“Can you hurry up?” Ruza said.

  “Don’t you think I’m trying? Damn it. Robeep, new lockpick. Fuck, that stings,” I said while shaking my hand. There’d been an acid drop on the piece of himself that Robeep ripped out unflinchingly.

  The rains started again shortly after we arrived. Unfortunately the front door was locked. The downpour didn’t seem to harm Robeep at all, but Ruza had to hold up a sheet of thin metal to cover us from dissolving away. Her fingers had been worn down to quite possibly the last layer of skin from the sliding droplets. My hands weren’t doing much better since the lockpicks kept breaking. Each one Robeep handed to me burned away a little more.

  A click sounded. At last. We shuffled towards the handle, slid it slightly open and then hurried inside. The brief exposure burned more holes into our already ragged outfits. A spring pushed the door back into place and presumably locked it, based on the audible click. Office lights hung from the ceiling. They flickered occasionally but I saw well enough. Then it hit me, a smell like an unearthed graveyard. Ruza gagged but forced her clearly rising veal breakfast back down.

  “By Cor’Athaz, I think I prefer the rain,” she said.

  “Undecided, but I’m leaning towards agreeing with you.”

  Robeep sounded unusually disappointed, “It appears our glory has been stolen. They are already dead.”

  He walked over to a pile of desiccated corpses near some stairs which curved upwards along the wall, possibly decades or even centuries old. Then he started poking them in the eye socket one by one with Brainseeker.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I must confirm their inexistence.”

  “Can you stop? I think it’s making the smell worse,” Ruza said. Robeep just answered with no.

  There wasn’t much of interest here. Broken down shelves and tables crowded the walls. Rotten pieces of paper littered the floor, each step sent puffs of particles flying. A few opened chests promised loads of nothing. Flakes of brown red rust covered every piece of metal. I approached the decomposed stack of the formerly living. Well, it’s a silver lining.

  I motioned her to come over. “Ruza, come check this out.”

  She held her hand against her mouth while pinching her nose shut. “I’d rather not.”

  “There are weapons here.”

  Suddenly, she gained a spring in her step. “On my way.”

  We stared at what were likely the last few fluids leaking out from Robeep’s stabbing and hesitated. I changed my mind and walked as far away as we could get, Ruza in tow.

  “Robeep, think you can pull those out for us? And bring them to the other side of the room. It’ll… I don’t know, distance them from the impurities of the fallen?”

  “You are right to trust me with this great task. I shall cleanse these holy instruments from the weaknesses of their previous owners.”

  He even rubbed them down for us with a used bloody bandage extracted from my squeaking prosthetic. Then he laid them out with reverence, muttering to each in sing song baby speak. Ruza gave me a look while I merely shrugged. Soon enough, we had an assortment of rusty crap to choose from.

  Ruza pointed back at the bodies, “You missed one, Robeep.”

  He replied in the negative, by twisting his entire torso left and right, “That is not a real weapon. It is a crossbow.”

  “But I want it,” she said.

  He startled her by getting way up in her personal space, sparks flew off his head. “Does not compute. You cannot savor the splatter of blood from a distance.”

  “It’s okay Robeep,” I said, “All the more for us, right? She’s just being generous.”

  “I understand now. My apologies. I have once again underestimated you because of your many blatant failings. I should know by now that meatbags like us can show exceedingly rare glimpses of adequacy.”

  “Thank you,” Ruza whispered while Robeep collected the unstrung piece of junk.

  Ruza helped herself to a short blade as well. It was a wakizashi judging by the curve, even had a belt buckle although the sheath had long since disintegrated. Robeep tilted his head forward and back a few times, mimicking a nod of approval. The blade probably wouldn’t last more than a few hits considering how rusty and heavily chipped it was. Looks more like a saw really.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Meanwhile I had a choice to make. There were several options. One was a polearm, once a long axe or glaive maybe but the edge had snapped at some point. Now it was the world’s most short-bladed spear. A hatchet was the least degraded but felt a little too small, especially taking my huge stature into account. Ultimately I settled on an absolute unit of a sword, the rest was in too bad a state.

  It was almost my height and the wrapped handle somehow survived the ravages of time. Calling it a sword might have overstated things though. It had once been bladed on both sides but scraping off the rust revealed no edge to speak of. Basically, it was a giant hunk of metal with a handle. I loved it and picked the monstrosity up. It was heavy, almost too much so to swing properly. The perfect tool to show this world exactly how I feel about it. My status flashed to ‘exulting’ for a moment. Even the System agrees.

  “Don’t you want something new Robeep?” Ruza asked.

  “I cannot abandon Brainseeker. We have waged great wars together, relished many kills.”

  I chuckled, “You’ve killed like two things with it and fought less than a handful of battles.”

  “I. CANNOT. ABANDON. BRAINSEEKER.” He whirred and lashed out in random directions, nearly clipping me and sending a few choice pieces of himself flying with the violent motions.

  “Alright, alright, keep your damn stick.”

  With little else to do, we followed the stairway up to the second floor while constantly reminding Robeep he was not to charge anything. Alas, peeking even slightly into the next room set things in motion.

  Servos whirred and a sound suspiciously close to windows booting up echoed across the room. A four-legged robot like the ones who guarded the mysterious spired building in the village rose to its full height, twitching in fits and spurts. At least it lacked the bladed extremities and only had three arms. The others had been broken off at the shoulder at some point or other. Then it turned towards us.

  “May I charge now?”

  “Yes, Robeep. You may charge it,” Ruza said.

  “TO MURDER! WE SHALL DISPLAY OUR WEAPONS ON A PEDESTAL MADE OF ITS BONES!”

  Ruza and I weren’t quite as enthusiastic but approached nonetheless. Robeep got a few hits in on its kneecap before the killbot swept his legs. It picked him up and began smashing him against the floor, repeatedly. I landed a solid blow and further dented the knee. Ruza tried to cut an exposed tube but only caused it to leak slightly. Meanwhile, the murder machine tossed Robeep against a wall. His durability showed all his limbs as broken, so the usual.

  It twisted and smacked Ruza in the head, downing her instantly. I swung with all my might and crushed some protruding bits in its side. Broken pieces fell to the floor as its attention shifted. Hiding behind my chunk of a sword blocked the first blow but knocked me backwards. It walked over and I got up. My third blow only glanced it, because an overhead rotating arm chop knocked me out.

  My eyes shot open because of the stench, nearly causing me to heave. Looking around revealed it had dumped us on top of the corpse pile. My left arm wouldn’t move, but slamming it against the floor caused my dislocated shoulder to pop back into place. Ruza bled badly and I used almost our entire rolled up bandage to fix her up. She was still out. Robeep was nowhere to be seen.

  I didn’t care anymore and picked up my sword again. Rhythmic clinks resounded with each step as I dragged it up behind me. The killbot had powered down and now repeated its booting sequence. Anger empowered me. A broken heap of Robeep shouted words of affirmation from across the room, lost in my frustrated war cry.

  “I can take not getting a harem!”

  The initiative was mine and another blow landed on its side, taking more metal with it. Killbot grabbed my head and slammed me into the floor. Once more, I awakened downstairs and wiped crusty blood off my face. Doing so broke off a long piece of curved head horn at the base. Again.

  “I can take only having a crappy system!”

  My bellow accompanied a crashing strike against its dented knee, bending it through and rendering the leg useless. It pummeled me from both sides with two arms until the third hit my temple. Consciousness left me.

  One more, I can do one more. My body didn’t want to listen yet so I crawled for a bit to get my weapon, got up, sighed, and ascended the stairs, yelling, “I can take no affinities and not getting any magic!”

  A sweeping upward arc tore off its only left arm. It surged forward and carried me with it, then pinned me against the wall. First it stabbed my stomach in a hydraulic motion. Only a bone protrusion stopped me from getting skewered. A pincer hand shoved my face back and forth across the wall. Then it threw me downstairs.

  One eye opened, my vision swam. The other was swollen shut. Pain lanced through my midriff. The bone plate there was loose and fractured, a small bit dangled on a flap of skin, exposed through a tear in my leather shirt. Still got more in me. Everything hurt, but my assault resumed. “The abuse, the slavery, being eaten alive every now and then, I can deal with all of those!”

  A lucky high hit against its six-screened head stunned it for a moment. My full weight pushed a stab of my blunt blade through something hard in its chest and oil leaked from its insides. Notifications flashed in bundles all the while. It tilted sideways and pulled my good leg out. It swept me over the floor in a waving motion, bouncing me off the ground as it spun in circles. Finally, it lifted me up in a jerk and threw me against the ceiling. Dust and flakes rained down together with me. The fall knocked me out.

  I woke up, coughed and spat out blood, along with a tooth chip. One last time. Blinded by rage and the sheer overwhelming madness of this world, I stumbled drunkenly up the steps and came out swinging, screaming all the while, “BUT I WILL NOT SPEND THE REST OF MY MISERABLE LIFE IN THIS GODFORSAKEN WASTELAND HOBBLING ON A SHITTY FUCKING LEG!”

  A puddle of oil caused my economy leg to slip but my balance held. My greatsword nearly flew out of my hands from the recoil when it bit deep into the killbots middle. Electricity sparked. Parts were launched by the impact. Oil ran down the blade. It grabbed me by the neck, lifted me off the ground, and pulled back its shoulder, poising to stab. The pincers folded into each other. A sharp protrusion glinted in the light, lined up with my face. Then it stuttered, lights winked out and it stopped moving. Silence replaced the chaos of battle. It… died?

  Robeep’s voice broke through my disbelieving reverie, “Yes! YES! You have climbed the apex of brutality, Susawa! From its peak you laugh at the bodies your ascension has left behind! You are the murder king!”

  Ruza came into view at my side, clutching her wrapped head. “Oh, you’ve won. And here I thought we were all going to die. Good job.”

  I didn’t say anything. Can’t breathe. And then I passed out.