Tom's brain felt like someone had taken a whisk to it and scrambled everything inside.
He didn't snap awake right away. Things crept in bit by bit. Smell arrived first, metal gone bad, soaked ground, stale grease.
After that, the headache rolled in - low, pulsing, thumping deep inside his skull, kind of how you feel after guzzling bargain soda.
At last, his eyelids lifted.
He thought he'd face the "Game Over" message. Instead, maybe the blank space where players restart. Worse still, could've woken up staring at that old metal roof in his container.
Instead, he saw boots.
Those boots looked real good. Made from white leather, edged with gold, yet spotless somehow. Out there in the Rustlands, where muck and grime coated every surface, they stood out like sunlight on glass.
Tom let out a low sound while attempting to rise. Though he was weighed down, his arms and legs still responded.
"You're up", someone spoke. It came from a lady. Her tone felt chill, steady, yet slightly uninterested.
Tom looked up.
Over him stood someone playing the game. But this one felt different from those ads Tom saw around town. It was more polished somehow.
Her fiery red hair tumbled down her back, wild and glowing. The armor she had on gave off a soft blue shimmer, seemed enchanted somehow. Not heavy gear, just sleek, almost alive. Her features? Flawless, yeah, like something out of a toy box. Her eyes cut through you, cold and ready.
A label hung in midair over her - Scarlett - spelled out in shiny golden script.
But, things felt off. Beside her name sat a crimson mark - shaped like a snapped blade.
"Are you an angel?" Tom asked, rubbing the dirt off his face. "Or did I get arrested?"
Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "You're not dead. Although, you tried very hard to be. Who attacks a Level 5 Steel Wolf with a pair of rusty knives?"
"They're not rusty", Tom defended himself, sitting up fully. "They're beetle-bone reinforced. There's a difference."
He glanced sideways. The lifeless Steel Wolf lay put, yet a shadow had shifted Tom several paces off, onto firmer dirt.
"Did you save me?" Tom asked.
Scarlett crossed her arms. "I was passing by. I saw a noob - sorry, a 'new player' - fighting a mob way above his level. I thought it would be funny to watch you die. But then you actually won."
She looked at him with genuine curiosity. "How did you do that? You have no mana. I checked your stats while you were sleeping. Your mana bar is broken."
Tom froze. "She checked my stats?"
"I... uh... I work out?" Tom stammered.
Scarlett rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Keep your secrets. You're alive, that's all that matters. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go."
She turned to leave. But as she took a step, she stumbled. She grabbed a twisted metal pole to steady herself. Her face went pale.
Tom frowned. "You okay? You look like you're about to pass out."
I'm okay," Scarlett said sharply - though her tone sounded shaky.
Tom squinted, trying to make out her status just using his regular sight. Since she was way too strong, her level stayed hidden from him. But one thing showed up clear: a weird symbol beneath her name. It looked like some kind of penalty.
[ Status: Level Suppression (Curse) ]
[ Effect: All stats reduced by 90%. Skills locked. ]
"You're cursed," Tom said.
Scarlett glared at him. "perceptive, aren't you? Yes. I came to this garbage dump of a zone to find a specific item. But I triggered a trap in a ruin. It hit me with a Suppression Curse. I'm basically Level 1 right now until it wears off."
Tom whistled. "A high-level player stuck as a Level 1 in the Rustlands. That's dangerous. If you die, do you drop that fancy armor?"
Scarlett's hand went to the sword at her hip. "Don't get any ideas, Scavenger. Even with the curse, I can take you."
"Relax," Tom raised his hands. "I'm not a bandit. I'm just saying, walking alone out here in those shiny boots? You're a walking treasure chest."
Right then, a whistle rang out from the slopes - sudden, sharp, like it was waiting its turn.
Tweet-whoo.
Tom stopped dead. Meanwhile, Scarlett didn't move either.
Out from the heaps of old metal, shapes started moving. One after another, five showed up. Not beasts at all. Just folks playing the game.
They had armor that didn't match - leather here, old iron there. One thing tied them together: their names showed up in red, marking them as killers of other players.
"Alright," the boss grunted. Huge, he stood there swinging a nail-studded club. They called him BoneCrusher. "Check this out - fancy armor, worn-out look, straight into our trap."
Scarlett straightened up. She tried to look intimidating. "Back off. I am Scarlett of the Johansson Guild. If you touch me, my guild will hunt you down and wipe your accounts."
BoneCrusher laughed. It was an ugly, wet sound. "Lady, this is the Rustlands. There are no cameras here. Nobody will know."
He stepped closer, slapping the bat into his palm. "Hand over the boots and the sword, and maybe we'll only kill you once."
Scarlett pulled out her sword - its edge shimmered with ancient signs. But, a quiet tremor crept through her fingers. The curse made the weapon too heavy for her.
Tom stood up slowly. Though the pain stayed put behind his eyes, a jolt of energy kicked in.
"Hey," Tom said.
The bandits stared his way. They noticed the ragged shirt made from a sack, along with his uncovered soles.
"Get lost, hobo," BoneCrusher sneered. "This doesn't concern you."
Tom let out a breath. His eyes landed on Scarlett. Though she seemed eager to clash, he was certain she'd come up short.
With her stats slashed by 90%, she didn't stand a chance against him at that moment.
"You saved me," Tom whispered to her. "Or at least, you didn't let the rats eat me while I was passed out."
"I didn't do anything," Scarlett whispered back.
"Alright," Tom muttered.
He moved ahead of her.
"Let her be," Tom told the bandits.
BoneCrusher's eyes flickered open. Suddenly, he was howling. Right away, the rest joined in, cackling like hyenas under a full moon.
"Did you hear that?" BoneCrusher asked his friends. " The hobo wants to be a hero!"
He took a slow swipe at Tom's head with his spiky bat. The move lacked energy. Instead of dodging, he figured Tom would either freeze up or drop dead.
Tom didn't move.
THUD.
The bat struck Tom's shoulder.
BoneCrusher grinned, sure he'd hear bones break any second.
There wasn't silence, just a dull thud, kind of like smacking something soggy and heavy.
-5 HP
Tom stood still. Because of the rat's power, his skin turned tough - this plus stronger bones softened the hit.
BoneCrusher's grin dropped. "The hell...?"
Tom checked his shoulder, after that he stared at the guy again.
"It's my go," Tom reckoned.
He pulled out his dark knives.
He lacked technique. He had no fancy tricks either. He just had the raw muscle memory of a guy who grew up fighting for scraps.
He moved close to the bandit. Then smashed the dagger's hilt right into BoneCrusher's gut. That made him bend forward, gasping for air.
Next, Tom hit his knee.
Crack.
BoneCrusher yelled, then dropped.
"He's like a fortress!", a different bandit shouted. "Kill him!"
Two bandits charged at once. One had a knife, the other had a spear.
"Stay back," Tom said to Scarlett.
She stayed quiet. Backing off slowly, she stared - eyes wide open.
The spear came first. Then, Tom grabbed the wood part with his left hand - his hold tight as steel. Right after, he pulled it hard toward him, which dragged the attacker off his feet.
Slash.
Tom's right dagger cut across the bandit's chest. The Beetle-Bone blade was sharp. It sliced through the cheap leather armor easily.
The knife bandit tried to stab Tom in the back.
"Behind you!" Scarlett warned.
Tom stayed facing forward. Instead, he swung his arm behind him. It hit the bandit in the nose with a sickening crunch.
It was wild, a total mess. Not that gaming-style combat - Tom fought raw. Headbutts, knee strikes, sharp elbows - he threw it all. Got cut on the arm, smacked in the face, yet kept moving.
[ HP: 35/50 ]
He kept getting weaker, yet the bandits were losing their nerves.
"This guy is crazy!" the spear bandit yelled, clutching his chest. "He doesn't feel pain!"
Tom yanked BoneCrusher by the shirt, hoisting him off the ground. With his Strength at 6, it was easy.
"Leave," Tom growled. "Or I start extracting."
He wasn't sure whether they understood what it meant, yet it felt frightening.
BoneCrusher stared at Tom. In his gaze, he spotted a chill. A look way too sharp for someone just starting out.
"Retreat!" BoneCrusher yelled. "Let's go!"
The bandits bolted, stumbling on loose metal as they fled the wild hermit with steel flesh.
Tom saw them leave. He didn't chase them. He was too tired.
He put away his knives, then faced Scarlett.
She stared his way. Her mouth was slightly open.
"You..." she started. "You took a hit from a spiked bat and didn't even flinch. What are you?"
Tom shrugged, flinching when pain shot through his shoulder. "Only a scavenger."
He glanced once more at her stylish boots.
"You should probably get to the city," Tom said. "The Rustlands aren't safe for tourists."
Scarlett watched the bandits flee, then turned to Tom. Her lips curled into a grin - slow, quiet. Gone was that dull stare from before. This one? Sharp. Full of plans.
"You're right," she said. "It's dangerous. I need a bodyguard."
"Good luck finding one," Tom said, starting to walk away. "I'm going to find some food."
"I'll pay you," Scarlett said.
Tom halted. Then he spun back gradually.
"Real money?" Tom asked. "Or game gold?"
"Gold," Scarlett muttered. She pulled up her screen, hitting an icon quick. Out popped a small bag - solid, weighty. Inside, coins rattled loud. Five hundred of 'em. More than enough to grab a halfway-nice place in starter town.
Tom stared, shocked. Five hundred gold? More than a full year hunting stuff in reality would earn him. At this rate, he could grab actual meals, maybe even proper meds.
"Where are we going?", Tom asked immediately.
Scarlett chuckled. Her tone sounded brighter now, more relaxed compared to earlier.
"The Iron Citadel," she said. "It's about a day's walk. If you can get me there safely, the gold is yours."
She reached forward, offering her palm.
"Deal?"
Tom stared at her palm - smooth, spotless. Hers stayed pure, while his? Grimy, stained with grime. Dried rust clung to his fingers, mixed with grease from old gears.
He rubbed his palm on his shirt before grabbing her hand.
"Deal," Tom said.
[ SYSTEM ALERT ]
[ NEW PARTY FORMED ]
[ Leader: Scarlett ]
[ Member: Tom ]
Tom grinned. He had a job. He had a weapon. And he had a very rich employer.
Perhaps his fortune had shifted from awful to just bad.
"Lead the way, boss," Tom said.
Scarlett gave a quick nod, then began moving forward.
Tom held tight to his blades. The path toward the Iron Citadel? Definitely tough. Still, he was ready for what came next.
After all, every monster that attacked them was just another stat waiting to be stolen.