- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Carl sat cross-legged in the dim bone cage, twisting his wrists slowly, quietly, making progress with every tiny motion. Every time one of the monsters skittered past the tunnel, he froze. Let the pain in his shoulders settle. Then tried again.
"Someone's stubborn," Ayla whispered beside him.
Carl didn't look at her. "If we don't get out soon, we'll be food. Or worse."
"Yeah. I'm hoping for food. That'd be poetic."
He finally glanced at her. Her mouth was a tight line, but her eyes were sharp. Alert. Even if she was cracking jokes.
Carl kept his voice low. "You okay?"
She nodded, then shook her head. "No. But I will be."
He believed her.
A wheezing breath from the corner drew both their attention. The head-wounded guy—Lucas, the girl had called him—was twitching, his eyes darting around but unfocused. Fevered.
"We need to get him out of here," said the woman tending him. Short, pale, early thirties maybe. Carl hadn't caught her name.
"We will," Carl said. He didn't say how, because he didn't know yet.
Carl leaned back, pressed his hands together, and whispered, "Hey… System? You forgetting something?"
No response.
He frowned. "I did escort Ayla safely last night. Got her to shelter. She didn't bleed out. Pretty sure I nailed that bonus objective."
Still nothing.
Carl scowled and muttered louder, "I know you're listening. Don't make me start singing nursery rhymes again."
A soft ding sounded in his head like a microwave finishing a smug casserole.
[Quest Complete: Escort Ayla to Safety]
• Bonus Objective Complete
• +750 System Credits Awarded
Total SC: 2,700
He blinked.
"Oh, now you decide to ping me."
[I was waiting for dramatic tension to peak. Also… congratulations. You found more Earthlings. It's almost like… this was scripted. Or you're just lucky. Or both.]
He looked back at the other captives.
Ayla met his gaze, reading something on his face. "System update?"
"Yup," he said quietly. Then turned to the others. "Okay. Quick roll call. I'm Carl. This is Ayla. If we're going to escape, I need to know who I'm working with."
The older man spoke first. "Gil. Sprained ankle."
The teenage boy next. "Mason. I can run. And climb."
The woman nodded without looking up. "Tina. Lucas is my brother. He's burning up. Hit his head during the fall."
Carl hesitated. "Do any of you have… systems?"
They glanced at one another.
"I do," Mason said. "Sorta. Just shows my name and stats."
"Mine too," said Gil. "It hasn't done much."
"Same," Tina muttered. "No voice. Just menus."
Carl nodded slowly. "That's… useful."
Ayla gave him a sidelong glance. "And you?"
Carl didn't answer immediately.
"I have a bit more experience," he said. Calm. Evasive. "That's all."
Tina studied him for a second too long. "You've done this before?"
Carl looked toward the barred tunnel, listening.
"I've survived before."
The conversation ended there, tension thickening like fog.
Carl looked down, piecing it together.
Everyone here had one.
He remembered it. That strange pop-up back on Earth.
[Public Awakening Rate: 0.1% – Individual Systems Assigned. System AI: Disabled.]
I noticed that most of the people back home didn't have a system at all. Not even a hint.
And then there was his.
Alive. Snarky. Custom-fitted. System AI very much enabled.
Carl narrowed his eyes. "So it's not just any system. Only people who got sucked into this world through the sinkholes, If I am right, get awakened… which means I…"
[Are a unique variable. Please try not to die.]
The system's voice chimed in with exaggerated glee.
[Honestly. Took you long enough. You're the only one who can return to this world at will. Everyone else? Dragged in. Dumped. Left to survive. But you? Chosen. By me. Keke.]
Carl felt a chill run down his spine. "You picked me?"
[Of course I did. Can't leave this world to the amateurs.]
"…That's not comforting."
[Shouldn't be. This world eats amateurs alive.]
Carl took a breath and turned serious. "Alright then. Time to fight smart."
He sat back against the bone wall and opened his status window mentally, focusing hard.
"System. Show me what I can buy in the system market. Budget: 2,700 system credits."
[Opening Market Interface… Filtering for Current Balance… Loading recommended purchases for desperate, under-equipped, dungeon-captive survivalists…]
Carl's eyes scanned the options as the translucent display filled his vision:
[SYSTEM MARKET]
• Weapons
• Abilities
• Consumables
• Miscellaneous
• ??? (locked)
Carl stared at the last tab – ???. Locked. Of course it was. He felt like a kid outside a candy store that only opened after a boss fight.
Still, four tabs was more than enough.
"Alright," he whispered to himself, eyes scanning the list. "Can't save them all if I'm dead. Let's play this smart."
First priority: offense. He needed a weapon—his old spear was probably being chewed on by some goblin runt right now. Then something to patch himself up. He couldn't afford to bleed out in the middle of a rescue. If there was an ability worth grabbing, something that could tilt the odds—he'd risk the credits.
Carl clenched his fists, a surge of clarity washing over him. This wasn't just about fighting anymore. Not just surviving. These people needed someone to make the first move. And for better or worse, he was the one who got stuck with the damn system.
He cracked his neck.
"Let's go shopping."
The system chimed again.
[Ready when you are, Chosen One.]
[Try not to make it boring.]
Carl exhaled slowly, every muscle tense with purpose.
"Boring's off the menu."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
TO BE CONTINUED…