As Jett rounded the corner, he spotted a small, brightly lit convenience store. The sign above the door read 'Quick Stop.'

  It wasn't exactly gourmet, but it was open, and it was the only place he saw nearby.

  "Gotta get Murk some grub," he muttered to himself.

  "Gotta make sure he likes it. After all, the laundry is getting pretty full."

  He pushed open the door, and the bell above it jingled. The store was small but packed. A middle aged man with a bored expression was behind the counter. Shelves were crammed with snacks, drinks, and various other assorted items.

  Jett headed towards the aisle of food - his eyes scanned the products for something that might appeal to a miniature - monster rat with unknown dietary preferences.

  He had a bad feeling that cheese was off the menu.

  "Hmm…pizza rolls? Probably not."

  He started browsing with a look of doubt on his face. He had a feeling that his taste in food wouldn't be too compatible. He began to inspect the offerings.

  "Alright, so, what does a Spawn Ruin eat? Grains? Meats? Dust bunnies?"

  He paused, then added:

  "And what even is a Ruin exactly?"

  He sighed, shaking his head.

  "This is all new. This whole life. And now I have to become a gourmet chef?"

  He scanned the shelves - his eyes fell on a bag of jerky. Beef jerky.

  "Jerky. Meat. It's…meat-like," he thought to himself.

  "And it's preserved. Might not go bad on me too quickly."

  He grabbed a bag of beef jerky and headed towards the candy aisle.

  "Candy? Sugar is energy. But is Murk a sugar type of guy?"

  He still wasn't certain about the Ruin's gender. He picked out a pack of gummy worms - he figured it couldn't hurt to try, and then added a few bags of different nuts, just in case.

  After paying, Jett exited the convenience store. He was juggling the bag of food - and his bike. He started back towards his apartment, trying to imagine Murk's reaction to his culinary selection.

  'This is for Murk, and only Murk. I'm not gonna taste it.'

  He opened his apartment door - setting down his bike with a loud clunk - He then headed straight for his bedroom, dropping the groceries onto his desk.

  He sat down and looked at his desk. It was already a mess - but it would have to do. He grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and a pencil and then started.

  First, he started with Volkov - the Gargoyle. He began by sketching a rough outline. He was still hazy on the details, after being battered all around in the apartment.

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  'His face…it was like carved from stone. And then those damn eyes. They were staring right through me. So scary..'

  He focused on the monster's features - trying to capture every detail - from the leathery wings to the imposing build. It wasn't coming to him that easily, but he persevered.

  As he drew, he forced himself to relive the memory of the fight. He recalled the creature's speed—its brutal power—its near invincibility.

  'What did it feel like? Did it ever show fatigue? Wait..what can I do next time?'

  He took a few deep breaths - to try to focus. He had to study the details - from the best way to use the bat - to escape.

  He thought through the events - line by line. Every blow - every dodge - every desperate attempt to survive. He had to use every detail to his advantage - to analyze the strategy and plan for the future.

  He stopped - he made a new sketch. He drew himself from the perspective of Volkov - from his point of view - seeing how it could have been better.

  'Could I have used something in the environment? Could I have distracted him? Did I even try?'

  "This drawing is not going to be the best, but, I need to study all these details to get better. I need to understand my opponent, if I'm to have any chance of surviving."

  Jett looked down at his drawing. He had the ability to analyze the fight - to find his weaknesses. He needed to keep practicing - to get better - stronger.

  He stared at his drawing - and began to trace the Gargoyle's movements with his finger. He replayed the fight in his mind, slow motion, freezing moments, and going back to the beginning.

  He went back to his desk - getting more paper. He drew Volkov again - now focusing on his weight. The monster had been a behemoth of raw power. He had to capture every detail he could remember.

  'How heavy was he? How did he carry that weight? Did he have a weakness? Was it his footing?'

  He made notes next to the drawing—'heavy, but agile. Relied on power.'

  He drew the thick, powerful limbs - sketching in every detail - muscles and all.

  He looked again at his reference - recalling each strike, each movement, the way the monster shifted his weight. His footwork was fluid, not clumsy or slow.

  He sketched out some of the monster's attacks: there was a brutal swipe from the claws - a bone jarring strike from the fist - and a series of rapid, acrobatic movements.

  He analyzed each attack, trying to anticipate the patterns.

  "He liked to lunge. And he also kept low," he muttered to himself as he made notes, scribbling down observations next to his sketches.

  'What was the reach? How fast was the swing? How did he recover?'

  He paused after asking himself these questions, and then drew himself - and Volkov - in a series of combat poses - trying to map out each movement, every possibility.

  'Where are his blind spots? Where can I strike?'

  He tried to visualize each blow - measuring the distance, calculating the angles. It was a slow, painstaking process, but he was determined to understand the Gargoyle's fighting style.

  'What are his weaknesses? Is there anything I can exploit?'

  He thought about Bloodletter, his bat. It had done some damage - but not enough to kill Volkov. He needed a better plan. He remembered that moment in the dining room - the moment before he was flung into the wall.

  "Next time. I can do better."

  He looked back at his drawings - his sketches were filled with notes and corrections. The memory of the fight was still fresh in his mind. He was starting to piece together a strategy. He drew a new sketch, this time depicting a possible counter attack. He sketched himself - dodging the creature's swipe, then attacking its head like he did previously with Bloodletter.

  He added notes:

  "Focus on speed. React. Aim for the head. Use the environment."

  He wanted to understand the Gargoyle. He had to know its movements. He had to find its weaknesses. He could get better.

  As he drew - a voice whispered into his mind.

  [ Somatic I: 59/1000 ]

  Hours went by as he drew more sketches.

  Exhaustion tugged at him - but a new feeling of clarity had taken root. He had a lot to learn, but he also had a better understanding of what he was now.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to organize the information—Brenda's lessons - Myrna's information—his own experiences. It was a lot to take in.

  "Okay," he muttered, opening his eyes and listing them out.

  "Jett Walker - Veschar. Thanks, Renja."

  He began listing his newfound knowledge - trying to make sense of it all. He listed the information on his fingers.

  "One. I'm a Veschar - which, as far as I can tell, is a special kind of vampire. Or a very messed up kind of vampire."

  He grinned a bit - but then it disappeared - and he returned to his listing.

  "Two. I have a unique…constitution. I'm strong in the sun. At least for now. It's not going to burn my flesh off all at once."

  He flexed his arm - testing to see if it would do any harm. He remembered the warmness on his face.

  "Three. I can eat actual food - though I haven't exactly tested that theory yet. But I can probably survive off regular things. But I still need blood—apparently."

  He shuddered - and continued:

  "Four. I have the Somatic Path. Whatever that is. Which means I have super human strength, speed, and reflexes. Which is useful. Maybe I need to get more Somatic points."

  He glanced at his hand. He had already felt a bit stronger.

  "Five. I also have that voice thing. Which is…weird."

  He paused. "And the ability to maybe summon Ruin. Which is even weirder."

  He remembered the green glow of Murk. He had no idea what to do with the Ruin - but he knew he had to learn how to control it.

  "Six. I'm also now involved in some kind of supernatural world. And it's going to be far more confusing."

  He leaned back in his chair, his expression was a combination of awe - contemplation - and introspection.

  "So…vampire politics. Secret societies. Power struggles. And a baby monster rat."

  He paused. "Okay, what about Murk? Did he get something?"

  He opened his sling bag. Murk emerged, the Ruin stretched and yawned. He was still the same size - with the same green eyes.

  Jett patted the tiny creature, "Seven. I have a friend now, a weird friend, but a friend nonetheless."

  He went back to thinking about what he had to do. The most important thing was to become strong. He had to continue training with Brenda.

  "I need to master those basic movements. I need to improve my fighting skills. I need to…"

  He paused, then made a new point:

  "I need to learn to control my anxiety. That's actually the most challenging one."

  He sat still - his thoughts were constantly drifting.

  He went back to thinking about the fight with Volkov. He realized that he needed a new plan, more weapons - a better strategy. He needed to be ready for any threat.

  He made a new note, and this one was very simple - and filled with hope:

  "Get better. Keep fighting. And try not to die."