The glow of the translucent panels slowly faded, leaving only silence and the faint hiss of ichor eating pits into the cracked concrete. The monster's corpse lay twisted, bleeding and broken, a grotesque reminder of how close to death they had come.
No one spoke at first. The air felt too heavy, like even words might shatter what fragile calm had settled.
Selene was the first to move. She bent down and retrieved her spear with trembling hands, the metal bar, the reason the weapon was able to last that long against the hard skin of the monster was slick with black gore. Her chest rose and fell in quick bursts, eyes darting between Charles and Marco as if making sure neither of them would suddenly vanish.
Marco leaned against the dented hood of a car, his hand pressed to the wound on his shoulder. He looked like he'd carried battlefields on his back before—but Charles noticed the tremor in his fingers, the exhaustion that came when adrenaline finally ebbed.
Charles himself could barely keep his balance. His body screamed for rest, ribs tight and burning, his arms raw from gripping the pipe so hard. Yet beneath all the pain, something pulsed. The system. The new strength woven into his muscles. He wasn't sure but he felt like he was healing faster than usual. He had felt it when he stood again, he felt stronger, his mind though fatigued was clearer. And all his senses felt sharper.
Then—another soft chime.
Two faint objects shimmered into existence where the corpse had fallen, suspended in motes of pale light. One was a heavy, iron-plated gauntlet, its surface etched with runes that faintly glowed. The other, a dagger as dark as midnight, its blade curved and glistening faintly with green mist.
All three of them froze.
"… is that loot," Marco muttered, voice low. "It drops items."
Charles reached toward the dagger almost instinctively. The hilt was cold, unnaturally so, and when he gripped it the blade pulsed faintly, responding to his touch. The world seemed sharper, his muscles twitching with a readiness he hadn't had moments before. It wasn't just a weapon—it was an extension of him.
Selene's gaze lingered on the dagger with awe, but she didn't argue. She believed he deserved it more than she did.
A new line of text appeared before Charles's eyes:
[ VENOMFANG DAGGER]
[Description]
A sharp dagger coated with the corrupted blood of a corrupted rat
+15 Agility
Poison effect: inflict parasitic poison, once accumulated, can cause poison damage that can lead to death
Marco, meanwhile, lifted the gauntlet. The weight was enormous, but when he slid it onto his arm, his muscles flexed beneath the steel as if the armor itself breathed strength into him. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. "…Feels real nice."
[GAUNTLET OF BRUTAL FORCE]
[Description]
A pair of gauntlet that can ignore a small fraction of defense of creatures below level 30
+20 strength
Charles nodded faintly, dagger spinning once in his grip before he sheathed it at his waist. "We'll need them."
Marco broke the silence. "We can't stay here." His voice was gravel, blunt and final. "This place is open, too exposed. More of those things might make it here."
Selene nodded quickly, almost desperately. "He's right. We need somewhere defensible. Somewhere others might gather. People will look for safety in numbers."
Charles forced himself upright, pressing a hand to his side. "Where?"
"The gym," Marco said without hesitation. "It's close, it's big, and it's built to hold crowds. Supplies, space, visibility. If survivors are gathering, that's the place."
Selene glanced at Charles. Her eyes were still red from crying, but there was a spark there too—something between hope and fear. "If we go there, we won't be alone anymore."
For a long moment, Charles didn't answer. He stared at the monster's ruined corpse, then at the glowing dagger at his side. Level 7. Strengthened body. Poisoned edge. And yet…
They had barely survived one monster. What if the next was worse? What if numbers didn't mean safety, but chaos? People could turn on each other as easily as monsters did, he had seen it first hand. And Charles had his family to think about—his mother, his sister. They were somewhere in this ruined city, maybe alive, maybe not. "What am I thinking, of course they are alive." He muttered.
"I'm not going," Charles said at last.
The words dropped like stone. Selene blinked. "What?"
Marco's brow furrowed. His soldier's eyes narrowed, searching Charles's face. "Explain."
Charles tightened his grip on the dagger's hilt, feeling its faint poison haze curl against his palm. "The gym might be safe—for now. But I can't waste time waiting for someone else to decide my fate. I need to move. I need to figure out where my family is." He shook his head, jaw tight. "You guys go. Stay together. I'll slow you down if I come."
Selene's lips parted, disbelief plain. "Charles, you'll die if you go alone!"
"Maybe," he said. His voice was flat, but inside his chest his heart thundered. "But if I stay… if I just hide… that's the same as dying anyway."
Marco straightened, the gauntlet gleaming faintly in the ruined light. His eyes were hard, unreadable. "Think this through kid, Alone, you'll be nothing but meat for the next monster. Together, we have a chance, don't try to be a hero."
Charles met his gaze, and for a brief moment the silence between them felt heavier than the fight had been. Then he looked away, at Selene's trembling form, at the corpse, and finally at the darkness beyond the broken lot.
"No," he said again, quieter but firmer. "I'll find my own way, I'm not trying to be a hero, I just have a goal."
Selene stepped forward, hand half-reaching for him before falling back. "Charles…"
But there was nothing else to say. Once he made up his mind, it was very difficult, if at all possible to make him change his mind.
He turned his back on them, every step slow, deliberate. The cracked concrete echoed under his boots, carrying him into the night.
Behind him, Marco muttered something too low to catch. Selene let out a quiet sigh.
The system's glow lingered in his mind. Stat points waiting. Power waiting.
And in his chest, the unshakable weight of blood and responsibility.
He didn't know if he'd live to see morning.
But he knew this: he couldn't stay stagnant, he had to grow stronger.