The white orb felt warm in Arthur's palm, pulsing with a faint, rhythmic vibration like a second heartbeat.
He didn't celebrate. He didn't cheer. He dragged himself backward, away from the pile of ash that used to be Dave, and leaned against the dented metal shelves. His ribs screamed in protest, a sharp, grinding agony that made his vision blur.
"Identify," Arthur croaked.
The System responded instantly.
[Item Identified][Skill Orb: Heavy Strike (Rank F)]
Type: Active / Combat
Cost: 10 MP
Effect: Empowers the next melee attack to deal 150% physical damage.
Requirement: Strength 10.
Arthur frowned.
Strength 10.
He had Strength 8. He couldn't learn it.
"Of course," he muttered, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "The universe gives me a hammer, but I don't have the hands to hold it."
He stared at the orb. It was useless to him right now. But in the marketplace—assuming there was one—this would be worth a fortune. A combat skill on Day 1? It was a ticket to the upper class.
"Nice work, rookie."
The voice came from the doorway. Smooth. Oily. Relaxed.
Arthur froze. He didn't look up immediately. His thumb instinctively curled over the Skill Orb, hiding it inside his fist. He tightened his grip on the pipe wrench with his other hand.
He looked up.
Standing in the shattered remains of the doorframe was a man. He was short, wiry, with greasy hair tied back in a messy bun. He wore a patchwork of leather armor—clearly scavenged from different sources—and held a serrated dagger loosely in his right hand.
[Player Identified]ID: RatClass: RogueLevel: 3
Level 3.
Arthur's eyes narrowed. The apocalypse was less than four hours old. To be Level 3 meant this guy hadn't just been hiding. He had been hunting.
"Who are you?" Arthur asked, his voice flat.
"Just a friendly neighbor," Rat grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. He stepped into the room, his eyes darting around. They lingered on the pipe wrench, then on Arthur's bloody shoulder, and finally, they locked onto Arthur's clenched fist.
"I heard the noise," Rat said, stepping over a puddle of corn juice. "Saw you took down a Walker. Impressive for a..." He glanced at Arthur's torn shirt. "...Civilian?"
"I'm fine," Arthur lied. He tried to stand up, but his legs wobbled. He was at 95 HP, but the pain from the broken ribs was real. The System was weird like that—it kept you alive, but it didn't numb the suffering.
"You look like shit, friend," Rat chuckled. He stopped about ten feet away. Safe distance. "Look, I'm not looking for trouble. I'm with the... uh... Neighborhood Watch. We're collecting dangerous artifacts. Contaminated loot."
Rat pointed his dagger at Arthur's fist.
"That orb you picked up? It's bugged. High radiation levels. The System glitched out in this sector. If you hold onto it for too long, it'll fry your stats. Permanent debuff."
Arthur stared at him.
It was such a blatant, low-effort lie. Radiation? In a magic system? This guy was treating him like a complete idiot.
Arthur's internal calculator clicked whirred to life.
Enemy: Rogue. Fast. High damage. Me: Tank. Slow. Injured. Goal: He wants the orb. ROI Analysis: If I give it to him, I lose my only asset. If I fight him...
Arthur glanced at the dagger. It was steel. Sharp.
"Radiation, huh?" Arthur said, keeping his face blank. "That sounds bad."
"Terrible," Rat nodded, inching closer. "Tell you what. Hand it over, and I'll dispose of it for you. I'll even give you a healing potion. Fair trade?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass vial filled with red liquid.
[Item: Minor Healing Potion]
Arthur hesitated. A potion would fix his ribs. It would stop the bleeding.
But his Greed Protocol screamed louder than the pain. A Skill Orb was worth ten potions. Maybe twenty. This was a bad trade.
"No thanks," Arthur said, shifting his weight to his back foot. "I'll take my chances with the radiation."
Rat's smile vanished instantly. The friendly neighbor mask dropped, revealing the predator underneath.
"Don't be greedy, kid," Rat sighed. "I was trying to be nice."
Rat vanished.
He didn't teleport. He just moved fast. Faster than Arthur's unenhanced eyes could track.
Arthur tried to lift the wrench, but his injured ribs seized up.
Schwick.
Cold steel slid into Arthur's side, just above the hip. It wasn't a warning poke. It was a kill shot. A kidney stab.
[Critical Hit! You took 38 Physical Damage!][Bleeding Effect Applied: -2 HP/sec for 10 seconds]
Rat twisted the blade and jumped back, grinning. He expected Arthur to scream. He expected Arthur to collapse, paralyzed by the shock of a vital organ being punctured.
"Should have taken the potion," Rat sneered, waiting for the body to hit the floor.
Arthur grunted. He looked down at the wound. Blood was pouring out.
HP: 57 / 172
(His Max HP had ticked up another 6 points during the conversation).
Arthur looked at the health bar. It was yellow, approaching red. But he was standing.
He wasn't dizzy. The pain was excruciating, yes, but his HP pool was so deep that a "fatal" wound was just... a wound.
Arthur looked up at Rat.
Rat's grin faltered. "Why aren't you dead?"
"You missed," Arthur gritted out.
"I didn't miss! I hit your kidney!" Rat yelled, sounding offended.
"Do it again," Arthur challenged, raising the wrench.
Rat's eyes widened. He looked at Arthur's HP bar (which was hidden from him, but he could see Arthur's physical state). This rookie should be dead. A Rank F Civilian has 100 HP. A critical Backstab deals 40+ damage. Plus the zombie bites... the math didn't add up.
"What the hell are you?" Rat hissed.
Rat lunged again. He was panicked now. He wanted to finish it.
He ducked under Arthur's clumsy wrench swing and slashed across Arthur's thigh.
[You took 12 Physical Damage!]
HP: 45 / 172
Arthur didn't try to dodge. He knew he couldn't.
Instead, as Rat moved in for the slice, Arthur simply... fell forward.
He used his dead weight. He collapsed his entire body onto the small, wiry rogue.
"Oof!" Rat grunted as 180 pounds of dead weight pinned him to the floor.
It wasn't a martial art. It was gravity.
"Gotcha," Arthur snarled.
He didn't have the Strength to overpower Rat, but he had the mass. He wrapped his bleeding arm around Rat's neck in a crude headlock.
Rat thrashed. He stabbed the dagger backward, plunging it into Arthur's shoulder.
[You took 9 Physical Damage!]
HP: 36 / 172
Arthur ignored it. He raised the pipe wrench with his free hand.
CLANG.
He smashed the wrench into the floor, inches from Rat's face.
"Drop it!" Arthur roared.
Rat was a coward. He was a bully who preyed on the weak. When the "weak" turned out to be an unkillable zombie-man who ate dagger stabs for breakfast, Rat's resolve crumbled.
"Okay! Okay! Crazy bastard!"
Rat released the dagger. He twisted his body like an eel—his Agility was far higher than Arthur's—and slipped out of the headlock.
Arthur swung the wrench again, but Rat rolled backward, springing to his feet near the doorway.
Rat looked at Arthur with genuine fear now. He was panting. Arthur was bleeding from four different holes, looking like a butcher shop floor, but he was still holding the wrench, eyes burning with a cold, calculated fury.
"You're a freak," Rat spat. "The Cartel will hear about this."
Rat reached into his belt, threw a small gray ball on the ground, and sprinted into the darkness of the store.
POOF.
A cloud of acrid, gray smoke filled the doorway.
Arthur didn't chase. He couldn't chase.
He sat there in the smoke, listening to Rat's footsteps fade away.
Only when he was sure he was alone did he let the wrench clatter to the floor.
[Combat Ended][Bleeding Effect expired]
HP: 34 / 173
He was alive.
Arthur looked down. The serrated dagger was lying on the floor where Rat had dropped it.
[Loot Acquired: Serrated Thief's Dagger (Rank F)]
Attack: 12-18
Effect: High chance to cause bleeding.
Arthur picked it up. It was light. Sharp. Better than the wrench.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the white Skill Orb. It was still there. Safe.
"The Cartel," Arthur repeated Rat's words.
He looked at his HP bar. The denominator flipped.
34 / 174.
"Let them come," Arthur whispered. "I just need a few more days."
He uncorked the healing potion Rat had dropped in his panic—or maybe he dropped it on purpose to distract him? No, Rat wasn't that smart.
Arthur downed the red liquid.
[Minor Healing Potion consumed. +50 HP]
HP: 84 / 174.
The wounds knitted shut, leaving angry red scars. The pain faded to a dull ache.
Arthur stood up. He had a weapon. He had a skill he couldn't use yet. And he had a glitch that was making him a god, one minute at a time.
He walked toward the door, stepping over the zombie's ash. It was time to hunt.