Day 3 since the royal started
The city had become a warzone.
From his apartment window, Luis watched as plumes of smoke rose from the downtown district—guild clashes. The GFH had locked down the forest, and the streets were crawling with Hosts hunting for easy prey. Monsters still roamed, but only the strongest survived now—the ones even guilds couldn't take down.
Zyx floated beside him, unusually quiet. "We can't stay here."
Luis knew he was right.
He packed what little he had—rations, a first-aid kit and his trusty Scrap Hammer. In the garage, covered in dust, sat an old scooter he'd salvaged years ago.
"This thing runs?" Zyx raised an eyebrow.
Luis kicked the engine to life. "It does now."
The streets were a maze of danger. He wove through back alleys, avoiding patrols, his knowledge of the city's underbelly the only thing keeping him alive. Twice, he had to duck into abandoned buildings as Host squads passed by, their voices barking orders.
"Crimson Blades control the east now."
"Free Host Coalition took the docks."
"GFH's pulling back—something big's coming."
Luis didn't wait to find out what.
The Open Road
Two hundred miles of open highway stretched between him and the nearest village—if it was even still standing. The scooter sputtered but held, its rattling engine the only sound in the eerie silence.
For hours, the world was a blur of cracked asphalt and overgrown fields. Then—screams.
A family of four—a man, a woman, two young kids—sprinted down the road, their faces twisted in terror. Behind them, something unnatural bounded after them, its webbed wings flapping with grotesque grace.
A Giant Winged Frog (Level 10).
Its maw gaped, strands of acidic saliva stretching between jagged teeth. One more level, and it would evolve into a Silver-class threat.
Luis's grip tightened on the handlebars.
Keep going.
It's not your fight.
The youngest child—a girl no older than six—tripped, her knee scraping against the asphalt. The frog's tongue lashed out—
"Damn it!" Luis swung the scooter around.
Luis slammed the hammer into the frog's flank the second he was in range. The creature hissed, its bulbous eyes locking onto him with eerie intelligence.
It retaliated instantly—a whip-fast tongue strike that wrapped around Luis's forearm, the mucus searing his skin like acid. He yanked free, leaving behind strips of flesh, and swung again. The hammer connected, but the frog's rubbery hide absorbed most of the impact.
"It's too damn tough!" Luis panted, dodging another lunge.
Zyx hovered nearby, uncharacteristically tense. "Hit the eyes! Only soft spot!"
Luis tried—but the frog leapt, its wings carrying it out of reach before crashing down like a living boulder. The impact sent him flying, his ribs screaming as he hit the pavement.
The frog advanced, its throat pulsing—prepping another acid spit. Luis rolled aside just as the glob melted the asphalt where he'd been.
[MISFORTUNES TOUCH - ACTIVATED]
Debuff Roll: Movement Impairment (32%)
The frog's next lunge was slower, its coordination faltering. Luis dodged, hammer swinging upward—CRACK. The frog's jaw fractured, black blood oozing from the wound.
But it wasn't enough.
The fight dragged on—40 minutes in, Luis was bleeding from a dozen wounds, his movements sluggish. The frog was relentless, its attacks growing more frenzied as its health dropped.
At the 58-minute mark, Luis's vision blurred from exhaustion. The frog's tongue speared his thigh, and he screamed, swinging wildly. The hammer grazed its eye, but not enough to blind it.
[MISFORTUNE'S TOUCH - COOLDOWN OVER]
Luis activated it again—this time, the debuff rolled max potency.
[DEBUFF: 100% MOVEMENT SPEED REDUCTION]
The frog froze mid-lunge, its muscles locking up as if paralyzed by cosmic irony. Its bulging eyes widened in panic—it couldn't move.
"NOW!" Zyx roared.
Luis didn't hesitate. He charged, pouring every ounce of strength into a single, two-handed overhead smash.
The hammer caved in the frog's skull with a wet CRUNCH.
[GIANT WINGED FROG DEFEATED]
[+800 SOUL ESSENCE]
[+90,000exp]
[LEVEL UP: 2]
New energy flooded Luis's veins—stronger, faster, sharper—but his body had reached its limit. His legs gave out.
The last thing he saw before collapsing was the family staring at him, their faces a mix of gratitude and horror.
Then—blackness.