Stepping out of the market, Ângelo was met by the sun, shielding his eyes with an arm. He had long hours ahead—this was only the first building in an entire neighborhood.
Not much came from it, but he did get an important piece of equipment.
His senses didn't catch any sign of danger, so the hunt for supplies continued.
Leaving the market behind, Ângelo resumed his search. His priority was finding useful tools. Yes, food and water would be nice—you can never have too much of them. But without proper tools, there really wasn't much he could do with his time.
Another necessity was weapons. Ângelo needed to be better equipped to deal with whatever came his way. That meant better weapons than, well, broomstaffs and kitchen knives.
One thing led to another: to equip himself, he first needed tools to make equipment.
But finding that here… would be hard.
His best bet was entering random houses and praying the person who had lived there was a mechanic, metalworker, or something of the sort.
Ângelo sighed. He had a long road ahead.
Walking carefully down the asphalt, Ângelo didn't take long to choose a house. It was close, didn't seem too damaged, and—most importantly—had a small fence.
He'd already had his fair share of jumping walls. Something easier was welcome.
Taking a deep breath, Ângelo got ready and made his way to the house.
Jumping the fence wasn't hard at all—it barely reached his waist. Yes, the metal spikes were scary, but jumping carefully let him avoid them completely.
Looking around, the home was larger than the one he had set up as his base. But it clearly lacked in the security department.
And this time, he was almost certain the building was empty. A car sat in the garage, its doors forced open, the interior stained with red.
The worst thing he could find was whatever had opened the car like that… Well, better not to dwell on such thoughts.
Circling the property, Ângelo found his entry point: the kitchen window was open.
His heart sank, even if just a little. Someone could have already sacked the house, leaving nothing useful.
Well, the market had been looted too, and that still proved successful. So giving it a shot couldn't be all that bad.
Grabbing both sides of the frame, he hoisted himself up, peeking into the room. It seemed quiet—for now.
Jumping down from the kitchen sink, Ângelo's boots hit the ground with a loud thud.
No reaction. For now, he was in the clear.
It still felt alien to have such sharp senses. Ângelo felt like he could hear the entire building if he focused.
His brain was still adapting. In simple terms, the information was adjusting itself into his mind and, little by little, it calibrated like a machine.
"Well, now I'm alone…"
Ângelo started looting right away—opening drawers, checking under counters—and to his surprise, they were packed full.
This house hadn't been touched at all!
He couldn't get ahead of himself—it was just some kitchen utensils. But what gave him hope was the food. Nonperishables as far as the eye could see. His camping bag was filling up by the minute.
The only thing he didn't check was the fridge. The smell coming from inside… Well, better keep it closed.
"Now I can really lay off any food concerns."
Time to keep exploring.
Grabbing both bags, Ângelo moved into a small living room.
There wasn't much to find there, unless he wanted to start a collection of DVDs and pirated content.
As expected. After all, what could he find in a living room?
Turning left, he found a corridor. There were doors on each side. The closest was the one further left—so that's where he went.
Placing his fingers on the doorknob, Ângelo hesitated. Slowly, he set his staff against the wall. Then he opened the kid's bag, pulling out a knife.
In the other rooms, he'd had enough space to swing the staff, so it worked fine.
But in a narrow corridor like this? He would just end up hitting the walls.
Now, better equipped, the knob clicked under his fingers, revealing a humble bathroom.
And again, nothing of note. Just some cleaning supplies, chemicals, and liquid soap.
He wouldn't take them now, but he made a mental note.
Now, there was only one room left—
CRASH!
A loud sound shattered the silence of the house. Glass breaking.
"…!"
Ângelo spun around, pressing himself against the wall, lowering his body. He strained his ears, but there was no mistake.
A window had just been broken.
Tud Tud Tud
Three distinct thuds. It sounded like when he had climbed into the house, only fainter.
Shriii… Hiek Hiek Hiek
A sound he didn't quite understand—like a shriek turning into dry laughter.
He needed a better view. If his senses were right, the sound came from the living room, to his right at the end of the corridor.
Someone had followed him?
The steps were too light—like children.
Slowly approaching the corridor entrance, Ângelo peeked, his eyes widening.
In front of him stood three small figures. Their skin was green, their eyes entirely red like rubies. Hunched and slim, their ears twitched in unison with their noses.
"Goblins?…" Ângelo realized quickly.
The classic low-level monster in every RPG setting—small, nimble, and always in groups.
They fit the bill. Wearing tribal clothes, they gave off a savage aura. Two carried small stone knives; the other wielded a bow and arrow.
Hiding back in the corner, Ângelo thought fast.
The situation was bad. Cornered against the wall again, no escape route—and this time, three enemies.
"At least they don't look human…" Ângelo was relieved. That was what had bugged him most when he killed that husk.
Surprise wouldn't work this time. Even if he took down one, the other two would still attack.
There really wasn't a workaround?
They seemed to be searching, their steps drawing closer and closer. Clearly, they knew he was here.
Either he risked it all and charged head-on—or they would catch him.
Like a cornered dog, his only choice was to bite.
Taking a deep breath, Ângelo clenched the knife. His eyes flicked to the chemicals in the bathroom. An idea sparked.
Creeping back into the room, he grabbed a bottle of bleach and twisted the lid open. The steps were almost on top of him. No more time.
"Fuck it."
He muttered aloud as his body jolted toward the only exit. He hated how rushed it felt, but taking his sweet time would only give the monsters the jump on him.
His tall figure burst into view, startling the goblins for a moment. Two stood right in front of him; the one with the bow lingered at the back. That was his target.
Not giving them a chance to react, Ângelo hurled the bottle of bleach at the archer. The liquid splashed into its eyes as its head snapped back, crashing to the ground. The creature screamed and thrashed, its eyes burning with chemicals. A harsh smell filled the room, making Ângelo's eyes water.
But he wasn't the only one.
The two goblins in front of him covered their big round noses and shook their heads, screeching as the stench overwhelmed their senses. One broke through, leaping at Ângelo, who swiftly kicked it away, sending the goblin flying into a wall.
Ângelo didn't let up. With a swift motion, his blade pierced the side of the last goblin's head. Dropping the weapon, he rushed forward, stomping on the thrashing goblin's neck. It coughed, bones snapping under the pressure.
Unable to pause, Ângelo rushed the last one. It was trying to crawl away but met the end of his boot—its head smashed against a table. He kept kicking until the creature stopped moving, only then gasping for breath.
It had worked. His last-minute idea—using bleach to attack their senses—had worked. He hadn't even been sure if they were sensitive to smell, nor if he could function with his own senses overwhelmed. But goddamn—it worked.
With tears streaming down his face and a smile on his lips, Ângelo let out a war cry.
"Let's fucking go!"
It was as if a strange sense of accomplishment took over him. He could survive—and he would.