Aeric jolted awake, clutching at his chest and gasping for air. His breath came ragged, and for a second, he thought he was still dying. It was dark. Quiet. His eyes slowly adjusted to the room around him—his room. His bed. The familiar ceiling fan spinning above.
He turned toward the glowing red digits of his clock.
4:20 AM.
"What the hell…" he mumbled, heart still pounding. He sat up, slowly, legs heavy like stone, and shuffled toward the door beside his bed.
A flick of the switch flooded the massive bathroom with cold white light. Aeric moved to the sink, twisted the faucet, and splashed his face with frigid water. It helped, but not much.
He reached for a towel and dried off, but as he looked up into the mirror—
He froze.
That wasn't his face.
Staring back was someone close to him… but changed. White streaks ran through his jet-black hair, and his eyes—
One was crimson red.
The other, a bright, unnatural teal.
And then, floating in the mirror above his reflection:
[Aeric Pentafrax LV35]
"What the hell is this shit?" Aeric muttered, staring at the glowing name above his reflection like it might disappear if he blinked.
A sudden ringing from downstairs snapped him out of it — harsh and jarring. His phone.
He bolted down the stairs, still rattled, grabbed his red hoodie off the hook by the door, and fumbled around until he pulled the phone from its pocket.
Incoming Call: Theresa
Aeric froze.
His stomach dropped, then flipped. His breath caught.
Theresa... she's—
"She's alive," he breathed out, like the words might make it real. A wave of something like relief — or maybe whiplash — rushed through him, knocking the wind out of his thoughts.
His fingers trembled as he accepted the call. "Theresa! What happened in the dungeon yesterday? I—I thought we all died! You were— I saw you—"
"Died? What are you even talking about? Did you hit your head or just finally cook your brain staying up all night again?" she snapped. "Seriously, what kind of end-of-the-world shroom trip are you on, Aeric?"
Her voice was sharp — annoyed, sarcastic — but real. Grounding.
"I was just calling to make sure your chronically late ass was actually up for today's subjugation. Devil's Gulch, remember? Unless your hallucinations have you booked somewhere better."
"Wait... today?" Aeric blinked hard. "We already— We were just—"
No, no, no—this isn't right. We were there. You… you died. I died.
"Sounds like someone needs a cold shower and a slap back to reality. Try not to forget your pants on the way out the door this time," she added with a smirk in her voice.
"Right. Yeah. No, I'm good," he lied. "I'll head out now. Knowing Gary, he'll be making his rounds any minute."
"Good. And maybe don't leave me on read this time — I only carry so many health potions for dumbasses," she said before hanging up with a click.
The line went dead.
Aeric stood frozen, phone still in hand. His thumb hovered over the screen like he might call back just to hear her voice again.
Friday, 4:32 AM.
"No way… this can't be real."
He dragged a shaky hand down his face and turned toward the stairs, moving on instinct. Shirt. Pants. Boots.
Still rattled, still not convinced he hadn't lost his mind, Aeric grabbed his jacket and keys from beside the door. The sound of an engine growling down the street snapped him out of it.
The growl of an engine echoed down the street — low, familiar, and five minutes early.
Aeric stepped outside just as the rusted hulk of a bus rounded the corner, headlights flickering like they were held together with hope and duct tape. It groaned to a stop in front of his house, brakes squealing, engine hissing like a pissed-off cat.
The doors creaked open.
"Well I'll be," Gary rasped, leaning out from the driver's seat with a half-lit cigarette clinging to his bottom lip. "Ain't this a sight. Ol' Hoss up with the damn roosters. What happened — bed bugs finally win the war?"
Aeric trudged up the steps, eyes still gritty with sleep. "Just not in the mood today, Gary. Can I get my bag?"
Gary squinted at him, then let out a low chuckle. "Damn. You look like yer ghost saw its ghost. You sick or jus' finally run outta caffeine and spite?"
He reached under the seat, fished out a beat-up satchel, and handed it over.
"Here. Try notta leave it next time. I ain't a damn lost and found — though at this rate, I oughta start chargin' ya storage fees."
Aeric grabbed the bag with a tired nod. "Thanks."
Gary leaned back in his seat, muttering, "I remember when you used to come on this bus smilin'. All full'a piss an' vinegar. Before the world went and broke in half."
Aeric paused halfway down the aisle. His grip tightened around the strap.
"…Yeah. I remember."
Gary didn't say anything else — just spat out the cigarette, rolled the stub under his heel, and shifted the bus into gear.
Aeric made his way down the row, passing slouched mannequins with sewn-on grins and empty button eyes. He slid into his usual seat in the back, bag at his feet, heart still heavy from the phone call.
Then came the now-familiar shimmer — a glowing screen blinking in the air like a heads-up display.
[Put item in inventory? Y/N]
Aeric blinked. "...Sure. Why not."
The satchel dissolved into light, wisping away into golden threads like a vanishing dream.
Aeric slumped into the back seat, elbows on knees, staring at the flickering bus lights above.
"This is so weird," he muttered. "If it weren't for these screens, I'd think the whole thing was just a nightmare... but something did happen back there. Something real."
The images from Devil's Gulch swam through his mind — the massacre, the monster, that glitchy screen offering him a second chance. His chest tightened.
"What even is this system? What does it want from me?"
He frowned. "It's like something straight out of those old-school dungeon crawler games my sister used to play. She'd hog the TV for hours — I'd pretend to be annoyed, but I always watched anyway."
The memory ached a little more than he expected. He shook it off and leaned forward again.
"Open inventory," he said aloud, half on instinct.
With a soft ping, a glowing grid popped into view — neat little boxes floating in midair. One of them showed an icon of his satchel. Aeric reached out and tapped it.
The bag shimmered into existence in his lap like a respawned item drop.
He blinked. "Okay... that's actually kind of cool."
He unzipped it and rummaged through the contents — a few elixirs, a couple protein bars, and the gear he'd packed earlier. As he touched each item, the system prompted him one by one:
[Add to Inventory? Y/N]
Aeric confirmed them all. Each one vanished into a puff of digital light — absorbed and tucked away into whatever dimensional back pocket this thing used to store gear.
"Gonna come in handy," he muttered. "Especially if this freaky-ass game keeps throwing death traps at me before breakfast."
He leaned back with a sigh and wiped a hand down his face.
"Alright. Let's see what else you've got. Status screen."
A soft chime answered, and a new screen blinked into view — brighter, more detailed.
The floating interface flickered, then reshaped itself into a clean display:
[~Aeric Pentafrax~]
[Class: ??????? S#$@& Mage]
[Specialization: ?????*]
HP: 3200 EP: 3400
Strength: 25 Intelligence: 19 Endurance: 23
Agility: 22 Vitality: 22 Dexterity: 24
Charisma: 13 Vigor: 14
Aeric stared, mouth slightly open.
"Well... shit."
"Not as garbage as I expected, I guess."
The numbers weren't insane, but for someone who'd spent four years being powerless, just seeing any stats was surreal. He didn't even care that they weren't triple digits — they were his.
"Wait—what the hell kind of class is that?"
He squinted at the screen.
"S... sharp-symbol-at-ampersand Mage?"
He leaned closer.
"Did I unlock a bugged-out class or some cursed pay-to-win DLC bullshit?"
He let out a tired laugh that sounded more like a wheeze.
"Figures."
His eyes drifted down to Specialization. Also glitched — just more scrambled code, like the system was hiding something from him.
"Why even give me a status screen if half of it's redacted?"
He jabbed at it. Nothing.
"Locked behind a level requirement maybe? God, where's my tutorial prompt already…"
The bus hummed beneath him as he leaned back, rubbing at his face.
That was when it hit him.
A deep, sharp throb behind his eyes.
Aeric flinched as pain spiked behind his eyes — that high-pitched ringing again, sharper this time, like wires sparking in his skull.
Then—
CRASH.
A deafening impact tore through the bus. Metal screamed. Glass shattered. The world flipped sideways as the bus rolled, then slammed through something solid.
When everything stopped moving, Aeric lay sprawled across a row of seats, lungs burning, ears ringing for real now.
"Ugh—what the hell…"
He coughed, tasting dust and copper. Splinters of glass littered the aisle. One of the overhead handrails was bent into a hook. The mannequins — still just cloth — had collapsed across him in a heap, like crash padding.
Aeric shoved them off, staggered to his feet, and stumbled toward the front of the bus.
That's when he saw the blood.
It streaked across the shattered windshield in long, arcing smears — too much to be anything but fatal. Aeric's heart pounded as he ducked under a bent frame and crawled forward, eyes scanning the wreckage, dreading what he already knew he'd find.
Gary.
He was still in his seat — or what was left of it. Twisted metal jutted through his chest and neck like cruel, rusted spears. His limbs hung limp, his face pale and soaked in blood, but his eyes... they were open. Wide. Flickering.
"Shit. Gary—" Aeric's voice cracked as he dropped to his knees beside him. "Don't move. Just— Just hold on, okay?"
Gary gurgled a breath, lips parting, blood bubbling at the corners. "H-Hoss… S-sorry... Tried…"
His voice was barely a whisper, thick with pain.
"Don't talk," Aeric said quickly, reaching for him — but there was nothing to fix. Just blood. So much blood. "We're gonna get you out of here, alright? Just—just hold on."
Gary wheezed again, head twitching weakly. "This world... c-cruel… to yer kind. Always has been."
Aeric clenched his jaw. "Gary, stop. You're gonna be fine—"
"D-don't let it… change who y'are," Gary choked. "You still… you got a choice… Hoss…"
His words dissolved into ragged gasps. His fingers twitched once, then fell still.
Aeric sat frozen.
"…Gary?"
No answer.
His chest tightened. His eyes burned.
"Shit," he whispered, reaching up to close Gary's eyes with shaking fingers. "You dumb old bastard…"
Then came the sound. A low hum, rising in pitch.
Bzzzt.
Aeric's phone vibrated in his pocket — just as a translucent blue message screen popped up in front of him:
[Absorbing Essence...]
"What—?"
A strange, molten heat surged up from Gary's body, like magma sliding into Aeric's veins. His entire chest seized as the warmth turned to fire. He screamed, falling back through the windshield, landing hard on the asphalt outside.
[Essence Absorption Complete.]
He gasped for air, limbs twitching. "What the actual—hell was that?!"
A hiss.
Then another.
Click. Clack.
Aeric's spine stiffened as the sharp, chittering sound scraped across the back of his mind like nails on metal.
SHRAAAK!
The back of the bus tore open like a sardine can, steel screaming as something heavy dropped into the wreckage behind him.
Aeric staggered on the cracked asphalt, still reeling from the raw heat flooding his veins. Dust. Blood. A smear of Gary's still-warm body behind him.
Then the growl.
Mechanical. Wet. Clicking and guttural.
He ducked behind the twisted frame of the bus's side, pressing his back to the wall, clutching the still-warm brick he'd landed near like it was the only weapon that mattered.
"Shit—open skills," he whispered hoarsely.
A screen flared into view:
[Skills]
[Absorb Essence – Passive: Triggers on contact with corpses.]
[Transmute – Converts nearby objects using stored Essence.]
"No offense, system," Aeric muttered, "but this is a terrible time to suck at offense."
Chunks of brick and glass rained down beside him. He glanced up—
There.
Crawling above the wreckage like a spider from hell — fused metal and bone, sinewed together with black dust. Its glowing red eye locked onto him as it clattered forward.
"Oh no you don't—!"
Aeric lunged and slammed the brick into its face, the blow crunching into its skull with a spray of powder and rust. The creature reeled just enough for him to dive across the pavement and bolt toward the roadside.
CLAK-CLAK-CLAK
It shrieked and bounded after him.
He didn't look back. His legs barely kept up with his panic.
A tangle of old vine snagged his boot and yanked him off his feet. He hit the asphalt hard, skidding. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs.
His head snapped up — the creature was charging.
It let out another gut-wrenching shriek as it lunged, a sound so twisted it felt like something dislodged from its gullet mid-scream — wet, heavy, and wrong.
Aeric scrambled to his knees, backpedaling until his shoulder slammed into a massive boulder by the road. He raised one hand against the rock, the other up as a flimsy shield—
Thump.
Something wet and heavy slapped into his lap.
A human heart. Still warm. Still pulsing.
Gary's.
He gagged.
A new screen blinked open in front of his blood-spattered face:
[Transmute?]
[Y/N?]
"YES! Just—do something! I don't want to die like this!"
[Transmuting...]
The moment it disappeared, heat surged through Aeric's arm — that same molten energy from before, the Essence he'd taken from Gary.
It poured from his hand like liquid fire, wrapping around the boulder and the still-pulsing heart in a coiling spiral of orange light. The stone shuddered under his palm, pulsing, twisting—
Then it swelled — grotesquely — like flesh stretched too tight over shifting bone.
The boulder bulged, split, and then burst. A wet splorch echoed out as steam hissed violently from the mess. Aeric stumbled back as the fog billowed around him, thick and green, stinking of iron and bile.
A shape moved inside it.
Thump.
Thump-thump.
Something stepped forward, slowly becoming clear.
A golem. Blood-red and bulky — half-flesh, half-stone, its skin rough like muscle-fiber woven with basalt. Thick, gnarled arms flexed as it rose to full height — barely shorter than Aeric, but twice as wide. Two sharp horns jutted from its skull-like head, glowing faintly with amberlight.
It beat its fists against its chest with a heavy, hollow thump-thump, then dropped into a crouch, growling low — not at Aeric, but at the monster closing in.
Without waiting, it charged, slamming into the spider-thing mid-lunge.
The impact knocked the creature off its many legs, sending it skidding across the asphalt.
The golem leapt after it, landing with a quake atop its writhing thorax.
It grabbed the creature's skull in both hands, fingers digging into its eyes and jaw, and with a sickening wrench —
—ripped its head in half.
The rest of its body tore open like overripe fruit, spilling black dust and gore across the pavement.
Aeric could only stare, wide-eyed, blood-smeared, and shaking.
The golem turned toward him.
Walked forward.
And then — bowed.
Aeric stood frozen, still reeling from what he'd just witnessed. The golem dropped the monster's remains with a wet splorch and turned to face him. For a second, Aeric thought it might charge again — but it stopped a few paces away and bowed low, like a student waiting for praise.
"The hell just happened…" he muttered, dazed.
He staggered over to the mangled spider-thing, heart still pounding. Steam hissed off its split torso. Aeric hesitated, then reached out and touched one of its twitching legs. It was still warm.
[Absorbing Essence...]
Pain hit him like a lightning bolt. Liquid fire tore through his chest, surging into his limbs.
"Fuuuck—!" he gasped, stumbling backward. It was the same as before — worse, maybe. The veins in his arms felt like they were ready to split open.
He clenched his jaw as the pressure spiked, breath ragged. "This shit better come with a health plan," he growled, just before his knees buckled.
He collapsed.
The golem lumbered over and scooped him up with surprising care. It cradled him against its thick red arms and began walking down the broken road, heading toward the highway on-ramp as the first rays of dawn spilled across the sky.
"...Hoss… safe… next… Devils… Gulch…" the golem rumbled, voice gravel-thick and hollow.