Chapter 8
The sun was beginning to dip behind the shattered skyline of the city, casting long shadows over the broken streets. Ethan walked slowly, his boots crunching against the dry debris. His mind was focused—too focused.
He could feel the weight of the time passing as he made his way through the desolate urban sprawl. His parents were still out there, somewhere. But the distance between him and them felt like miles more than the physical space that separated them.
He’d been walking for hours, stopping only to take down any monsters that crossed his path. The first couple had been easy—low-level grunts, the kind that didn’t even deserve to be called real threats. A couple of claws or teeth, and they were done. But now? Now, the monsters were getting more dangerous. The higher the level, the harder they were to kill. He could already feel it. The monsters weren't just mindless creatures anymore—they were evolving, adapting.
Ethan stopped in his tracks, crouching low as he heard the growl of something larger approaching. A pack of mutated wild dogs—a few too many to take head-on without getting torn apart.
He could feel the difference in his body. The countless level-ups had done more than just boost his stats—they had sharpened his physical form, honed it in ways he hadn't expected. His muscles were firmer, his endurance greater, and even his reflexes felt quicker.
The weight of his exhaustion hadn’t diminished, but there was a newfound strength in his frame. His once sluggish movements now had an edge of efficiency, as if his body had become more attuned to the harsh reality around him.
The changes were subtle, but undeniable. He was stronger, faster, more capable than he’d been yesterday. Something in him appreciated it. A small, quiet acknowledgment that, no matter how grim things seemed, at least his body was catching up with the demands of the world.
Ethan focused, a handgun appeared on his hand. He glanced over the weapon and then at the creatures approaching. Time to make this easy.
The first dog rounded the corner. Ethan raised the gun—his hands unsteady, eyes darting between the target and the sights. He pulled the trigger.
BAM!
The shot went wide. The dog jerked its head to the side, barely grazed. Ethan cursed under his breath, readjusting his aim. The dog lunged, and Ethan fired again.
BAM!
This time, the shot hit, but it wasn’t a clean kill. The dog yelped, then snarled, charging forward. Ethan’s pulse raced. He fired again, this time hitting it in the chest. It stumbled, but didn’t drop.
His hands were shaking, but he kept pulling the trigger. His shots were wild. One more hit. Another dog lunged from the side.
BAM! BAM!
The dogs scattered, yelping as they fell. Not all of them were dead, but they weren’t getting back up either. Ethan took a moment to catch his breath, the gun still warm in his hands.
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His heart was pounding. He had done it. But his aim was off. His inexperience showed—there had been too many near misses.
He dropped to a knee, feeling the weight of the situation sink in.
[You have leveled up!]
The fight had taken its toll. But he couldn't afford to stop now. The pack was dead, but the city was still full of dangers. He looked down at his handgun, frowning. He had to be more precise.
Another healing potion appeared in his hand. He drank it quickly, feeling the warmth spread through him as his wounds healed. The effects were immediate—he could feel the aches and pains fading away.
Ethan dismissed the gun as he took a deep breath.
His status screen flickered in the corner of his vision.
[Ethan Walker]
Age: 22
Level: 8
Strength: 18
Dexterity: 18
Vitality: 18
Wisdom: 15
Intelligence: 15
Stat Points: 8
Skills:
Perfect Replication [Lvl. Max]
Skill Points: 0
Approaching the creature’s lifeless body, he noticed the faint shimmer of loot.
[Monster Claw – Common Item x1]
He gave it one last look, but there was no hesitation in his decision. He left the item behind. It wasn’t worth the space in his already packed bag.
Ethan scanned the area again . No sign of more monsters for now, but he knew better than to get too comfortable.
He needed shelter.
His eyes caught a partially collapsed building to his left. The remnants of a storefront, the windows shattered, the door barely hanging on its hinges. Perfect. It wasn’t much, but it would do.
With quiet steps, he approached the door, carefully pushing it open. It creaked, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night. He winced but moved inside, scanning the dark room. Broken furniture and debris littered the floor. A few large shelves tipped over, casting long shadows across the walls.
He pulled the door closed behind him, securing it the best he could with a nearby piece of metal. It wouldn't hold against a determined attack, but it would give him a few minutes of warning if anyone—or anything—decided to pay him a visit.
Ethan collapsed onto the ground, his back against a pile of rubble. He sighed, letting his shoulders drop. His body ached. His ribs still burned where the dog had scraped him, and his hands felt stiff from gripping the gun all day. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, leaving a hollow exhaustion in its wake.
He took a deep breath, trying to push the thoughts of his parents from his mind for a moment. The goal was simple now: survive. Keep moving. Find them.
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sharp, insistent growl of his stomach. The pang of hunger hit him harder than he'd expected, a reminder of how long he'd been pushing his body without a proper meal.
Without a second thought, he replicated a few energy bars and a bottle of water. The familiar ethereal glow surrounded the items as they took form before him, solidifying into real, tangible objects.
He didn’t bother to savor them. The bars weren’t gourmet—just tasteless, dense squares of calories designed for survival—but they were enough.
As he ripped open one of the bars, the satisfaction was immediate, though brief. It wasn’t much, but it would keep him going.
