I swiped the coins from the concrete.
[Loot Acquired: 50 Bronze Coins.]
Money. In the old world, fifty cents wouldn't buy a pack of gum. In the System, fifty bronze coins was a fortune for a Level 1 player. You could buy a loaf of bread for two bronze. You could stay at an inn for five.
But I wasn't interested in bread. I was interested in the Market.
The "Auction House" wouldn't open globally for another twenty-four hours, but the internal trading post at the Safe Zones would open in six. I needed capital.
I checked my Mana. 10/10.
I had the Fireball skill. It was a Rank F spell, the lowest tier of magic. Usually, it cost 5 Mana to cast. That meant I had two shots before I was empty.
Two shots to cross a campus filled with panicked students and spawning monsters.
"Easy," I muttered.
Compared to holding the line against the Void Legion with a broken spear and one arm, this was a vacation.
I kicked the back door open and stepped back into the kitchen.
Chaos.
The cafeteria was a war zone. Tables were overturned. Trays of half-eaten pizza were scattered across the floor, mixed with glass and blood.
The screaming was the worst part. It wasn't the unified roar of an army. It was the chaotic, high-pitched shrieking of prey.
A group of three Goblins, standard ones, Level 1, were cornering a girl near the soda fountain. They were cackling, poking at her with rusty knives.
The girl was Sarah. I remembered her. She sat two rows behind me in Sociology. She used to borrow my pens and never return them.
I paused.
My new "Glitch" trait pulsed in my mind. The world overlay shifted. Numbers cascaded over my vision like code in a torrential rain.
I looked at Sarah.
[Subject: Sarah Miller]
[Survival Probability: 0%]
[Potential Value: Low]
Cold. Efficient.
I shifted my gaze to the Goblins.
[Target: Goblin Grunt A]
[Drop Rate: Rusty Dagger (15%), Rotten Meat (40%)]
[Target: Goblin Grunt B]
[Drop Rate: 2 Bronze Coins (100%)]
[Target: Goblin Grunt C]
[Drop Rate: Skill Orb 'Dash' (0.05%)]
I froze.
Zero point zero five percent.
In any normal timeline, the chances of a Level 1 Goblin dropping a Skill Orb were statistically impossible. You had a better chance of being struck by lightning while winning the lottery.
But the glitch text hovering over the third goblin was flickering. It wasn't just a number. It was a promise.
If I killed Goblin C, I had a chance.
"Hey!"
I shouted. Not to save Sarah, but to bunch them up.
The three goblins whipped around. Their beady yellow eyes locked onto me. I was standing on top of a table, the chef's knife in my right hand, my left hand crackling with orange sparks.
"Fresh meat!" one of them hissed in their guttural tongue.
They abandoned the girl and charged me.
Perfect.
They were running in a line. The AI for low-level mobs was garbage. They didn't understand flanking yet.
I waited.
My heart rate didn't spike. I watched the distance close. Twenty feet. Fifteen feet.
"Die!" the lead goblin screeched.
I raised my left hand.
"Burn."
I didn't just cast the spell. I pushed it.
Most rookie mages just let the system guide the magic. That was inefficient. I used my will to compress the flame, shaping it from a loose ball into a tight, spinning sphere of superheated plasma.
The fireball shot from my palm. It didn't arc; it flew straight like a bullet.
It hit the lead goblin in the chest.
BOOM.
The explosion was louder than a Rank F spell had any right to be. The lead goblin didn't just die; it detonated. The blast wave knocked the other two backward, setting their rags on fire.
[Critical Hit!]
[Mana: 5/10]
I didn't wait for the smoke to clear. I vaulted off the table.
The second goblin was rolling on the ground, trying to put out the flames. I stepped on its chest and drove the chef's knife into its eye socket.
[Experience +10]
The third goblin, the one with the loot, scrambled to its feet, screeching in fear. It turned to run.
"Oh no you don't," I growled.
I threw the knife.
It wasn't a skill. It was just fifty years of muscle memory somehow transferred to a twenty-year-old body. The knife spun end-over-end and buried itself in the goblin's back.
It fell.
[Experience +12]
I walked over to the corpse. Sarah was sobbing in the corner, clutching her arm.
"Kael?" she whispered. "Oh my god, Kael, you saved me! They were going to—"
I ignored her. I knelt by the third goblin.
"Loot," I commanded.
The body dissolved. A pile of ash remained. And sitting on top of the ash, glowing with a faint, white light, was a small glass sphere.
I snatched it up.
[Skill Orb: Dash (Rank F)]
[Effect: Increases movement speed by 200% for 3 seconds. Cost: 5 Stamina.]
I grinned. Movement tech. In the early game, speed was more important than damage. If you could outrun the mob, you survived. If you couldn't, you died.
"Learn," I said.
The orb dissolved into my chest.
[Skill Learned: Dash]
"Kael!" Sarah was standing up now. She looked at the carnage, then at me. "How did you do that? What is happening? The news said—"
"Go to the basement," I said, cutting her off. I pointed toward the maintenance stairs. "Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone. Not even the police. Wait three days."
"Three days? Kael, we need to call 911!"
I turned to leave. "911 is dead, Sarah. The basement. Go."
I didn't wait to see if she listened. I walked out of the cafeteria and into the main hallway.
The university was a labyrinth of death. Bodies were already littering the floor. Some were students, some were goblins. The "Tutorial" was in full swing.
I checked my mental map.
My destination was the Founder's Plaza. Specifically, the statue of Jeremiah Roth, the university's first dean.
Most people thought it was just a bronze statue.
I knew better.
In the future, a Guild called "The Iron Fist" would demolish the university to build a fortress. When they tore down the statue, they found a hidden compartment in the base. Inside was a "Legacy Item."
A Class Change scroll.
But not just any class. It was a Necromancer scroll.
In my last life, the guy who found it was an idiot. He sold it for quick cash. The scroll eventually ended up in the hands of the Lich King, the Third Disaster.
This time, that scroll was mine.
I turned the corner near the Biology department and skidded to a halt.
The hallway was blocked.
Standing in front of the double doors leading to the Plaza was a wolf. But it was the size of a minivan. Its fur was like steel wire, and drool dripped from jaws that could snap a telephone pole.
[Dire Wolf - Lvl 8]
Level 8.
I was Level 3.
This monster shouldn't be here. The difficulty scaling was broken. Usually, Dire Wolves didn't spawn until the second wave, three hours from now.
"The Glitch," I whispered. "My presence is messing up the spawn rates."
The wolf was sniffing a dead security guard. It hadn't seen me yet.
I pressed my back against the lockers.
I had 5 Mana. One fireball.
I had a chef's knife.
I had Dash.
If I fought it head-on, I died. My stats were too low. One bite would tear me in half.
I closed my eyes and focused on the [Glitch] trait.
Show me the probability.
[Combat Victory Chance: 2%]
I gritted my teeth. Too low.
Show me the environment.
The numbers flowed over the hallway.
[Vending Machine: Explosive Potential (Low)]
[Fire Extinguisher: Visual Impairment (High)]
[Ceiling Sprinkler System: Conductivity (Medium)]
I looked up. Above the wolf, a bundle of exposed wires hung from the ceiling where the tiles had been knocked loose during the initial quake. Right next to the wires was a sprinkler head.
An idea formed. A nasty, dangerous idea.
I needed to trigger the sprinkler. Water conducts electricity. If I could soak the wolf and drop the live wire...
I checked the distance. Thirty feet.
The wolf's ears twitched. It turned its massive head toward me. It growled, a sound like grinding gears.
It had seen me.
[Combat Victory Chance: 1%]
"Wrong," I said aloud.
I triggered [Dash].
The world blurred. The rush of wind roared in my ears. I didn't run away. I ran at the wolf.
The beast was surprised. It roared and lunged, jaws snapping shut where my head had been a millisecond before.
I slid underneath its belly, the concrete tearing at my jeans. As I slid, I grabbed the fire extinguisher lying next to the dead guard.
I came out behind the wolf and spun around.
The wolf turned, faster than anything that size should move.
I pulled the pin and threw the extinguisher into the air, directly above the wolf's head.
"Fetch!"
The wolf snapped at the metal canister instinctively. Its teeth punctured the pressurized tank.
HISSSS.
A cloud of white chemical foam exploded outward, blinding the beast. It thrashed, sneezing, trying to shake the foam from its eyes.
I raised my hand. My last 5 Mana gathered in my palm.
I wasn't aiming for the wolf.
I aimed for the sprinkler head on the ceiling.
"Fireball."
The bolt of flame struck the sprinkler. The heat burst the glass bulb.
PSSSHHHH.
Water sprayed down in a torrent, soaking the thrashing wolf, the floor, and the hanging wires.
The water hit the exposed electrical cables.
ZAP.
Blue arcs of electricity danced down the water stream. The current hit the puddle the wolf was standing in.
The beast went rigid. It howled—a sound of pure agony as thousands of volts surged through its body. The smell of singed fur filled the hallway.
It convulsed once, twice, and then collapsed, smoke rising from its pelt.
[Enemy Defeated: Dire Wolf (Lvl 8)]
[Experience +1200]
[Level Up!]
[Level Up!]
[Level Up!]
I leaned against the lockers, gasping for air. My mana was zero. My stamina was drained. But I was alive.
[Name: Kael Vance]
[Level: 6]
[Unassigned Stat Points: 15]
I walked over to the fried corpse.
"Sorry, puppy," I muttered. "Physics is a bitch."
I stepped over the body and pushed open the doors to the Plaza.
The sunlight hit me. The statue of Jeremiah Roth stood in the center of the green, untouched by the chaos.
I walked up to the statue. I didn't have a key, but I didn't need one. I knew the combination.
I pressed the bricks on the statue's base in a specific order: Left, Right, Center, Left.
A grinding noise. A stone panel slid open.
Inside, resting on a bed of velvet, lay a scroll made of black parchment. It pulsed with a dark, cold energy that made the hair on my arms stand up.
[Hidden Class Item: Covenant of the Abyssal Sovereign]
[Requirement: Level 10]
[Requirement: Survive a Near-Death Experience]
[Requirement: Sacrifice 50% of Total HP]
I looked at the requirements. I was Level 6.
"System," I whispered, my voice trembling with anticipation.
I focused my Glitch on the text.
Override.
[Error. Daily Limit Reached.]
My heart stopped.
I had used my one override on the Fireball spell.
I stared at the scroll. I could hold it. I could keep it safe. But I couldn't use it until tomorrow.
Or... until I leveled up four more times.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over me.
"Hey! You!"
I turned around.
Standing at the edge of the plaza was a group of five students. They were holding baseball bats and improvised shields.
Leading them was a guy wearing a varsity jacket. Brad. The linebacker I had shoulder-checked earlier.
Brad stepped forward, pointing his bat at the scroll in my hand.
"That looks valuable," Brad sneered. "Hand it over, freak. The 'Student Council' is confiscating all loot for the good of the group."
I sighed.
Of course. The first tyrant always rises within the first hour.
I checked my Mana. Zero.
I checked my Probability.
[Combat Victory Chance (Melee only): 85%]
I tucked the scroll into my belt and pulled out the chef's knife.
"Brad," I said, smiling. "You have no idea how bad your day is about to get."