So far, the System hadn’t been too terrible at giving me gear that was useful. No excessive duplicates or things with stats that were no good for me. Richard mentioned that there would be higher rarities further down the line, but for now Rare was the best I could get.

  With Threadcutter and my two abilities carrying the most weight for my build, the prospect of there being a treasure chest of that rarity just sitting out in the desert waiting for me to crack it open was… motivating. I needed that power, and the Guide had said that it be well worth opening.

  All that was in my way was a group of orc bandits. A dozen of the monsters, a mix of Level 3 and 4. Riding high on my arena survival and Class acquisition, I was mostly confident the stereotypical fantasy fare wouldn’t be too much of an issue.

  My legs even stopped aching.

  Focusing ahead also stopped me from thinking about the bunker denizens. Sally or Doris might be getting into those pods right now, accepting the odds that they might straight up die to the process.

  Maybe I should have stuck around.

  Not that it changed anything, or I’d have been able to help, aside from getting anxious and snappy with everyone. It was better I was alone.

  The stroll away from the bunker and through what used to be the ratman graveyard gave me time to put my new gear on now that my Class selection had been made. I checked through my Inventory twice before opening up my Stats screen.

  [Power: 2]

  [Guile: 1]

  [Knowledge: 1]

  [Vitality: 10]

  [Stamina: 5]

  [Morale: 12]

  Not bad. I reckoned my Adjustment ploy paid off, even if it reduced my Stamina for the rest of the day. As long as I kept increasing Vitality, Stamina, and Morale as I leveled up, I felt as though I could become invincible. That feeling could just be a side effect of those stats, however.

  I was at least glad that Richard had come around to my line of thinking. That I could be pushed further. Whatever he was, and whatever his motives, he could at least see that if he didn’t work with me on this, then I’d eventually go rogue. I couldn’t be tied down. Needed to kill monsters.

  Still unsure where the bloodlust had come from. Sure, I had enough frustrations to take out in a bloody swathe through at least one whole state… but the violence was unusual. Maybe part of my brain broke during the STAR process, or complications with the sedating debuff. My trial by fire against the ratmen and near death had erased whatever self preservation and humanity I usually held, as if I didn’t believe this was real enough to care.

  Wow, that was a little too much introspection.

  I stepped up to the crest of the next ridge and looked out to where the orcs were.

  It was something in between an outpost and a campground, like they were halfway through a civilization tech upgrade and got caught with their pants down. Four corners had been plotted out by thick trunks buried into the dirt, but there was no real joining wall - the barricade-like sections barely five feet tall. A wagon sat inside this cordoned area, with three tents, a cooking pot, and piles of worn crates and cut lumber.

  Perhaps before they had been collected, they were looking to build a new settlement out in the unknown wilderness. Without access to a forest… or anything much aside from dry dirt and dead plant life, they looked a little lost as to what they should be doing.

  There was no apparent leader or Elite guiding them, and the way they were outfitted made them look ready for war. Deep green skin, only their shoulders, wrists, and thighs covered by anything that could be considered armor. Rest was bare skin or animals furs or leather. Each had a mixture of swords and axes. At least three had quivers on their backs, but the bows were standing against a pile of crates.

  If only I had more of those flammable sacs.

  Four of them were working on hammering new logs into the ground, while three were getting the next poles of wood ready from the stack. Two were preparing and cooking food, with the last three sleeping by the tents. Probably on their break. My approach would certainly be noticed, and it wouldn’t take long for the whole camp to be up in arms.

  There was no way to see what their Morale level was. Surely there would be a skill for that sort of thing, but for now, I had to just make assumptions. To tip the scales in my favor, I used the weapon upgrade stone on Threadcutter again.

  [+2 Threadcutter]

  [+3 Vitality, +5 Morale, +30% Two-Handed Axe Mastery]

  Putting all my eggs into one basket, maybe, but it was currently my most effective weapon by far. It would level quick and gave the ideal stats. I was pretty sure the bladed weapons the orcs had were just as sharp, however. There was no chance even a Full Restore would help me if I got one of my limbs hacked off.

  I check my messages.

  //Bernie: Richard says that if the chest is locked, it will have better rewards.

  //Bernie: Your Boss Token will unlock it in that case.

  //Scarlet: Thanks, B.

  I hesitated and chose not to ask about Sally. No point muddying up my thoughts when I had to use all my focus to avoid death. Part of me was disappointed that the tokens weren’t for a large slot machine or something. Still, that meant I needed to collect a few more if these chests were going to be dotted about the desert.

  One glance toward the city, and I wasn’t sure how long I intended to stay out here avoiding the inevitable. This was still the first proper day, and I’d already been through enough for a lifetime.

  That said, these orcs weren’t going to kill themselves and hand over the experience I craved. Assaulting a group of twelve was foolhardy even for me, so I’d need to see if I had any tricks left up my sleeve. Chances were slim.

  Waiting for the waitress to catch up might be beneficial, but I couldn’t spare the time. I needed to push myself day by day to be the strongest in the area. The barren landscape didn’t offer much advantage for how I needed to fight and survive. I looked at the castle in the distance. There were a few other built structures dotted around, but unless I wanted to spend most of the daylight walking, it wouldn’t be efficient.

  //Scarlet: Ask Richard the minimum level I can go to the city.

  It had to happen at some point if he truly wanted us to save the world by exterminating monsters and severing the control of the… whatever the space cockroaches were called.

  All fantastic thoughts to have, but nothing that helped with the current orc issue. If I just switched off my brain and ran in to fight, I could probably kill three or four in short order without taking too much damage. That still left eight of them, and I had enough trouble against the three Krull in the arena working together.

  Should I skip them? The sun had been moving through the sky quicker than I wanted and walking a longer route around them was inefficient. Possibly dangerous. I was also tired and overestimating my ability to engage in another bout of high-stakes melee combat.

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  I sighed and started walking off to the north in an arc. Not invincible yet. I’d pushed my luck a little too far today already, and didn’t fancy losing more blood due to my lack of self-preservation instinct. Ironic.

  My actual plan was just to shuffle the events around. Treasure first, then motel, and if I had recouped the energy and got some nice items - then the orcs would die. It was such a reasonable change of plan that I would have given myself a pat on the back if my muscles allowed that range of movement.

  //Bernie: Maybe level 10. Depends on several factors - vague.

  //Scarlet: Thanks. It’s a target, at least. Skipping the orcs until the return journey.

  //Scarlet: Might have hit my physical limit for the day.

  A little more open and honest than I’d usually be, but I chalked that up to exhaustion as well. While I thought I had bent Richard’s thinking to align with my reckless goals, the irony was in his acceptance I realized that I did have to be safer. The fact that he was enabling me meant I had to be the adult in the room. Maybe he knew that. Asshole.

  I kept an eye on the orcs as I gave them a wide berth. They were too intent on fixing up their outpost to spot me walking an arc around them, and I wasn’t about to remind them that having lookouts was a good idea. Hmm. Maybe we needed a way to keep the bunker safe.

  With my weapons put away, I removed my gloves to give my hands a break. They were clammy with sweat and whatever bodily fluids had soaked through the gloves during the day. My shirt was torn and stiff from dried blood. The bottom of my slacks had been burned off. I was a mess. Idly, I rubbed at my hand where it had been bandaged yesterday.

  Physically, the cut had long healed over. My recent past itched at the imagined injury still, and I suddenly felt very vulnerable out here in the open. Thankfully, I had an army of monsters and oddities between me and those assholes, but… I let the paranoia linger. It kept me sharp.

  Malnourished, too. I couldn’t wait to get back to the bunker and open up the meal boxes I had found. Feeding the flock was the least I could do, assuming they were all alive by dusk. Something that was… coming sooner than I’d hoped. Perhaps I had been burning the candle from both ends a little too much, and should focus on getting to the bunker before night fell.

  Alternatively, if I felt risky… I could stay at the motel. A real fucking bed. Bernie hadn’t mentioned that there was anything untoward at the location - something that seemed too good to be true. Even better that I skipped the orcs for now, if I needed my wits about me for an unexpected event popping up.

  I narrowed my eyes out across the very bumpy desert. Looking like sand dunes, almost, compared to how flat it had been before the apocalypse. The System was manipulating the very terrain around us, and I wondered how. That would involve a lot more than just magically airdropping thousands of pockets of monsters.

  That said… I thought I could see the treasure chest now - which erased any further worries from my thick skull. Treasure.

  A small box standing in a plain area of the arid dirt. No creatures guarding it, or weird structures or obvious traps to challenge me. It almost seemed too suspicious. Too simple. Then again, for all I knew, we were the only people out this way. The desert was ours for farming for all that it had to offer before we set foot in the city.

  Threadcutter back in my gloved hands, I stepped over toward the treasure cautiously. Taking note of every crunch of the ground as my boots landed. Eyes peeling for shapes moving around me. Arm muscles tensed, ready to lash out at an ambusher.

  But I arrived before the locked box completely unopposed. The treasure chest itself was quite simple in design, looking everything like the sort of fare you’d see on a pirate ship or in a fantasy game. Dark wood, with metal struts a polished silver. There was a slight sheen where the chest picked up the sunlight, purple in nature, which I hoped was just to signal that it was Rare and not because it was trapped.

  Not that I knew how to check, anyway.

  A circular divot was in the place of the usual keyhole I expected, which must be where the Boss Token slotted in. As my eyes went up to my Inventory, I caught sight of something thirty or so feet away.

  It hadn’t registered on my radar on approach, but it now stood out like a sore thumb.

  A bunch of rags maybe, or a discarded handbag. It could quite likely be some trash from the city, somehow blown or discarded this way over time. My eyes went between the chest and the unknown scraps. It was paranoid and a waste of time to investigate every single oddity I came across. I trusted my gut, however. It would only take a minute.

  I hoisted Threadcutter up on my shoulder and approached the ruined clump. My brow furrowed the closer I got, the sandy patches of black and white fur coming into view clearly. It wasn’t a discarded bag or anything.

  It was an animal. I kneeled down by it, trying to make sense of the muddied shapes of its sand-covered body. It was dirty and dried out, as if had been here for weeks.

  A dog.

  As if noticing my internal acknowledgement, he opened up an eye. A moment to focus, and then he started growling at my looming presence.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I told him. “I’ve got water you can have.”

  One of the flasks and a bowl from the diner came into my hands, and I placed them down beside him. To his credit, he did stop growling, and instead sniffed at the metal bowl. I unscrewed the flask and poured the water into it. The dog shifted, struggling to get himself back onto his feet, but his eyes were alight with the desire for the hydration offered.

  I looked around us. At least a mile or two from any road, and many more than that away from the city. I couldn’t see a way he could have gotten out here and in this state just overnight… but the System wasn’t telling me he was a monster or NPC.

  While he fervently lapped at the water, I tried to determine more about him. Mostly a gray-white color, although his face and back were black - save for a line of white running up the middle of his face. It was hard to tell how old he was, as he was bathed in desert terrain, but had a rounded face. Couldn’t tell the breed.

  Oh, he had a collar on, though.

  My experience with dogs in the past had been mixed. Grandparents had them when they were still alive, and they’d always been the softest, most patient dogs imaginable. A few of the bad groups I had hung around with in my later years had some shitty, barely trained dogs. This lost one didn’t seem that aggressive. Just desperate.

  I allowed myself a humorless smile for that ironic thought. Birds of a feather, bathed in dirt.

  He had made his way through the water in record time, so I poured some more as my other hand felt for his collar. No contest. He allowed me to feel for the small metal tag. I turned it around to see if there was a name and contact information on it.

  “That’s… not your name, surely?” I pulled a face and flipped the tag over, but it was blank on that side. The dog finished drinking to look up at my voice. “I’m not calling you Fartbag.”

  He whined and tilted his head, drops of fresh water falling from his muzzle.

  I sighed. There wasn’t even a decent nickname you could make from that. Who would even call their dog that? Unless it was some in-joke and he was called something decent.

  “Do you know where home is?” I looked around the mostly empty desert. “I’m not… I can’t…”

  Fartbag tilted his head to the other side and whined again, putting his paw on my knee. Probably hungry. I ran my eyes through my Inventory and brought out a pair of sausages taken from the diner. I doubted they were good enough for human consumption at this stage, but the dog wouldn’t be as fussy. Bringing out a metal tray, I put them down for him and stood up.

  “It’s a tough world out there, kiddo. Not sure if I did you a favor or not, but… best of luck.” I sighed and turned around, the treasure chest awaiting my attention.

  Several footsteps later, and I turned to see the little dirtbag standing behind me, one of the sausages still in his mouth.

  “You can’t follow me. I get in far too much trouble.”

  He just wagged his tail.

  Now, I wasn’t a cruel person. If anything, I was a lot kinder to animals than I was to people… but this wasn’t just a stray found at the local park. We were in the apocalypse, where I was in constant battles for my life. Dragging Fartbag into danger would only end up in tragedy - it just didn’t make any sense to…

  I looked down at him as he sat there, his bright brown eyes just watching me expectantly. He didn’t know that I avoided responsibility and wouldn’t be a good owner, even outside of all this bullshit. I never settled in one place long enough to own pets. Plus…

  With a sigh, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Alright, asshole. You can follow me to the motel. You’ll be safer there than out here.”

  He hopped up to all four paws, yipping and dropping his sausage into the sand. His focus immediately switched to the discarded meat, which he barked at as it was now covered in dirt. The dog then sneezed before trotting over to my side.

  I could give him a wash and set him up with a nice bed and some spare food. Not the best existence, but probably better than most living in cities or large towns. He might not want to stay there when it was my time to leave, but I had no intention of feeding him to the orcs inadvertently.

  The dog followed me as I went and stood over by the treasure chest.

  “Hopefully saving your ass gives me some good luck for this, huh? Decent karma for a change?”

  No response other than a blank stare.

  I sighed again, drawing the Boss Token out of my Inventory - and noticing a new message that had just arrived.

  //Bernie: Sally is going into the pod now.

  My stomach churned, and I grimaced as I put the token into the slot. It clicked and unlocked. There was still time for me to run. Avoid all this.

  Fartbag jumped up against my leg, putting his front paws on me. Enough of a distraction to dislodge my spiraling panic.

  I gave him a brief smile and popped the lid to see what riches were now mine.