The first hour was the worst.
Lucas sat in his gaming chair, the letter opener clutched in a white-knuckled grip. Every sound from the dying city outside—every distant crash, every far-off shriek—made his heart hammer against his ribs. His eyes were fixed on the narrow gap beneath his desk barricade, where Scribbles sat vigil, occasionally letting out a soft, acidic sizzle as it worked on the twisted metal frame.
"This is ridiculous," he whispered to himself for the tenth time. "I should be asleep. I should be dreaming about loot tables and optimal rotations. Not... this."
He tried to pull up his status, just to have something to look at.
[USER: Lucas Rowan]
[CLASS: Chainlord (Unique)]
[LEVEL: 1]
[HEALTH: 30/30]
[MANA: 10/10]
[STATUS: Anxious, Fatigued]
[SKILLS:]
- [Absolute Subjugation] (Unique) - Capacity: 1/3
- [Ambient Meld - Lvl 1] - Passive
[THRALLS:]
1. [Scribbles - Tome-Hound] - Loyalty: 100%
[SYSTEM CREDITS: 50]
"Level 1," he muttered. "Of course I'm level 1. Everyone starts at level 1." He frowned at his Mana pool. "Ten points. What does that even power? One chain? A sternly worded letter?"
He was so focused on his status screen that he almost missed the new sound. Not a crash. Not a scream.
A *scratching*.
It was soft, methodical. Coming from the hallway wall *beside* his ruined door. Not the metal, but the drywall.
Lucas froze. His [Ambient Meld] instinct flared. *Don't move. Don't breathe. Be part of the clutter.*
He willed his body to stillness, becoming just another shadow in the dark apartment. His eyes darted to Scribbles. The Tome-Hound had gone completely inert, its green eyes dimmed, looking like nothing more than a stack of old books left by the wall.
The scratching grew louder. Then, a section of the drywall about three feet from the floor began to bulge inward. Plaster dust sprinkled to the carpet. Something was digging through from the other side.
"Of course," Lucas thought, his mind strangely calm despite the terror. "The walls are just hitboxes with low durability. Why wouldn't they go through the wall?"
A claw, long and chitinous, black as oil, punched through the drywall. Then another. They gripped the edges of the hole and pulled. The drywall tore like paper, and a creature crawled through.
It was the size of a large cat, but built like a nightmare insect. Six multi-jointed legs, a segmented body covered in a glossy black carapace, and a head that was mostly mandibles. Its eyes were clusters of faint red pinpricks. It moved with a skittering, jerky grace.
[Entity: Void-Creeper (Lesser)]
[Level: 2]
[Health: 45/45]
[Disposition: Hunting, Cautious]
[Note: Extremely sensitive to vibration and light. Relies on stealth and ambush. Carapace is tough but brittle.]
Lucas didn't breathe. The Creeper paused in the hole, its head swiveling, red eye-clusters scanning the dark room. It was five feet away from him. Ten feet from Scribbles.
It took a step forward, its claws making tiny *tick-tick* sounds on the hardwood floor. It was heading toward his kitchen. Toward his pathetic pyramid of instant noodles.
A bizarre, possessive anger cut through Lucas's fear. *Those are my noodles. I budgeted those.*
The Creeper froze. Its head tilted. It had heard something. Or felt his minute vibration.
Lucas's mind raced. [Extremely sensitive to vibration and light]. His eyes fell on the can of air duster at his feet. Flammable. And under pressure.
It was a terrible plan. A hilarious, stupid plan.
As the Creeper tensed to skitter toward his hiding spot, Lucas moved. He didn't stand up—he *rolled* out of his chair, away from the creature, snatching the can of air duster as he went.
The movement was enough. The Creeper shrieked—a high-pitched, chittering sound—and launched itself at him.
Lucas hit the floor on his back, fumbling with the can. He pointed it at the creature mid-leap and pressed the trigger.
*PSSSSSSHHHHHTTTT!*
A jet of freezing, flammable chemical sprayed directly into the Creeper's face and open mandibles. The creature shrieked again, clawing at its eyes, disoriented by the sudden cold and chemical smell.
"Now, Scribbles!" Lucas yelled, scrambling backward. "The coil! The warm thing!"
He didn't know if the Tome-Hound would understand. But Scribbles was already moving. It waddled with surprising speed to the USB cup warmer Lucas had left on the floor, its cord still trailing. With a focused nudge, it pushed the glowing orange coil toward the flailing, chemical-soaked insect.
The coil touched the Creeper's damp carapace.
There was no dramatic explosion. Just a quick, angry *WHOMP* of flame that engulfed the creature's front half. It wasn't a critical hit—just damage.
[Void-Creeper Health: 22/45]
[Status: Burning, Blinded, Enraged]
The creature was a flailing torch, crashing into his TV stand, scattering controllers and empty cans. It was hurt. It was below 50% health.
And Lucas's [Absolute Subjugation] skill *thrummed* in his chest, hungry and eager.
He could try to chain it. A Level 2 creature. Something faster, tougher than Scribbles.
But the cost... Mana? Willpower? And it was *enraged*. What if it broke free? What if the chain failed?
The burning Creeper righted itself, its front legs charred, mandibles clicking in fury. It couldn't see, but it could hear him panting. It oriented toward the sound.
Lucas made a choice. The safe choice. The grinder's choice.
He lunged, not with the letter opener, but with the heavy, metal-base desk lamp he'd grabbed when he rolled. As the Creeper stumbled toward him, he brought the base down with all his strength on its glossy head.
*CRACK.*
The sound was satisfyingly brittle. The creature went limp.
[Combat Concluded. Experience Gained.]
[Void-Creeper Loot: 2x [Chitin Fragment], 15 System Credits.]
No prompt to chain. He'd killed it.
He stood over the smoking corpse, breathing heavily, the lamp base still in his hand. He felt no triumph. Just a hollow, shaking exhaustion. And relief.
He looked at Scribbles, who was carefully pushing the cup warmer away from a smoldering patch of carpet. "Good... good fetch," Lucas said weakly.
A new chime.
[Bonus Objective Progress: Survive the night. Threat Neutralized: 1/?.]
[Additional Reward: +10 Credits for successful defense.]
"So that's the grind," Lucas whispered, sinking back into his chair. "Kill or be killed. Or... chain." He looked at his Mana pool. It was at 8/10. Had using his will to *not* use the skill cost mana? Or was it just fear?
He had 65 Credits now. And two shiny pieces of monster chitin.
The night was far from over. But he'd survived his first real engagement. Not with heroics, but with cheap electronics and a loyal book.
He glanced at the hole in his wall. Another entrance to guard.
"Okay," he sighed, dragging his chair to face the new breach. "Round two."