With that decision, the translucent screen unfolded again in front of him.
This time it didn't feel like a plain info display. It felt more like a window being slowly pushed open.
The interface hung in the air like a glass panel. A faint blue glow traced its edges, and the layout inside was clean and easy to read.
Monster Reputation: 5
And in the entire shop, only two options were lit up:
[Talent Evolution Shards]
[Rarity Upgrade Points]
Jake paused.
He'd just seen those exact terms on his status panel.
[Level 1 Talent Evolution Shards: 0/10]
[Level 1 Rarity Upgrade Points: 0/10]
His eyes flicked back and forth between the two screens, comparing them like he was trying to snap two halves of a puzzle together. His fingertip hovered in midair—like if he got one more piece of information, the whole ruleset would finally click.
"So that means…"
His voice dropped.
"These are materials to upgrade Talent and Rarity?"
The moment the thought formed, a quiet excitement started spreading through his chest. It wasn't just an emotional spike—it was the feeling of a door opening. Of possibility lighting up.
If he could gain EXP…
then he could level up.
And if he could stockpile these materials…
did that mean even being a "monster" wasn't fixed? That it could evolve?
Jake's brow knit tighter.
But his thoughts were speeding up, not slowing down.
Players didn't get any Talent at all before they officially picked a class.
But he—
even if it was trash like Inferior Gnoll Bloodline—
at least had a starting line.
"And besides…"
His gaze dropped to the worn gnoll club in his hand, and he couldn't stop the small curl at the corner of his mouth. The wood was rough, even cracked in a couple places, but right now it felt like something real. Like a resource that belonged to him.
"I've got a weapon."
He remembered what those players had been saying.
This busted little gnoll club—this junk—could actually sell for two or three hundred dollars during early launch.
Jake hadn't joined this game to conquer the world.
Not for friends, fame, or any kind of vague glory, either.
His goal had been simple from day one:
Make money.
If he could level up.
If he could get stronger.
If he could evolve.
Then whether he was technically a "wild mob" suddenly didn't feel that important.
Once that idea settled into place, even the air around him seemed lighter. The sway of the leaves, the shifting light, the distant growls of other creatures—everything sharpened into something clearer, more orderly.
Jake lifted his head slowly.
His eyes turned toward the deeper forest again.
"Alright, then here's the real question…"
His voice was low, steady.
"If killing players gives EXP and Monster Reputation…"
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
"What about killing mobs?"
Jake turned slowly.
The forest air still carried a leftover warmth from the fight. Leaves were scattered and churned up underfoot, and shallow dents marked the ground where bodies had stumbled and fallen.
Farther out, tree shadows swayed gently in the breeze. And in the middle of all that mess, a few "companions"—other Gnolls (Frail)—still wandered around aimlessly, like that short, violent brawl had never happened at all.
Jake's gaze tightened.
It didn't take long for him to spot something off about several of them.
Before they got wiped, those five players had clearly burned a lot of effort and resources. Out of the gnolls nearby, three were already at death's door—swaying on their feet, barely able to stand. The other two had only a thin sliver of HP left, breathing hard and moving slow.
There was still a faint energy residue in the air.
A trace of Healing Potions being used—except the cooldown had obviously bottlenecked their recovery, leaving these mobs unfinished.
Jake fixed his eyes on one gnoll that could barely stay upright.
Its body wobbled like it was about to fold. Its chest rose in uneven jerks, breathing short and rough. Its stare was empty—no guard up, no awareness—just pure instinct forcing it to remain standing.
Jake's heartbeat picked up on its own.
He slowly tightened his grip on the worn gnoll club.
The rough handle rasped against his paw. Strength gathered up his arm in a steady build. He could feel muscles cinch tight, joints subtly adjust, his whole body aligning for an attack.
But then he hesitated for a split second.
What if he was wrong?
What if these "same race" mobs didn't actually treat him as one of them—and the instant he attacked, every gnoll in sight would dogpile him?
The thought flashed through his mind and stole his breath for a beat.
Jake flicked his eyes around.
The gnolls kept wandering. Not a single one showed any shift in hostility just because he existed.
Their movements were slow and repetitive. They didn't even communicate with each other, not really—more like living things being pushed around by code.
No aggro lock.
No attack posture.
Everything was… too calm.
Jake took a deep breath.
The damp chill slid into his lungs and cooled his head. He dipped his gaze toward the dying gnoll again, something complicated passing through his eyes.
"Sorry, man."
His voice was quiet, edged with self-mockery.
"But I'm a gnoll with dreams."
The next second, his arm snapped forward.
Force traveled from shoulder to elbow to wrist, concentrating at the end of the club. The air compressed with the swing, a low cutting sound—
BAM!
The club smashed into the gnoll's side neck.
Impact detonated on contact. Fur flattened. Bone gave a faint but unmistakable crack. The gnoll didn't even get a second yelp out—its body lost support and collapsed heavy onto the ground, kicking up a puff of dust and leaves.
The forest went quiet for a heartbeat.
Then the system prompt rang cleanly inside Jake's mind.
[Killed Gnoll (Frail) (Lv. 1). Captured 10 Essence. Gained Level 1 Talent Evolution Shards +1. Gained Level 1 Rarity Upgrade Points +1.]
Jake's pupils shrank.
Then his eyes lit up.
"…It actually gives it!"
The surprise spilled straight into his voice.
"Not just EXP—materials too!"
He snapped his head up and checked the area.
The other gnolls kept wandering.
None of them reacted to their buddy dropping dead.
No anger.
No alertness.
Not even a flicker of hate.
The moment that confirmation landed, the last thread of hesitation in Jake's gut evaporated.
The rules were clear now.
What came next was clean and brutal.
He stepped forward fast, footfalls steady and rhythmic on the forest floor. The second dying gnoll didn't even have time to process him before the club came down.
BAM!
Third.
Fourth.
Each swing, he made tiny adjustments.
The power transfer got smoother. The strike points tightened up. That shift—from clumsy to competent—happened quietly over just a handful of hits.
He popped one of the system-granted Healing Potions.
The instant it went down, a warm current spread through his body, rushing out from his chest into his limbs. The dull ache in his muscles loosened. His breathing eased. Stamina refilled in a short, sharp surge.
Right after that, he finished off the last two low-HP gnolls without hesitation.