Surviving the tutorial phase in a hardcore game doesn't mean the game gets easier. It just means the system stops holding your hand before it punches you directly in the throat.
Three days had passed since Varg cracked open the underground cache. The atmosphere inside the Korreth Tower ruins had shifted from 'waiting to die' to a cautious, desperate flavor of 'maybe we won't die today'.
Vavian laid comfortably in Morra's lap. For the first time since he had been spat into this miserable world, his stomach wasn't aggressively cramping. Instead of that bitter, dirt-flavored root water, Morra was now feeding him a warm broth made from boiled Iron-Boar jerky. It tasted like heavily salted shoe leather, but to Vavian's starving infant body, it was a Michelin-star meal.
He stared at his mother's face. The paralyzing aura of death that previously clung to her had thinned out.
> NAME: MORRA
> HP: 58/100 (Condition: Recovering from Malnutrition)
*Nice. The primary support unit is stabilizing,* Vavian thought, a satisfied smirk ghosting across his tiny lips. *If her HP hits eighty, she might actually unlock her active healing skills. I need her at full capacity if we're going to survive the mid-game.*
He shifted his gaze across the room. The other eleven demons were resting. They actually had the energy to sleep soundly now. Varg was sitting by the entrance, meticulously sharpening his rusted spear with a piece of broken masonry. The Vanguard's HP had climbed up to 45/100.
Everything seemed peaceful. To a casual player, this was the perfect time to idle, let the resources tick up, and go make a sandwich.
But Vavian wasn't a casual. He was a paranoid, min-maxing sociopath trapped in a baby's body. He knew that in 'Trash Hard' difficulty, peace was just a loading screen for the next disaster.
*Hey, you useless clump of pixels,* Vavian commanded through his telepathic link. *Report.*
From the pitch-black shadow cast by Morra's tattered dress, a pair of glowing yellow pinpricks blinked.
*[I am here, Master. Awaiting your grand command,]* the Shadow Imp's raspy voice echoed in Vavian's mind.
Over the past three days, Vavian had spent his time thoroughly testing the limits of his Tier-C summon. He had named the imp 'Ping', mostly because its primary function was to be his network connection to the outside world.
Ping was completely invisible as long as it stayed within an existing shadow. However, the imp was pathetically weak. True to its description, Ping could only lift a maximum of one kilogram. It couldn't wield a sword. It couldn't throw a heavy rock. If it materialized in the light, a stiff breeze could probably snap its neck.
But Vavian didn't need a meathead warrior. He had Varg for that. He needed a drone.
*Stop kissing my ass and give me a sitrep. Did you check the perimeter like I told you last night?* Vavian asked impatiently.
*[Yes, Master! I slipped through the shadows of the ruins, exactly as you instructed. The immediate vicinity of the tower is clear of hostile wildlife. However...]* Ping hesitated, its mental voice trembling slightly.
*Spit it out, Ping. If you stutter again, I swear I will unsummon you into a fucking volcano.*
*[T-The Beastmen, Master! At the edge of the Black Forest, roughly eight hundred meters to the east. I saw a scouting party. Three of them. Horned Wolves.]*
Vavian's tiny heart skipped a beat, though his outward expression remained a blank, drooling infant stare.
*Horned Wolves? Level? Stats? Give me the data, you worthless rat!*
*[I dared not get too close, Master! Their senses are incredibly sharp. But... based on their aura, they are easily above level twenty. And... they were sniffing the wind, Master. The wind blowing from our tower.]*
Vavian's eyes widened slightly. His brain connected the dots in a fraction of a second.
The underground cache. When Varg opened that ancient ironwood trapdoor, the magical seal broke. The stale air that rushed out wasn't just old dust; it carried the heavy, preserved scent of dried meat and magical water. In this barren, toxic wasteland, the smell of food was a beacon. It was a massive, glowing neon sign screaming 'FREE LOOT HERE'.
*Fuck. Fuck! Of course! The developers wouldn't just give me a free stash of food without a massive aggro penalty!* Vavian cursed viciously. *Opening the chest triggered a world event. The wolves smelled the meat.*
*Are they moving towards us?* Vavian demanded.
*[Not yet, Master. They are waiting for the sun to fully set. The Horned Wolves hunt in the dark. I overheard their leader. They plan to raid the tower tonight. They think the demons inside are too weak to fight back. They want the meat... and they want our cores.]*
Vavian felt a cold sweat break out on his tiny forehead. Three level 20+ Beastmen against Varg, who was barely level 18 and still recovering from starvation. The rest of the demons were level 15 weaklings who hadn't held a weapon in years. Morra was a Healer with no offensive capabilities. And Vavian was a literal baby with 19 Endurance.
If the wolves breached the tower, it would be a massacre. A total wipe. Game Over.
*I can't just tell Varg to set up barricades. How the hell would a baby know about a scouting party a kilometer away? If I act too suspicious, they might think I'm possessed by an evil spirit and throw me into the fire pit,* Vavian calculated rapidly. *No, direct communication is out. I have to manage this entirely from the shadows.*
He looked up at the ceiling, then at the entrance of the tower. It was a narrow archway, partially collapsed, forcing anyone entering to walk single file. Above the archway was a massive, jagged slab of cracked stone, hanging precariously by a few rusted iron rebars and crumbling mortar.
Vavian's IQ stat of 88 flared to life. He wasn't just a gamer; he was an engineer of destruction. He mapped out the structural integrity of the archway in his mind, calculating weight distribution, gravity, and pivot points.
*Ping,* Vavian called out, his mental voice dropping its panicked edge, replaced by a cold, calculating venom.
*[Yes, Master?]*
*You can only lift one kilogram, correct?*
*[Y-Yes, Master. I am weak. Forgive my uselessness...]*
*Shut up. One kilogram is plenty if you know physics. Listen to me very carefully.* Vavian's eyes locked onto the crumbling archway. *I want you to slip into the shadows near the entrance. Look up at the hanging stone slab. At the base of the left iron rebar, there is a wedge-shaped piece of loose debris holding the rebar in place. It weighs less than half a kilo.*
Ping remained silent, absorbing the instructions.
*Tonight, when the wolves arrive, they will try to sneak in. They will pass directly under that archway. I want you to hide in the shadow of the rocks right next to that wedge. Do not move. Do not breathe. Do not aggro them.*
*[And... what do I do, Master?]*
*When the leader of the wolves steps exactly dead center under the archway... you grab that wedge, and you pull it out with everything you have. Then you run back to my shadow as fast as your pathetic legs can carry you. Do you understand?*
*[Pull the wedge... Yes, Master. I understand! I will not fail you!]*
Ping's presence vanished from Morra's shadow, slithering across the uneven stone floor like a drop of spilled ink, completely unnoticed by the twelve adult demons resting in the room.
Vavian closed his eyes, forcing his breathing to remain steady.
*The classic environmental trap,* he smirked internally. *You don't need a thousand points in Strength if you can drop five tons of ceiling directly onto a motherfucker's head.*
Hours passed. The dim gray light filtering through the roof slowly faded into an oppressive, suffocating darkness. The temperature in the wasteland dropped drastically. Inside the tower, the fire pit had been reduced to a faint, glowing ember to conserve firewood.
Varg was standing guard near the entrance, leaning heavily against his spear. He looked exhausted, his eyes struggling to stay open.
Suddenly, Vavian's telepathic link buzzed violently.
*[Master! They are here!]* Ping's voice shrieked in his mind.
Vavian's eyes snapped open in the dark.
Outside the tower, the sound of soft, padded footsteps crushed the volcanic ash. It was almost silent, masked by the howling of the wasteland wind, but Vavian's paranoid focus caught it.
Three massive silhouettes appeared at the edge of the archway. They were towering figures, easily over two meters tall. They walked on two legs but possessed the heavily muscled bodies of wolves, covered in coarse gray fur. Large, jagged horns protruded from their skulls. Their eyes glowed with a sickly, predatory yellow light in the darkness.
System Sight instantly locked onto the leader.
> NAME: GARR
> RACE: BEASTMAN (Horned Wolf Clan)
> LEVEL: 24
> CLASS: Hunter
> HP: 450/450
> DISPOSITION: Murderous (Intent to kill and consume).
*Level 24. Four hundred and fifty HP,* Vavian gritted his toothless gums. *If that thing swings its claws, Varg is getting cut in half in one hit.*
The leader, Garr, sniffed the air, his long snout twitching. He locked eyes with the dying fire pit inside, then noticed Varg sleeping on his feet. A cruel, bloodthirsty grin exposed rows of razor-sharp fangs.
Garr signaled his two subordinates with a flick of his claws. *Quietly. Kill the guard first,* his gesture implied.
Garr took a step forward, his massive padded foot crossing the threshold of the ruined archway. He took another step. He was entirely focused on Varg's exposed neck. He didn't look up. He didn't look at the shadows.
*Wait for it...* Vavian chanted in his mind. *One more step, you overgrown dog.*
Garr took the third step, placing himself directly beneath the hanging stone slab.
*NOW, PING! PULL IT!* Vavian roared telepathically.
High above the archway, hidden in the pitch-black shadows of the ruins, a tiny pair of invisible hands grabbed the loose, wedge-shaped stone. With a panicked squeak, Ping yanked the stone backward with all its meager strength.
*Schk!*
The wedge dislodged.
For a fraction of a second, nothing happened. Then, the rusted iron rebar, suddenly missing its support, groaned under the immense weight of the five-ton stone slab.
*SNAP.*
The metal sheared completely.
Garr's highly tuned canine ears twitched. He looked up, his yellow eyes widening in pure, unadulterated terror as a massive shadow blotted out the sky above him.
"Wha—"
*KRAK-BOOOOOOM!*
The entire archway collapsed. Five tons of solid, magically reinforced bedrock slammed downward with the force of a meteor strike.
The impact shook the entire Korreth Tower. A massive cloud of dust and volcanic ash exploded inward, blinding everyone in the room. The deafening crash echoed across the barren wasteland like a thunderclap.
"AMBUSH!" Varg bellowed, snapping awake instantly. He gripped his spear, his warrior instincts overriding his exhaustion as he dove backward to avoid the cloud of debris.
Morra screamed, throwing her body entirely over Vavian, shielding him from the flying rocks and dust.
When the dust finally began to settle, the entrance to the tower was completely blocked by a mountain of rubble.
Beneath the largest chunk of the collapsed ceiling, a pool of dark red blood began to rapidly spread across the ash-covered floor. A single, muscular gray arm twitched weakly from beneath the crushing weight before falling completely still.
The system chimed happily in Vavian's head.
> [CRITICAL HIT! Environmental Damage applied!]
> [Target GARR (Level 24) has been crushed. Damage: 9,999.]
> [Target annihilated.]
Outside the blocked entrance, the panicked, terrified howls of the two remaining subordinate wolves echoed into the night as they turned tail and fled back toward the Black Forest, convinced they had just walked into a high-level magical trap.
In Morra's protective embrace, Vavian let out a soft, innocent baby giggle.
*Level 24? Don't make me laugh,* Vavian sneered internally, watching the EXP bar in his system interface shoot up like a rocket. *Welcome to the Trash Hard experience, bitch. Hope you enjoyed the drop.*
***
[Nymphaearoot the Author]: Hope you enjoy reading! If you like it, please add it to your library and let me know your favorite moments in the comments