Philosophy Building, Second Floor Hallway | December 23, 2029, 7:55 PM
The quiet that fell after the chaos was more suffocating than the darkness itself.
Chika leaned against the frigid wall, his lungs aching as if he had just run a marathon. The [Stamina: 120/150] alert flickered at the edge of his vision, throbbing a dull red warning. It wasn't just numbers, his head felt light, a dizzying low-blood-sugar sensation that made the hallway sway.
"Are we... clear?" Kene stammered, his voice trembling. The greyish texture of his skin was fading, peeling back like a receding tide, revealing bruised, human flesh beneath.
"For now," Paul muttered. He wiped his knife on his jeans, his eyes scanning the inky blackness of the ceiling where the creatures had descended. "Check the corners...Abuchi?"
No response.
Chika pushed away from the wall,moving a bit with his hands searching in the direction Abuchi lay.
Abuchi was still down on the floor, hunched over the shriveled remains of the Stalker.
The creature resembled a mummy that had languished in the desert for a century, skin tightly drawn against bone, hollow and lifeless.
"Abuchi?" Chika whispered. "You good?"
Abuchi didn't look up. He was shaking, his hands hovering uncertainly over the creature's chest, twitching.
"Guy, stand up," Chika urged, stepping closer.
"Wait first,"("Hold on,") Abuchi mumbled, his voice thick and preoccupied."You remember those web novels I dey force you read?" ("You remember those web novels I kept trying to get you to read?")
The ones about dungeons and hunters?"
Chika frowned, his patience thinning. "Abuchi, this isn't the time."
"No, listen," Abuchi insisted, though his eyes never left the corpse. "In the books, when the mob die, e dey drop something. Loot. Mana stone. Core. Something."(In the tomes, when a foe meets their end, they leave behind a token, whether it be loot, a mana stone, or a core. Something, indeed.)
Chika shook his head, the recollection foggy at best. He can vaguely recall Abuchi going on and on about "leveling systems" and "cultivation" during their late-night study sessions, but he had always dismissed it as mere fantasy. "That's just fiction, Abuchi. We've have to move."
"Is it?" Abuchi replied, a bizarre, wild grin spreading across his face. "We just got system notifications, Chika. I just devoured a monster with my bare hands. Who says loot no dey ? (there's no loot?")
Yet Chika could see the truth in his friend's eyes, it wasn't mere curiosity. It was a deep-seated hunger. The Devour affinity was gnawing at Abuchi. He was clinging to the "loot" idea as a flimsy excuse, a way to justify reaching for the meat once more.
"It's beckoning me, boss," Abuchi murmured, his smile fading."I chop the life... but e never finish. Something dey inside ("I've taken the life... but it's not over. There's something in there.")
Before Chika could intervene, Abuchi thrust his hand into the decayed chest cavity.
CRACK.
The sound of ribs cracking echoed like the crunch of dry twigs underfoot. Kene retched and turned away in disgust. Abuchi wasn't wielding a knife, he is using his bare hands, tearing through the tough, dried tissue with a primal ferocity. He plunged deeper into the dark, viscous mess.
"I knew it," he murmured, though his voice wavered. "Loot."
His hand emerged, revealing...
In his hand, slick with black ichor, was a tiny, crystallized orb. It resembled a marble, radiating a soft, pulsing red glow, reminiscent of a fading heartbeat.
"Wetin be that?"(What's that) Kene asked, stepping back, his eyes filled with trepidation as he regarded the strange object.
Abuchi gazed at it intently, his pupils wide. "It's warm. It feels like... food. Pure sustenance."
Before Abuchi could bring the artifact closer to his lips, Paul intervened, seizing his wrist. He surveyed the glowing sphere, his expression inscrutable.
"Energy," Paul whispered. "Condensed, like a battery."
Chika's eyes fixated on the luminous marble, then shifted to the lifeless creature's forehead, the dim, dwindling light of the Star.
"The Star!" Chika realized suddenly. "This is the source. This is what fuels them."
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: 1 STAR ENERGY SOURCE DETECTED]
The notification flickered in Chika's sight, affirming Abuchi's words. He was right. The logic of gaming applied here...which meant the laws of web novels might hold true, metals, energy stones, precious herbs, mana.
"Yes, that's where our power originates. Perhaps our planet birthed this mana... I'll share this knowledge later, once we're stable. It's crucial, it implies leaving behind the resources of the old world...but first, we need to find stability."
The blue box flashed in Chika's view, affirming his thoughts. Abuchi was right. The gamer logic was in effect.
"Can we use it?" Kene asked.
"Abuchi felt it due to his connection," Chika explained, his thoughts racing. "His craving detected it. That means... it's intended to be consumed."
Abuchi glanced at the core, then back at Chika. "You mean... Make I chop stone ? (I should eat stone?) Like candy?"
"Keep this to yourselves," Paul interjected sharply, his tone slicing through the uncertainty.
The group turned their attention to him.
"If everyone finds out these things grant power," Paul warned quietly, a dangerous edge to his voice, "they'll swarm. They'll want to fight when they're not ready. They could die. Or worse... they might come after us for it."
Chika surveyed his core team. In this new world, the value of information was paramount.
"We take the rest," Chika commanded, his tone firm. "We stash them away. This stays between us. For now."
They sliced open the other two Stalkers. It was a gruesome task. Two more cores appeared. Red. Pulsating and warm.
They tucked them away. The secret remained safe.
.......
They shifted into the adjacent space
Lecture Hall 202.
"Clear," Paul breathed, his senses darting across the lower tier.
"Not quite," Chika replied, directing his beam upward. "Top row, around the podium."
There, atop the lecturer's elevated desk, sat an unsettling figure. It isn't a Shambler or a Stalker.
Its grotesquely swollen. Its legs, emaciated, hung limply like fragile twigs beneath a bloated body. Its throat resembled a grotesque sac, pulsing with a sickly yellow glow that mirrored the singular star marking its forehead.
[CORRUPTED IDENTIFIED]
Name: Spitter
Class: Ranger
Rank: 1-Star
Threat Level: Medium
Speed : Slow
"Ranger Class," Chika read the label aloud, dread creeping into his veins.
"Hold on," Paul said, backing away. "Shamblers were just canon fodders.Those we encountered in the hall were stealthy predators. But this one... it's ranged?"
"It's an army," Chika murmured. "Each one has its own function."
The Spitter didn't scream, it heaved dropping a cracking sound.
The sac in its throat swelled, bulging veins pressing against the decayed skin.
"Move!" Paul yelled, diving to the left.
HISS-SPLAT.
A glob of yellow bile arced through the air, hitting the wooden desk where Chika had just been. The wood didn't just become damp,it shrieked as smoke billowed up, the acid corroding the laminate and reducing the metal frame beneath to a bubbling black slurry.
"Acid!" Abuchi shouted, scrambling behind a chair for cover. "Oh boy, acid!"
The creature turned on the podium. It couldn't walk, but it could pivot. It trained its gaze on Paul.
Paul was quick, but the aisle was cramped. He had no room to evade. The creature heaved once more.
"No!"
A grey blur shot down the aisle.
Kene.
The sturdy philosophy major didn't flee. Instead, he braced himself. He shielded his face with his arms and bellowed.
[SKILL: STONE BASTION]
[Stamina 75/150]
His skin morphed into the hue of rough granite, transforming him into an immovable statue amid the danger zone.
SPLAT.
The acid splattered onto Kene's forearms.
SSSSSSSS.
Steam erupted from his skin. He howled,a primal, anguished cry, am sure it startled their little group in room 301. The acid hissed as it devoured the stone layer, pitting its surface like rain on soil, but it spared his flesh. The Earth Affinity had held strong.
"Now!" Kene grunted, his knees trembling under the strain...his stamina is already critically low.
Chika surged forward. The Spitter was preparing to strike again, its throat sac deflating.
Chika hurdled over two desks, ignoring the burning in his legs. In mere seconds, he closed in. He is unarmed, he'd dropped the pipe to dodge.
He missed the rock he once carried.
He leaped, driving his knee into the podium and slamming down like he is holding a rock onto the distended sac.
[PAIN SPIKE]
[Stamina: 105/150]
He channeled the chaos into his strike.
The impact ruptured the sac. Yellow bile erupted outward, splattering across Chika's jeans, but he was already recoiling. The creature didn't just perish; it floundered in its own weapon, thrumming and choking as the acid consumed it from within.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: RANGER CLASS ENEMY ELEMINATED ]
Chika stood over the dissolving remains, panting heavily. He glanced at Kene.
The stone-like protection faded away. Kene's arms were red and blistered, smoke wafting from his skin, but he was intact.
"You actually took the hit," Abuchi said, peering from behind a desk, his eyes wide with admiration. "You really took it."
"We need to inspect it," Chika said. "The core."
Paul stepped closer, cautious of the acid pooling on the ground. He retrieved the core, which was not red like those from the Stalkers, but green.
"Looks like poison," Paul observed.
Chika's gaze fell on the core. His body craved it. His Saturation was stuck at 19.5%, and the hunger was a gnawing pain. But he looked at Kene, who was tending to his burnt arms.
"Take it," Chika said, tossing the green core to Kene.
Kene caught it with his good hand, bewildered. "Me?"
"You absorbed the blow," Chika explained. "We need someone to take the hits. If you go down, we're done for. Consume it."
Knee almost teared up, it's have been a long time somebody acknowledge him, but now he have a team who believes in him. " Maybe this world end stuff is not as bad as I thought "...
Second Floor Hallway | 8:35 PM
They reached the barricade at Room 301. The rush of victory evaporated the moment they laid eyes on Afoma's expression.
"It's Tunde," she said, her voice shaking with anxiety.
The security guard lay on the floor, unmoving. His skin was parchment-dry, lips cracked and bleeding. He is convulsing, his large frame trembling in jerky motions.
"Dehydration shock," Paul said, checking for a pulse. "His heart's racing. He needs water, now."
"We don't have any left," Afoma replied, hopelessness seeping into her voice. "We used the last drop an hour ago."
Chika glanced at the ceiling. "The building has pipes...I think."
"The mains are shut off," Abuchi interjected, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Nothing's coming out of the taps. Buh we can check anyway."
"Not the mains," Chika turned to the group. "Dubem! Where's Dubem?"
The lanky engineering student stepped forward from the back, cradling his bruised arm, fear etched across his face. "Metal," he stammered. "Rank F. I can't fight, Chika."
"I don't need you to fight," Chika replied, gripping his shoulder. "Can you sense metals? The pipes in the walls. The structure of the building."
Dubem frowned, pressing his oil-stained hand against the concrete. He closed his eyes.
"I... I feel the rebar. And... yes. Copper. It's running up to the roof. There's a header tank. It's old."
"Is there water in it?"
"I can't feel the water," Dubem confessed. "But the metal feels... cold and moist just a few inches above the valve."
"Tap it," Chika commanded. "But don't break it. If you break it, we lose everything. Just... open a small opening."
Dubem focused hard, sweat dripping down his brow. He traced a line on the wall with his fingertip.
[SKILL: QUICK WELD (INVERTED)]
[STAMINA:113/150]
The plaster cracked, exposing a copper pipe. Dubem didn't smash it; he skillfully thinned out the metal, peeling it back as if removing a layer of skin.
A trickle of brown, rusty liquid started oozing out, soon turning into a steady flow.
"Bucket!" Afoma shouted.
They caught the liquid. It had the aroma of old coins and dust, but it was wet.
They poured a cup into Tunde's mouth. He sputtered, coughed, and swallowed, then took another sip.
Color began to return to his pale face. His breathing became steadier.
"He'll survive," Paul said, sitting back on his heels.
Chika glanced at his team. Kene was huddled in a corner, nervously holding the green core in a secretive manner, hesitating before deciding whether to pop it into his mouth. Dubem, with an uncommon pride in his demeanor, was busy sealing the pipe back up.
Meanwhile, Abuchi stood watch at the hallway, his appetite temporarily satisfied by the earlier chaos.
They had a Tank, they had a Builder,they had a Secret.
Chika gazed up the stairwell towards the third floor.
GRIND... GRIND... GRIND...
The noise echoed down to them. It was reminiscent of the sound a Shambler made when it transformed outdoors, but this is amplified. It is deeper, like the sound of heavy machinery, causing the dust from the ceiling tiles to tremble.
"You hear that?" Chika asked.
"The grinding?" Paul replied. "Is it another Shambler?"
"No...I don't think so," Chika responded, fear tightening in his chest. He recalled the sounds from the Descent, the small ones emitted a clicking noise, while the medium ones hissed.
"That sounds much bigger. Heavier," he whispered. "If the small ones create a faint noise... what could make a sound that rattles the floorboards?"
He turned to his team.
"And if we're following that game logic, there's a boss waiting for us upstairs."