His hands trembled.
He lifted the [Minor Health Potion] into the green light filtered through the forest. The glass bottle was cold and sturdy.
The deep red liquid inside wasn't just red; it was the color of synthetic arteries. And the liquid had weight.
His gamer brain, accustomed to logic for two decades, had a simple command:
Execute Healing Protocol: Drink the potion.
His real brain, currently screaming inside his head, had another command:
You are a 25-year-old man wearing pajamas, covered in blood in a magical forest, about to swallow a ten-year-old digital asset given to you by the girl you created to unlock it.
That's objectively crazy.
He looked at his other arm. The gash was deep. His blood had now turned into thick black clots. The edges of the wound were a reddish-purple.
Infection. Shock. Status: Bleeding Out.
He was dying, just slower now.
The alternative to madness was death. But yes, he would choose madness any day.
He muttered the stopper. It came off with a small pop.
Then the smell hit him. The smell of iron and ozone, sterile chemical acidity.
He didn't hesitate as he downed the contents of the bottle in one gulp.
'Ugghhhhhh'
The taste was awful.
It tasted like metal, a little sweet, and cold. But it wasn't just cold, it was an invasive chemical cold that not only slid down his throat but flooded his entire nervous system.
He dropped the bottle, gasping for breath, his whole body shaking.
Then, he looked at his left arm.
It wasn't a soft golden light like in a game.
But it was disgusting and fast.
He stared, his stomach churning, as the jagged purple edges of the wound seemed to tremble, then forcefully retracted.
His flesh fused together, twitching, like a month's worth of healing compressed into three seconds.
The next second, the pain was gone.
Where the gaping wound had been, there was now only a fresh pink scar. It was tight. And itchy.
"I'm healed."
[Minor Health Potion]. From Aethelgard Online.
"It worked!!!"
A muffled sound escaped his throat; half laugh, half cry.
Hysteria boiled over. He had passed the first, most ridiculous test!
Then, the blue bar in his vision, which he had forgotten, reappeared.
[Creator Mana: 4/10]
He turned to Shivvy. Then to his new scar, his admiration clear.
Yes, she was his miracle. But she was also his death clock.
[Upkeep: 1 Mana/Hour].
He had at most four hours to survive.
What happened when the bar reached zero? Did she disappear? Did he die?
Dia tidak bisa mengambil risiko untuk mengetahuinya.
Dia membutuhkan lebih banyak mana. Satu-satunya statistik yang tampaknya dapat meningkatkan cadangan mananya adalah…
He couldn't risk finding out.
He needed more mana. The only stat that looked like it would increase his mana pool was…
[Creator Level: 1].
The only way to raise that was EXP. He checked his status again.
[Creator Level: 1]
[EXP: 1/100]
He froze. One?
He replayed the fight. The terror. The running. The rock.
'I had thrown a rock, and it had hit the Goblin!!! I pulled aggro, you know!!!'
He only gotten one experience point for engaging the mob.
The gamer's logic returned to its place, bringing a familiar comfort.
"Alright, Dante."
Observation: Attacking a group of enemies gives 1 EXP.
Hypothesis: Killing a group of enemies gives a mission reward.
Requirements: He needs 99 more EXP. He needs a kill.
He looked at his hands. Soft, without calluses, now covered in dried mud.
Then he looks at Shivvy. She has a small iron knife.
This is a resource loop. A spiral of death.
He needs EXP to get mana. And he needs mana—to summon a real fighter—to get EXP.
He's stuck at Level 1, with time ticking away.
Unless...
He looked at Shivvy again.
Yes, she was his inventory. She was his healer. But she was a passive burden. He couldn't afford her.
His will opened the interface.
[Summon Slot: 1/1]
[Shivvy (Active)]
Next to it was a small, inconspicuous button:
[Dismiss]
The word felt like a punch to the gut. Cancel the summon.
He stared at the cold, logical text on his conscious face.
She trusted him. She called him Creator. Canceling the summon now felt like virtual murder.
"Creator...?" she whispered, feeling a change within herself. "Is... is something wrong?"
But he had to do it.
"Shivvy," he began, his voice hoarse and dry. "I have to... I need you to... come back."
Her face crumbled. The trust in her eyes cracked, replaced by familiar, suppressed fear.
"Come back...?" she whispered. "To... the bank? Did I do something wrong, Creator? I could be quieter. I could have brought more! I have [Lumpy Mattress] (Common) and six [Cracked Leather Scraps]..."
She listed her inventory to prove herworth as a character.
Dante's self-loathing was physical and suffocating.
"No," he said harshly. "You're perfect. You saved me. But... my mana. The maintenance cost."
He pointed into the air, at the interface only he could see.
"You consume one mana. Every hour. I'm running out. I only have... four... left."
He had to simplify.
"Okay, Shivvy. I'm running out of power. And if I run out, I can't... I can't protect us."
He just stared at her for a moment, her eyes brimming with tears.
And she understood. The fear faded, replaced by a grim and heartbreaking understanding.
"It's okay, Creator," she whispered, wiping her nose with her dirty sleeve. "I understand. I... I am a resource."
She gave him a small, wet, utterly broken smile.
"I'll wait. I... I'm good at waiting."
He felt like a monster.
He turned his eyes to the interface. He issued the command.
[Dismiss]
Shivvy didn't scream.
The light that formed her seemed to leak out. Her solid form blurred, her face becoming transparent. Her color faded, returning to flickering blue-white energy.
Her eyes, which had been fixed on him with a gaze of both certainty and fear, were the last to disappear.
Then, silence.
The place where she had stood was now empty, just the forest floor.
The blue bar in his vision stopped flickering.
[Creator Mana: 4/10]
Stable.
Dante leaned against a tree.
"Not human," he corrected, his voice a rough whisper. "A creation. A character."
The difference felt as thin as paper.
Rationalization. Analysis. Survival.
He had 4 mana. Zero maintenance cost. 1 EXP. He still needed a kill.
He opened the List.
Sort by Lowest Cost.
[Subject 9] (Level 2 Slime). [Cost: 3 Mana].
He could afford it. He have 1 Mana left. But it is a suicide button. And clearly that was a waste.
He had to wait. He couldn't risk his last 4 mana.
He crawls to the deep, empty base of an ancient tree overgrown with vines.
Dark, narrow, and smelling of damp earth.
Perfect.
He pulls the curtain of vines closed.
He waited.
An hour passed. The forest is silent. And his stomach growls with hunger.
His mana bar remained the same.
[4/10].
'Ugh, this isn't a strategy. It's just dying slowly.'
Then, a new sound. The soft, clean ring of a digital bell. A new text window appeared in his vision.
[System: 'Survive' (Hour) Quest Complete. 5 EXP Awarded.]
[EXP: 6/100]
He stared. A passive gain.
It wasn't much, but at least it was something.
Another bell sound.
[System: Survival objective achieved. Skill 'Creator' [Mana Regeneration (Passive)] unlocked.]
[Mana will now regenerate at a rate of 1 MP per 10 minutes.]
Dante held his breath. He stared at the mana bar.
[4/10].
He waited.
...And the bar changed.
[5/10].
He exhaled in a trembling, silent laugh. The deep sense of relief made him dizzy.
'This wasn't a survival horror game. It was a slow, brutal idle RPG.'
But he had regen now.
Analyze. 6 MP per hour. He could be back to full in less than an hour.
He waited, his world compressed into a small bar that kept filling up.
[6/10]... [7/10]... [8/10]... [9/10]... [10/10].
He was full. He had enough mana now.
He crawled out of the hole. He was still wearing his pajamas. But he was no longer helpless.
He could summon Shivvy again. His regeneration (6/hour) would be more than enough to cover its maintenance cost (1/hour).
He'd be net-positive. He could keep his inventory and still gain mana. It was a safe and smart choice.
...But he still needed to level up. He still needed to kill. Shivvy couldn't help him kill.
He scrolled past his name. He scrolled past Slime. He scrolled to the name he had checked earlier.
The 10 mana gacha pull.
[Rin-Rin] (3-Star Rarity / Lv.20)
Game Origin: Idol Stage Gacha Pop
[Summon Cost: 10 Mana]
[Upkeep: 3 Mana/Hour]
He did the math. Summoning her would cost all his mana.
[10/10] -> [0/10].
Her upkeep was 3 Mana/Hour. His regen was 6 Mana/Hour. Even from zero, he would be net-positive. He would gain 3 Mana per hour while she was active.
This was it. This was the build. He wasn't summoning a warrior.
He gonna summoning a 3-Star J-Pop idol.
He didn't know what she could do. He had maxed her out for fun, because her songs were ridiculous. This was a ridiculous, desperate gamble.
But it was the only one he had.
He stood up, brushing dirt and leaves from his pants. He found a small, clear patch of ground.
"Okay," he muttered to the trees, his voice hoarse. "Let's see what the gacha logic bought me."
He took a deep breath. His will pushed the button.
Summon: Rin-Rin.