January 3, 2026 – 05:45 AM | Rest Period – Time Remaining: 00 Hr 15 Min
The air in the windowless concrete block was no longer just stagnant. It was a biological weapon.
After Malenia and the pink dog had abandoned him to "hunt" nearly twenty hours ago, Gilbert Wilton had made a command decision. He didn't fortify the base. He didn't scavenge for water. He didn't craft a weapon.
He had engaged in a "Solo Leveling" session of a very different kind.
Gilbert lay slumped in his nest of crushed cardboard and deflated waifu pillows, his body a trembling, sweat-slicked heap of exhaustion. The 3XL "Neko-Maid Adventure" shirt was gone, discarded somewhere in the corner, leaving his pale, doughy torso exposed to the flickering fluorescent lights. His skin was tacky. His eyes were bloodshot, sunken into dark, purple hollows that looked like bruises.
On the phone screen propped up against a stack of "Milf-Hunter" DVDs, the loop of Tentacle Empress played on silent.
"Fifteen," Gilbert wheezed, wiping a crusty hand on his bare, heaving stomach. "I have... ascended. This is the 'Sage Mode' that normies can only dream of." He squinted at the ceiling, his eyes rolling back slightly. "My dopamine receptors are fried... but the release... it was S-Tier. I have transcended the need for 3D intimacy."
He tried to focus on the screen, on the pixelated vines and the anime girl's distress, but the arousal was dead. Replaced by a hollow, gnawing void that felt like it was digesting his spine.
"So hungry," he whimpered, curling into a fetal ball on the sticky floor. "I can't fap no more. The spirit is willing... but the meat is spongy and bruised."
He lay there for ten minutes, just breathing. The silence of the bunker was deafening. No Malenia to bully. No Courage to kick. Just him, his shame, and the crushing realization that he hadn't eaten a solid meal since the 7-Eleven raid.
Boredom, cold and creeping, began to set in.
Without the dopamine hit of the "marathon," his brain started to itch. He needed a distraction from the hunger. He needed content.
With a groan that vibrated his jowls, he rolled onto his back and snatched up the smartphone. He swiped away the video player, his thumb leaving a greasy smear across the glass, and opened the System interface.
"Chat," he mumbled, squinting at the blur of text. "Tell me you guys clipped that streak. I need validation."
Gilbert squinted at the screen, expecting to see the usual comforting grey icon of "Privacy Mode."
Instead, he saw a pulsing red dot. [LIVE]
And below it, a timestamp: [Privacy Session Ended: 14 Hours Ago]
Gilbert's blood ran cold. The color drained from his already pale face, leaving him looking like a mound of uncooked dough. He scrolled up. The chat wasn't asleep. They weren't waiting. They had been watching. For fourteen hours.
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
SLC_Savage: "He stopped? Finally? I think I have PTSD. I saw things... anatomical things... that no human should witness. 🤢"
Gamer_God_69: "The 'Privacy' timer ran out during Round 4. We saw Rounds 5 through 15 in 4K resolution. The camera angle was... unfortunate. 📉💀"
Provo_Prepper_88: "I clocked his reload speed. It got slower every hour. By the end, he was just crying and slapping it like a broken remote. pathetic. ⏱️"
Utah_Momma_Jen: "I called the police, the FBI, and the Church. They all said they have no jurisdiction in the apocalypse. We are on our own with this monster. 🚔✝️"
Beehive_Babe_99: "The noises... the wet, squelching noises... I will hear them in my nightmares. Gilbert, you are a biological hazard. ☣️"
Vile_Virtue: "He's reading the chat. Look at his face. The realization is hitting him. 3... 2... 1..."
"What the fuck?!"
Gilbert shrieked, his voice cracking so hard it sounded like a jagged piece of chalk on a blackboard. He scrambled backward, kicking a pile of crusty tissues.
"Private mode only lasts for 3 hours?! Fuck!"
He grabbed his head, his greasy fingers tangling in his matted hair. The reality crashed down on him. Utah hadn't just seen him goon. They had seen the marathon. They had seen the tears. They had heard the whimpering.
For the second time in three days, he had exposed himself to the entire electorate.
Panic seized his chest. He hyperventilated, his bare, heaving stomach jiggling with every gasp. 'Think, Gilbert. Think! You're a Strategist. You're an Alpha. You control the narrative.'
He swallowed hard. He wiped a smear of dried strawberry lubricant from his upper lip. He took a deep, shuddering breath and forced his face into what he imagined was a seductive, heavy-lidded smirk.
He leaned into the camera, dangerously close, the lens fogging up from his breath.
"Greetings, Females of the Utah Sector," Gilbert croaked, pushing his glasses up his greasy nose with a smirk that he thought was charming but looked like a stroke. "I apologize for the 'Fan Service,' but a protagonist has needs. You should consider yourselves lucky. Usually, content of this... magnitude... is locked behind a Paywall or a Tier 3 Sub. You got to witness the raw, unfiltered vitality of an Alpha in his prime for free."
He winked. His eyelid stuck for a second before popping open.
"I hope you loved what you saw. It takes a lot of stamina to maintain that level of performance. But do not worry... once I return back to civilization, all of you can take turns embracing me. There's plenty of the Master to go around."
He pursed his chapped, orange-stained lips and blew a wet, smacking kiss into the air.
Mwah.
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
Beehive_Babe_99: "EW. EW. EW. HE WINKED AT US. I feel physically violated. I need a shower. I need a lobotomy. 🚿🧠🔨"
ParkCity_Princess: "Did he just call us 'kittens'? I am throwing up. I am literally vomiting. Someone kill the feed before he does it again. 🤮"
Sandy_Soccer_Mom: "My husband is dead, and this is still the worst thing that has happened to me this week. ⚰️"
SLC_Savage: "The delusion. The absolute, unmitigated gall. He thinks we liked it? He thinks that was a 'performance'? It was a medical emergency. 🏥🤡"
Utah_Momma_Jen: "Embrace him? I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole wrapped in barbed wire. Repent, Gilbert! Repent!"
Gamer_God_69: "He blew a kiss. The cringe levels are critical. The System needs to nerf his confidence immediately. 📉"
Gilbert ignored the wall of text. He sat back, satisfied.
"Nailed it," he whispered to himself. "They're playing hard to get."
As the hours dragged on, the gnawing in Gilbert's stomach shifted from a dull ache to a sharp, violent demand. The mushroom steaks from the morning were a distant memory, burned away by the caloric cost of his "marathon" and the sheer stress of existing.
Seven hours passed.
The silence in the bunker was heavy, broken only by the wet sound of Gilbert chewing on his own fingernails. He paced the small perimeter of his "nest," his eyes darting to the door every few seconds.
'They're gone too long,' he thought, his paranoia festering like the mold in the corner. 'What are they doing out there? Is she power-leveling him? Is she giving him the XP that belongs to me?'
Then, the heavy metal door creaked open.
A spill of crimson light flooded the room, followed by the silhouette of the Blade of Miquella. She stepped inside, her movements weary but fluid.
But she wasn't alone.
Perched happily in the crook of her golden arm was Courage. The dog looked pristine. His pink fur was groomed, his tail was wagging at a supersonic speed, and he was babbling excitedly in his gibberish dialect, looking up at Malenia's helmet with unadulterated adoration.
Malenia looked down at the dog. She didn't smile—her face remained a mask of stoic rot—but she reached up with her flesh hand and gently scratched him behind the ear.
"Thou hast a keen nose, little vassal," she murmured softy. "The harvest is bountiful."
Gilbert froze. His blood turned to ice, then instantly boiled into a sludge of toxic jealousy.
'She touched him,' Gilbert's mind screamed. 'She scratched his ear. She hasn't even looked at me in two days, but she's petting the gag character?'
It was the ultimate betrayal. It was "NTR" happening right in front of his eyes.
Courage, sensing the "Master" was present, hopped down from Malenia's arm. He was holding a large, glowing purple fruit in his paws—a "Abyssal Melon" he had sniffed out in the ruins. He scurried over to Gilbert, his eyes wide and hopeful, holding the fruit up as an offering.
"Ooga-booga! Yummy! For you!" Courage babbled, his tail thumping against Gilbert's shin.
He was trying to be a good boy. He was trying to share.
But Gilbert didn't see food. He saw a rival. He saw a usurper who had stolen the affection of his EX-Rank waifu.
"Get away from me!"
Gilbert's hand lashed out, slapping the fruit from the dog's paws. It smashed against the concrete with a wet splat.
"You parasite!" Gilbert shrieked, spit flying onto the dog. "Stop trying to farm affection points! I see what you're doing! You're trying to trigger a 'Pet Companion' flag to steal her aggro! She is MY summon! I rolled for her! I endured the Gacha despair! You are just an unskippable cutscene that I want to skip!"
The scream echoed off the metal shelves.
Courage's eyes bulged. His teeth shattered into a pile of dust in his mouth. With a yelp of pure terror, he scrambled backward, his paws slipping on the lube-slicked floor as he tried to put as much distance between himself and the "Alpha" as possible. He dove behind Malenia's greaves, shivering so violently he sounded like a maraca.
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
SLC_Savage: "HE MADE THE DOG DROP THE FRUIT. THAT IS IT. I AM DRIVING TO SALT LAKE. 🚗🔪"
Utah_Momma_Jen: "He screamed at the baby! He's jealous of a dog! Gilbert, you are a monster! 🤬"
Gamer_God_69: "Malenia, if you are reading this... execute Order 66. End him. 📉💀"
Vile_Virtue: "He just committed social suicide. You can be a loser, Gilbert, but you can't be an animal abuser. The internet never forgets. ⚰️"
Beehive_Babe_99: "Look at Courage shaking! Malenia, save him! 🙏"
Gilbert stood panting, his chest heaving with the exertion of his tantrum, waiting for Malenia to validate his dominance.
She did not.
Malenia stepped forward. She moved with a slow, terrifying silence, placing her body directly between Gilbert and the trembling dog. She didn't draw her blade. She didn't need to. She simply looked down at him, her eyeless helm reflecting the pathetic, sweaty rage on his face.
Gilbert, blinded by his own delusion, misread the proximity entirely.
"Ah," he breathed, his anger instantly evaporating into a greasy, hopeful smile. He adjusted his glasses with a trembling hand. "You're approaching me? Finally realized who the Alpha is, huh?"
He leaned against a shelf of "Extra Girth" novelties, attempting a suave pose that merely highlighted the sweat stains on his armpits.
"Okaeri, Malenia-tan~" he purred, his voice dropping to a nasal, breathy whisper that smelled of decay. "The 'Wife' returns to the 'Husband.' Did you bring me loot? Or... perhaps you realized that the true loot was waiting here all along?" He gestured vaguely to his naked, sweat-slicked torso. "Do you require... a mana transfer? Or perhaps... a bath? Or... wa-ta-shi?"
SMACK.
The sound was like a gunshot.
Malenia's flesh hand connected with Gilbert's cheek with enough force to spin him 180 degrees. His glasses flew off, skittering across the concrete. Gilbert's legs buckled, and he collapsed into a pile of "Milf-Hunter" DVDs, clutching the side of his face.
"Gah! W-What?!"
He looked up, eyes wide and watering, truly unable to comprehend why his "welcome home" script had failed.
Malenia towered over him. The air in the room grew heavy, suffocatingly cold.
"I have endured the stagnation of this tomb," she whispered, her voice vibrating with a lethal, quiet fury. "I have endured the stench of thy sweat, the rot of thy spirit, and the endless, hollow bleating of thy voice. I accepted this as the price of my tether."
She took a step closer. Gilbert scrambled backward on his butt, squelching in a puddle of spilled lubricant.
"But cruelty?" Malenia hissed. "Cruelty to the small? To the loyal?"
She pointed a golden finger at Courage, who was peeking out from behind her cape, holding his bruised tail.
"This beast sought only to serve. He offered thee the fruit of his labor. To strike him is not the act of a Master, Gilbert Wilton. It is the flailing of a child."
She grabbed Gilbert by the collar of his ruined shirt and hauled him to his knees, forcing him to face the dog.
"Atone," she commanded. "Beg the creature for forgiveness, or I shall let the rot claim what little remains of thy dignity."
The slap didn't just hurt. It burned.
Gilbert touched his cheek. His skin felt hot, tight, and throbbing. Tears leaked from his eyes—not from sadness, but from the sheer, stinging shock of the impact. They mixed with the grease on his face, tracking warm lines through the grime.
But beneath the pain, a fire ignited.
"NO!"
Gilbert screamed the word, spit flying from his lips. He scrambled back, pushing himself away from her with his heels until his back hit the shelf of "milf" DVDs.
Malenia didn't flinch. She stared down at him, her golden hand still raised, her cape settling around her like the wings of a judgment angel.
"The beast offered thee sustenance," she said, her voice dropping to a terrifyingly quiet hum. "Thou offered him violence. He is small. He is frightened. And yet, he is more worthy of this hall than thou art."
She pointed a finger at the floor, directly in front of Courage's trembling paws.
"Bend thy knee," she commanded. "Speak the words. Restore the honor thou hast broken."
Gilbert looked at the dog.
Courage was shivering so hard his teeth were chattering. He looked pathetic. A gag character. A meme.
Gilbert's brain raced. 'Apologize? To a dog? On live stream?'
The logic of his "Alpha" delusion kicked in. In his mind, this was a test. Malenia was checking his frame. If he apologized, he was admitting defeat. He was submitting to a lower life form. It would be a "Beta" move. A total loss of aura. The chat would eat him alive.
'Kings don't bow,' he thought, wiping a stream of snot from his nose with his forearm. 'If I fold now, I lose the harem. I lose the respect.'
His face twisted. His double chin trembled.
"I refuse!" he shrieked, his double chin trembling. "This is a 'Shit Test'! I know the lore! If I bow to a lower life form, my 'Dominance' stat resets to zero! I am a Sigma Male! I walk the Path of the Lone Wolf! I do not kowtow to a gag character just because the 'Devs' made him cute! It's against my Nindō—my Ninja Way!"
He tried to stand up, his legs shaking, his 3XL shirt hanging off one shoulder. He puffed out his chest, trying to look imposing despite the tears and the snot bubble forming at his nostril.
"I am an ALPHA male!" he bellowed, the sound echoing sadly off the concrete walls. "Alphas don't apologize!"
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
SLC_Savage: "I am actually crying laughing. He's screaming 'I AM AN ALPHA' while a snot bubble is literally inflating out of his nose. 🤧🤡"
Gamer_God_69: "New Emote Unlocked: [Crying_Alpha]. This is going in the compilation. The voice crack on 'male' was the cherry on top. 📉"
Vile_Virtue: "He really thinks apologizing to a dog destroys his frame, but crying in a shirt covered in strawberry lube is perfectly fine. The dissonance is fascinating. 🧠💀"
Provo_Prepper_88: "Malenia isn't even mad anymore. Look at her face. That's not anger. That's the look you give a toddler who just pooped in the pool. 🏊♂️💩"
Gilbert panted, his chest heaving, waiting for his declaration of dominance to take effect. He waited for Malenia to realize she was dealing with a high-value man who wouldn't be disrespected.
She didn't blink.
She didn't frown.
She simply turned her back on him.
It was a dismissal so absolute it felt like a physical blow. Malenia knelt, scooping the shivering Courage into her arms. She whispered something soft—a word of comfort that Gilbert couldn't hear over the blood rushing in his ears—and walked away.
She didn't stop at the campfire. She walked to the center of the store, where the heavy metal aisles of "Adult Novelties" stood.
SCREEEECH.
With the casual strength of a demigod, she dragged a heavy shelving unit across the floor. Then another. She slammed them together, creating a crude, waist-high barricade that bisected the room.
On one side: The fire, the food, the goddess, and the dog. On the other side: Gilbert, the darkness, and a pile of crushed cardboard.
She turned to face him over the barricade. Courage sat beside her, happily munching on a piece of the smashed purple fruit she had salvaged for him.
"The bounty of the hunt is for those who possess the spirit to share it," Malenia stated, her voice cool and final. "We shall feast. We shall rest. And thou..."
She looked at Gilbert's heaving, sweat-slicked stomach.
"...thou shalt hunger. Tonight, and tomorrow, and until the sun rots in the sky. Only when thou hast swallowed thy pride and bent the knee to this creature shall thou taste the fruit. The choice is thine, 'Master'."
She sat down, turning her back to him completely.
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
SLC_Savage: "SANCTIONS IMPOSED. Gilbert has been embargoed by his own summon. This is historic. 🚫🍔"
Utah_Momma_Jen: "Good! Sent to his room without supper! Maybe he'll learn some manners. Stay strong, Malenia!"
Gamer_God_69: "He's going to starve. His ego is bigger than his stomach. He'd rather die than say sorry to a cartoon dog. ⚰️"
Void_Walker: "The wall has been built. The separation of the wheat from the chaff. Watch him decay."
Night fell over the Salt Lake jungle. The crimson light of the Abyssal moon bled through the open door, casting long, twisted shadows across Gilbert's side of the store.
On the other side of the barricade, the fire crackled warmly. The smell of roasting mushroom steak and sweet Abyssal Melon wafted over the shelves, taunting him. He heard the soft clink of Malenia's armor as she ate. He heard Courage yipping happily.
Gilbert sat in the dark, his back against a shelf of vibrating toys. His stomach didn't just growl; it roared. It felt like his intestines were trying to eat each other.
"I won't do it," he whispered to the silence, clutching his midsection. "It's a power play. She's trying to break my frame. If I apologize, I become the beta. I just have to outlast her."
He looked around for anything edible. His rations were gone. The snacks from 7-Eleven were a distant memory.
His eyes landed on the fire pit—or rather, the edge of it that spilled onto his side of the boundary.
Lying in the cold ash was the charred, blackened remains of the Oyster Humanoid he had suffocated earlier that day. It wasn't meat anymore. It was a briquette of carbonized fungus and soot.
Gilbert stared at it. His mouth watered, confusing the smell of burnt charcoal for barbecue.
"Consuming biomass..." he muttered, shoving the soot into his mouth. "This is just like when the MC has to eat slime to gain resistance skills. I am building my 'Iron Stomach' perk. While you normies eat your UberEats, I am grinding survival proficiency. Delicious... carbon."
He crawled forward on his hands and knees. He reached into the ash and grabbed a chunk of the burnt mushroom carcass. It crumbled in his grip, dusting his fingers in black soot.
He didn't hesitate. He shoved the dry, charred lump into his mouth.
Crunch.
It tasted like licking a chimney. It was gritty, bitter, and coated his tongue in a layer of ash that sucked the moisture right out of his mouth. He gagged, his throat seizing up, but he forced himself to chew. He swallowed the dry, black sludge with a violent gulp that made his eyes water.
"See?" Gilbert whispered, black soot coating his teeth as he grinned at the camera in the dark. "Alpha... adaptation."
As the dry, bitter crumbs of carbonized fungus coated his tongue like black sand, Gilbert struggled to swallow. The soot sucked the moisture from his mouth, making every gulp a battle against his own gag reflex.
But the physical torture was nothing compared to the audio.
From the other side of the makeshift wall, the sound of a crackling fire was joined by something far worse: joy.
He heard the wet, happy schlop-schlop of Courage tearing into a juicy melon. He heard the dog yipping—a series of playful, high-pitched barks that sounded like pure serotonin.
And then, he heard it.
It wasn't a loud laugh. It wasn't a cackle. It was a low, soft hum of amusement—a velvet sound that vibrated through the metal shelves. It was Malenia, Blade of Miquella, chuckling.
"He dances for the fruit," Malenia murmured, her voice warm in a way Gilbert had never heard. "Thou art a spirited jester, little vassal."
Gilbert stopped chewing. The charcoal turned to cement in his cheek.
The jealousy hit him like a physical blow to the chest. It burned hotter than the infection in his arm ever had. That laugh... that warmth... it was supposed to be his reward. He was the Summoner. He was the Master. He had spent 48 hours trying to impress her with his "tactics" and his "Alpha frame," and she had looked at him like he was a stain on the floor.
But the dog? The pink, shivering gag character? He got the laugh.
Gilbert scraped a fingernail against the concrete, the sound lost in the ambient noise. His face twisted in the dark, illuminated only by the pale blue light of his phone.
"It should be me," Gilbert whispered, his voice trembling with a toxic mix of rage and self-pity. "It should be me making her laugh. Me!"
He looked at the shadow of the dog cast against the ceiling by the firelight.
"What does he have that I don't?" Gilbert hissed, wiping black soot from his lips. "I have human intellect! I have opposable thumbs! I have potential!"
He looked down at the chat, seeking validation.
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
SLC_Savage: "'What does he have that I don't?' Let's see... Hygiene. Bravery. Loyalty. A personality that isn't 90% entitlement. Shall I go on? 📝"
Gamer_God_69: "Courage has a spine, Gilbert. You have a back that's shaped like a question mark. 📉"
Utah_Momma_Jen: "He has a clean heart! And he doesn't smell like strawberries and sweat! That dog is ten times the man you are!"
Vile_Virtue: "Courage faced his fears to feed the group. You faced a mushroom to feed your ego. Malenia knows the difference. 🐕👑"
Provo_Prepper_88: "Also, he's cute. You look like a potato that was dropped in a barber shop floor sweepings pile. 🥔"
Void_Walker: "The dog contributes. You consume. The equation is simple."
Gilbert read the comments, his face flushing a deep, maroon red beneath the layer of soot.
"Shut the fuck up, chat," he spat at the screen, burying his face in his hands. "You don't know anything."
The water-stained ceiling tiles of the adult store were a map of his own misery.
Gilbert stared at them, counting the cracks in the plaster. He couldn't sleep. His stomach wasn't just growling; it was vibrating, a hollow, cramping void that felt like it was trying to digest his spine.
The smell of roasted mushroom steak from the "VIP Section"—Malenia and Courage's side of the barricade—still hung in the air, mocking him.
"Calorie deficit is critical," Gilbert whispered to the darkness, clutching his midsection. "This is unsustainable for a build of my mass."
He couldn't take it.
He rolled off his cardboard nest. On his hands and knees, he crawled toward the edge of the shelf-barricade, searching the cold concrete for any crumbs of the charred, soot-covered fungus he had choked down earlier.
He was licking a smear of black ash off his thumb when he felt it.
Tap. Tap.
Gilbert scrambled back, a high-pitched yelp dying in his throat as he spun around, his hands raised in a pathetic defensive posture.
"Don't hurt me! I have high cholesterol!"
It wasn't a monster.
Standing in the shadows, illuminated only by the faint purple glow of the objects in his arms, was Courage.
The pink dog stood on his hind legs, his spindly frame trembling slightly under the weight of three large, luminous Abyssal Melons. He looked at Gilbert—not with fear, and not with the mockery the chat spewed.
He looked at him with big, watery, forgiving eyes.
Courage didn't say a word. He didn't babble in gibberish. He simply offered a wide, gold-toothed smile that wrinkled his pink snout.
He leaned down and gently placed the glowing fruits on the concrete, pushing them toward Gilbert with a small, pink paw.
Then, he turned and padded away toward the barricade.
Gilbert stared at the fruit, stunned. His mouth watered instantly.
Just before Courage slipped back through the gap in the shelves, the dog stopped. He turned his head, looking back at the man who had kicked him, screamed at him, and denied him dignity.
Courage's eyes softened. He offered a small, shy thumbs-up.
Courage paused at the gap in the shelves. He stood on his hind legs, wringing his pink paws together nervously.
He looked at the floor, then up at the man huddling in the dark.
Courage paused at the gap in the shelves. He stood on his hind legs, wringing his pink paws together nervously. He looked at Gilbert, then opened his mouth.
"Ehh... Ooga-booga... h-h-help?"
Courage began to babble, his voice a frantic stream of high-pitched gibberish. Suddenly, his body popped with a rubbery sound. He morphed into a trembling leaf, shaking violently in the wind.
Pop.
He morphed back into a dog, then pointed a pink finger at Gilbert.
Pop.
Courage's head transformed into a giant, stinking wedge of Swiss Cheese. He waved stink lines away from his own nose, pinching it shut.
Pop.
He returned to normal form. He looked at the floor, then up at Gilbert with big, watery eyes. He brought his two index fingers together, tapping them shyly.
"F-F-Friends?" he whispered, the only English word forcing its way through the babble.
He gave a little, toothy smile—the gold tooth glinting in the firelight—and waved a paw.
"Bye-bye."
He gave a little wave, his ears drooping comfortably.
Courage turned and vanished into the warmth of the firelight.
Gilbert sat alone in the cold shadows of the "Fortress of Filth."
He grabbed the Abyssal Melon with both hands. He didn't check it for poison. He didn't inspect the stats. He bit into it like a starving animal.
Crunch.
Sweet, cool juice exploded in his mouth. It washed away the grit of the charcoal and the bitter taste of his own bile. It was the best thing he had ever tasted.
He chewed slowly, the movement of his jaw rhythmic and heavy. A single drop of juice rolled down his chin, mixing with the soot.
He swallowed hard, his throat tight.
"B-Baka dog..." Gilbert whispered, aggressively biting into the fruit so he wouldn't have to make eye contact. "Don't get the wrong idea. I'm only accepting this tribute because my caloric intake is critical for leading this raid. It's not like I... like you or anything."
It wasn't the way he said it before. There was no venom. It was the begrudging admission of a man who realized he was exactly like the old, grumpy farmer from the cartoon—and that the dog had saved him anyway.
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
SLC_Savage: "Did... did the dog just give a motivational speech? I'm crying. 😭"
Nostalgia_Ultra: "He said the line! 'Stupid Dog!' But he didn't reach for the mask! That's character development! 🎭"
Utah_Momma_Jen: "He ate the fruit. He didn't throw it. He accepted the kindness. Maybe there's a human soul buried under that grease after all. ❤️"
Gamer_God_69: "Courage is carrying this team socially, physically, and emotionally. Gilbert is just the NPC escort mission. 🎮"
Vile_Virtue: "Don't get used to it. He'll probably try to charge the dog rent tomorrow. But for tonight... W dog. 🐕🏆"
January 3, 2026 – 06:00 AM | Wave 2 Commencement
The concrete floor of the adult store offered zero lumbar support.
When the violent vibration of the smartphone finally dragged Gilbert out of his fitful, calorie-deficient sleep, his spine clicked like a bag of marbles. He groaned, peeling his face off a flattened cardboard box. A line of dried drool connected his cheek to the floor, snapping as he sat up.
He fumbled for the device. The screen burned his retinas with a harsh, crimson alert.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Wave 2 Commencement: 10 Minutes to Start.
Challenge: Survive for 24 hours during an Endless Rain.
Environmental Shift: Rain Clouds are forming. The arid climate is overwritten.
[COMMUNITY INTERACTION]
Status: Viewers in the "Utah Sector" voted on the Wave Factor.
Result: [INCREASE IN MOBS]
Note: "More mobs" does not strictly imply "Enemies." Biome density has been tripled.
Gilbert stared at the text. He rubbed a knuckle into his eye, smearing a layer of forehead grease across his eyelid.
He should be screaming. He should be yelling at the normies for voting to turn the difficulty slider up to "Hell." He should be lecturing them on the unfairness of managing a swarm event while suffering from malnutrition.
But the tank was empty. The rage engine wouldn't turn over.
"Spam..." he mumbled, rubbing grease from his eye. "Typical lazy devs. Instead of fixing the AI or balancing the difficulty, they just increase the mob density. This is artificial difficulty! I bet the loot table is trash too. Just my luck to be the protagonist in a pay-to-win game."
He let his hand drop, the phone clattering against his knee. He was too tired to be angry. He was too hungry to be scared.
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
SLC_Savage: "We voted for WHAT? Increase in Mobs? Are you guys insane? He couldn't handle one mushroom family! 🍄💀"
Gamer_God_69: "It's the meta play. High risk, high reward. If there are more mobs, there's more XP. We need Malenia to level up if we want to survive the later waves. Gilbert is just the bait. 🎣📈"
Utah_Momma_Jen: "Rain? In January? With no heat? That boy is going to catch his death of cold! He doesn't even have a jacket, just that awful, ruined shirt! 🥶🧥"
Vile_Virtue: "Endless Rain + Mob Density? The frame rate of reality is about to crash. I hope the sewers back up. 🌧️🌊"
Provo_Prepper_88: "Note the wording. 'Doesn't just mean enemies.' We might just get flooded with rats. Or frogs. Or... something worse. Prepare for the lag, Gilbert. 📉"