice.
"Cold… cold." His voice shook with each word, arms locking around himself as if his bones would shatter like ice.
He stumbled toward a trash heap—mountains of blackened bags, rusted cans, and limp cardboard. The stench hit like a physical blow, rotting vegetables and spoiled cheese mingling into a rancid haze.
His numb body barely registered the smell anymore. His eyes darted until they landed on a white jacket, ragged but intact.
"I can patch this up," he muttered, voice muffled by chattering teeth.
He pulled it free, shaking off clinging bits of food. A black shirt followed—tight, but it would keep his ribs from showing. A dented metal container. A handful of wooden sticks. Objects with potential.
Movement.
From the shadows, rats emerged—thirty, maybe more. Coarse fur bristling, eyes like wet ink, teeth gleaming like the stars.
Ezertze froze, breath trapped in his throat. Memories of rat hairs in stale bread and nights spent vomiting clawed at him.
He couldn't count how many times this happened—four, five, maybe six, he thought.
The rats twitched, sniffed, then scattered past in a chittering blur. His heart didn't slow until the last tail vanished.
Before he made his escape from what he deemed hell it self.
Food. Water. Survival first.
He tiptoed through the labyrinth of alleys, his patched clothes whispering against his skin. Every shadow seemed to breathe, every corner a mouth waiting to swallow him.
Somewhere, pebbles—wild or lurking—watched.
After what felt like hours, the black veil of night began to lift. The sun bled into the horizon, turning frost into shards of gold.
Ezertze collapsed against the base of an old tree, bark rough against his back. His hands clutched his salvaged items like treasure.
For now, this tree was his fortress, the last scrap of safety before the chaos hunted him down again.
The cold endless night had finally passed.
As morning had come, and the sun was as bright as it could get.
Heat, and wind mixed in for a beautiful day.
That made people want to sit out there all day.
"I didn't think a tree could be as nice as a bed," he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
He stood up and carried his container and items.
His body, still frozen and numb, had trouble moving.
He couldn't feel his toes anymore.
I need food before I die, and water.
Now, let's just find a river.
He searched across the vast green grass, the forest alive with chirps and the sweet bliss of the wind.
As the bees buzzed, they ignited the flowers' petals to bloom in white, black, blue, red, and yellow, scattered across the luscious fields.
Ezertze had survived in the wild multiple times using tools, but now his only tool was a stick and some random things: shattered pieces of glass, a dirty sock, and other miscellaneous items you see everyday.
There, he saw an Earth Boar, an F-grade beast in a small clearing surrounded by bushes in the forest.
I can probably take that down even without a sword.
I've done it plenty of times, just using Fire Shot.
The lowest and easiest fire spell—and also Ezertze's only spell in his repertoire.
I need to think. It will take around three Fire Shots to kill it.
So I just gotta use this stick to get it off balance.
He silently crouched behind the green bushes, watching the Earth Boar in the middle, eating some berries.
Along with its babies.
I feel bad for those babies, but I must kill their mother.
Then he remembered the smile of his mother—
Her gentle smile as she stroked his hair to the left.
And then the explosion.
And the blood that followed as her arms wrapped around his body, now lifeless.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't sneak up and kill her.
The radius of his Fire Shot was extremely close—four feet.
His hand trembled, and his heart refused it.
He took a deep breath in and out, slowly easing his muscles.
I can't think about the past. I have to survive now.
He bit his lip to gain composure as small drops of blood appeared.
In order to survive in this forest, you either kill or be killed.
He slowly snuck up and—bang—he smacked the stick against the boar's head, its huge body crashing to the ground.
Thump!
, the ground around them grumbled and shook Like an earthquake.
He used Fire Shot—fire spat out like spit, flames licking the clean air dry.
Another Fire Shot, more flames bursting forth.
"I'm sorry." He quietly whispered before ending its gentle life as a mother.
And another for the finishing blow—Fire Shot.
Ezertze's breaths were long and ragged, his face flushed red.
But that was nothing compared to the Earth Boar.
It was scorched and lifeless.
The baby boars just stood there, frightened, witnessing their mother being burnt to the bone.
"I am thankful for your meat and fur," he softly whispered, putting his hands together.
As he reached to collect the corpse of the mother boar, the voice rang once again.
[F-Grade Material: Earth Boar Fur, and F-Grade Food: Earth Boar Meat, each worth 5 SDP per donation, and received donation.]
What… I barely had enough mental strength to kill one.
And I don't even have enough magic capacity yet to keep killing these huge ones.
Don't make me kill the babies too.