# Chapter 4
The rest of the night passed in a tense, silent vigil. No more creatures came through the wall. The skittering and howling outside seemed to reach a peak around what felt like 3 AM—a symphony of alien nightmares—before gradually fading into an uneasy quiet.
Lucas didn't sleep. He couldn't. Every creak of the apartment building settling, every rustle of paper from Scribbles (who had developed a nervous habit of shuffling his own pages), sent jolts of adrenaline through him. He spent the hours practicing his [Ambient Meld], forcing himself to sit perfectly still in different parts of the cluttered room, feeling the strange, passive skill wrap around him like static camouflage. It was miserably boring. It was also the only upgrade he could grind without opening the door.
As the first grey, sickly light began to filter through the swirling colors of the sky, a chime echoed in his mind, clear and resonant.
[Tutorial Phase Complete.]
[Primary Objective: Survive the Night - SUCCESS.]
[Bonus Objective: Neutralize Threats - 1 Threat Neutralized.]
[Calculating Rewards…]
[REWARD SUMMARY:]
- Base Survival: 100 EXP, 50 System Credits
- Threat Neutralized Bonus: +25 EXP, +10 Credits
- First Night Bonus: +1 Capacity Point
[Total: 125 EXP, 65 Credits, 1 Capacity Point]
[Level Up!]
[You are now Level 2!]
[+5 to all Stats, +10 Max Health, +5 Max Mana.]
[Capacity Point Available. Increase Thrall Capacity or unlock a Class Feature?]
Lucas jolted upright in his chair, the fatigue momentarily washed away by a wave of warmth and strength that coursed through his body. The aches from sleeping in a chair vanished. His senses felt sharper. He looked at his hands, flexing them. He felt… marginally less like a soggy noodle.
"Whoa. Okay. That's the good stuff," he mumbled, pulling up his status.
[USER: Lucas Rowan]
[CLASS: Chainlord (Unique)]
[LEVEL: 2 (12/300 EXP)]
[HEALTH: 40/40]
[MANA: 15/15]
[STATUS: Rested, Alert]
He had a Capacity Point. And a shop that was hopefully no longer locked.
Focusing, he willed the System Shop open.
[SYSTEM SHOP - INITIATE TIER]
[Available Credits: 115]
[Shop Tier Upgraded! New Categories Available!]
[Consumables]
- Nutrient Paste Packet: 10 Credits
- Purified Water (1L): 5 Credits
- Basic Healing Salve: 25 Credits
- **Mana Tincture (Restores 10 Mana): 30 Credits** [NEW]
[Weapons] (UNLOCKED)
- Makeshift Club (Dmg 3-5, Blunt): 40 Credits
- Reinforced Spear (Dmg 5-8, Piercing, Reach): 80 Credits [TOO EXPENSIVE]
- **"Jury-Rigger" Tool Kit: 60 Credits** [NEW - Allows basic repair/modification of Mundane items]
[Armor] (UNLOCKED)
- Padded Jacket (Armor +2, Light): 50 Credits
- **Improvised Riot Shield (Armor +5, Bulky): 75 Credits** [NEW]
[Skills] (LOCKED - Requires Level 5)
Lucas stared at the prices with a mix of hunger and despair. 115 credits felt like a fortune until he saw what it could buy. One decent weapon and he'd be broke. The "Jury-Rigger" kit called to him—it sounded like a way to make his own gear, to optimize—but 60 credits was a huge investment.
Then he looked back at the Capacity Point prompt. *Increase Thrall Capacity or unlock a Class Feature?*
He focused on the second option.
[Available Class Features (Level 2):]
1. [Chain Synergy - Passive]: Your Thralls gain a minor stat increase (5%) when near each other. Unlock Cost: 1 Capacity Point.
2. [Shared Sense - Active]: You can briefly see/hear through the senses of one designated Thrall. Mana Cost: 5 per minute. Unlock Cost: 1 Capacity Point.
3. [Hold Capacity Point for future use.]
Lucas chewed his lip. Synergy was useless with only one Thrall. Shared Sense with Scribbles would mean… seeing through a book. What would that even be? A blur of page fibers?
"No," he muttered. "I need more firepower. More bodies between me and the things with too many legs." He made his choice. He focused on increasing his Thrall Capacity.
A painful, but brief, pressure expanded behind his forehead, like his mental hard drive was being reformatted.
[Capacity Increased!]
[Thrall Capacity: 1/4]
[Note: Capacity Point allocation is permanent. Next increase available at Level 5.]
One occupied slot, three empty. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. He needed to find and subdue three more monsters. Without dying.
His stomach growled loudly, interrupting the planning. Right. Sustenance.
He spent 15 credits on three packets of water, refusing to touch the nutrient paste. "I still have my pride, and my noodles," he declared to Scribbles. He also, after agonizing for a full minute, bought the **Makeshift Club** for 40 credits. The letter opener was a joke. He needed something with heft.
[Credit Balance: 60]
The club materialized on the floor in front of him with a soft *thud*. It was exactly as advertised: a length of heavy pipe wrapped in grimy electrical tape, with a rough wooden handle. It was ugly. It was beautiful. He hefted it. The weight felt good. Substantial.
"Now we're talking," he said, giving it an experimental swing. He immediately knocked over a lamp. "Right. Close quarters. Swinging bad. Jabbing good."
A new, urgent chime rang out, different from the reward chime. Red text scrolled across his vision.
[REGIONAL ANNOUNCEMENT]
[A Safe Zone has been established at [Greenhaven Park].]
[Coordinates have been added to your minimap.]
[The zone is protected by a low-grade repulsion field. It will hold for 7 Earth days.]
[All Players are advised to move toward safety. Resources and community await.]
[Warning: The journey will be perilous. Prepare accordingly.]
A faint, glowing green dot appeared in the lower corner of Lucas's perception. A minimap. When he focused on it, a simple, schematic layout of his immediate surroundings appeared, with a pulsating green marker about three miles away, through the heart of the changed city.
A Safe Zone. Other people. Maybe food, real food. Medicine. Security.
Hope, dangerous and warm, bloomed in his chest. Then he looked at the hole in his wall, at his barricaded door, at his lone, bookish Thrall.
Three miles. It might as well have been three hundred.
He had seven days to turn his apartment fortress into a launching pad. To get strong enough, or have enough Thralls, to make that run.
"Okay," Lucas said, his voice firming with new purpose. He took a swig of purified water—it tasted incredible—and gripped his new club. "New grind. New objective. We need to clear this building. Floor by floor. And find me a Thrall that doesn't double as bedtime reading."
Scribbles rustled his pages, as if offended.
"Don't give me that. You're great at corrosion and fetch. But I need something with teeth. Or claws. Or… I don't know, a threatening aura."
He walked to the hole in the wall, club ready, and peered into the dark hallway beyond. The dawn's faint light did little to dispell the shadows.
The game had just entered the open-world phase. And Lucas Rowan, Level 2 Chainlord, needed to farm.