Book 1 Chapter 5 Han Rowan and the Malignant Marbles
…
Rowan was already a decent distance away, the memory of the stench fading slightly beneath the exertion of his flight, when the figures arrived.
A few hours after he had fled, the forest clearing, now strangely neat save for the bloodstains, became the entry point for a group of people in dark, oil-slicked robes. There were six of them, and their movements were quick, silent, and entirely practiced.
The leader, a tall man whose face was completely obscured by the deep hood of his robe, surveyed the scene with a chilling calm that suggested this was not his first encounter with such a sight. He glanced briefly at the dead Rodenta, then at the bodies of the Green Willow Sect disciples and the defeated ambushers.
"They fought well, but not well enough." The leader's voice was a low, gravelly rasp that seemed to belong to the forest itself.
He knelt beside the body of the disciple who looked exactly like Han Rowan. He meticulously checked the corpse's hands, pockets, and belt.
"Something is missing. As is the rest of the consignment," he stated, his tone flat. "Gong Fa was the weak link, as expected, but this carnage... this is not the work of simple bandits. And the Rodenta here is massive."
One of the subordinates pointed to a patch of ferns where Rowan had... expressed his distress. "Leader, traces of recent sickness. Someone lingered. Perhaps they took the goods and fled."
The leader stood, his eyes scanning the tree line, trying to assess where the scavenger escaped to. A momentary pause, a flicker of something calculating in the shadow of his hood.
"The sect cannot afford loose ends. Nor can we leave proof of this particular trade. Burn it all. Every corpse, every drop of blood, every piece of debris. Leave nothing for the scavengers, and certainly nothing for the sect's investigation team to find."
The five subordinates immediately began working, retrieving strange, dry powders from their own dark pouches and scattering them over the bodies. A moment later, a low, intense heat flared, and the clearing was quickly engulfed in silent, superheated flames that consumed organic matter with unnerving speed and efficiency. The leader watched for a moment, then turned his back on the purifying fire and melted back into the shadows of the forest, the rest following suit.
…
Meanwhile, Han Rowan had put approximately a kilometer between himself and the scene of his moral compromise. He was now close to a small, babbling river—a silver line cutting through the endless green. The sound of running water was initially comforting, but the prompt memory of the oversized fauna in this world was immediate.
Dangerous water. Strange fish. Giant, carnivorous water lilies, he immediately thought, giving the bank a wide, cautious berth. He was not risking a dip.
His caution, however, was for naught. The danger found him.
He was mid-stride, mentally mapping out his next path, when a blur of brown fur and gnashing teeth exploded from the undergrowth to his left. A Rodenta, clearly, but a younger, smaller specimen than the monstrous beast he had previously fought.
The floating interface instantly flickered into his vision.
**Rodenta (Juvenile)**
HP: 20/20
Status: Normal/Hungry
"Oh, for heaven's sake! Already?" Rowan yelped, stopping dead.
While running away, he realized that the dagger was not useful when it was inside the storage space of the strange bag, so he decided to carry it with him.
He instinctively clutched the hilt of the Dagger he was now carrying. He had been hoping for a few days of peace, a gentle acclimation period. This world, apparently, had no concept of a "gentle acclimation period."
He didn't have time to retrieve his second rock. He wrenched the Dagger free, its surprisingly balanced weight feeling odd in his hand. He lowered himself into a posture that he vaguely remembered seeing in an action movie—all knees and elbows, looking less like a warrior and more like a man who'd just lost a contact lens.
He prepared for the arduous, desperate dance of the previous battle: dodge, parry with the dagger, look for an opening to toss the Malignant Marble he was already holding.
He was about to hurl the first rock—the one in his hand, ready to go—when the impossible happened.
The Rodenta lunged. Rowan braced, but before the creature was halfway through its jump, a sudden, dark, 1x1 sphere floated into existence beside his head. It was one of the Malignant Marbles from his Strange Bag inventory.
It didn't drift. It flew.
With the speed of a bullet and the precision of a heat-seeking missile, the marble slammed into the Rodenta's skull.
THWACK!
HP dropped to 6. It then showed a critical hit!
Before the Rodenta could even register the impact, it retracted to Rowan's side and flew, appearing slightly lower than its first attack, and hit the creature's snout.
WHUMP!
HP dropped to 2. It was normal damage.
The entire sequence, from the Rodenta's lunge to the second impact, took less than half a second. The system wasn't waiting for his input. The weapons in the Strange Bag were auto-firing.
Rowan's jaw dropped so hard he nearly bit his tongue. He was still standing in his ridiculous low crouch, dagger extended, with the first Malignant Marble clutched uselessly in his sweaty palm.
The floating marble, having fulfilled its initial function, didn't disappear. It began circling his head like a particularly grumpy, orbiting guard dog.
The Rodenta, dazed and confused, landed short and began to shake its head, blood trickling from its nose.
The interface, always ready to deliver context with maximum emotional impact, flashed an update.
**Malignant Marble (Rock)**
Damage: 2
Cooldown: 6 seconds (until next use)
Effect: Fired (0s remaining)
The cooldown was already ticking down! The marble hadn't vanished; it had simply used its 12-second life span and now needed to recharge. But more importantly, it had acted completely on its own.
Rowan looked from the circling rock to the dumbfounded Rodenta, and then down to the rock in his hand.
He felt a wave of comedic, profound frustration wash over him, so potent it threatened to undo his previous dry-heaving progress.
"You're telling me," he said aloud, his voice a strained, high-pitched squeak, "you're telling me that this entire time, I could have just dodged or just stood here like a dignified person, and let the rock do the fighting?"
He stared at the rock in his hand. The thing fires automatically when it's in the bag. It is more useful as a passive missile system than a handheld club.
He immediately dropped the rock into the grid. It vanished and instantly joined the orbital pattern, making a duo of dark, aggressive spheres circling his head.
The Rodenta finally charged again, its focus solely on the fleshy target.
BZZZT-THWACK!
As soon as the creature entered the 6-meter range, the first Malignant Marble, its cooldown completed, shot forward like a slingshot bullet, hitting the Rodenta's flank.
HP dropped to 6. A critical hit!
BZZZT-THWACK!
HP dropped to 4. Another critical hit!
Rodenta's HP only has 2 left.
The Leather Bracers on his arm offered a momentary flicker of defense as the Rodenta's teeth grazed his forearm. He felt a small sting, but the interface registered the block:
Leather Bracers: Blocked 5 Damage.
Rodenta Attack: 6 Damage. (1 Damage sustained).
Rowan HP: 99/100
He barely registered the sting. He was transfixed by the efficiency of the Strange Bag's battle system. This wasn't a game of manual dexterity; it was a game of inventory management and cool-down strategy! He was an automated, weaponized storage locker!
BZZZT-WHUMP!
The second Marble's cooldown has completed. It fired, hitting the Rodenta squarely in the eye.
HP: 0.
The Rodenta (Juvenile) crumpled into a lifeless heap. The duo of Malignant Marbles immediately ceased their rotation and snapped back into their respective 1x1 slots in the inventory grid, looking as passive as ever.
Rowan stood there, dagger still clutched, then slowly lowered it. He took a massive, shuddering gulp of air.
"Twelve seconds of use before disappearing," he recited the item description from memory. "The cooldown is six seconds. That means a full use cycle for one rock is 18 seconds. I have two. That's a volley every six seconds, minimum. If the fight lasts 12 seconds, they can all fire twice. The last fight… the last fight took ten times the effort, and I was holding the weapon the whole time."
A wave of bemused self-pity washed over him. He had fought the first battle like a common barbarian, completely unaware that he was equipped with a high-tech, automated magical arsenal disguised as a sackcloth purse. His effort was not just wasted; it was downright comical in hindsight. He decided that from now on, he would treat the Strange Bag with the respect it clearly deserved.
…
He sheathed the Dagger, a new thrill of excitement mixing with his perpetual anxiety. He was learning. He was adapting. He was on the cusp of mastering this stupid, confusing, terrifying system.
Before he could properly heave the sigh of relief he had been preparing, a noise from the nearby river cut it short. KER-CHUNNK! It was a thick, wet, and decidedly large sound.
A creature emerged from the riverbank with a disconcerting squelch. It was a frog, but not just any frog. This thing was the size of a regulation NBA basketball, bright green, glistening with river water, and possessed of eyes that looked less like a frog's and more like two large, golden marbles filled with malevolent intent.
The interface immediately flashed:
**River Croaker (Giant Frog)**
HP: 15/15
Status: Wet (Slightly reduced movement speed)
"Oh, come on! It's never just one thing, is it?" Rowan complained, stepping back hastily.
The Croaker spotted him and launched itself in a shockingly fast, parabola-shaped leap.
Rowan didn't even bother to draw the dagger. He just watched his inventory do the work.
BZZZT-THWACK! (Marble 1 hits the Croaker mid-air.) HP: 13. BZZZT-WHUMP! (Marble 2 hits the Croaker's underbelly.) HP: 11.
The Croaker landed with a damp thud, momentarily stunned by the dual impacts.
Rowan backed up another two steps. The battle was now a waiting game. The Croaker spat out a massive, gooey black tongue, which whizzed past Rowan's ear and wrapped around a small tree branch. The force was enough to rip the branch off the trunk.
Disgusting. Unsportsmanlike.
The Dagger, surprisingly, joined the fray. Rowan held it in his hand and, without hesitation, threw it to the frog, thinking it would produce the same damage as the rocks.
SHINK!
But to his dismay, it just bounces like nothing from the tough skin of the frog.
However, it luckily bought him some time for the cooldown of the two rocks to end.
The Malignant Marbles (6-second cooldown) provided the heavy initial punch, and the Dagger provided the distraction.
BZZZT-THWACK! (Marble 2, finished with its cooldown, flies out and hits the Croaker's leg.) HP: 5. One was a critical hit.
The Croaker made a sound like a wet balloon deflating and tried to leap at him again, but its leg was compromised.
Rowan already ran to grab his thrown, useless dagger. When the second barrage flew out to attack the frog.
The Croaker fell short, twitching, and then went still.
ENEMY DEFEATED!
Rowan actually permitted himself a small, triumphant smile. That was easy. That was efficient.
Then, the river began to boil.
KER-CHUNNK. KER-CHUNNK. KER-CHUNNK.
Rowan's eyes widened in horror. He saw not one, not two, but at least ten more Giant Croakers rising from the dark, swirling water, their golden eyes all fixed on him, attracted by the struggle and the subsequent silence. They were arrayed along the bank like a horrifying, oversized choir of amphibious doom.
His instinct, previously geared toward careful planning, overrode everything. Survival demanded a full retreat.
"No, no, no, thank you! I don't want to meet your entire extended family! I'm good!"
He turned and bolted, running in the exact opposite direction of the river. He didn't stop to admire his battle prowess or check his loot. He ran until the sound of the wet, guttural KER-CHUNNKS was entirely swallowed by the rustling forest behind him.
…
Rowan finally stumbled, breathless, into a sun-dappled glade, nearly collapsing against a giant, moss-covered boulder. He leaned there, hands on his knees, sucking in massive gulps of air. He was safe for the moment.
His heart rate began to drop, and as the immediate danger passed, the familiar, gentle hum of the Strange Bag's system signaled a post-battle update.
First, his HP, which had been chipped away by the Rodenta, healed back to full.
Rowan HP: 100/100 (HP recovered post-battle)
This means that his wounds have been healed miraculously. He had not noticed it, but now realized the previous wounds he had in the first battle were now gone.
"This is awesome…" he muttered with an excited smile.
Next, the shop interface flickered with a new, fully randomized set of items, but thankfully, the Thorns and Stone Knife he had wisely reserved were still there, secured by their ghostly padlock icons.
He looked over the full inventory and the status trackers. Everything seemed stable.
Then he noticed a small, glowing icon he hadn't seen before, tucked away near the bottom-left corner of the main grid display. It wasn't HP, Qi (which was still zero), or Coin. It was a small bar, filling up.
**Han Rowan**
Level 1 (EXP: 67%)
Progress to Level 2: 33% Remaining
Rowan stared. He had killed the large Rodenta (First kill). He had killed the juvenile Rodenta (Second kill). He had killed the Giant Croaker (Third kill).
He was 67% of the way to Level 2 of what? He did not know. He had gained a significant percentage from his first kill, and the two subsequent, smaller enemies had chipped away the rest.
"Level 2?" he whispered, thinking what he would get if he reached level 2.
He tried to click the Level 1 icon. No tooltip appeared. The system was frustratingly opaque on fundamental mechanics.
"Does it give me more HP? Better defense? A new ability? Maybe I can stop dry-heaving when I see blood? I hope it's that last one."
He calculated the remaining progress. "Maybe three more enemies. If three more small things, or maybe one more big thing, get me there. I need three more kills, and I have two Malignant Marbles ready to go."
The knowledge that he was only three simple kills away from an upgrade—a potential solution to some of his systemic problems—was an intoxicating promise. He was still in a nightmare, still utterly lost, but now he had a goal: Level 2. And he had a strategy: Maximize auto-attack efficiency.
He was still afraid, but the anxiety was now tempered by a pragmatic, focused determination. Han Rowan, the soon-to-be pharmaceutical student, was now an efficiency-focused Level 1 inventory warrior, ready to harvest more EXP units before checking his stats again.
He took one last look at his marbles in the grid display, straightened his now-dirty T-shirt, and headed deeper into the woods, leaving the noise of the river behind.