[You have earned a total of 2,376 Contribution Points from the recent battle.]
[A few items have dropped from the monsters that you took down. Please check your inventory for the available items.]
The blue notifications hovered before my eyes long enough to make them feel real. Contribution Points. A number tied directly to bloodshed and survival. I exhaled slowly and opened the inventory interface, still half expecting it to vanish like a trick of the mind.
Monster drops are rare. That was one of the first things the system made clear. You could kill dozens and still walk away empty handed. Despite clearing at least thirty monsters on my own, only two items dropped for me.
A spear.
And a wand.
The spear was crude but solid, its shaft made from hardened bone reinforced with blackened metal. Faint symbols pulsed along its length, reacting when I poured a little mana into it. The balance felt right in my hands. It was comfortable, with a sense of familiarity.
From my parallel selves, spear or trident type weapons were always my forte. It made sense. Long reach, control of distance, synergy with flowing movements. Paired with water, it felt natural.
The wand was simpler. A straight rod with a crystal embedded at its tip. It functioned as a channel for magic, reducing the mental strain needed to shape mana. Not particularly rare, but extremely useful for spellcasters who lacked fine control.
I handed the wand to Ara without hesitation.
"Use it," I said. "You'll last longer in a fight."
She nodded, gripping it carefully, her eyes briefly lighting up as she felt the difference. The mana flow stabilized instantly.
Around us, the rest of the survivors were checking their own notifications. Some had earned a few hundred points. Others barely scraped double digits. A handful received nothing at all. That was when the tension started to creep in.
In society, elders are respected. In my country, that respect often translated into authority, whether it was earned or not. Old habits did not die just because the world ended.
A few of the older men began to speak up.
"We should pool the items," one of them said loudly. "Distribute them fairly. The young are reckless. We need order."
Another nodded. "Give the drops to those who know how to lead."
By lead, they meant themselves.
They were already eyeing the spear in my hand.
Before I could respond, someone else snapped.
"Respect this, respect that," a younger man spat. "It's the end of the world, old man. We take what we earn. If you expect me to hand over the shit I fought for, then we're going to have problems."
The hallway went silent.
"Why you little!" one of the elders shouted, stepping forward.
I ended the argument before it turned into violence.
Water surged from the floor, coiling into translucent snakes that shot forward. In a blink, weapons were ripped from hands. A pipe clattered against the wall. A knife skidded across the tiles. The water tightened just enough to restrain, not crush.
"You're bickering for no reason," I said calmly. "If you don't want to work together, then leave in groups. If anyone wants to fight me over control of this apartment complex, you're welcome to try."
No one moved.
They had all seen the fight earlier. They knew exactly what I could do. Not a single one of them was remotely close to me or my siblings in terms of combat ability.
The system confirmed it moments later.
Peak Bronze Grade.
I had skipped Iron entirely.
Most of them were still stuck at Intermediate Iron. A few barely reached Peak Iron after the battle. The goat headed demons we fought were Peak Iron threats. Some of the mutated beasts roaming the streets had already reached Basic Bronze.
Among the twenty two survivors of our apartment complex, only my siblings, myself, and two others had enough strength to truly defend the area.
Strength decided authority now. Not age. Not titles. Not loud voices.
"There's still the 7 Eleven outside the apartment," I continued. "There are more areas to clear. If you can fight and contribute, follow me. Earn your points. Earn your loot."
I looked around, making sure everyone heard the next part.
"If you want to stay safe, band together. Fortify the surrounding floors. Barricade stairwells. Watch each other's backs. No one is forcing you to fight."
That was the closest thing to fairness I could offer.
People exchanged looks. Some nodded. Others looked relieved. A few looked bitter, but none argued.
Alfred cracked his knuckles beside me, Ki pulsing faintly beneath his skin. Ara adjusted her grip on the wand, already testing mana flow. The two other capable fighters stepped forward as well, a man with a fire based active skill and a woman whose passive enhanced her reflexes.
This was how leaders were made now. Not by vote. Not by tradition.
By action.
We moved out minutes later.
As we descended the stairs, I glanced once more at my status window. Contribution Points. Combat Grade. Gift.
Power came quickly in this world.
But keeping people alive was a tall task.