Luke crouched beside the body of a fallen green-clad soldier, his hands hesitating. The idea of looting the dead still felt fundamentally wrong, a violation, but necessity, and the casual way the veterans ordered it, had a way of silencing conscience. Steeling himself, he reached out, fingers brushing against the cold, stiff leather of the soldier's armor.

  A sudden, vibrant flash of deep purple erupted from the body, startling him. It wasn't just light; it felt like raw energy thrumming against his palm for a heartbeat before fading, leaving a distinct warmth that resonated deep within his chest, like an invisible thread connecting him to something vast, unseen, and slightly unnerving.

  

~ Loot Corpse? ~

  Yes / No

  "What the…?" Luke muttered, hand still hovering over the still form. He mentally selected Yes.

  

~ Worn Leather Vest added to Inventory ~

  ~ 20 Copper Pieces added to Inventory ~

  ~ Rusty Short Sword added to Inventory ~

  The body shimmered briefly with a soft, golden light, then dissolved entirely, leaving only a faint impression in the bloodstained dirt. Luke blinked, breath catching. That wasn't normal. Looting wasn't supposed to involve purple energy pulses or dissolving corpses.

  Lestor's voice broke through his confusion from nearby. "What in the Nine Hells was that? Did you see that purple flash? Where’d the body go?That ain't normal!"

  Luke stood slowly, glancing down at his own hands as if they held the answer. "It's… a looting ability, I think?" he offered uncertainly. "Doesn't everyone get this?"

  Lestor snorted, elbow-deep in the pockets of another corpse. "Not even close. Most of us gotta get our hands dirty.. literally. You wouldn't believe the crap you dig through just to find a half-decent blade sometimes." He gestured vaguely at the carnage around them. "Whatever you got, it ain't standard issue."

  Luke frowned, thinking back. The intense purple flash, the strange resonance… it had only happened with that first body. The others he’d approached since hadn’t reacted that way. "I don't know," he said, troubled by the memory. "Maybe just a glitch." He shrugged. Thinking back to his time on Earth, reality collapsing. Inevitably his thoughts fell back to Jason and Irara. Determined He moved to the next body, half-expecting another strange reaction. This time, the process was more subdued. The soldier's body glowed faintly with a soft, golden light, almost lost in the bright daylight. When the glow faded, the corpse dissolved just as the first had.

  

~ Loot Corpse? ~

  Yes / No

  He looted without hesitation. Another rusty sword, 15 copper, a pair of worn boots. Standard battlefield refuse.

  "Got it easy, don't ya?" Lestor called out, sounding frustrated as he continued rummaging. "Try doin' this by hand. Half the time you're lucky if you find a few coins before some scavenger tries to jump you for 'em."

  Luke looked at Lestor, then back at the empty space where the body had been. Whatever this ability was, it was more than just convenient; it was unnervingly efficient. Still, he couldn't shake the lingering warmth from that first purple pulse, the echo of something significant hidden amidst the mundane horror.

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  After a while, looting became a grim routine. Luke moved methodically from corpse to corpse, touching each one, accepting the loot prompts. Each time, the faint golden glow flashed briefly before the body dissolved. It was efficient, sterile almost, compared to the gruesome work Lestor was engaged in.

  The weight of his growing inventory, however, was another matter entirely. By the time he touched his twentieth body, Luke was struggling visibly. His legs wobbled under the invisible burden, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. It felt like carrying an anvil on his back.

  

~ Stat Increase: Endurance +1 ~

  "Well, at least there's that," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow with a muddy forearm.

  "Still carryin' all of it?" Lestor called over, laughing. "Told ya this'd happen! You ain't a damn pack mule!"

  "I'm fine!" Luke wheezed, though the strain in his voice betrayed him. "Just… think of it as training."

  "Sure. Training for what? Collapsin' under a pile o' rusty swords?"

  Luke gritted his teeth and kept moving, ignoring Lestor’s entirely reasonable mockery. Each step felt heavier than the last, the invisible weight crushing, but he refused to drop anything. The loot wasn't impressive, mostly worn gear and small amounts of copper, but every coin, every potentially useful item, felt vital. Jason and Irara weren't going to save themselves.

  By the time he finally reached the Campaign Financier's tent, set up near the edge of the temporary camp, Luke was drenched in sweat, his body trembling with exhaustion. He leaned heavily against the rough wooden desk, barely managing to stay upright.

  "Name?" the financier asked curtly, not looking up from his ledger.

  "Luke… Renoka," he gasped out.

  "Business?"

  "Looting… battlefield cleanup."

  "Permit access to inventory?" the man asked, still scribbling.

  

~ Permit Campaign Financier access to your inventory? ~

  Yes / No

  Luke mentally selected Yes, too tired to question the process.

  The financier's quill paused mid-stroke. He finally looked up, eyes widening slightly as he mentally scrolled through the contents of Luke's unseen inventory. "In Jefferson's great name… how did you collect all this?"

  Luke managed a weak shrug. "Special ability, I guess?"

  "Special indeed," the financier muttered, making a notation on his clipboard before nodding sharply. "After the Imperium's tithe, your share comes to 300 gold pieces." He handed Luke a small, heavy pouch and a stamped receipt.

  Simultaneously, a new notification appeared, insistent and somehow significant:

  

~ Hidden Quest Unlocked: Death's Merchant ~

  Marked by Fate, you have proven… receptive. Your unique ability to interact with the lingering essence of the fallen reveals potential for unconventional enterprise. Speak to any merchant of repute to unlock the next stage.

  Accept? Yes / No

  Luke stared at the words, his heart giving a nervous flutter. Marked by Fate. The phrase echoed Jason's last words to him, sending an unexpected shiver down his spine despite the cloying heat. What did it mean? And what was this about 'lingering essence'? He selected Yes, pushing down the unease. Too much was happening too fast to dwell on cryptic quests now.

  The trek from the financier's tent to the makeshift markets – little more than a collection of wagons and stalls set up by camp followers – was grueling, even after offloading most of his loot. His inventory, though lighter, still felt overloaded, every step sending sharp pains through his legs and back. He needed supplies, maybe better armor, but carrying everything was becoming impossible.

  

~ New Skill Unlocked: Pack Mule (Active) ~

  Triples carrying capacity while active. Weapons cannot be wielded during activation. Requires sustained concentration.

  The moment he mentally activated the skill, the crushing weight vanished. His back straightened, muscles unclenching, his steps suddenly feeling light, almost effortless.

  "You look like a new man," Lestor said, catching up, regarding him with a raised eyebrow. "What just happened?"

  "Got a new skill," Luke replied, unable to suppress a grin of relief.

  "Lucky bastard."

  Luke laughed, stretching his arms luxuriously above his head. "Guess hauling half the battlefield in scrap metal was worth it after all."

  "Sure. Just don't expect me t'help you next time," Lestor retorted good-naturedly. "Corpse lootin' is officially your thing now, not mine."

  Luke smirked. "Deal. Let's hit the market before I accidentally loot another body just by looking at it." He needed answers, supplies, and maybe, just maybe, a hint about what path to take next in this brutal, bewildering new world.