Ace's instincts screamed danger—whether from the strange energy or whatever predator was being drawn to the carnage. With the coppery scent of blood heavy in the air and the putrid stench of the monster's insides spilling across the forest floor, they needed to move immediately.
There was another screech in the distance, but thankfully it seemed farther away than before. He didn't trust their luck, though, and still wanted to get the hell out of there as soon as possible.
Marcus leaned heavily against Tara, his face pale from the poison despite her healing efforts. Rachel's hands still trembled, but Olivia maintained her eerie calm, her gaze drifting between the corpse and the darkening forest. Victor stood apart, cleaning his whip with methodical precision, ignoring the rest of them.
"Move out. Now." Ace's command cut through the clearing with the practiced authority of a Marine sergeant who'd led men through urban battlefields. "Five-meter spread, staggered formation. Tara, stay with Marcus in the center. Rachel, guard them. Victor, take point. Olivia, watch our six."
His body had already settled instinctively into his stance—knees slightly bent, weight distributed evenly, eyes constantly scanning the treeline. The military protocol felt familiar, but the sensory input flooding his consciousness was anything but. His vision had sharpened to better than perfect, outlining each leaf and branch in crisp detail even as twilight deepened. The forest's symphony reached him in distinct layers: the rustle of wind through the canopy, the distant trickling of water, and most disturbingly, the utter absence of insect noise within a hundred-meter radius.
Something had scared the wildlife away.
Something big.
"There's movement at our two o'clock," he muttered, his enhanced hearing picking up the minute compression of soil beneath significant weight. "Whatever it is, it's circling."
With a gesture ushering everyone to move out, they stalked toward the eastern treeline, their footsteps leaving dark imprints in soil already saturated with the Carnage Fiend's blackish blood. Ace's nostrils flared involuntarily, his new vampiric sense of smell cataloging an encyclopedia of disturbing data—the copper-sweet tang of their own bleeding wounds, the putrid rot already claiming the monster's innards, and beneath it all, the musky, territorial marker of something else tracking them through the undergrowth.
The space between his shoulder blades tingled at the primal certainty of being hunted.
Just as they reached the treeline, the air rippled like heat above asphalt. The air folded inward upon itself, and the System appeared directly in their path. Her sudden presence was jarring—a pigtailed blonde child in a frilly dress, bouncing on her toes with an enthusiasm that bordered on mania. Her blood-red eyes gleamed with wicked intelligence, and she clapped her small hands together in delight.
"Going somewhere?" she chirped, her voice carrying an artificial sweetness to it. "After all that hard work killing my precious monster, you're just going to... leave? Without your prizes?" She gave an exaggerated pout, then spun in a circle and pointed dramatically at the corpse, where purple electricity arced between decomposing tissues.
"Are those sparks supposed to be significant?" Rachel whispered from behind Ace.
The System's smile widened unnaturally. "Oh, my precious little baby vamps! You don't even know how to claim your loot yet, do you?" She clutched her chest in mock dismay. "What terrible neglect on my part! Allow me to enlighten you about one of my favorite parts of the game."
Ace's jaw clenched. Every second they remained in the clearing decreased their survival chances, but information—especially from their sadistic captor—might prove crucial.
"Make it quick," he growled. "In case you hadn't noticed, we're not exactly in a secure position."
The System giggled. "But darling, that's what makes this so fun! The ticking clock, the approaching danger..." She leaned in conspiratorially. "It's what separates the survivors from the snacks."
The System twirled in place, the hem of her bloodstained dress flaring outward while purple electricity arced between her fingertips, mimicking the sparks from the monster's corpse. Her performance had the rehearsed quality of a twisted kindergarten teacher presenting a cherished lesson plan.
"Loot is the sweetest reward for your murderous little endeavors," she explained, her voice lilting with artificial enthusiasm. "The prettier the light show—" she gestured grandly at the pulsing purple energy, "—the better the prizes inside!"
She ticked off points on her tiny fingers, each nail painted a different shade of crimson. "Gray means mundane garbage. Green is common. Blue, uncommon. Purple—" her eyes widened dramatically as she pointed at the crackling corpse, "—means something rare is waiting for you. Red is mythical, and orange..." She pressed her small hands to her cheeks in exaggerated wonder. "Orange means you’ve lucked into legendary treasure that will make your friends very, very jealous."
Marcus let out a wet, bloody cough.
The System clapped her hands together with childish delight. "Oh, and that's the best part! I divide loot based on damage dealt, final blows, and general usefulness. Which means..." Her voice dropped to a mocking whisper. "Some of you will get shiny treasures while others get absolute garbage."
She leaned forward, her red eyes glittering with malice. "That's when the real fun starts. When the strongest realize they can just take what they want from the weakest. When allies become obstacles. When survival instincts overcome those silly human notions like loyalty and friendship."
Rachel huffed. "So you’ve made a deliberate destabilization mechanism designed to prevent cooperative structures from forming."
"Somebody give the CEO a gold star!" The System clapped mockingly. "Now, who wants their prizes? Just touch the corpse to claim what's yours—if you dare."
Her form dissolved into mist that smelled faintly of copper, leaving only her disembodied giggle echoing through the clearing.
"She wants us to turn on each other," Tara said, crinkling her nose in disdain.
Victor's lip curled in a half-smirk. "Is her psychological manipulation really our biggest concern right now? Whatever made that sound is getting closer."
As if to punctuate what he’d said, another screech tore through the forest, closer than before. The sound vibrated at a frequency that made Ace's new fangs ache inside his gums.
Despite every survival instinct screaming at him to run, Ace recognized the tactical value of whatever resources they could salvage. Military doctrine: never abandon usable equipment in hostile territory. Enhanced gear could mean the difference between life and death in the battles to come.
"Thirty seconds," he ordered, his eyes never leaving the treeline. "Touch the corpse, grab your loot, and then we move out. No arguments, no comparisons until we're somewhere secure."
He returned to the monster's remains, studying the purple sparks as they intensified. The display reminded him of Fourth of July sparklers viewed through night vision goggles—beautiful in a way that promised blindness or worse if you stared too long.
With a reluctant sigh that carried the weight of a dozen compromised principles, Ace approached the corpse. The putrid stench of accelerated decomposition hit him like a physical wall, his enhanced senses transforming what would have been merely unpleasant into a sensory assault. The creature's plant-like flesh had begun to collapse inward, its branches and wooden tendrils dissolving into a dark slurry that bubbled with unnatural fermentation.
Ugh.
"Be careful," he warned the others, uncertain if the rotting goop posed any danger. "Get in, touch it, get out. Don't linger."
“So bossy,” the System whispered in his ear.
He flinched in surprise and looked over one shoulder, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“The others are at Level 10, Sergeant,” she continued, baiting him. “The party system is holding you back. Are you sure you want to carry all that dead weight.”
“Stop talking,” he ordered.
She giggled again, and with that, her voice dissolved into the wind.
He muttered obscenities under his breath, distracted by her nonsense, but a part of him wondered if she—and Victor—were right.
Ace shook his head to rid himself of the thought.
Something rustled in the undergrowth beyond the clearing's edge—not wind, not smaller animals, but the deliberate movement of a predator large enough to take them on.
Time was running out.
"Now or never," Ace muttered, steeling himself against the revulsion as he reached toward the crackling corpse.
Forcing down his disgust, Ace knelt beside the least putrid section of the Carnage Fiend's corpse. The moment his fingers brushed against the cooling bark-like flesh, a glowing blue screen materialized before his eyes.
———
Name: Blood-Bonded Thornplate Armor
- Item Quality: Rare
- Item Level: 4
- Armor Type: Full Suit
- Durability: 85/85
BASE STATS:
- Vitality +45
- Dexterity +9
Weight: 12.5 kg
Special Property: Predator's Reflex: When struck by a critical hit at close range, thorns automatically deploy, inflicting 25 piercing damage and knocking the attacker back 3 meters. (Cooldown: 180 seconds)
Unique Property: Blood Memory: When health drops below 25%, armor releases stored blood energy, granting temporary HP equal to your current Vampiric EXP solute percentage. (Once per day)
Requirements:
- Level 4+
- Vampire Race
- Must be attuned through blood offering (100 HP)
- Cannot be equipped with other thorned armor pieces
Description: Oh, this is a delightful little number! The interwoven pattern of obsidian thorns against the darkened iron is simply divine, don't you think?
Each plate has been meticulously crafted to catch what little light exists in darker spaces, making the wearer appear to be wrapped in living shadows. The thorns themselves are quite special - microscopic channels running through each one, just perfect for conducting blood magic.
I do so love it when form and function come together to create something both beautiful AND deadly. Just wait until you see how those thorns respond to vampire blood - they practically purr! Though I should warn you... they do tend to get a bit... excited during combat. But that's half the fun, isn't it?
———
Huh.
He tapped the pulsing button marked [ACCEPT], and in an instant, armor appeared on his body. It was covered in oddly curved spikes and riddled with so many buckles that it looked like pulling on one of them would make the whole thing fall apart.
Still, those stats weren’t bad—and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, this thing looked badass.
Military pragmatism kicked in, and he snapped out of his daze. Gear was gear. If it kept him alive while he put holes in the enemy, aesthetics took a back seat.
“You’re not done yet, silly,” the System’s voice rang through his head.
He paused and, despite wanting to tell her exactly where she could shove all her advice, he simply waited in silence for her to continue.
“It requires a blood bond, my darling little murderer,” she continued. “Can’t have blood-bonded armor without a bit of blood spilled, now, can we?”
Ace set his palm on the chestplate, and after thinking for a moment about the requirements he’d read through, he realized she had a point.
Carefully, he lifted his Crimson Sword and set the blade against his palm.
Here goes nothing.
He sliced his hand, careful not to cut too deep. His blood quickly pooled in the grooves along his skin, and without so much as a second thought, he placed his palm against the chestplate once again.
Instantly, the armor pulsed with life. It drank in his offering as his blood seeped into the metal. Crimson light surged through hidden channels in the plating, illuminating intricate patterns that had been invisible moments before. The armor contracted around his body with a series of metallic clicks and whispers, molding perfectly to his form. What had once been loose segments shifted and sealed, tightening until each piece fit as though it had been crafted specifically to his measurements. The thorns along the shoulders and arms retracted slightly before extending again, and as he tested his range of motion, they aligned perfectly with every movement. When he flexed his fingers, the arm plates responded with subtle adjustments, enhancing rather than restricting each twist of his body.
That was it, then. The blood bond was complete, and the armor was no longer a shell fitted loosely over his torso—it was now a second skin.
“Nice,” he said with a wry grin.
Very nice.
The others followed his example, each touching the corpse and triggering their own loot screens. Their reactions varied wildly—Tara's pleased surprise at receiving functional armguards, Rachel's analytical assessment of shin guards, Olivia's quiet appreciation for an ornamental amulet, and Marcus's dramatic complaints about an "ugly as sin" helmet that would mess up his hair.
"Is fashion really your priority right now?" Tara asked, securing her new armguards across her forearms. Blood-red runes along the edges pulse like a heartbeat, the metal seeming to bond with her flesh.
"Easy for you to say," Marcus retorted, holding up the helmet like it was radioactive. "You got something that looks badass. I look like I'm cosplaying a rejected villain from a low-budget fantasy movie."
Rachel examined her shinguards with clinical detachment. "The defensive properties appear optimized for retrograde movement," she observed. "Essentially, they protect me best when I'm running away."
"I guess the System has a sense of humor," Ace said dryly.
Victor approached last, his expression darkening when no screen appeared for him. His eyes flashed with resentment as he watched the others examine their gear. Without a word, he turned away, his posture rigid with barely contained anger.
"Nothing?" Ace asked, professional instinct overriding the unspoken rivalry between them.
Victor's jaw tightened. "Nothing worth mentioning," he responded, the careful neutrality in his voice more telling than any outburst.
Another screech erupted from somewhere in the forest—closer this time, accompanied by the splintering crack of wood under substantial weight. Whatever was tracking them had found the clearing.
"Time's up," Ace said, scanning the treeline. "Move out."
Ace shepherded the group into the forest, setting a brisk pace despite Marcus's injuries. The shadows deepened around them as they navigated through dense underbrush and gnarled roots, their newly enhanced senses transforming the mundane woodland into an overwhelming sensory battleground. Each footfall released a symphony of scents—decaying vegetation, animal spoor, the lingering metallic tang of their own blood—that painted a tactical map no human senses could perceive.
The sergeant took point automatically, his military training merging seamlessly with predatory instincts that kept scanning for movement, for weakness, for threats. His body recognized the pattern of security patrol before his conscious mind caught up—the vampire he was becoming understood territory and vulnerability in ways the Marine he'd been never could.
They moved in ragged formation through the deepening twilight, Victor occasionally disappearing into shadow only to reappear twenty meters ahead, scouting with the casual efficiency of someone who'd already embraced his new predatory state. Rachel cataloged their surroundings with analytical precision, muttering coordinates and topographical features under her breath like reading code. Tara kept one hand on Marcus at all times, her fingers occasionally trailing crimson light that sank into his wounded flesh. Olivia moved with uncanny grace, her footsteps perfectly balanced despite uneven terrain.
They weren't just survivors anymore—they were becoming a hunting pack. Though they still had a lot of work to do, their individual transformations created complementary adaptations that heightened collective survival odds.
Every snapping twig and rustling leaf heightened their tension, vampire senses magnifying normal forest sounds into potential death sentences. When the distant howl of something decidedly unnatural echoed through the trees, Ace's enhanced hearing detected harmonic undertones no terrestrial creature should produce. The pack instinctively accelerated, moving faster while communicating less, settling into the grim efficiency of prey that knows it's being hunted.
Their escape route cut through a streambed, the running water momentarily masking their scent trail from whatever tracked them through the darkening forest. The terrain grew increasingly vertical until they discovered a cave entrance partially hidden by hanging vines, its mouth a darker shadow against the deepening night.
After a cautious inspection that confirmed it was uninhabited—apart from the scattered bones of something small and presumably tasty—Ace ushered everyone inside.
He didn’t—not for one second—think this was safe, but it was as close as they could get in this place. They needed to regroup. They needed a plan.
And, according to the System, they still had a lot more monsters to kill before they could make their way to the Crucible.
Ace sighed and rubbed his eyes as he pressed his back against the stone wall. He crossed his arms and stared through gaps in the hanging ivy that blocked their cave from the outside world.
This was his life now.
Murder. Mayhem. Magic.
Despite the hellish day they’d had—and despite the growing ache in his neck from that fight—he couldn’t help but smile.
Maybe he was losing his mind…
…but he was learning to love the thrill of this new war-torn world.
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