The Chancellor has decided to reward you.
I don't react. I'm too tired to care.
Across from me, Jenny doesn't speak, she just lifts a hand, waving her fingertip in the air. Her eyes are vacant, probably scanning her panel, searching for her reward. The mud covers her soaked body, rainwater trailing down her cheek like a tear that's too exhausted to fall.
I exhale slowly, breath shivering. The storm hasn't let up. Rain hisses against the charred remains of the field. Smoke mixes with fog, rising in lazy curls that catch the silver sheen of moonlight breaking through the clouds.
My arm throbs violently, the pain somehow sharper than before. Glancing down, I can definitely see why. The bullet wound has torn back open, blood pouring freely, mixing with grime and black ichor of the infected.
I wince, impaling my sword into the ground, and gripping my wound tight. Infection flashes through my mind, but I push it aside. A bullet wound's too small for it to take root.
I hope.
Looking back at my panel, I release a small smile.
"That's my third one tonight." I say, releasing a small chuckle as I brag to Jenny.
Jenny glances over, her lips curling into a small smile before turning back toward her panel.
Without hesitation, she moves her finger, no doubt tapping a button on her panel.
Sparks swirl to life in front of her, dancing through the air like fireflies caught in a storm. They twist and spiral, sketching glowing lines into the empty space until a dark, angular shape begins to form. After a few moments of the sparks crackling in the air, they shatter like glass. All that's left behind is a weird obsidian cube
"What is that?" I ask, curious as to what the cube might do. It's obviously not a weapon or anything, perhaps an item with an ability like my compass.
Jenny studies it with a small smile before glancing back at me. "Something very useful."
I stare at her for a moment, giving her a confused look. "What does it do?"
Her smile widens as she studies me.
"You'll find out."
I frown. That doesn't make me feel any better.
My fingers twitch over my sword's hilt as I study her face, trying to read what's going on behind those eyes. But she's already looking away, focused on the cube again like I'd never asked a thing.
Fine. If she wasn't going to tell me, I'd focus on my own panel.
I sigh, side-eyeing her one last time before pulling open my reward screen.
Rain continues to fall, seemingly heavier that before.
Carcass Frame.
"Built from war. Worn by those too stubborn to die."
A survival focused exo-shell, forged from scavenged alloys and battlefield scraps. Designed to stabilize critical wounds, suppress infection, and function in hostile environments.
Allows user almost full movement and decent protection, but cannot withstand larger attacks.
Reading the description, I am a little bummed that it isn't some sprt of special item like my compass, but at least it seems like a good piece of armor, something I was most definitely lacking.
Pressing the redeem button, I watch as sparks form around me.
They swirl gently around me, almost curious. My prison clothes, vest, and shoes seem to heat up. Not warm, but hot. Like hot hot. The fabric clinging to my skin begins to crumble slowly like ash in a fire, burning away in waves of glowing ember.
I grit my teeth, hissing through the pain as the sparks crawl up my legs, eating through the last of the grime soaked fabric.
Jenny watches me, but she doesn't seem to be concerned.
As my clothes finish burning away, the sparks don't vanish. They cling onto my skin like static, not hot, but sort of ticklish.
Wherever they touch, something else forms. Coarse, cold plates of rough blackened alloy.
Segment by segment, they shape themselves to me.
The plates aren't shiny or smooth like the military shells I've seen. They're dull, scorched — edges uneven, some scratched, others dented like they've already seen battle. A dark, tarnished black, almost charcoal. Kind of like they were pried off the dead and reforged in a rush.
It seems like the armor some sort of sell sword or 1-2 dash warrior would wear, perhaps even an upper class drafted peasant.
A weird chestplate finishes forming, clamping into place, patched together from strange overlapping pieces of alloy. The shoulder plates land heavier than the chestplate, both large and jagged, secured with large grey bolts.
A bracer wraps over my forearm, locking with a hard click. Another follows on the other arm, mismatched in design, but both painted in black. My fingers twitch as gloves grow over them, if you can even call them gloves. The right one has wierd jagged pieces of metal sneaking out of the finger tip like claws while the left one seems to be rather normal.
Dark boots take shape last, forming over my feet and shins in awkward layers and chunks.
The sparks finally fade, leaving only the soft hiss of rain tapping against metal.
I glance down at myself. It doesn't look pretty, but it has a… personality.
Suddenly, I feel a sharp pull around the wound on my arm.
I hiss, staggering slightly as the plates tighten. The alloy shifts, locking in harder over the injury like it's sealing the flesh beneath.
A dull pressure begins to replace the pain.
Is this what the discription meant by stabilizing wounds and infection?
Jenny walks over and knocks her knuckles against my chestplate.
"Not bad," she mutters.
"Weren't you even a little concerned when the sparks started forming around me?" I ask, pulling my weapon free from the ground, remembering how she just stood there, completely unfazed as my armor formed.
She shrugs. "I've seen Whiskey and the others get armor from rewards as well . No one exploded."
"Still," I say, smirking, "you could've pretended to care. Just a little?"
She doesn't respond. She just rolls her eyes and turns toward the evolved brute's corpse. With a grunt, she plants a boot on its shoulder and yanks her massive cleaver free. The blade tears out with a wet crunch, leaving a trail of dark ichor in its wake.
"Come on," she says, resting the cleaver on her shoulder without looking back.
"Let's get back to the village."
I nod, grabbing my backpack off the ground.
"That was fucking tiring."