Augustos stood over the unconscious tax collector, staring at the rusted slab of metal in his hands. It felt light. Too light. It felt like holding a loaf of bread, or perhaps a particularly sturdy pillow.
This thing has to be hollow, he thought. Either that, or I've developed super-strength along with my impending organ failure.
He shifted his grip on the rotting leather handle. The metal didn't hum or glow like the legendary swords in the anime he used to watch while eating convenience store onigiri. It just… sat there. It looked like something a giant would use to scrape mud off his boots.
"Hey, System," Augustos whispered. "Is this thing a weapon or just a very aggressive paperweight?"
[SCANNING...]
[ERROR: DATA CORRUPTED.]
[TEMPORARY DESIGNATION: EMRE.]
[STATUS: SEALED / STARVING / GRUMPY.]
Emre? Augustos frowned. That sounds like a name. And why is a piece of metal 'grumpy'?
He decided to test the weight. If it was this light, he should be able to toss it onto the table. He gave his wrist a flick, letting the slab slip from his hand.
CRACK.
The moment the "doorstop" hit the wooden floorboards, it didn't bounce. It didn't clatter. It went straight through the wood like a hot knife through butter, sinking six inches into the packed dirt beneath the house. A spiderweb of fractures raced across the floor, and the entire shack groaned, leaning three degrees to the left.
Augustos stared at it. His arm hadn't felt any strain when he was holding it, but the floor was currently screaming in agony.
Okay. So, it's only light when I'm holding it. Physics is officially a suggestion in this world.
He reached down and pulled it out of the dirt with two fingers. It came out as easily as a toothpick from a sandwich.
[NOTICE: YOU ARE CURRENTLY SUSTAINING THE WEAPON'S EXISTENCE.]
[WARNING: HOST CALORIE COUNT IS AT 2%. IF YOU DO NOT EAT SOON, THE WEAPON WILL CONSUME
YOUR LEFT KIDNEY FOR FUEL.]
"My kidney?" Augustos's eyes bugged out. "It can do that? We're supposed to be a team!"
[EMRE DOES NOT HAVE TEAMS. EMRE HAS DISHES.]
Augustos stepped out of his tilting shack, using the slab as a walking stick. Kitango was a miserable place. The sky was a bruised purple, and the air smelled like dry dust and desperation. People were huddled in doorways, their ribs poking out like birdcages.
"System," Augustos thought, watching a woman try to boil a piece of leather boot in a pot of grey water. "Why is everyone dying? Is there a plague?"
[EXPLANATION: THE HUNGER ECONOMY.]
[IN EUXERIS GAIA, MANA IS CURRENCY. NO MANA GEMS = NO FOOD. THE LAND IS BARREN. ONLY MANA-INFUSED SOIL GROWS EDIBLE CROPS. LORD KAELEN COLLECTS THE GEMS. THE PEOPLE COLLECT THE DUST.]
So, it's a pay-to-win world, Augustos realized. And I'm the guy playing the free version with a broken controller.
He trudged toward the village square, his stomach letting out a sound like a dying chainsaw. He needed food. Real food. Not mana gems, not "conceptual essence," but something with calories and salt.
The "market" was a pathetic collection of empty stalls. The only thing being sold was "Mana-Root"—a shriveled, glowing tuber that looked like a radioactive ginger root.
"Hey! You! Trash-heap!"
Augustos stopped. A girl with messy silver hair and a cloak that had been patched a hundred times was sitting on a roof ledge, swinging her legs. She had a wooden bow slung across her back and eyes that moved way too fast.
"You talking to me?" Augustos asked, leaning on his doorstop.
"I don't see any other walking corpses carrying a piece of a bridge," she said, hopping down with the grace of a cat. She landed in front of him, her nose wrinkling. "I'm Jella. I'm the best scout in this dump. And I've seen some weird loot, but that? That's literally garbage. Why are you carrying a rusted weight? Planning on drowning yourself?"
Augustos looked at the slab. "It's a doorstop. And a walking stick. And potentially my new best friend."
Jella laughed, a sharp, cynical sound. "You Pendragons really have lost it. Your family used to be kings, now you're scavenging scrap metal from the ruins. Look at you—Rank -F. You're so weak a stiff breeze would count as an assassination attempt."
She's not wrong, Augustos thought. But she's also very loud for someone who looks like she hasn't seen a steak in three years.
"Do you know where I can get some actual food?" Augustos asked, ignoring the insult.
"Not this glowing wood stuff. Real meat."
Jella stopped laughing. Her expression turned deadpan. "Meat? You want meat? Sure. Go out into the Forbidden Woods and ask a Dragon to lie down on a grill for you. Or, you could try the Rat-Pit behind the granary. But a Rank -F like you would just be the appetizer."
As if on cue, a high-pitched, vibrating screech tore through the square
The few villagers nearby scrambled, diving behind crates and stone walls. Jella's face went pale. She immediately notched an arrow, her fingers trembling.
"Speak of the devil," she whispered. "Mana-Rat. A big one."
From the shadows of an alleyway, a creature emerged. It was the size of a Great Dane, but it looked like a nightmare made of hairless, translucent skin. Its veins glowed with a sickly green light, and its teeth were jagged shards of crystal.
[THREAT DETECTED: MANA-RAT (ELITE)]
[LEVEL: 15]
[RANK: E+]
[SUGGESTION: RUN. OR PRAY. PREFERABLY BOTH.]
The rat hissed, its red eyes locking onto Augustos. To the rat, Augustos didn't look like a threat. He smelled like a dying boy with a high concentration of "Abyssal Trash" in his blood. He was a snack.
"Move, you idiot!" Jella screamed, letting an arrow fly.
The arrow thudded into the rat's shoulder. The creature didn't even flinch. It snapped the shaft with its teeth and lunged. It moved like a blur of green light, its claws aimed straight for Augustos's throat.
Too fast, Augustos thought. I can't even lift my arm in time.
But he didn't have to lift his arm.
The "doorstop" in his hand twitched. It didn't move much—just a fraction of an inch, tilting its rusted tip toward the incoming monster. It felt like the metal was leaning into the attack, eager.
Augustos just held on. "Boop," he muttered, because he was too tired to think of a cool catchphrase.
The tip of the rusted slab tapped the rat's nose.
There was no impact. There was no "crunch" of bone or "splatter" of blood.
The moment the metal touched the rat's whiskers, a static pop echoed through the square. The green glow inside the rat didn't dim—it blinked out. The creature's head didn't just stop; it began to unravel into fine, grey ash. The ash didn't even hit the ground; it vanished into thin air before it could land.
Within half a second, the entire dog-sized monster was gone. Not dead. Gone.
The space where the rat had been was now just... empty. The air rushed in to fill the vacuum, creating a small gust of wind that ruffled Augustos's hair.
Silence fell over the market.
Jella stood with her bow half-drawn, her jaw hanging low enough to hit the dirt. "What... what did you just do?"
Augustos looked at the empty space. Then he looked at the doorstop. A single flake of rust fell off the metal, revealing a tiny patch of obsidian-black surface that seemed to be licking its lips.
"I think I just deleted the trash," Augustos said, his voice flat.
"I think I just deleted the trash," Augustos said, his voice flat.
[SYSTEM LOG UPDATE:]
[MANA-RAT (ELITE) HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM THE WORLD DIRECTORY.]
[EXPERIENCE POINTS: ERROR. TARGET NO LONGER EXISTS TO BE HARVESTED.]
[EMRE SATIATION: 0.0001%]
[INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: THAT WAS TASTY. MORE. I WANT THE BIG STUFF.]
Augustos felt a chill run down his spine. The "doorstop" wasn't just a weapon. It was a mouth. And it was still very, very hungry.
"You..." Jella walked forward, her eyes wide as she stared at the rusted metal. "That wasn't magic. There was no mana. You just... you erased it. Who are you?"
Augustos opened his mouth to answer, but his stomach gave another violent growl. "I'm a guy who is about to faint if he doesn't find some protein. Is that rat... edible? Or did I just delete my dinner?"
"You deleted the whole thing!" Jella shouted, half-terrified and half-impressed. "There isn't even a tail left!"
"Damn," Augustos sighed. "What a waste of a good steak."
Before Jella could say another word, the ground beneath them began to vibrate. Not a small tremor, but a deep, rhythmic thumping that shook the teeth in Augustos's head.
From the direction of the Lord's Manor, a horn blasted—a sound of pure gold and ego.
"The Knights," Jella whispered, grabbing Augustos's arm. "They saw that. They see everything. If they think you have a 'God-Killer' weapon, they won't tax you, Augustos. They'll butcher you and take it."
Augustos looked at the manor on the hill. Then he looked at the rusted slab. He felt a strange pull—a dark, cold urge coming from the leather grip.
Delete them too, the feeling whispered. Delete the hill. Delete the sky. Let's see what's underneath.
Augustos gripped the handle tighter, forcing the feeling down. "I just want breakfast, Jella. If they stand between me and a meal, they're going to have a very bad day."
As the first line of armored knights rounded the corner, their spears glowing with mana, Augustos didn't raise his weapon. He just stood there, looking like a starving boy with a piece of junk.
But in the reflection of his eyes, the "doorstop" wasn't rusted anymore. For a fleeting second, it looked like a crack in the universe itself.
[WARNING: THE "LANDLORDS" HAVE NOTICED A GLITCH IN THE SIMULATION.]
[EYES ARE TURNING TOWARD KITANGO.]
Augustos took a deep breath. "Well, Emre. Hope you're ready for a buffet."