ã€ŠNever Split The Partyã€‹


 Chapter 1

    This story is inspired, at least in part, by all the OP protagonist LitRPG fiction going around. (Inspired negatively? Inspired oppositely?) It made want to write a story about a group of around the same power just surviving in a LitRPG world and the interactions and emotions of such a group. We''ll see how it turns out. Please enjoy.

    <hr>

    Derrick sighed as he gazed out the window at the evening sky. His gray hoodie accentuated his thin build, while his head hosted his jet black hair. Listless eyes gazed out the window, the same as they did on many an afternoon. Turning, he switched his attention back inside.

    The earth shook and the sky boiled. The something that existed clashed indubitably the with something that was magic. A current ran through the world, fundamentally altering all of the reality that existed or could exist in a width of several billion solar systems. All of this happened in the span of time it took for Derrick to turn his head.

    A blue window popped open in front of Derrick¡¯s eyes

    NOTICE: Monsters have been integrated into the existing system!

    NOTICE: Monsters come in many shapes and sizes, and are exceptionally Dangerous!

    NOTICE: Due to the influx of Monsters, Reactivation has occurred. Threat level has been assessed, and human beings have been granted Progression! Please Pick A Class! Congratulations! You are level 1! Please Assign Stat Points

    Derrick¡¯s eyes quickly scrolled through the glowing blue boxes in front of him. Monsters? Level up? What was this, some kind of video game?

    Derrick heard a booming sound outside and looked out of his window, trying to discern what might have been responsible for the great racket. He stopped looking a second later when he became preoccupied with the giant tree man that moved in front of him. It lumbered, slowly but surely, across his lawn, leaving giant muddy footprints in its wake. When it took a step, the ground shook.

    Derrick¡¯s mind raced around coming again and again to what he had laid his eyes upon. "A monster," he thought, his eyes wide and sweat rolling down his brow. "An ent straight out of a fantasy novel!"

    He dove for his window curtains, quickly jamming them down to hide from the beast outside.

    With that taken care of, he quickly was enthralled in the inner turmoil his mind had become. "Monsters . . . they¡¯re real?" he thought, "But they can¡¯t be real! They can¡¯t be! Oh shit, I¡¯m gonna be eaten by the ents. I don''t want to be plant food! Shit shit shi-"

    He slapped himself in the face, hard. His panting breaths slowed as he began to Concentrate. His mind shunting all his panic away in face of his need to understand the situation. The blue box said something about this. It said that monsters have been integrated into the existing system. Was it talking about earth?

    So focused, he read the floating blue box in front of him again, his mind slowly getting a grip on his current situation. "Has the world been turned into some kind of game?" He thought. "That would certainly explain the ent." He breathed in and out, his mind becoming more familiar with his current, strange, circumstances. The first thing to do if this was a game, was to get a hand on all of the different menus available. Feeling a little silly, he spoke up, his voice a little softer than usual. ¡°Stats?¡± he said questioningly. Instantly a blue box appeared in front of him, making him start. He had expected it, but this whole situation was just too surprising, Derrick thought. His eyes scanned the blue box, and a frown appeared on his face as he read further down. He had played a few games in his day, and it didn''t take an RPG master to see his current stats were on the low side of the scale. The low side of any scale.

    Class:

    Titles:

    Level 1

    Health: 104 (R/Hour 11)

    Mana: 106 (R/Hour 12)

    Stamina: 104 (R/Minute 6)

    Strength: 2

    Mind: 4

    Intelligence : 3

    Wisdom: 2

    Dexterity: 4

    Vitality: 2

    Endurance: 1

    Luck: 7

    Points:

    He shrugged and looked away. He knew how games that started out like this worked, and the fact that he was level 1 was rather telling. As his level rose, so would his stats. He would just need to level up as fast as he was able. Derrick switched his attention back to the window, focusing on a different part of the text, specifically the part that talked about selecting a class. He shook his head just thinking about it. This whole thing really was just like an RPG. After another bout of silliness in which Derrick summoned the class window, he was left looking at 11 differing options.

    -Wizard

    -Rogue

    -Warrior

    -Ranger

    -Paladin

    -Monk

    -Bard

    -Cleric

    -Barbarian

    -Druid

    -Warlock

    Derrick considered the choice for a moment, drawing on his knowledge from an entire childhood of playing video games. More than that, he considered his current situation. He knew that spell based classes, like a wizard, tend to have a hard time gaining levels but eventually reach great power. But did he want to risk going for a mage class when that rough start could spell his death? After all, he was alone. Without someone to fight on the front lines he would just get rushed down or overpowered. He shivered when he thought of the ents that he had seen in the forest just now.

    Needless to say, a spellcasting class was out. Instead, Derrick needed something that would help him right away, a class that got their abilities early. A warrior matched this role perfectly, but Derrick didn''t want to be one of those either. To go out and try to fight a straightforward battle with something twice his size just wasn''t in him. He would much prefer to be a sideline fighter, who could get out a bad situation easily. And of the classes he had available, there were three who met his criteria. Derrick¡¯s eyes flickered towards the rogue, bard and ranger classes. After some deliberation, he chose rogue. While the other two would provide more utility in spells, the rogue class would provide more raw damage and skill, and that was just what he needed. If what he knew about games held true, the class might even allow him to take advantage of his higher starting Dex and luck scores. Derrick selected the class, and another notification popped up.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    Warning: You can not change a class once one is selected.

    Proceed Y/N

    Mentally reaffirming his decision, Derrick hit the yes button. Suddenly there was a flash of white light around Derrick, which eventually cleared, leaving Derrick feeling not that much different than he had before. Still, Derrick had doubted it would. Choosing a class was something that gave you benefits as you leveled up. It didn''t give you power, but it did give you potential.

    Satisfied with the class he had chosen, Derrick looked around his room for anything that he might be able to use as a weapon. He doubted that it would do much against an ent, but such a weapon would help him feel much better. He scrambled through the piles of old books and technological knick-knacks that he had managed to lay hands on during the many years of his life. Nothing was spared from the search, anything and everything tossed over in favor of some way for Derrick to defend himself. After a while, he managed to grab a hold of a red Swiss Army knife he had in some forgotten corner of his room. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was better than trying to punch monsters out with his fists.

    His family had been out for the day, and thus he was home alone. His family was off somewhere, most likely in the middle of this mess with all of the monsters, and he was here alone.He shook his head and tried not to think about how his family might be doing right now. If he did, his worry would just eat him up from the inside.

    Thanking all of those survival documentaries he had watched, Derrick went up into the bathtub of his house and filled it, as well as all of the sinks. Derrick had no idea how long it would take for the water to turn off, especially when a rampaging something could come and destroy the supply in a matter of minutes. Derrick had to try and save as much water as he could, while it was still on. Once the water was temporarily taken care of, he began to take stock of the food. He knew it wouldn¡¯t take very long for the power to stop working and then all of the stuff in the fridge would slowly begin to rot away and become inedible. Still, Derrick would save what he could. He put the ice packs and ice from the freezer in between all of the food that lingered in the fridge. Then he moved on to take stock of the pantry. Thankfully Detrick¡¯s family had a stock of cans they had never used, which Derrick knew would be invaluable in the future.

    After taking stock of his resources, Derrick estimated that his current provisions were enough for a month or two before he needed to resupply.

    With all of the most important things done, Derrick made a bowl of soup, only for a blue window to pop up as he took the can out of the microwave.

    You have received the skill: Cooking, Level 1, Ability to cook improved for every skill level obtained in cooking.

    "So skills existed as well?" Derrick thought. He supposed that a lot of skills must be available if even something as mundane as cooking was integrated into the system. The world really had changed. So many things were recognizable, and yet completely new.

    He ate the soup that he had made for himself with his shoulders hunched down. Every so often he would steal glances at his phone, but there never was any messages. Upon further inspection, it seemed that internet had gone down. He wouldn¡¯t be getting any news that way.

    Derrick was worried. He was worried about what would become of him and the life that he used to possess. Where were his friends and family right now? He couldn''t help but wonder, and that gnawing worry began to grow again.

    Derrick slurped up the last of the juice from his bowl and put it and his utensils in the dishwasher, which still worked, at least for now.

    After the meal, and with the internet completely gone, Derrick decided to try and experiment a little with skills and how they worked.

    He spent the next few hours going through the testing, and in that time, he managed to discover some things.

    For example, any action that had importance could become a skill, but what made that action important was a mystery. Jumping up and down would, and did become a skill, most likely because jumping was a common action, but randomly wiggling only made Derrick feel silly.

    You Have Received The Skill: Jumping, Level 1, Increases speed, height of jumps and reduces stamina usage with each level.

    Another thing that Derrick discovered occurred after he had gained the jumping skill.

    You have received one point in Dexterity!

    Basically, it appeared that aside from leveling and improving skills you could also train your stats. Derrick reasoned that this method would probably become more and more difficult as you improved, assuming the system that the world now ran on was balanced. For all Derrick knew, you could power level everything to 200 in a week and become ridiculously powerful.

    With all of this various information in mind, Derrick spent the rest of the afternoon gaining or trying to gain different skills.

    He ran around in circles-

    You have received the skill: Running, Level 1, Increases running speed and reduces stamina usage with each level

    Read through some of his old textbooks-

    You have received the skill: Mathematics, Level 1 Increases comprehension of subject and speed of problem-solving with each level

    You have received the skill: Chemistry, Level 1 Increases comprehension of subject and speed of problem-solving with each level

    You have received the skill: English, Level 1 Increases comprehension of subject and speed of problem-solving with each level

    And threw some kitchen knives at a dartboard in the basement.

    You have received the skill: Knife throwing, Level 1 Increases speed of knife thrown, accuracy and damage with each level. As a class skill, skill level is boosted by Dexterity and Luck halved.

    Notice: Since this is a class related skill for Rogue, Advancement receives a 200% increase from normal.

    You have received 2 points in Dexterity!

    You have received 3 points in Intelligence!

    Derrick smiled as he saw the notification about class bonuses. It seemed classes weren''t just for show.

    After that notice, he tried to obtain a stealth skill but failed, although that failure made sense. After all, to get a hiding skill wouldn''t you have to have something to hide from first?

    You have received 1 point in Wisdom!

    Even the game agreed with his logic!

    It seemed that skills all started at level 1 regardless of what you had done before the system, which sucked and was extremely weird. The knowledge of math was there, in his head, and he remembered doing it, but now it was locked behind a level wall. It was as if a very strange case of partial amnesia had caused Derrick to forget everything he had ever learned, even if he remembered learning it and knew about it conceptually.

    Derrick vowed to get all of his skills up to his former level soon. Well at least most of them. Derrick doubted dividing polynomials would be very important with the way the world is now.

    By the time Derrick was done messing around with the system and getting skills, it was dark outside, and he had begun to feel pretty tired. Everything else could most likely wait until tomorrow.

    Despite the way the world changed, Derricks evening routine was the same. He got into comfortable clothes, brushed his teeth, and went to bed. The only difference was the large dresser that he dragged in front of his door to dissuade anything from entering his room while he was sleeping.

 Chapter 2

    Derrick awoke feeling much better than he had the night before. The rest of sleep had shifted his perception, calming him as much as his life allowed. He let out a tired sigh before hopping out of his bed and lackadaisically getting dressed. Before long, he was pulling his dresser out of the way, grunting and groaning all the while.

    You have gained 1 point in Strength!

    Derrick walked downstairs and scoured the pantry for food, before finding and making himself some oatmeal. It tasted bland, but Derrick shoved it down. He had never been much of a picky person, and that would only help him in a situation like this.

    After Breakfast came training, this time mostly in knife throwing. He gathered a wide variety of knives and retreated to his basement.

    Derrick stood in front of his dartboard with a wide assortment of knives off to the side. He knew some of the knives were too large and would probably damage the board, but he didn¡¯t really care. The world was in an apocalypse after all. One damaged dartboard was the least of anyone¡¯s worries

    He hurled his first knife forwards and watched as it bounced off of his target. Grimacing, he picked up another one, only for the larger blade to not manage to reach his target at all. He had forgotten to account for the weight. He cursed under his breath and grabbed for a another knife. He could already tell he had a long way to go if he wanted to get any good at throwing knives.

    <hr>

    A couple of hours later, Derrick was left looking at the significant advances he had made in his training session

    Knife throwing, Level 15 Increases speed of knife thrown, accuracy and damage with each level. As a class skill, skill level is boosted by Dexterity and Luck halved.

    You have gained 3 points in Dexterity!

    Derrick let out a smile as he saw what he had gained. The only thing that spoiled his happiness being the ever increasing level of difficulty Derrick knew would be a problem in the future.

    Derrick opened his status again, and a small frown appeared on his face.

    Class: Rogue

    Titles:

    Level 1

    Health: 104 (R/Hour 11)

    Mana: 112 (R/Hour 13)

    Stamina: 104 (R/Minute 6)

    Strength: 3

    Mind: 4

    Intelligence : 6

    Wisdom: 3

    Dexterity: 10

    Vitality: 2

    Endurance: 1

    Luck: 7

    Points:

    Even with all of the training that Derrick had done earlier and gains he had made, his level and stats still weren¡¯t increasing fast enough for his liking. He eyed his measly level 1 label with no small amount of contempt.

    An idea struck then, as he stood there and glared at his level. The world had become like a game right? In games you had to kill ¡®mobs¡¯ to level up and gain power. Wouldn¡¯t it stand the reason then, that you could do the same in this world?

    Derrick glanced at his level again, his eyes lost in thought. ¡°Something like that would make sense,¡± his mind mused. ¡°After all, if the level system was effort based, wouldn¡¯t I have leveled up by now? Level two can¡¯t be that hard to reach.¡±

    A plan began to form in Derrick¡¯s mind. If he could find a couple weak monsters, maybe he could pick a few of them off and manage to level up a couple of times. Then, getting stronger would just be a simple matter of rinse and repeat.

    Mind made up on this course of action, Derrick began to gather supplies for his excursion until he was interrupted by his rumbling stomach.

    ¡°Maybe it would be better to have lunch first,¡± he thought.

    <hr>

    About an hour later Derrick crept out the front door, keys in his hand, and then blinked, and blinked again. The house across the way . . . It was gone. Completely flattened. A crater stood in it¡¯s place, rock and wood and everything else in one big amalgamous mass. Derrick¡¯s eyes opened wide with fear. Whatever had done that, couldn¡¯t it have done the same to his own house? Were the people across the way in the place when this had happened? Had they all been flattened as well? Derrick had no idea what to think, no idea if one day he would lay down to sleep, only to never wake up again. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Derrick stopped, and began to pull his mind back together slowly and surely. ¡°Remember the plan¡± he told himself, ¡°Keep leveling up, and soon you won¡¯t have to worry about anything like this ever again.¡±

    Derrick shook his head, then began to creep ever so carefully down the tar road. He kept in the shade but well away from any trees, or anything that might be lurking in the now dangerous forest. He found himself jumping every minute when he thought he saw movement in the shadows behind him.

    After about five minutes of this, Derrick received a notification.

    You Have Recieved The Skill :Stealth, Level 1, 1% chance to remain unnoticed. Improves with each skill level! As a class skill, skill level is boosted by Dexterity and Luck halved

    Notice: Since this is a class related skill for Rogue, Advancement is at a 200% increase from normal.

    Derrick felt his lips curl up into a grin, even with the gloom that surrounded him.

    He was finally a proper rogue! After all, what was a thief without his way to stay hidden?

    With newfound confidence, Derrick continued to creep forward, as silently as he could. When the treeline and he parted ways, Derrick began to skirt around the many houses in his neighborhood, using them as cover in case he encountered any monsters. Just doing this gained him two levels in stealth, which he supposed made sense. Not only was his bonus to this skill quite large, but these were just the beginning levels of the skill, and thus the easiest to gain.

    Eventually, as Derrick crept down from house to house, he began to hear sounds in the distance. As time went on, he came closer and closer, until he could see someone, a man that looked 40 years old, attacking a pack of about 20 wolves with a large bat. They swarmed around him, but he had his back against the wall and managed to keep up a steady rhythm, batting away the wolves that got too close. When found an opening, he would shoot at the wolves with the small handgun he carried. The wolves couldn¡¯t handle the bullets, and would die quickly against the attack. Backed up into the wall of the other house as he was, they couldn¡¯t attack him from behind to gain an advantage either.

    Derrick looked on at the ongoing fight, unsure of what to do. He balked at the gaping mouthed of the hungering beasts, yet he found himself full of pity for the man¡¯s plight. Derrick didn''t know what to do, and his indecision decided for him.

    The man ran out of bullets, and the gun clicked. He cursed, threw the now useless metal to the side, and put both hands on his bat. Unused to his newfound force he overextended his makeshift weapon just a tad too far.

    Before he could recover, a wolf had already latched it¡¯s jaws around his arm. He tried to shake it off, but another latched into his other arm, and two more bit hard into the bone of his legs. Blood spilled from the wounds on his limbs, and the wolves began to gnaw down. The man screamed, but the wolves hungrily kept biting. Without the excitement of battle, the man¡¯s eyes looked frantically around himself, glazed over with fear. He started screaming over and over for someone to help him, his body fighting against the ferocious wolves that held him all the while.

    Looking at that helpless man and those deadly wolves Derrick realized that he couldn''t help him. He wasn¡¯t strong enough. Maybe if he was lucky, he could have stood up against one of the wolves, but a whole pack? No chance. And so Derrick could only look on, horrified, as the other man was slowly torn into by the pack, an escalating carnage of gore. One of the wolves got into the man¡¯s guts, blood and viscera spewing everywhere. The man just continued to scream, calling for help from someone, from anyone.

    And then one of the wolves bit into the man¡¯s throat, and his screams were silenced. The wolves continued to chew into what had now become their next meal.

    Derrick tightened his palms. If he had done something, done anything to help, then he would have ended up just like the corpse in front of him. He knew that, but he had just watched a man get eaten alive. This was not some tv show, this was real. A man had lost his life. The wolves continued feasting, and Derrick suddenly wanted to be somewhere away from all of this. Somewhere safe.

    Shivering, Derrick crept away, the wolves being too focused on their meal to even have a chance to notice him. He managed to get halfway to his house sneaking, and well away from the wolves, before he felt himself breaking into a full tilt sprint. Panic and fear guided his footsteps, making him faster, and the terror clouded his mind of the possibility of any other enemy being able to spot him in his rush.

    Luckily, he managed to make it to his house, and with shaking hands, unlocked the door, went through, and then locked it again, as securely as he could. He had received a fair few notifications in his terrified run, but for now, he simply ignored them, moving as fast as he could to his room. He opened to the door, and shut it, moving the dresser in front of it again, before collapsing on the bed and sobbing at the horror of what he had just witnessed.

 Chapter 3

    Derrick laid in his bed, his face as stark white as a ghost. His mind ticked on, grasping at the hidden, fragile, strands of lucid thought available to it. Bloody images replayed over and over, the gory details imprinted into his mind. He shuddered, shaking horribly and haphazardly, a chaotic terror rushing through him. And yet, even the darkest terror must have some respite. Eventually, slowly, the shaking fear left him, his shudders slowly dwindling to nothing. He lay there, as unmoving as stone, for only a moment before he forced himself out of his bed, into motion. He rose methodically, sitting up with a clarity returned to his eyes that had not graced them in all of his hours of panic. He shot a surveying look to his new status screens, which he had neglected until now.

    You have received the skill: Sprinting, Level 1, increases sprinting speed and reduces stamina usage with each level

    You have received the title: Coward +15% effectiveness when running or hiding

    Derrick winced at the title, a terrible feeling spreading from the pit of his stomach. It was true, wasn¡¯t it?  He was a coward. If he wasn¡¯t he would have helped the man, at least tried to do something to save him from those beasts. Hurled knives at them, done anything at all.

    He would¡¯ve died.

    The thought struck him suddenly, a whirling truth in a sea of doubt. If he had tried to help that man he would¡¯ve died.

    What could he do against that huge pack of wolves? How could he kill so many? He couldn''t. The wolves wouldn¡¯t care about his heroics. They would¡¯ve just eaten him, the same as they ate that man.

    Somewhere in the back of his mind, a treacherous voice sounded, and all at once Derrick thought ¡°It''s better to be a coward than to be dead¡± Horrifyingly, he found that he agreed with the sentiment too much for his liking. Would he really leave someone to die like that again if he could save himself? The answer came ruthlessly. ¡°Yes, yes he would.¡± Derrick clenched his teeth as bitter tears fell from his eyes. He guessed he really was a coward.

    A few minutes later the tears ran out and Derrick wiped his face and let out a deep sigh. Oddly enough, the more he called himself a coward, the more he accepted it, the less it fazed him. It was funny how things worked like that sometimes.

    Derrick slowly climbed out of his bed and stepped methodically through his house, towards the same old downstairs kitchen in which he prepared all of his meals. A melancholic aura surrounded him, a resigned acceptance of self, even though that very self disgusted him.

    He went through the same motions he had gone through that afternoon, opening one of the old cans his family had and putting it in the microwave. His fingers quickly pressed the right combination of buttons, and he started to move to one of the seats scattered around the kitchen to allow the can to cook.

    Abruptly, Derrick stopped, a frown showing itself on his face. He turned and glanced back at the microwave, only to find out the issue with the erroneous machine. He cursed under his breath. He had wondered why the microwave wasn''t making any noise.

    The tiny display it housed was dead and bleak, no longer filled with numbers. The oven too suffered from this, and when Derrick flicked an outlet to his right, nothing came on. The power was out. Someone or something had shut it off, or torn a cable out, or something.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    He had expected this, yet it surprised him. The power had gone out before, of course, but inevitably his house¡¯s bright lamps would shine back on, and all would be in its proper place again. Derrick didn¡¯t think that would happen this time. Nothing was in its proper place, not anymore.

    Sighing, Derrick took the can out of his microwave and fetched some bread from the pantry. He bit his lip. He knew that the food in the pantry would decay in just a few weeks, and Derrick could not cook the nonperishable food available to him. He had no doubt in his mind that if he tried, whatever that he attracted with the smoke of a cooking fire would swallow him whole.

    He shivered, a creeping cold up his spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.

    This was the world that he lived in now?

    Derrick refocused his attention on his sandwich. His hands had already started to spread peanut butter on the bread, and unlike before, when he spread odd sized gobs along mismatched patches of bread as part of a morning routine, the peanut butter was evened out, something that looked like the work of a professional chef.

    Even if it was a small change, his dexterity had increased, giving him a grace that he had never had before. This dexterity stat was much more overpowered than he thought.

    And yet, Derrick continued to look down upon the bread with the same drained eyes. This discovery did not hold up enough excitement for him, not with everything else dragging him down. He finished the sandwich and began to eat quietly, the only sounds being the quiet smacking of the lips that accompanied chewing.

    Just being a sandwich, it did not take long for Derrick to finish his quick meal, and when he was done, he fell upon his coach and wrapped himself in blankets. The blankets felt warm and he was almost tempted to cocoon himself within them and just forget about everything, but he resisted. He knew what fate awaited him if he simply waited here and did nothing.

    He knew, and he did not want to die here.

    Derrick had known, for a while, that the world had changed. The place he was now in was one that was much more brutal than the one that he had been born in. In his mind, he was sure that the world was dangerous.

    ¡°So why . . .¡±

    So why was he so surprised now, when he had known that this place was different, When he had known that the town he knew had been transformed into some kind of hellscape?

    Knowing something and accepting something as reality are two different things, it seemed. Somewhere in his heart, or somewhere within his mind, he had begun to deny the world that was in front of his own eyes. He had adopted the gaming -like mindset that, as long as he diligently trained, the terrors that were outside his door would helpfully wait for him to get stronger so that he could kill them. That was why he wasn¡¯t that bothered when he had walked outside to be greeted by the devastation that was his neighbor¡¯s house. After all, something like that couldn¡¯t possibly happen to him.

    But the truth was, it could happen to him. Whatever happened to the neighbor¡¯s house could happen to Derrick¡¯s house, and he would probably just die, and that would be it for him.

    He almost chuckled as he remembered his own idea, just hours earlier, to hunt mobs around his house. The monsters in this world now were not game-like entities, and that was not so easy to hunt. The monsters of the world he lived in now were vicious beasts that ripped people open as soon as they got their jaws around them in a ruthless clash for survival. There were no ¡°easy ones¡± and if Derrick ran into the wrong monster, he would die before he knew what was going on.

    That was what Derrick was up against. The wolves, and what they had done, had helped him to see reality.

    He knew now that if he went up against the monsters of this world while being unprepared, the only thing that he would get from the monsters was an ungraceful death.

    And as he thought about that again and again, another thought popped up, and as it did, something flashed through Derrick.Light reentered his eyes. His muscles tensed, and he bolted up from his seat as if he had felt an electric shock.

    If death awaited him for being unprepared, then that just meant that he had to be prepared, for whatever situation he might encounter within the future. He had to prepare himself to be able to live in this new earth as he wanted to.

    And yet as he thought that, he felt himself deflate. Even if he said that he did not think that he would be able to prepare for everything. It was totally possible that he could be blindsided by some strong monster some day and die.

    And yet that didn¡¯t mean that Derrick shouldn¡¯t live his life, did it? Even with how broken the world had become Derrick still thought that life was worth living.

    Derrick resolved himself then, to try and be as prepared for the world as he could, and to hope that that would be enough in front of all of the monsters that had scattered themselves across the earth.

    And if he did die, at least Derrick could say that he had done his best against this unbalanced world.

 Chapter 4

    Three days had passed since Derrick¡¯s first excursion outside, and he stood alone in the basement, covered with sweat. The only sounds audible in the room were Derrick¡¯s straining breaths and the dull thunk of metal against wood

    Congratulations! Knife throwing has reached Level 20!

    Derrick bit his lip. He knew that his ability to level up would most likely slow down, but he had still only increased knife throwing 5 levels in three whole days! He wished that the skill would level up faster.

    He let out a sigh and shrugged his shoulders. Even if the leveling was slow, there was nothing that Derrick could do about that. He didn¡¯t think that just training knife throwing more would work, either. After all, he had spent most of the three days time training, and adding more time for knife throwing would in turn leave him less time to train in another area, like his stats. He only had so much time in the day, after all.

    Derrick collected the metal menagerie of kitchen knives that he had been using to train his knife throwing skills and clambered out of the damp air of the basement. Soon enough, gentle splashing noises could be heard as Derrick collected some of the water that occupied the sink within a cup. He was very glad that he had filled every basin in his house with as much water as it could hold when this disaster started. The idea was certainly showing its usefulness now.

    Derrick wiped the sweat away from his forehead, and allowed himself to sit down in one of the many simple wooden chairs that characterized his dining room. It was good to take a break every now and then,

    A little later, Derrick¡¯s panting breaths had returned to normal, and his throat was no longer dry from the constant sweating. His condition had improved considerably, up to the point that he could continue training, but he didn¡¯t. Instead, he remained, staring at the portrait.

    It was one of the main features of the dining room, standing out besides the long wooden table and chairs.The whole family had gotten the photo taken during a summer trip. It portrayed Derrick and his father in tropical, flowery shirts, while his sister, Angela, made a face at the camera. His mom stood next to his father in a beautiful dress.

    She was the one who had insisted they put this picture on the wall, even though Angela had practically ruined it. Something about showing the ¡®spirit¡¯ of the family.

    ¡°You guys are okay, right?¡±

    Derrick¡¯s family had not returned in the four days since the world went to hell.

    Derrick had done what he could to distract himself until now, but the fact remained that his family was probably in danger. When he thought about some of the monsters that he had seen until now, and what those monsters could do to his family . . .

    Derrick felt a cold sweat break out upon his back. His teeth clenched.

    His own inability to do anything hurt the most. Derrick could only sit here and wait. Anything else risked his life. The monsters that had claimed the area around his house stood out, fresh and deadly, in his mind. He had seen, from a distance, a bunch of green humanoids that looked like goblins, along with even more of the wolves. Worse, the wolves and the goblins seemed to be working together, cooperating to hunt what Derrick feared and knew from distant roars and hulking far-off shadows to be larger prey.

    If Derrick went outside of his house without a plan,without some way to evade the various monsters that had him trapped and surrounded, then he knew that he would die fruitlessly, and that did nobody except the monsters any good.

    Stay in the house, get stronger. That was his mantra nowadays and Derrick knew that it would serve him well.

    Derrick stole another glance at his family¡¯s photo and pressed his lips together. He wished, from the bottom of his heart, that they survived this, whatever this really was. He hoped beyond hope that he would be able to see his family again.

    Derrick took a breath to stop the anxiety that his family¡¯s absence had instilled within him. Worrying all day would do nothing about his situation. Worse, it would take from him valuable time that he could use to get stronger. That was the key to all of his objectives now, he had to get stronger. Derrick began to move back towards the basement, but stopped at the entrance to the dining room. He turned, and regarded the portrait for a few more seconds, before sighing and turning away to walk to the basement, his impromptu training grounds.

    In the three days that he had trained so far, Derrick had discovered and adopted a variety of exercises to help him get stronger. For example, while Derrick could not train Sprinting and Running due to the small space, a jump rope allowed him to raise his dexterity. If he continued to use a jump rope long enough, he could even raise his endurance and vitality.

    Of course, Most of the exercises that Derrick performed seemed to allow him to raise his endurance and vitality. The only conditions that those two stats needed to increase seemed to be persevering to an exercise, a suitable condition for rising the stats that represented health and stamina. The trade off for the variety of different methods to raise endurance and vitality however, seemed to be that both stats took a longer than usual time to increase, often taking twice the time that it took to increase strength and dexterity when he had trained those stats.

    Additionally, both endurance and vitality each had their own ¡®progress counter¡¯ and while typically both stats raised at the same time, they each had exercises that seemed to raise their specific stats more efficiently. Effectively, vitality and endurance had to be balanced, lest your imbalance of training become a weakness upon your stats.

    Today, Derrick was focusing on both endurance and vitality, coupled with the additional stat of dexterity, in an exercise that he had become accustomed too over the last three days.

    Derrick picked up the jump rope and swished it gently over his head. Before long he had settled into a gentle rhythm, jumping along with the beat of the rope. It came down, and up went Derrick, before the rope came over and around, again and again. Derrick¡¯s feet slammed against the concrete floor, narrowly dodging the width of the rope with every hop, the gentle wind generated by the rope just barely whisking by Derrick¡¯s feet as it travelled back up into the air.

    Derrick stayed like that for a while, with his body in sync with itself. The only noise in that basement, the gentle whipping of rope against stone, accompanied him. Before long, he could begin to feel a gentle burning feeling in his legs, the consequence of his activity. Despite the pain, Derrick persisted. He had long since learned that pushing through discomfort helped when you were training vitality and endurance.

    You have received the skill:  Pain Resistance, Level 1, Increases the ability to push through pain with level

    But he could only push through the pain for so long. Eventually, the gentle tapping sound of the jump rope stopped, and Derrick curled down gasping for breath. Sweat dripped down his forehead, soaking the back of his shirt. Several breaths passed before Derrick dismissed the notifications that had propped up during his exercise with a thought, and eager to see any progress that he might have made, took the faster route of opening his status.

    Class: Rogue

    Titles: Coward

    Level 1

    Health: 110/110 (R/Hour 14)

    Mana: 114/114 (R/Hour 14)

    Stamina: 28/110 (R/Minute 10)

    Strength: 9

    Mind: 4

    Intelligence : 7

    Wisdom: 4

    Dexterity: 15

    Vitality: 5

    Endurance: 4

    Luck: 8

    Points:

    Derrick grinned, seeing that his training had netted him another point in vitality, and his fifteenth point in Dexterity, both of which he sorely needed, as both would help him in his quest to stay alive. The Dexterity especially, was very good, as it helped to boost all his rogue skills significantly, the main focus of all the training that he had put in in the last three days. The class boost that he had received for certain skills was excellent, and it certainly was good to play to all the strengths that he did have when his situation was as fragile as it was. All it would take was one strong monster . . .

    He needed to train more. He could never be sure that he would be safe until he was so strong that the monsters outside posed no threat to him.

    But for now, this was good. Derrick was improving. Slowly, Steadily, but he was improving, getting better. And soon, hopefully, Derrick would not have to worry about goblins or wolves anymore.

    Derrick yawned, the tiredness from training until the early evening finally catching up to him. For now, this would have to do. He needed some rest. After all, he didn''t want to be fried when he woke up to train tomorrow.

    <hr>

    Derrick did not wake up the next morning. Instead, he woke to a banging sound that jolted his teenaged frame awake. Blearily he grabbed at the many blankets that he had surrounded himself with, desperately trying to get a handhold of some kind. Quickly enough, Derrick found the side of his bed and pulled himself up into a sitting position, where he could hear his own breath wheeze hard within the darkness.

    Soon enough, the sound of Derrick¡¯s breath was disturbed, replaced by the clattering of something once again.

    Slowly, ever so slowly, Derrick pulled himself out from under the sheets, until he felt his feet softly land upon solid ground. Carefully, he stood up, grasping his hand around the knife that he had placed on his dresser, just in case.

    All the while the noise continued, a banging that seemed to come with objects falling on the ground. As if someone, or something, was ransacking the place.

    A monster had most likely made its way inside his house. The thought made a chill shake down Derrick¡¯s spine. It made him want to hide back under his sheets.

    He couldn¡¯t.

    Congratulations! Your Wisdom has increased by 1

    He knew that it was only a matter of time until whatever was downstairs got bored of ravaging what was there, and then there was nothing stopping it from becoming interested in the rest of the house, the part that Derrick currently resided in.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    At that point, Derrick would only be able to run or fight, and the only way that he could run involved hopping through the second story window.

    Doing that would cripple him. It would not be hard for the fall to break his leg, and then,  the monster just had to find him. No, Derrick did not like that idea one bit. Especially when his first strategy towards monsters was running away from them.

    His best course of action then, lay downstairs. If he moved down there, he would have access to the significantly less crippling first story windows, and If he could make it to one of those, he could escape. Assuming the monster down there was a goblin or a wolf, at least. If it was something more. . . Well he was dead either way, wasn¡¯t he?

    He would die if he stayed here anyway. Rogues dealt in surprise attacks and subterfuge, not in straight fights. That was what this would become if the monster came up here, at least after his first attack. Derrick didn¡¯t fancy his chances of killing the monster in one blow, and a straight fight in an enclosed space was the only thing that could happen after that.No thank you. And what if some of the goblins set the house on fire or something? He died either way.

    He needed to get to safer level of the house, someway or another.

    Mustering what remained of his courage, Derrick moved carefully down the stairs, trying his hardest to not make any sound, moving his feet carefully to avoid the nostalgically creaky stairs.

    Congratulations! Stealth has become Level 5!

    He flinched as the blue screen surprised him, but luckily it did not give him up to whoever resided downstairs, and Derrick quickly shooed the message away.

    Soon enough, Derrick had reached the bottom of the stairs. The banging and general noises had increased as he moved downwards, to the point that he could tell that the source of the noise was much closer now. Slowly, he craned his neck around the stairwell to see what exactly had caused all of the ruckus.

    Before Derrick, rustling through his refrigerator, was a goblin. It had its back perpetually hunched down and all along the thing were putrid warts and bumps. It let out a nasty odor that made Derrick wrinkle his nose and step back, an odor that smelled like this particular goblin bathed within a trash compactor. It attested to the strength of such an odor that derrick could smell it through the dining room, within the kitchen. It¡¯s only clothing was a dirty brown loincloth, which covered a bit of the gangly short frame, and unnaturally long arms and legs.

    Curling his eyes around the room, Derrick could see what exactly had made so much noise earlier. The goblin had been busy. Scattered all around it were the remains of furniture and drawers that only a few hours ago made up his family¡¯s kitchen. Most of them now lay tattered on the floor, thrown aside, seemingly uninteresting to the goblin. Derrick had never seen his house in such a sorry state. It was if a tornado had pulled through the place.

    The goblin had apparently caught the scent of something more interesting to it now after all the ransacking, or at least, that is what Derrick assumed when he looked to find the goblin¡¯s head stuck in the refrigerator. Derrick could even hear the slurping and munching sounds that the thing made as it ate, evidently eating as fast as it could manage to shove food into its small grubby mouth.

    Derrick felt his face curl at the sight in front of him, and his shoulders tense. ¡°What a disgusting creature.¡± He thought, looking at it with disdain. Not just disgusting, but seemingly primitive as well, judging from the way that the goblin ate. It seemed as if it were more animal than humanoid, more feral than intelligent.

    The goblin in front of him busied itself with its feast. It would have been easy enough to slip out the window and disappear before it even had the time to notice Derrick leaving . . . And yet, now that he had arrived here, and now that he had seen the goblin with his own eyes, it just did not seem as threatening as it had before. In his mind¡¯s eye, it seemed more disgusting than anything else, like a particularly ugly toad.

    Besides, this was Derrick¡¯s house. It didn¡¯t feel right, to run from the place that he had grown up in, especially when he did not know what monster might await him outside. It seemed much better to him to have to fight a single goblin inside his house then to fight a tribe outside. Besides, goblins were supposed to be weak in games, a trash mob. This one couldn''t be that tough right? Emboldened, he stepped out of his hiding place. He was sure that this one goblin would be easy to kill.

    Kill?

    Derrick¡¯s frail thoughts about video games and monsters shattered into pieces as he remembered that he, not a character, would have to kill this goblin. Derrick had never killed anything in his life. How was he was supposed to kill this thing? The very thought made him feel queasy inside. Even if it was a monster, it did look like a human might, if said human was green and very deformed. More importantly, however disgusting it looked, it lived.. And . . . And he was going to just kill it? For real? What would that even feel like? How would he even do that?

    While Derrick gathered his thoughts, the goblin finished it¡¯s hasty meal. It was a simple creature, built on a primal kind of trickery and it¡¯s own instincts, the same instincts that were telling it that this stuff was not enough, that it needed more food. It turned away from the cold box, leaving the remnants of it¡¯s feeding strewn across the innards of the refrigerator. Turning, it moved to find more food, and immediately caught sight of Derrick.

    The goblin, unlike Derrick, did not hesitate, or run from a fight. Instead, it took one look at Derrick and charged. As it went it let out high pitched roar, an instinctual tactic to demoralize the foe.It was unarmed, but its primal instincts overwhelmed such concerns, making the goblin focus only on Derrick, who to the goblin, was marked as it¡¯s prey, a designation that the goblin had no desire to take away anytime soon.

    Derrick, surprised and befuddled, reacted instead of thinking. He slammed the knife in his right hand forward, stabbing roughly and jerkily, a movement that could barely be called an attack. It was enough. The goblin, blindsided by its own fast movement, took the blade in the side, before it yanked back, howling in pain as the blood spotted cold steel left it¡¯s wound, a big red 12 damage appearing on Derrick¡¯s retina as it fled.

    You have Received The Skill: Dagger Mastery, Level 1, Increases Damage and Ability with Daggers. Scales with Skill Level.  As a class skill, Skill Level is boosted by Dexterity and Luck halved

    It snarled, and lept back, looking at Derrick more warily than it had before, and more importantly, looking for an opportunity with which to strike.

    It came. Derrick, almost bewildered with his own actions, looked down to the blood upon his small blade, and in the moment Derrick¡¯s attention was not fully on his opponent, the goblin struck. It¡¯s sharpened fingers, which each possessed a deadly point, reached towards him and struck him in the chest. He gasped, a sharp pain biting into his torso where the claws struck, a spatter of his blood filling the air. A red 16 floated off of the wound.

    The pain was important, because it was an alarm bell that brought back Derrick¡¯s focus. It forced him to think of the matter at hand, rather than the blood on his knife.

    The goblin slammed it¡¯s second hand towards Derrick, but this time he was ready, ducking back toward the stairwell. The goblin¡¯s hand collided with the oak stairwell railing, spattering wooden splinters across the air and stopping the creature in its tracks.

    Breathing hard, Derrick stepped back to take a frantic swing at the goblin, but it merely ducked under his knife¡¯s telegraphed movements, and countered with a viscous swipe at his neck. Instinctually, Derrick guarded his vital point with his shoulder, before gasping at the sharp agony of the goblin¡¯s clattering fingers raking through his  flesh.

    Derrick clenched his teeth against his growing urge to scream, and sent a viscous kick towards the goblin, who just having completed it¡¯s attack, had no choice but to take it full in the face. It connected with a gratifying smack, sending the green demon bouncing on its way to the back to the kitchen, where the refrigerator held domain.

    ¡°Drip¡± something splashed along the floor and the sound attracted Derrick¡¯s attention. He turned his head and saw the extent of the wound the goblin had delivered  to him, for the first time feeling the deep throbbing pain throughout his damaged shoulder. Derrick¡¯s blood ran down his arm in rivulets, spattering across his skin. The ugly red flowed endlessly, at what Derrick realized was an unhealthy pace. Would he bleed out? Derrick gulped at the thought.

    Congratulations! Your Pain Resistance has reached Level 2

    It disturbed Derrick, to see so much of his blood outside his body, gushing down his arm, all from a single wound. All from a ¡®weak goblin.¡¯

    The goblin might have been weaker than some of the things outside, but Derrick was weaker still. The only reason that he had been able to kick it away earlier was due to their sheer difference in body weight

    Fear grasped Derrick¡¯s mind as he glanced forward to the goblin in front of him, shaking its head from the stunning blow that Derrick had delivered to it. This thing would kill him, if he let it. Even if it was ¡®only¡¯ a goblin, it still had the strength to rip him into little pieces. It snarled as it hopped back up on its feet, licking the blood on its claws. His blood, Derrick realized, as a cold chill pulsed through him, rippling down his spine.

    To win this he had to use the house to his advantage. If he could just find something . . . something that he could use as a weapon . . .  He darted into the living room, his feet bolting as fast as his 15 dexterity allowed him too.

    Congratulations! Sprinting has become Level 2!

    Frantically, his eyes darted around, looking for anything he could defend himself with before the goblin followed him. He didn¡¯t have much time. He could already hear the patter of feet coming from the room just behind him.

    His eyes fell upon the lamp. It was an antique, with a slim, solid iron pole as its base and a lampshade made of a rough linen with floral patterns sewn all across it. His father had removed the lightbulb weeks ago, meaning to replace it with one of the new, energy efficient ones that had begun to proliferate across the market. Of course, that was fine with derrick, he just wanted it for its pole.

    He dove for the lamp, dropping his knife in the process and practically ripping the cord out of the wall until it finally gave out with a yank. Clutching his prize in his hands, derrick turned to face his opponent, who entered the room with an angry growl, it¡¯s tiny goblin face rendered even more ugly ( if that was even possible) by its rage.

    Derrick slammed the iron pole down on its head, the cord whipping wildly in the air as he made to strike. But Instead of a solid blow, the goblin¡¯s face caught a blow full of lampshade, which only served to make it more angry. It growled and tried to side step the pole, but Derrick swung again, and this time the goblin took a direct hit from the metal bar.

    You have Received the Skill: Polearm Mastery, Level 1 Increases Damage and Ability with Polearms. Scales with Skill Level.

    After the first success, Derrick swung again, and again, trying to hit the beast as it dodged and weaved. His frenzied lamp-swinging had little rhyme or reason, and even less technique. Instead he substituted technique with frenzy, attacking as much as he could. And certainly he did manage to keep the beast at bay, and deal a fair bit of damage to it as well, albeit less than the goblin did with its sharp claws. But he couldn¡¯t keep fighting like this forever. His stamina, which he felt rapidly draining since his wild strikes began, wouldn¡¯t allow him too.

    The goblin¡¯s moment came when Derrick, feeling himself tire, slowed down his wild stance.  Seeing it¡¯s chance, it let out another pitched yell and rushed forward. Derrick stabbed forward with his weapon, but it was a lamp, not a spear. The creature simply glanced off the lampshade and continued forward, undeterred.

    It did not take long for the small goblin to get inside of Derrick¡¯s guard, raking its claws across his belly, taking advantage of his momentary weakness. Derrick yelled out as he felt another slashing injury penetrate his skin and slammed the iron lamp into the goblin to knock it away. Still, it had done what it wished too. The wounds that covered Derrick had begun to wear him down. He took another pant of breath.

    He had to end this goblin, before it ended him.

    At least Derrick was not alone in taking his fair share of wounds in this fight. The goblin was covered in bruises where the lamp had made its mark, and the creature was still bleeding from the knife wound in its side. It would not last much longer than Derrick in this fight. One of them would win soon, and to that victor the spoils would be survival.

    It was the goblin that made the first move, and it was the goblin that made the first mistake. The warty beast stepped forward, looking for another opening with which to attack. All that it found however, was a pole to the face. Now that Derrick was not swinging his weapon like a rabid monkey, he found timing his strike an easy task.

    He couldn¡¯t just swing and swing. Derrick realized that now. That would only make him tired and then make him dead.

    Congratulations! Your intelligence has been increased by 1!

    Instead Derrick just watched the goblin as it got up again, staggering to its feet. It let out a roar, almost in defiance, and charged at Derrick once again, blindly lost in a rage. Derrick tensed, felt his grip around the pole, and let loose a mighty swing (as mighty as his nine strength could render it). He was rewarded with a meaty crack as the goblin charged into his strike, throwing the goblin back once again. This time Derrick did not let up. As the goblin stumbled, Derrick stepped forward, delivering another stunning smack with the heavy iron lamp. The goblin fell, moaning into the floor, it¡¯s body weak and pale from all of the injuries that it had accumulated. Derrick didn¡¯t register this, slamming down his makeshift weapon with a dangerous crunch. In his mind, the creature lying in front of him was still dangerous, and so he brought down the lamp in a fervor, again and again.

    His attacks rained down upon the vulnerable goblin like a heavy, pulsing storm that went onwards and onwards. Blows from heavy iron fell easier and easier, faster and faster. A monotonous, forward march of attacks.

    Derrick stopped when he felt something wet spatter across his shorts. He blinked, as if waking up from a dream, and looked at the scene laid out before him. What was once goblin was now a ruinous mess of meat and fluid. The head of the goblin was gone, dented in by heavy iron. Bone was visible, both in the ruined skull, and scattered around in miscellaneous fragments. Grey, veiny material that was unmistakably a brain was spattered across the floor, ripped apart from the whole mass that it had once been. Derrick looked down and noticed that some of that same ooze was spattered across his pants.

    Derrick dropped the iron pole in his hands, and leaned over and threw up, the contents of his lunch spewing upon the floor. He stood there for a second, closing his eyes before sneaking another glance at the corpse upon the floor. He threw up again, and idly took note that that lampshade was most definitely ruined by all of that . . . mess.

    ¡°What have I done?¡± He choked out in the stale air of the living room. No one was there to give him an answer.

 Chapter 5

    If anything, the goblin smelled worse dead than it did alive. If it was bad before it was absolutely putrid now.

    It had taken a while for Derrick to notice the scent. At first, he had just sat there, listlessly glancing at the light blue wall across from him, dead to the world. After a while, little things started to flit in and out of his mind, like the smell, or the fact that his arm had stopped bleeding. He turned to regard it and was treated to the jarring sight of scabbed over flesh and flaky, dried blood.

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t I wash these wounds?¡±, he thought blearily. He turned away from the mess that he had caused and instantly felt as if some of his energy had returned to him. For right now, at least, Derrick needed to gather his thoughts, and he had no desire to remain here, near his victim, any longer. Slowly, Derrick pulled himself off the ground, careful not to direct his eyes towards the fresh body. Stalking across the living room, Derrick made his way to the bathroom, seemingly intent on some new objective.

    If he was going to wash out all the blood and gunk around his injuries then he would need to find a cloth. He remembered that usually a collection of different dishcloths could be found around the house, most of which originated from under the bathroom sink. It didn''t take him long to find one. The goblin had left the bathroom untouched, at least, and he selected a dry blue one under the sink that seemed to be clean, as far as he could tell.

    The sink itself already was filled to the brim with water. It was a simple enough task to dab the rag in the water and begin to wipe away at his arm. A simple task that was more complicated in execution. Derrick grimaced as he felt some of the matter around his arm pull off, new blood rushing to flow out of the fragile wounds.

    Switching his grip on the towel, Derrick changed tactics. Instead of swiping his wounds with the rag, he dabbed, attempting to clean out his wounds without opening them all over again. First, he dabbed at his arm, then at the claw marks that were on his chest, and then finally at his most shallow wounds, on his stomach. His wounds ached and twinged throughout the process, but mostly, he was able to clean out most of the dirt and debris without making himself bleed again. Still, enough blood-soaked from his agitated wounds that the blue rag became stained a purplish red.

    Finally done with washing his wounds, Derrick took a breath. He felt much better after being sure that his injuries were clean, but his own thoughts reminded him that to properly heal, he needed to accomplish one more task. Moving away from the bathroom, Derrick carefully avoided the living room on his way upstairs, to one of the storage closets, where he knew that the medical supplies were kept. Thankfully, his family didn¡¯t often need to use them, there was still a full roll of gauze included with the kit when Derrick checked it.

    Back in the bathroom, Derrick took his time bandaging himself up, making sure that he had managed to get all of his injuries. By the time that he was done he had already gone through half of the roll.

    After he finished Derrick didn¡¯t move on immediately. Instead, he fussed around his bandages, making sure that all of them were tight and sturdy, and that he wouldn¡¯t be bleeding anywhere. Then he checked them again. More than he needed to, in fact. He finished and let out a sigh. ¡°What am I doing?¡± Even to himself, Derrick sounded rather weary. How he wished that he could just wake up to find out that this had all been a very bad dream.

    Derrick walked mechanically out of the bathroom, through the kitchen and into the living room. He remembered where the body was, and so he knew where to look to not see it, or to only see the least of it. He licked his lips and felt the sweat the building upon the back of his arm. Derrick¡¯s collar suddenly felt hot. He moved his arm to adjust it, but that didn¡¯t help him. It still seemed to burn his neck. Derrick resolved to change shirts as soon as possible. This one has been cut up in his fight anyway.

    Derrick rubbed his fingers against one another, and finally, reluctantly, pulled his head to what lay beside him.

    Looking at the devastation that was the goblin¡¯s remains, Derrick did not throw up again. Instead, he merely looked at them with a gaze full of vague disbelief, a sleeping wakefulness that seemed to rise from his toes to his legs, and from there to his torso. Derrick felt his legs sway, almost drifting away, but he did not fall.

    The rotting odor of putrescence finally reached his nose, making him recoil, bringing consciousness to his movements. He looked at the body again, blinking.

    He had done this.

    He could see the marks where he had dug the lamp in, again and again, the bruises and broken flesh where his heavy blows had fallen. He could see the murder weapon, the iron lamp pole, discarded and coated in the ichor of the scene. He could see the aftermath, the two pools of vomit that had erupted from him when he realized exactly what he had done to the goblin.

    He had killed it.

    But he had done more than that. Killing something doesn¡¯t require you to break its face in, to fracture it¡¯s skull into a million pieces, to spatter its brain matter upon the floor-

    He went to throw up again, but he hadn¡¯t eaten since the fight. There was nothing left in his stomach. He curled over and felt himself dry heave, a wave of nausea working its way down his spine as he gaped and expelled air, half expecting another round of sickness to vomit upon the floor in front of him. But there was nothing, and a few minutes later, the dry heaving stopped.

    Derrick remained curled up, panting, for a long silence, before he finally stopped. It was longer still before he chanced another glance at the body in front of him.

    But when he did look, he couldn¡¯t wrench his eyes away. Instead, he simply remained, focusing on the corpse, silent and motionless as his mind worked.

    ¡°Nothing deserves to die like this,¡± Derrick realized, looking upon what he had made of his foe. ¡°Not like this.¡±

    Not that the goblin hadn¡¯t justified Derrick¡¯s actions, despite the treatment that its body had received. The goblin had broken into his house, stolen his food, and tried to kill him. It had every single intention of doing just that, of ripping his flesh apart and feasting upon his guts, and it would have if Derrick hadn¡¯t killed it first.

    But even if the goblin would have killed him without a single care, now, looking over its corpse, Derrick didn''t feel like the goblin deserved its death. Instead, all he could see was the way that its body lay, sunken, upon the floor, and all he could think of was that he was a murderer.

    The thought resounded in Derrick¡¯s head, over and over. He had murdered that goblin, it had died by his hands. Derrick felt dirty, a low, swelling corruption that filled him with a deep foreboding shame. In his mind, Derrick could see the life that had just a couple hours ago danced within the goblin¡¯s eyes, a light that Derrick had extinguished. Even if it was a goblin, it was still alive.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    He shivered, looking at the corpse, feeling a wretchedness rise up within him. For a system that was so gamelike, this was decidedly too real. He hated that he and the goblin had fought. Hated that he had needed to kill the goblin to live and that he had lost himself in fear so deeply to do all of this.

    And yet, a dark part of him whispered that he would do it again.

    For even as Derrick felt the guilt that lay within him, and felt the disgust that ran rampant as he observed his own actions, he had killed the goblin in front of him because he wanted to survive.

    And within Derrick, all of the guilt and the shame paled in front of his desire to survive. To Derrick, nothing was more important, even though the method that he had used to achieve his survival disgusted him.

    He would do everything in his power to stay alive.

    This wasn¡¯t going to be his last fight, Derrick knew, even though he wished it were otherwise. The goblins and the wolves, someday Derrick would have to fight them again. More than them, assuming that he ever wanted to get out of this place, then he would also need to fight, or run from whatever other monsters lurked between here and . . . wherever he decided to go. There would be times when he wouldn¡¯t be able to run away when he would have to fight for his life. To kill to be able to survive.

    Derrick didn¡¯t want to kill, but he didn¡¯t want to die more. And if he would have to kill things anyway . . . Derrick paused, feeling queasy, unable to voice his thoughts within his mind. He knew that his idea was most likely the smartest thing to do, but it was terrible, and he felt terrible just thinking about it-

    Derrick looked down at the goblin¡¯s corpse. Then he pictured himself lying on the floor, dead, his skull shattered, and his brains leaking onto the floorboards, staining them a disgusting purplish color. And suddenly, the idea that he had didn¡¯t seem quite so bad after all.

    If he killed more than he would level up. He would grow stronger. Attacking the monsters directly would be suicide, but if he picked off a few stragglers, it would be much easier to survive.

    The very thought of it made Derrick feel sick. Sick with himself. Sick that he was thinking about killing things just so that he could grow more powerful.

    But could he survive without it?

    That goblin had been strong. It had barely cared about the knife wound in its side, and its claws had easily ripped his skin apart. If that was the strength of a single goblin, then Derrick did not even want to think about how he would fare against the dozens of them that were outside, or the dozens of wolves, for that matter.

    Derrick didn¡¯t know how strong leveling up made him, but he needed all the strength he could get.

    And if that meant killing- Derrick shivered, a tingling nervousness making its way down his back.

    If that meant killing, then he would just have to do it. To just end their life, to feel their lifeblood drain away. To look into their eyes as they lay, dying on the floor. Derrick exhaled a shaky breath, looking for purchase. His mind divulged the familiar haunting image of the man being torn limb from limb by the wolves.

    These were monsters. Monsters. They would kill him without a second thought, and would probably kill anyone else unfortunate enough to cross their path. He had to remember that. Derrick looked at the body of the goblin in front of him and swallowed his doubts in an anxious gulp.

    It was him or them. Right now, that was all that he could afford to think about.

    <hr>

    The first order of business after that was the notifications left behind by the fight. He was intuitively aware that there were notifications to be opened, almost the same way that he was aware of how much stamina that he had left, or how damaged his health was. It was weird, and Derrick had never particularly noticed it before the fight, but there it was, something in the back of his mind parroting out the information as accurately as when he checked his status himself. It was undoubtedly some consequence of whatever it was that had happened to the world almost a week ago, and he had no more clues for that than he did for this, so he let it be.

    As Derrick willed his notifications into being, they appeared in front of him, all of them. Both those that he had missed during his hectic battle and those that were fresher.

    Congratulations! You have defeated a Level 3 Grunt Goblin!

    Notice: Monsters do not possess progression. As such, their level counters display only a calculated strength value based on species and age.

    Congratulations! You have become Level 2! You have received 5 stat points!

    The notifications mostly followed in line with what Derrick had expected, given his intense bought. He had managed to gather a useful group of new stats and skills and had leveled up as he assumed that he would, given that he was Level 1, which everyone who has ever played an RPG knows is low and thus easy to increase.

    It wasn¡¯t all sunshine and rainbows. There was a part of the notice that worried Derrick, the part that indicated the goblin that he had slain as a grunt goblin. What did that mean? Could there be separate types of goblins? And most importantly, how much stronger were those other goblins compared to this one?

    Derrick was very glad that he had leveled up. He had a feeling that he would need it. If any stronger goblin than this one had come to his house tonight . . . Derrick Shuddered, trying to focus his attention on less grim avenues of thought.

    As according to the notice, leveling up gave Derrick 5 status points, which he experimented with, and as he thought given their name, they were able to increase any status by up to five or more, depending on the number of status points available to him. Luckily enough, there also was a confirmation message, or Derrick would have found himself five points smarter and with no more points to show for his experiment.

    Derrick saved the points, for now, resolving to mull over the decision in front of him properly. He knew that whatever that decision was, he would have to make it quickly. He did not have the luxury to take his time with his choice, not when danger leered so closely around the corner.

    With his status checked, his wounds bandaged, and his resolve resolved, Derrick was left with one more than he needed to consider.

    What the heck was he going to do with this body?

    It was a confounding problem. The horrible stench that the body gave off would not only smell really bad, it would also most likely attract the things interested in a decaying goblin corpse. Or in other words the wolves. Derrick had no illusions that whatever bound them in an alliance would keep the wolves from feasting on free food when they found it.

    And Derrick did not know what exactly went on between the wolves and the goblins, but he had seen enough from his window to know that wherever the wolves went, the goblins accompanied them. If a crowd of wolves was drawn to the rotting smell . . .

    Only one option readily presented itself to Derrick, that he had to run away.

    Your Wisdom has increased by 1

    Derrick sent a frown toward the untimely notification, and then looked at the walls of his house sadly, sighing. He hated the idea of abandoning his own house, but what other choice did he have. What else could he do? Wait until morning and drag a body away from his home in broad daylight, where the monsters could plainly see him? Drag it away, now, in the night, where a wolf out of his sight could ambush him and tear him to shreds?

    Both options were horrible and would leave him defenseless as he dragged away from the heavy and disgusting mass of meat that the goblin had become.

    The memories, that were tied to this place . . . They were precious to Derrick and his heart wrenched and boiled at the thought of leaving them here, to the monsters. But his memories, the childish games that he had played with his sister when they were kids, the stoic image of his father humming while he sat behind the grill in the humid summer heat, would all mean nothing if he died.

    It hurt, somewhere deep in his heart to run away like this, but something within Derrick had already solidified his decision. Maybe it was from before, from watching that man die and doing nothing, running away, but he had already decided nonetheless. His life was more important than this place.

    It was time to let his home go.

 Chapter 6

    After considering his options, Derrick eventually decided on the easiest and safest method available to him. Before the monsters came, Derrick¡¯s neighborhood had always consisted of a large collection of houses,  most of which built within walking distance of each other. It would be a simple enough task to break into such a house, even if Derrick had to resort to something drastic, like hurling a rock through the window, and once there Derrick could recover and figure out his next move.

    Of course, this plan would involve breaking into another person¡¯s house, something that Derrick would never have even considered before all this started. If somebody had managed to stay alive for the four days since the change, it even might make sense if that person attacked Derrick for trespassing. It would be a perfectly reasonable response to Derrick¡¯s actions.

    But wasn¡¯t that being a little optimistic?

    Derrick glanced outside his window, in the direction that the occasional group of goblins or pack of wolves could be seen, unabashedly walking in numbers ranging from almost 20 to only 1. They walked separately or together, forming chaotic patterns with their steps, no formation or semblance of planning to be found within any of their movements. They wandered this way and that, pillaging, or eating, anything that could be found.

    Derrick wondered how many people had lost their lives within the goblin¡¯s haphazard search. It didn¡¯t take many goblins, as Derrick could attest, to be a threat to a human. In fact, it only took a single goblin to match Derrick, even when he had trained beforehand. If anyone hadn¡¯t put in as much effort? If they had underestimated the goblins, thinking that they were a trash mob? Those people had undoubtedly died. And that concerned only those who lucky enough to encounter a single goblin in the first place. What if they came in a group of five? Ten?

    It had struck Derrick, that a very large amount of the people that had once lived here were dead. One moment, they had been his distant but friendly neighbors. Now, they only served goblin food.

    This was the reason that he could think so callously about breaking into the houses of his deceased neighbors. If they had died, then they no longer needed them, and Derrick did, badly, if he wanted to survive. He shivered at a cold feeling that had nothing to do with the temperature.

    On the other hand, if Derrick found anyone that remained alive . . . It would be good to talk about all of this, all of what had happened since everything started. It would be amazing to see someone alive again, after four days of constant stress, when the last time he had seen anyone alive resulted in that person being ripped apart.

    Even if whoever Derrick found was angered that he broke into their house,  Derrick felt sure that he could calm them down, get them to understand the situation. Desperate times called for desperate action, and Derrick could not recall ever being more desperate.

    Of course, this was all a big if. It seemed entirely possible that Derrick would open the doors onto nobody, or explore the new house he claimed only to discover some gruesome scene of a massacre.

    Derrick sighed. Thinking about what he could find within whatever semblance of shelter he would move onto would get him nowhere. Instead, he should be doing something productive, like packing what he would bring on such a journey. He did not have all the time in the world, after all. He did not know when the wolves would smell the death that lingered about his home, he did not even know that they would, but he would take no chances. Derrick had no disillusions about his ability to handle any of the wolves, especially if they appeared as a pack.

    His first step would be to gather what he would need for water supplies. For Derrick, this composed as many bottles of water as he could get his hands on, all filled to the brim and collected from the nearby upstairs bathroom basin. The next consisted of gathering food, which proved a bit more difficult from the sheer variety of things that Derrick could pack away. Settling for simplicity, Derrick grabbed several things of jerky, one of his father¡¯s favorite snacks, and a variety of fruits such like oranges and apples that didn¡¯t need to be refrigerated, and wouldn¡¯t go bad within the week.

    Next, he moved on to whatever equipment he would need for the journey. Several of the sharpest knives that he could get his hands on went into the pile of things to be packed immediately, as did a small flashlight. Some other additions included a lighter and a small, plastic compass, as well as a jump rope for dexterity training.

    After that, came all the things that Derrick wanted to pack, but did not truly need, of which there a large amount. Too large an amount, as Derrick¡¯s bag, an old, weathered hiking backpack that his father had possessed from his college years, became overstuffed, the sheer amount of things that Derrick wished to pack within it ripping at the seams.

    In the end, Derrick forced himself to leave many of the important tidbits that he had collected throughout his life behind, fearing that with all that he had packed he would be over encumbered and forced to slow him down, something that could spell his end in the presence of monsters.

    So instead of everything that he wished, Derrick only packed away the stuff that he absolutely wanted, things more important than the other stuff that had plagued his backpack, or just more useful. His phone, in the vain hope that he would be able to find some way to charge it. Two changes of clothes, a bunch of socks and underwear. A picture of his family, preserved in a delicately small and well designed black frame.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    All told, when Derrick had finally packed everything that he wanted to, his rather large hiking backpack remained half empty. Rather than packing more, Derrick decided against using the space. Instead, he would be able to move faster with a lighter pack, which would be a large boon if Derrick was unfortunate enough to run into any monster on his way.

    His packing done, Derrick fell out of the fugue of focus that the simple activity had brought and let himself deflate, a visible exhale drawing out a long sigh. Slowly, Derrick walked through the rooms that he had grown up in, feelings of a somber nostalgia, settling deep within him. He peered out a window on the second floor to see a gray canine shape settling back into the shade of the trees. He had to get going.

    Back downstairs, Derrick collected some paper from inside one of the printers and secured a pen from the drawer. Slowly he began to write, making a note for his family. It began as a rambling paragraph about his first days here, then an explanation about the corpse of the goblin that still occupied the living room. He wrote down that he remained safe and told them where he intended on going. He pleaded with them to follow him if they came here. Lastly, he wrote down just he much he hoped that they had remained unharmed.

    Derrick looked at the note and sighed.The past few days had really done a number on him. The whole letter reeked of being frantic and sentimental, filled with more hope and emotion than actual information. It would have to do. Derrick had managed to include all of the important parts, at least. He put down the pen and took a step back.

    Derrick had no guarantee that this note would remain after everything that might happen to this house in his absence, but it seemed the best hope that he had right now. Instead of worrying endlessly about what might happen, Derrick tore himself away from the note, forcing himself to focus on other things. If he started worrying now he would never stop.

    He looked at his backpack and slipped it on, fastening the various belts and buckles around himself so that he could carry it with minimal difficulty. His hand wrapped around the hilt of his knife, gripping the hard black plastic firmly. Derrick bit his lip and stepped forward.

    It was time to leave.

    <hr>

    The actual process of leaving proved to be a bit more difficult than packing for the trip. Monsters had begun to walk past and around Derrick¡¯s house with more and more frequency as the days passed, and Derrick had to be careful to avoid all of them if he could. This required no small amount of waiting, as Derrick had to make sure that each and every monster had passed out of sight before he could make his move. Unfortunately for him, there seemed to always be some scuttling outlier wandering around alone that disturbed his plan. He let out a yawn, more from the tiredness than any boredom. Derrick had killed the goblin last night, and after that enough time had passed that the sun now sat high in the sky. He felt the bags that had formed under his eyes but still felt himself shudder at the idea of sleep, at least until he had found himself a place relatively untouched by all of the beasts outside.

    To fight his weariness Derrick began to perform simple exercises that would drain only small amounts of his stamina away from the monster¡¯s sight. Every minute or so he would glance back out the doorway, searching for an absence of monsters that would spark the beginning of his travel, only to go back to the exercise and try again. After a while, and a point in endurance Derrick stopped, lest he leave himself too bereft of stamina to take the chance to sneak away when it presented itself.

    He sat there, checking the doorway every so often, but otherwise remaining still to conserve his stamina. It did not take long for Derrick¡¯s own fatigue to be brought to the forefront of his mind. His head nodded, his body threatening him with the relaxation of sleep. He bit his lip, and when that didn¡¯t work started to pinch himself. Softly at first, but then harder, and harder, until Derrick pulled back his hand and saw blood. He stopped and let out a hiss of air, holding his new wound. Derrick knew that he didn¡¯t have to do this. He could easily just go back to sleep and postpone his travel until tomorrow. But if he did that . . . Derrick, paused, thinking back to the goblin who had easily wrestled its way into his house. If he went to sleep now, anything might be able to make its way inside of his house and catch him unprepared. No. For now,  sleep meant death for Derrick.

    So Derrick kept fighting, kept pinching himself awake, even if he could feel that this was a losing battle. If he didn¡¯t find a moment to sneak away soon, he would collapse into his dreams, and maybe never wake up again.

    Luckily, it did not come to that. Finally, a moment came when no monsters seemed to be lurking outside, and hoisting his pack, Derrick quickly made his way out the door, wincing at the loud creak it made as he pushed it away. He stopped for a moment, searching for any sign of motion or color of movement that signaled that something had heard him, but nothing came. For the moment at least. he appeared to be in the clear.

    He took advantage of the opportunity, moving as softly as he could, keeping to the edges of houses to use them as a sort of makeshift cover. For the most part that seemed to do the trick. Goblins didn¡¯t seem to be the most observant monster, and if Derrick remained careful about his advancement, then it became easy to spot the green terrors and keep as far away from them as he could. It certainly worked on the few that Derrick came across.

    Congratulations! Your stealth has become Level 6!

    After about an hour of this ducking and dodging, Derrick managed to reach an area where the monsters appeared to thin out. Goblins passed through this area rarely, and in fewer numbers, while the entire area seemed bereft of the wolves that had proved problematic back home.

    Derrick knew that might change someday if the monsters ever decided to move their camp but it didn¡¯t matter. He needed someplace to stay now. He could worry about the future when it happened.

    At this point, the aching tiredness had crept up through the entirety of Derrick¡¯s body, and he felt bereft of any grace or subtlety. He simply wanted to get to sleep more than, it seemed to him, he had wanted anything in his life. He took a rock from an adjoining lawn and smashed through the glass-windowed door of the first house that he saw, a low hanging, blue, single story, praying all the while that no monster heard him, or resided in the place that he now intruded upon.

    Once the glass had broken, he used some denim, handily provided by his spare pair of jeans to open the door safely and get quickly into the house, hoping to find a place where he wouldn¡¯t have to constantly be looking over his shoulder in case of an attack.

    He had barely entered the door before something met his head with a thud, forcing him violently into unconsciousness.