Mathematics never lies, but it is often cruel.
I was Level 2. The monster was Level 5.
On paper, that's a difference of three numbers. In physical reality, it's the difference between a sledgehammer and a pane of thin glass.
The monster—Scrap-Metal Alpha—stood at the end of the aisle. Hot steam hissed from the gaps in its iron plating. Its chain tail spun, click-click-click, like a motorcycle engine idling.
I didn't move. My eyes weren't looking for fear; they were looking for assets.
Its front legs were protected by thick steel. Its back was spiked.
But on its side, right below the ribs, there was a patch of exposed red flesh pulsing. Critical Point.
The problem: to reach that spot, I had to enter its bite range.
"Thin margins," I whispered.
Screeech!
It gave no signal. The concrete floor cracked as it exploded forward.
I threw my body to the left, sliding over the slick warehouse tiles.
CRASH!
Its chain tail slammed into where I had just been standing, gouging a trench in the floor and sending sharp ceramic shrapnel flying. One shard grazed my cheek. It stung.
I rolled, rose to one knee, and activated the [Shredder Gloves]. Steel claws extended, gleaming green.
The monster braked, spinning its body around. It knew it had missed. It was angry.
It lunged again. This time using its iron shoulder to ram.
The aisle was too narrow. I couldn't dodge completely.
I crossed my arms in front of my chest.
A mistake.
THUD!
It felt like getting hit by a pickup truck.
The bones in my forearms screamed. Shockwaves exploded up my neck. I was thrown three meters back, slamming into a stack of detergent boxes.
White powder burst into the air, stinging my eyes.
[HP: 85/100]
[Status: Mild Concussion]
One indirect hit, 15% body integrity lost.
A steep operating cost.
The Alpha stepped forward from behind the detergent mist. Slowly. Enjoying its dominance.
I felt my pocket. [Bone Spike] cards. I had twelve.
Shooting them at the Alpha's iron hide would be a waste of ammunition. But I didn't need to kill it with these cards.
I looked up.
The industrial steel shelf next to the Alpha. Six meters high, overloaded with stock, rusted joints.
"Gravity is free," I thought.
As the Alpha opened its jaws, I raised my hand.
Flash.
Three bone spikes shot out. Not at the monster, but at the shelf's retaining pin.
Clang! Crack!
The old iron gave way.
RUMBLE!
The shelf collapsed. A rain of paint cans and iron beams crashed down on the Alpha.
It roared, buried under the avalanche. It wasn't dead—its HP was too thick—but it was trapped. Its chain tail was snagged between bent steel frames.
This was my window. Five seconds.
I ran toward the wreckage. My target wasn't its neck. Too risky.
My target was the most valuable asset. Its tail.
I jumped onto the pile of scrap. The Alpha saw me, thrashing madly. Its jaws snapped centimeters from my boot.
I ignored it.
I grabbed the base of its tail with the [Shredder Gloves].
"Asset liquidation," I growled.
I slashed down.
Crush.
Steel claws tore through hard skin, pierced muscle, and slammed into bone. Black blood sprayed into my face. Hot. Metallic.
ROAAAAR!
The Alpha screamed. Pain gave it new energy. It jerked its body violently.
The iron frame pinning it bent.
I struck again. And again. Like a butcher hacking through frozen bone.
The Alpha freed one leg. It swung a claw at me.
Slash!
My right thigh tore open.
Sharp, cold pain shot up to my waist.
But in my right hand, I felt the tail bone snap.
The iron chain came loose.
I grabbed the severed tail piece and jumped back, rolling onto the floor slick with spilled paint.
[HP: 60/100]
[Status: Leg Wound (Mobility -40%), Bleeding]
I looked at the notification. Mobility minus 40%. I couldn't run anymore.
The Alpha broke free a second later. Covered in paint and blood. Its tail stump bleeding.
It no longer looked at me as prey. It saw me as a nemesis.
Red steam vented from its nose. [Status: Enraged - Strength +30%].
Quick calculation:
Enemy: Angry, faster.
Me: Crippled, bleeding.
Direct Confrontation = 100% Death.
I threw the remaining [Bone Spike] cards at the neon lights above.
Crash!
Pitch black.
Only its yellow eyes glowed.
While it was distracted, I dragged my leg behind the Conveyor Belt machine. There was a small door leading to the Generator Room.
I crawled in, suppressing a groan as my thigh dragged across the floor. I slammed the steel door and locked it.
BOOM!
The door vibrated. Dented inward.
BOOM!
But the Grade-A industrial door held. For now.
I retreated, slumping in the corner of the dark room that smelled of diesel fuel.
Safe. Temporarily.
My hands shook. Physical shock from blood loss.
I checked my right thigh. The wound was deep. Didn't hit an artery, but needed immediate attention.
"Transaction costs," I whispered, my voice hoarse.
I looked at my left hand. The Alpha's severed tail.
Heavy. Cold. Covered in blood.
I placed the piece on the floor. Opened the Grimoire.
[Material: Alpha Chain Mechanism]
[Quality: Rare (Damaged)]
[Forgeable]
I pressed my hand against it.
"Forge."
The process was different. Not a quick suction like the rats.
It felt like a giant leech attached to my brain, forcibly sucking out energy. My vision swam.
Rare items demanded a higher mental cost.
Ten agonizing seconds later, the material vanished. A Blue Card appeared.
[ITEM: CHAIN WHIP]
[RANK: RARE]
[COST: 5 Mana / Swing]
My eyes fixed on the last line.
Cost: 5 Mana / Swing.
[Mana: 10/10]
Two swings. Only two. After that, I pass out.
This weapon was too heavy for my current mental capacity.
A frozen asset. Great on paper, useless in the field.
Outside, the Alpha stopped bashing the door. It was pacing. Waiting.
It knew I was trapped.
I looked around the generator room.
A First Aid cabinet. Diesel jerrycans. Exposed electrical wires. Oily rags.
I dragged my body to the First Aid kit. Grabbed the alcohol.
Without wasting time thinking, I bit down on a rag and poured the alcohol onto the open wound.
HISSSSSS!
My world went white for three seconds. My body convulsed, suppressing a scream.
Cold sweat soaked my shirt. But the bleeding slowed.
I bandaged it quickly.
My stamina was critical. My Mana was full but useless.
And behind the door, there was a monster wanting to chew my head off.
I needed an unfair advantage.
My eyes settled on the diesel jerrycans and the softly humming electrical wires.
A thin, painful smile appeared on my face.
The System gave me a weapon card, and I couldn't use it.
But before I was a Soul Forger, I was a warehouse manager who knew workplace safety procedures perfectly.
And more importantly: I knew exactly how to violate them.
The Alpha scratched at the door again.
Wait a second, I thought, reaching for the jerrycan. Chemistry doesn't care what level you are.