The air hummed with an unnatural energy as I stared up at the towering entity before me—a writhing mass of vines, thorns, and pulsating flesh that somehow exuded an eerie harmony. Its form shifted like a living forest, petals blooming and withering in seconds, while eyes of molten amber blinked at me from within the tangled growth.
"So what you're telling me," I said slowly, scratching my head, "is that you'll give me a gacha system... as long as I go galavanting through the multiverse playing glorified field biologist?"
A deep, resonant chuckle echoed through the clearing, sending a shiver down my spine. The sound was like wind through dead leaves, with an undercurrent of something hungry.
"Yes," the entity purred, its voice a symphony of rustling leaves and cracking bones. "Study what you wish—dragons, demons, or the microbes in a god's bloodstream. I care not, so long as my catalogue grows."
I chewed my lip, considering. A free ticket to explore infinity? Sure, it came with homework, but who was I to complain?
"Alright, deal," I said, shrugging. "Do I sign in blood, or is a pinky swear enough?"
A vine unfurled before me, revealing a parchment that smelled faintly of damp earth and copper. The words shifted like living ink.
"Your word is binding," the entity sighed, "but experience has taught me that mortals require... reminders."
I snorted. "Let me guess—last guy tried to pocket a universe and run?"
The air grew heavy. A single thorned tendril twitched.
"Among other things."
Right. Note to self: Do not piss off the eldritch biologist.
With a flourish (and zero hesitation), I signed my name. The ink seared into the page—definitely blood, then. Probably mine now, metaphorically speaking.
"Excellent," the entity crooned. "Your first assignment: the How to Train Your Dragon universe. I expect thorough notes on draconic speciation. Submit findings via the System."
A snap of unseen fingers—
—and the world dissolved into roots and static.
—---------------------
A cold wind whipped through the ancient pines as the reality of my situation settled over me like the first snow of winter. 'So I'm a multiversal biologist now,' I mused, running a hand through hair already stiff with sea salt. The forest around me breathed with unseen life - creaking boughs, skittering claws on bark, and somewhere in the distance, a sound that might have been a bird if birds sounded like tearing canvas.
'Which means I'll need to be a dragon hunter.' The thought landed with the weight of a blacksmith's hammer. My stomach did a slow roll as I pictured facing down creatures that could swallow me whole. Yet beneath the fear flickered something else - the giddy thrill of a grad student handed unlimited research funding. 'At least Hiccup and Fishlegs already did the groundwork.' I offered a silent prayer to the patron saints of dragon taming as I summoned my status screen with a thought.
Golden text shimmered in the crisp northern air:
[Status]
Name: Erik
Race: Human
Title: Lumenweep's Champion
Strength: 15
Vitality: 20
Intelligence: 15
Dexterity: 20
I tapped the title, and the description unfurled like one of those medieval scrolls in movies:
[Lumenweep's Champion]
Grants System access +5 to VIT/DEX
Switching tabs brought up the Gacha screen, its colorful interface jarring against the muted greens and browns of the Viking wilderness. My ten starter tickets glowed tauntingly. The options:
10 Common Pulls 1 Rare Pull
As I weighed my options, the fine print caught my eye:
"World Theme: Fantasy (No lasers, no lightsabers, no fun)"
'Fantastic,' I thought, kicking a pinecone. 'Stuck with pointy sticks while Toothless gets plasma blasts.' The universe's sense of humor was truly something.
The World Transitions menu offered little comfort:
[Permanent Departure]
Requirements: Finish main story + side quests Reward: World Ticket Warning: World keeps evolving in your absence
[Temporary Vacation]
25% Progress = 1 month away
75% Progress = 6 months Risk
Unfinished worlds don't pause
'Right,' I thought, rubbing my temples. 'Priorities.' I started mentally listing: Don't freeze to death, Don't get eaten, Science the hell out of some dragons. As if reading my mind, the System pinged.
[Quest: Home Sweet Home]
Build shelter before something builds a nest in your ribcage
Rewards:
6 months rations
Steel sword
Journal & pen
20 Gacha Tickets
The forest loomed around me, suddenly feeling much larger. Somewhere in its depths, something screeched - high and ululating, the sound raising the hair on my neck.
'Cave. Need to find a cave. Preferably one without...' My boot sank into something warm and soft. 'Bear scat. Fantastic.'
Resigned, I blew my entire ticket stash on ten common pulls. The Gacha whirred like a slot machine made of dreams and disappointment:
[Results]
Bag of Nadder scales x2
Stone hatchet
Bag of sand
Stone-tipped spear
Monstrous Nightmare tooth
Whetstone
Skill: Carpentry
Week's rations
Leather gloves
Skill: Carpentry (5/10)
Increases your proficiency in shaping, joining, and constructing with wood. Enables the creation of sturdy structures, furniture, and support frames with greater stability and efficiency. Higher levels improve speed, precision, and access to advanced building techniques.
'Well,' I thought, hefting the stone hatchet, 'time to become the world's most reluctant lumberjack.' The trees suddenly looked very judgmental.
As I took my first swing at a pine, the hatchet stuck fast. Somewhere in the distance, a dragon laughed. Or maybe that was the wind. In this world, who could tell?
—---------------------
The stone hatchet slipped from my blistered hands, thudding against the mossy earth in what felt like a perfect metaphor for my current existence. I collapsed against the nearest stump, my tunic soaked through with sweat despite the biting northern wind. Five trees. Five gods-damned trees in two hours, and not a single one properly limbed. The clearing looked like a drunken giant had tried his hand at forestry.
'I should have just found a cave and renovated the damn place,' I wheezed, my breath pluming in the frigid air. My shoulders screamed like over-tuned fiddle strings, palms radiating heat where fresh blisters had burst. The "carpentry skill" apparently didn't include "not being shit at manual labor."
I stared at the carnage - jagged stumps weeping sap, their severed trunks sprawled like fallen warriors. My fingers traced the concentric rings of the nearest stump, each groove a year this pine had weathered storms and dragons. A strange pang twisted in my chest.
'Why the hell do I feel guilty? They're trees. Literal trees.' The rationalization rang hollow. Maybe it was the way the remaining pines seemed to huddle closer together, their boughs whispering in the wind like gossiping elders. Or how the forest had gone eerily quiet, as if holding its breath.
With a grunt, I pushed upright, my muscles protesting like rusty hinges. 'New plan: find a cave, turn it into a Viking IKEA.' The Monstrous Nightmare tooth gleamed dully in my inventory - six inches of serrated black enamel that made my skin crawl to touch. Perfect for carving markers.
The first slash into the bark sent a tremor up my arm. The tree shuddered, oozing golden sap that smelled faintly of cinnamon and regret. Each subsequent notch felt like vandalism, but the alternating X-patterns would guide me back. Probably. Assuming no dragon mistook them for a territorial challenge.
—---------------------
Three hours.
That's how long it took me to find a cave that wasn't currently occupied by something with too many teeth.
I pause at the entrance, my knuckles white around the stone spear in my grip. The thing wouldn't do much against a dragon—maybe give it a splinter if I was lucky—but the weight of it in my hands is better than nothing.
The cave yawns before me, darkness swallowing the last remnants of daylight. No growling. No snuffling breaths of a sleeping predator. Just the drip-drip of water echoing off the walls and the distant whistle of wind outside.
"I can do this."
I take a step. Then another.
The air is damp, thick with the scent of wet stone and ancient earth. My boots scuff against the uneven ground, every pebble I kick sounding like a landslide in the silence. I strain my ears, waiting for the telltale rustle of scales, the low rumble of a disturbed beast.
Nothing.
My confidence grows with each step. By the time I reach the back of the cave, the sunlight from outside is nothing more than a faint glow, barely enough to see by. But my eyes have adjusted.
No bones. No shed scales. No claw marks gouged into the walls.
Just an empty, untouched cavern.
"Oh, thank the gods."
The tension bleeds from my shoulders as I exhale, long and slow. My spear vanishes back into my inventory, and I run my fingers along the rough stone walls, checking one last time for any sign of previous occupants.
Nothing.
No piss. No shit. No territorial markings.
"Home sweet home."
I return to the entrance and carve a crude marker into the stone with the Monstrous Nightmare tooth, the serrated edge biting deep.
Mine.
Now, the real work begins.
I've got food. There's a stream nearby for water. And thanks to my haphazard scavenging, my inventory is stuffed with sticks, stones, and a frankly embarrassing amount of pinecones.
"At least I can make a fire."
Then it hits me.
"Why the hell didn't I put the logs in my inventory?"
I freeze, staring blankly at the sky.
The system doesn't have a weight limit. No size restrictions. I could've shoved entire trees in there if I wanted.
And yet.
I left them.
Like an idiot.
A groan escapes me as I drag a hand down my face. The sun is already sinking, painting the horizon in shades of orange and gold. If I hurry, I might make it back to the grove before nightfall.
"Next time," I mutter, already trudging back toward the trees, "I'm looting smarter."
—---------------------
"What the hell is with this Nadder?!" I shout, diving behind a moss-covered tree as a jet of searing fire scorches the air behind me. The heat brushes past my cheek, and the acrid scent of charred bark floods my nose. My chest heaves with ragged breaths as I peek through the branches, trying to catch sight of the scaly menace.
Thump-thump-thump.
A cluster of razor-sharp tail spikes embeds into the earth just inches from my feet, the ground trembling slightly on impact. I flinch, heart lurching, but my survival instincts kick in—I snatch up the still-warm spines, tucking them into my inventory before bolting through the underbrush.
'This is the third time this week—are you serious?' I think bitterly, pushing through ferns and ducking under low-hanging limbs, one hand gripping the makeshift spear I'd fashioned from an old Nadder spike lashed to a sturdy branch. Crude as it is, it's still leagues ahead of the stone spear I'd started with. 'It's always the same Nadder. Same blue and green scales. Same sadistic screech. I swear, it's got a grudge.'
Another spike whistles past my head, grazing the edge of my ear. A sharp sting flares, warm blood trickling down the side of my neck. My teeth clench as I suppress a shout.
'Almost there. Just a little further.'
I hurl myself down a slope, my boots sliding across loose dirt and tangled roots until I hit the bottom with a rough thud. I scramble into a shallow pit, tugging a bundle of branches, twigs, and dry leaves over my head, masking the entrance. I barely manage to still my breath when I hear the Nadder's screech echo overhead, followed by another gout of fire lighting up the forest canopy.
I hold my breath, heart pounding in my throat. A moment of silence. Then another shriek—frustrated this time—and the sound of wingbeats fading into the distance.
Only once the forest quiets do I peel back the covering and crawl out, still scanning the skies. 'If it doubles back, I swear—' No sign of it. Just the sound of wind through leaves and my ragged breathing. I brush dirt from my arms and start heading toward the cave, following the notches I'd carved into tree trunks with my Nightmare tooth.
'It's only been a few weeks, and this damn Nadder is already obsessed with turning me into barbecue.'
A sigh escapes as the rough silhouette of my cave comes into view, nestled beneath a small cliff face. A few logs brace the ceiling—early efforts to reinforce it before I start carving deeper inside. The campfire sits near the back, its stones charred from repeated use.
'Home sweet home.'
I drop my scavenged gear by the firepit, fishing out two flints and a handful of dry leaves from my inventory. A few sharp strikes later, sparks catch, and the fire begins to smolder and crackle. Orange light flickers along the cave walls, and I finally relax—if only a little.
'Alright, let's see what's on the menu tonight. Dried meat... dried meat… oh, look—more dried meat. Delightful.'
I tear into the rations mechanically, chewing while watching the fire dance. Occasionally I toss in a twig or poke at the embers to keep it alive. With dinner dealt with, I dig into my inventory again and pull out my journal—a worn notebook with bark-bound covers and hastily sewn paper—and a makeshift pencil: a nub of charcoal tied to a stick.
'Alright. Mapping progress: still mediocre.'
The island's basic layout is sketched out across the page, marked with smudged circles and poorly drawn terrain. I scribble in a few more letters—C for cave, B for beach, G for Gronckle territory. My "arrival site" sits near the island's center, with my base etched into the western section, just a short hike from the sea.
'So far, the Gronckles stick to the eastern cliffs. Monstrous Nightmares roam the south—aggressive bastards. The Nadders, unfortunately, like the same damn grove I've been using for lumber. Figures.' I frown, recalling the fire-scarred trees and shredded stumps I'd fled from earlier.
'Still no signs of Zipplebacks. But I've seen a few Scauldrons in the surf while gathering seashells. Interesting behavior—might need to build a raft for better observation.'
I lean back and stare at the ceiling, letting the fire warm my boots. 'As for the Nadder… it's got scars. Deep ones. Looks like it's survived more than just other dragons—claw marks, slash wounds. Someone tried to kill it, and failed. Probably more than once.' I gnaw on the end of my charcoal stick, brainstorming. 'I need to find out where it nests. Track its movements. If I can lay a trap, I can study the corpse... or, if I'm lucky, tranquilize it. Though that's a long shot with my gear.'
My eyes drift to the far end of the cave, where I'd started digging a side chamber—a future dissection lab. A few rocks and logs lie piled nearby, ready to be shaped into tables or racks.
'If I only had magic… or at least some goddamn power tools. Hell, even a single electric drill would be a dream right now.'
Frustrated, I fling open my gacha menu, glaring at the restrictions. 'Still no magic because of this damn setting. Fine. Time is a resource I do have.' Then it hits me.
'Wait… Gronckles. I know where they nest. And I've been stacking tickets from all the little achievements—evading Nadder attacks, surviving near a Nightmare, cutting trees...' I quickly check my total: fifty.
'Alright, RNGesus, don't fail me now.'
I slap the Rare x5 pull and hold my breath.
[Results]
Gronckle Iron Pickaxe
Dragon Manual
Deathgripper Venom x3
A wide grin spreads across my face as I yank the pickaxe free. It's heavy, forged from gleaming silver-gray metal—Gronckle Iron, dense and absurdly durable. My grip tightens around the hilt.
'Finally… real tools.'
I pull out the Dragon Manual next and flip it open, the pages glowing faintly with intricate sketches and field notes. I quickly flip to the Nadder section, eyes hungrily absorbing every line.
'Thank you, RNG. I'd kiss your feet if you had any.' I smirk and toss another stick into the fire, then flip to the Gronckle section too, preparing my next expedition.
The rest of the night passes with me hunched over the manual, committing its contents to memory—focusing especially on the Nadder's patterns, behaviors, and most of all... its weaknesses.
Tomorrow, I hunt.
—---------------------
'Now to put these lazy boulders to work.' I crouch low in the underbrush, eyes fixed on the small cluster of Gronckles sprawled across the stony ground like giant, snoring boulders. Their thick hides rise and fall with deep, rumbling breaths, tails twitching occasionally in their sleep. The soft light of dawn seeps through the canopy, glinting off their tough, cratered skin.
They're just far enough apart for me to work. Just enough space to slip between them unnoticed.
'If this works the way I hope it does… my cave is about to become a fortress.'
I grip the two injectors filled with shimmering, viscous black-green fluid—Deathgripper venom. The gacha had blessed me by packaging it in pressurized injectors instead of fragile vials. A small mercy. Unfortunately, I only have three doses—and five dragons.
'Guess I'm harvesting some Gronckle hide, too.' Sliding the injectors into a loop on my belt, I quietly draw my Nadder-spike spear. Its blade glints faintly, still stained from past encounters. My target is a Gronckle lying belly-up, snoring with its jaws slightly ajar.
I line up the strike carefully—right where its thick neck meets the softer folds under its jaw. A vital spot. In one fluid motion, I thrust the spear deep into its throat. Its eyes shoot open, pupils dilating in pure shock—but no sound escapes. Its chest heaves once. Then it goes still.
'One.'
I wipe the spear against the moss and slide the body into my inventory before moving to the next—smaller than the others, but still the size of a wagon. This time, the kill isn't as clean. My strike misses slightly, grazing the throat instead of piercing through. The dragon lets out a low gurgle and begins to thrash. I move fast, drawing my steel sword and driving it into the beast's eye. It slumps instantly.
'Two.'
Blood runs warm down the hilt as I extract the blade and sheath it. The forest stirs faintly—leaves shifting, distant birds taking flight. Time's running short.
I pull out the two injectors and step between the remaining three Gronckles. With precise, practiced movement, I jab the needles into the soft points near their neck arteries. The hiss of fluid entering their veins is barely audible.
The venom works fast.
All three jolt awake with guttural roars, writhing and crashing into one another in their confusion. Trees shake as birds scatter into the sky, their cries echoing through the canopy. The air fills with fire-breath and panicked grunts. The last Gronckle locks eyes with me just as I slam the final injector into its neck. It roars in protest, but its muscles are already locking up.
I back away and pull out a heavy, wooden club from my inventory.
'Time to see if this stuff really gives me command... though, I could've done this the normal way.' I bring the club down hard on the first dragon's head—not enough to kill, just enough to drive the command deep. The creature growls but does not resist. The others soon follow suit, their limbs twitching but eyes glazed over, unfocused. The pain has dulled whatever thoughts they had left.
"Follow me. We're heading home." Their limbs shuffle as they obey, sluggish and dazed. A second whack each ensures their compliance. They fall into line behind me, trudging through the forest like oversized zombies.
The trees thin as we near my cave, the sun just cresting the horizon and painting the sky in hues of gold and amber. Morning dew glistens on the leaves, catching the light like little stars. The cave sits nestled against a rocky slope, reinforced with logs and stone—a crude but solid shelter.
'I… kind of feel bad.' I glance back at the dazed Gronckles following me like mindless machines. 'One moment you're sleeping peacefully, the next you're drugged and enslaved. Sorry, fellas.'
A soft chime echoes in my mind. A system notification appears:
[Achievements Unlocked]
Kill a Dragon
Reward: +10 Gacha Tickets, +5 Vitality, +5 Strength
Enslave a Dragon
Reward: +20 Gacha Tickets, +5 Intelligence
Title unlocked: Dragon Slaver
'Not exactly the achievements I expected… but I'll take them.' We step into the cave as the golden light spills across the island, illuminating everything in rich detail. I slam the club into the dirt and point toward the far wall—the excavation site I'd begun carving days ago.
Without hesitation, the Gronckles lumber over and begin smashing their club-like tails into the stone, grinding it down and swallowing chunks of rock as they go. Dust plumes fill the air as the wall begins to recede. They work in perfect sync—mechanical, tireless. 'The Egyptians suddenly make a lot more sense now.'
I open the system and swipe over to my new titles.
[Titles]
Dragon Slayer
+5% Strength bonus when fighting dragons
Dragon Slaver
Blunt weapons deal more damage to dragonsEasier to dominate dragons into service
'That explains why the club worked.' I smile faintly and close the interface, watching as chunks of stone roll across the ground. The dragons show no signs of slowing down. In less than ten minutes, they've tripled the size of the work I'd managed on my own in days.
'Honestly, this turned out better than expected.' I sit on a flat rock near the entrance, pull the Dragon Manual from my inventory, and flip it open. The pages rustle softly in the breeze. I skim past the Nadder section again, eyes scanning the Gronckle notes.
'Thank you, Fishlegs… you beautiful, obsessive nerd. You even included how to forge Gronckle Iron.'
—---------------------
'Only four hours.' I nod slowly to myself as I step into the newly carved-out chamber, still faintly echoing with the fading thuds of tail strikes. The room is massive—easily wide and tall enough to fit two, maybe even three Monstrous Nightmares side by side. The air is thick with dust and the smell of fresh earth, bits of loose rock scattered across the ground like shattered bones.
I walk deeper inside, my boots crunching against gravel and stone, and start gathering up the debris. My fingers curl around jagged shards, shoving them into my inventory piece by piece—every chunk a potential future tool, wall, or forge base.
The walls glisten with moisture in places, and there's a low hum in the air—maybe from the sheer size of the space or maybe from the heat lingering from Gronckle blasts. Either way, it feels alive. And mine.
Once the ground is clear enough to work on, I pull out my club—weathered, solid, and now far more than a weapon. I slam it against the stone floor with a heavy thunk, the sound reverberating like a command bell through the chamber.
"Come here."
The three Gronckles, who had been mindlessly hammering the stone with their tails, freeze mid-swing. Then, as if wired into my voice, they turn and lumber toward me, eyes still cloudy, expressions void of thought. Like sleepwalkers.
"I need four holes. Here, here, here, and here." I point with the club to four spots spaced evenly in a square formation. Without hesitation, two of them take position while the other one shifts to avoid each other's swings. Their tails slam into the floor with bone-jarring force, cracking the rock and throwing up splinters of stone. It only takes a few strikes from each—then the holes are done, clean and deep.
"Good. Now wait." They step back, silent and still, like statues waiting to be animated again.
I take a moment to look over the holes—each one spaced about two meters apart—and pull out a set of prepared logs from my inventory. Five in total, each one thick, stripped of bark, charred slightly on the outside to resist pests and moisture. The tops have been hand-carved to interlock when leaned together—simple, crude, but effective.
'Thank the gods I got into bushcraft before all this. You did good, past me.'
I call over two of the Gronckles and gesture to the first two logs. They flutter over on stubby wings, surprisingly graceful for their bulk, and gently lift the beams. With a bit of awkward maneuvering, we slot the first two logs into the holes, propping them at an angle so they meet at the top. I step in and brace them, shoving them down into the holes with a heavy shove to ensure they're wedged tight.
"Same on the other side." The next two logs go up with similar ease, and again, I make sure they're seated properly before taking a step back. From floor to tip, the logs stand just shy of six meters tall—higher than I expected, but perfect for what comes next.
"Now… lava blast the base of each one, just the holes."
The Gronckles rumble softly, then unleash short, focused bursts of molten fire into the holes around the beams. The stone floor glows orange-red, bubbling slightly as the lava settles. I don't wait—I rush forward with my inventory open as I splash cool water over each joint. A loud hiss fills the room, steam erupting into the air as the lava cools into solid stone, locking the beams into place like molten concrete.
"Last log. Fly it up and rest by the fire."
They nod sluggishly, grabbing the last log and carefully lifting it to rest horizontally atop the four angled posts. I guide it into position, watching it lock neatly into the carved grooves I'd made earlier. Once it's set, they turn away, trundling back to the small campfire at the edge of the chamber—their tails dragging, wings limp, exhaustion finally catching up to them.
I step forward with a bundle of handmade rope, twisted from dried vines and fibers I'd painstakingly harvested and treated. I toss one end over the crossbeam and secure it tightly, then mirror the action on the opposite side, pulling the rope taut until it creaks.
'Now I can actually get started.' I reach into my inventory and pull out one of the Gronckle corpses. The body is limp but intact, and the skin still carries warmth. With practiced motion, I loop one end of the rope around its tail, the other around its head, and hoist it up—anchoring it between the two main support posts like a butcher's carcass.
'Let's see if all those hours of field dressing tutorials can transfer to a dragon.' The thought steadies me as I take a deep breath and pull the Monstrous Nightmare fang from my inventory. Its edge glints faintly in the low firelight—sharp, curved, and perfectly suited for what I'm about to attempt.
The Gronckle's corpse hangs from the wooden frame, suspended by ropes that creak faintly as it sways. The fire nearby crackles quietly. I step closer, leather gloves already pulled tight over my hands, and steel my nerves.
I start small—carefully slicing out the claws first. Each one takes a bit of twisting and pressure to remove cleanly, thick and dense like obsidian. Next are the teeth, dislodged with a few deliberate strikes and stored immediately. Finally, I sever the ocular nerves behind each cloudy, lifeless eye, placing the glassy orbs into my inventory with care.
Once the finer pieces are secured, I move beneath the Gronckle and crouch down near its swollen belly. The leathery hide still holds some residual warmth. I leave my inventory open, ready to catch the biological spill.
Gripping the fang tightly, I make a careful incision at the base of the sternum, then draw downward in one long, deep stroke toward the pelvis. The belly splits open with a sickening, wet sound. A rush of blood, steaming in the cave's cool air, pours from the cavity and vanishes into my system window. Organs follow soon after—livers, stomachs (two of them, as expected), coils of intestine, and a mass of dense, congealed fat.
'This one will serve for food, bait, and compost.' I reach in and slice along the inner ribs, enlarging the cavity to allow full access. With measured precision, I remove the lungs, bladder, and what appears to be a stone-grinding organ similar to a gizzard—possibly used to break down minerals or metal. All of it disappears into my inventory, catalogued and sorted for later.
When the cavity is empty, I slowly rise and walk over to the posts, lowering the ropes until the Gronckle hangs just above the floor. The weight shifts heavily as it drops, settling into a workable position.
I exhale through my nose and murmur, "I'm sorry for what I'm about to do to you."
A soft prayer follows—unspoken, but present—as I circle to the hindquarters and kneel. Skinning always starts at the most difficult points. I grip the knife and make the first incision, drawing a ring around the tail base, then working around the legs where the hide pulls tight against the muscle. The smell is strong now—a blend of heat, blood, and stomach bile clinging to the air.
'These gloves are never surviving this.' Still, I keep working. Muscle by muscle, layer by layer, I separate skin from tissue, being mindful of tension points and connective sheaths. The tail proves more trouble than it's worth, so I leave it—too thick, too heavy, not worth the wasted energy for a rookie like me.
Once the legs are cleared, I move along the back, slicing just under the thick ridges along the spine. With one hand bracing and the other carving, I work upward from the base, eventually freeing long sheets of hide. At the neck, I do the same as the tail—cutting a ring to avoid tearing—then strip the hide down until the corpse is bare.
The Gronckle's skin, now folded and bloodstained, lies beside me in a large, semi-coiled pile. Some fibers of muscle and fat still cling to it, but for a first-time job, it's not bad. Not clean, but functional. Salvageable.
'Rough. But I've seen worse butcher jobs on pigs.' I wipe the fang clean and finally allow myself a moment to breathe. The cavern is quiet. The fire flickers gently. The other Gronckles continue to sleep by the flames—unaware of what happened to their kin.
[Skill Acquired]
Skill: Skinning (2/10)
Improves your skill in separating hide from flesh with minimal damage. Increases the quality and quantity of usable pelts, reducing the chance of tearing or spoilage. Higher levels unlock advanced techniques for preserving skin integrity.
'Oh, nice.' I blink, a bit surprised as the new skill pops up on the system screen sitting neatly beside my other talents. Just beneath the header, a line of text flickers softly into view: "Skill level adjusted based on prior knowledge now applied in active practice."
'That explains why carpentry started at five. Guess all those survival guides and half-practiced rabbit cleanings are finally paying off.' I scroll briefly to check—Carpentry's up to six now—then close the menu with a flick of my wrist.
Now, it's time to finish the job.
I step forward, the cave quiet except for the low crackle of the fire behind me and the soft breath of slumbering Gronckles to my right. Before me hangs the nearly flayed corpse of their kin. Its hide has been stripped clean from most of its body—raw muscle and sinew gleaming under the firelight. Only the lower legs, tail, and head remain covered in scaled hide.
'Can't waste a thing.' I slip the Monstrous Nightmare fang into my inventory—it'll need a thorough cleaning later—and pull out a Nadder spike instead. The spike has been carefully cleaned of venom and polished.
I press the tip against the exposed leg joint, sliding it between muscle layers with practiced precision. The blade finds the natural divisions between tissue, parting meat from sinew in long, clean strokes.
I move in rhythm now, stripping the meat away from the upper legs, down to the knees, then repeating the motion on the other side. I'm careful to avoid the bones, not just for efficiency, but preservation—I'll need those intact for tools, needles, maybe even armor plating if I can process them correctly.
Once the legs are cleared, I step back and make my way to the ropes tied around the support beams. With a grunt, I hoist the Gronckle higher, ropes creaking under the strain until the carcass hangs almost vertically, giving me full access to the underside.
'Let's finish this.'
I move in with the Nadder spike again, carving along the abdominal wall, following the same muscle maps I'd studied earlier—this time not to extract organs, but to separate edible meat from structure. My cuts are smoother now, more confident. Each slice removes a clean slab of meat, which I quickly store in my inventory for salting later.
Thighs. Flanks. Ribs. Even the thin, tougher layers around the spine and hips. The Gronckle's mass is formidable, but the spike glides through most of it without much resistance. I focus on preservation—clean lines, minimal tearing. Soon, all that remains is the meat clinging to the lower legs, tail, and head. The rest has been harvested—neatly portioned, logged, and stored.
[Skill Acquired]
Skill: Butchering (3/10)
Enhances your ability to dismantle animal bodies with precision and care. Improves yield when harvesting meat, bones, and other materials, reducing waste and increasing overall efficiency. Higher levels improve precision and unlock advanced techniques for harvesting.
'Nice. Another one.' I smile faintly as the message fades from view. Not level one either. Makes sense. All those late nights watching random bushcraft and hunting videos were apparently worth more than just trivia.
'Guess I owe YouTube more than I thought.'
I close the screen and glance back at the Gronckle's carcass—picked clean, save for bones and scraps meant for the wild. I don't want to keep everything. Let nature reclaim what it can. With a small gesture, I store the remaining husk into my inventory. The bones will keep. The rest can wait.
'That's enough for today.' I crack my neck and stretch my shoulders, the ache settling in now that the focus has worn off. I open my inventory and scan over the contents—rows upon rows of neatly labeled packages of Gronckle meat. Thick cuts, roasts, ribs, and even offal. All stored away for future meals, trade, or bait.
But meat doesn't last forever. Not without preservation. 'Alright. Time to finally make some salt. Which means… I'm going to need a pot. And a barrel.'
I glance at the gacha window. That familiar swirl of temptation flickers across the interface. I send a silent prayer skyward. 'Come on, RNGesus. Help a hunter out.' I press the button for a common pull. The light flashes. The results roll in.
[Gacha Results]
Steel Pot
Wooden Barrel
Bonesaw
Stone Skinning Knife
Hacksaw
Skill: Leatherworking
Woven Basket
Fur Boots
Leather Tunic
Waterskin
I stare for a long moment, blinking at the screen.
'That… is everything I needed. And then some.'
I glance down at my current gear. My tunic is torn near the shoulder, frayed at the hem, and stained with blood. My boots? Barely holding together, the soles cracked, the stitching gone in places. I hadn't realized how bad they were until now.
I pull the new fur boots from my inventory and slip them on. They hug my feet instantly—warm, dry, and shockingly comfortable. I exhale sharply, almost laughing.
"I didn't know I needed that so bad," I mutter to myself, rolling my ankle to test the flex.
I do the same with the leather tunic, stripping off the old one and tossing it into my inventory with a note to salvage the material later. The new one fits snug and carries a faint scent of tanned hide—fresh and durable.
'Alright, what about that skill?'
I tap the Leatherworking icon. Another window appears.
[Skill]
Leatherworking (1/10)
Increases your proficiency with tanning, treating, and shaping hides. Improves the chances of creating durable, usable leather products from animal materials. Higher levels unlock advanced techniques for integrity and shorter waits.
As soon as I close the window, a strange sensation floods through my head—like remembering something I never actually learned. My fingers twitch involuntarily, and in the back of my mind, I can suddenly see the process: how to build a tanning rack from branches and sinew, how to treat hide with lye or brain matter, how long to soak, how to scrape.
'So that's how learning unknown skills works... the system just uploads the knowledge directly into my brain.'
I rub my temple, still processing the surge of information, but more grateful than anything. It's practical. Tangible. Survivable.
'That's going to come in handy real fast.'
I glance over the rest of the gacha haul. The bonesaw earns a nod—it'll save me a dozen hours of carving. The stone skinning knife is basic, but solid. The hacksaw… less useful, at least for now.
'No metalworking yet. Probably won't be for a while.' Still, it goes into the inventory. You never know. I'm more likely to be forging armor from dragon bones and Nadder scales long before I'm melting iron ingots.
With that, I exhaled and cast one more look at the sleeping Gronckles curled near the fire. The butchery chamber is dim now, shadows stretched long across the stone walls.
Time to step out.
The light beyond the tunnel mouth spills golden through the trees. I blink as I emerge, the forest cool and quiet. My boots crunch against leaves and pine needles. The sun hangs overhead—just past its peak.
'Still plenty of time.' I roll my shoulders and start down the sloping trail toward the beach. I stick to the trees, keeping low beneath the canopy as I move through the underbrush. Dragon sightings have been high lately.
The sea wind carries faintly through the leaves, tinged with salt and the cry of seabirds.
—---------------------
A/N Hey everyone—thanks for checking out the first chapter of this fic! I hope you enjoyed the start of this strange, bloody, multiversal journey.
Before we go any further, a quick heads-up: I don't have the best track record when it comes to consistency. This story might update irregularly, or possibly stall out after just a chapter or two. That said, if it ends up getting enough interest—or if I just fall in love with it more than expected—it might actually become something I focus on. We'll see!
As for the story itself, I wanted to try something different with the system. Instead of just letting the protagonist break the universe by chapter three, I'm giving the system actual rules, restrictions, and a framework I'll be outlining in a dedicated auxiliary chapter (for anyone who wants the gritty details). The goal is to keep things grounded, force creative thinking, and make every upgrade feel earned.
On that note, I'd love to hear your thoughts—especially on what the gacha system should produce. Just try to keep suggestions relevant to either the world the character is currently in, or the time period it's based on. One or the other is fine, but both is ideal. I'm also open to recommendations for future worlds to explore, cool achievements or titles to earn, and unique quest ideas that make things feel dynamic and alive.
Lastly… yeah. About the Gronckles. I know, I know—what I did to them was rough. Please don't come at me with pitchforks. I promise it was all in the name of science (and survival).
I'll be including the protagonist's current status, achievements, and skills below so you can track his progress from chapter to chapter.
Thanks again for reading. Hope to see you in the next update.
[Status]
Name: Erik
Race: Human
Strength: 15
Vitality: 20
Intelligence: 15
Dexterity: 20
[Titles]
Lumenweep's Champion
Grants System access+5 to VIT/DEX
Dragon Slayer
+5% Strength bonus when fighting dragons
Dragon Slaver
Blunt weapons deal more damage to dragonsEasier to dominate dragons into service
[Achievements]
Logging
Cut down five treesReward: +5 Gacha Tickets
Evade a Nadder
Dodge a Deadly Nadders tail spikes and Fire BlastReward: +10 Gacha Tickets, +2 Dexterity
Sneak by a Nightmare
Sneak by a group of sleeping Monstrous Nightmares
Reward: +10 Gacha Tickets, +3 Dexterity
Kill a Dragon
Reward: +10 Gacha Tickets, +5 Vitality, +5 Strength
Enslave a Dragon
Reward: +20 Gacha Tickets, +5 Intelligence
Title unlocked: Dragon Slaver
[Skills]
Skill: Carpentry (6/10)
Increases your proficiency in shaping, joining, and constructing with wood. Enables the creation of sturdy structures, furniture, and support frames with greater stability and efficiency. Higher levels improve speed, precision, and access to advanced building techniques.
Skill: Butchering (3/10)
Enhances your ability to dismantle animal bodies with precision and care. Improves yield when harvesting meat, bones, and other materials, reducing waste and increasing overall efficiency. Higher levels unlock advanced techniques for harvesting.
Skill: Skinning (2/10)
Improves your skill in separating hide from flesh with minimal damage. Increases the quality and quantity of usable pelts, reducing the chance of tearing or spoilage. Higher levels unlock advanced techniques for preserving skin integrity.
Skill: Leatherworking (1/10)
Increases your proficiency with tanning, treating, and shaping hides. Improves the chances of creating durable, usable leather products from animal materials. Higher levels unlock advanced techniques for integrity and shorter waits.