I strolled down the endless stone corridor of Floor 1, tossing my cast-iron skillet from hand to hand. With my Strength sitting at a hefty 17, the ten-pound hunk of metal felt lighter than a smartphone. My Stamina of 15 meant I didn't even break a sweat. I was practically floating.
"Hey, System," I said, my voice bouncing off the damp walls. "I've been analyzing the market depth here. The volatility is great, but the liquidity is zero. I haven't seen a single other trader—I mean, Maze Raider. Am I the only one who bought the dip on this reincarnation?"
[Ding!]
[The Maze hosts thousands of transmigrated souls. However, the horizontal plane is vast. Meeting another raider on Floor 1 is statistically improbable. You are currently in an isolated sector.]
"Statistically improbable," I scoffed. "Do you know how many times I've heard that right before a flash crash wiped my account? I bet someone is right around the—"
"Brah."
I froze. The word echoed from the shadows ahead. It wasn't a monster growl. It was human. Very human, and very annoying.
Stepping out of the gloom was a guy who looked like he was genetically engineered in a frat house. He was shirtless, entirely hairless, and coated in a sheen of what looked like baby oil. His muscles bulged grotesquely, veins popping along his biceps like roadmaps. His jawline was so sharp it practically had a warning label.
He wasn't walking. He was doing walking lunges toward me.
"You lack symmetry, bro," he said, pausing his lunge to point a meaty finger at me. "Your delts are lagging. And what is your posture? You're leaking testosterone just standing there."
I stared at him. Then I looked at my skillet. Then I looked back at him. "Who the hell are you?"
"Trent," he said, standing up and hitting a front double bicep pose. "Level 9. Alpha Male Class. I'm grinding my aesthetics, brah. Gotta keep the pump."
"You're a Maze Raider."
"Obviously," Trent said, switching to a side chest pose. "I got hit by a bus outside the gym. Woke up here with the Giga Chad System. It's totally OP, bro. I don't even need weapons."
I leaned on my skillet. "Really? Your system doesn't give you a sword or magic? Just baby oil?"
"Weapons are a crutch for betas," Trent sneered, tapping his temple. "I gain EXP by dominating the environment. Unprompted pushups. Maintaining unbroken eye contact with monsters. Mewing. My system rewards raw, unfiltered masculinity. Status check, bro: I bet your system is some beta cuck stuff."
I crossed my arms. "I'm a Gourmet Consumer. I eat the monsters."
Trent burst into laughter, throwing his head back. "You eat them? Bro, do you know how many macros are in these beasts? The sodium levels alone would ruin your vascularity. I haven't eaten a carb since I got here. It's strictly an intermittent fasting grindset."
"Right. Well, Trent, it was a pleasure. I'm going to keep walking east. I have a date with a buffet."
I tried to step around him, but Trent aggressively side-stepped, blocking my path. He widened his stance and stared deeply into my eyes.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Establishing dominance," Trent whispered, not blinking. "If I hold this for sixty seconds, my system gives me ten EXP."
Before I could tell him to back off, the floor beneath us squelched. Not shook. Squelched.
[Warning: Volatility Spike.]
I jumped back. Trent didn't move. He was entirely focused on staring at my forehead.
From a crack in the ceiling, a massive, foul-smelling glob dropped directly between us. It was a gelatinous, bubbling mound of beige sludge. It smelled exactly like a bakery dumpster in the middle of summer. It was easily ten feet tall, expanding rapidly to block the entire corridor.
[Target Identified: Sourdough Slime]
[Level: 11]
[Threat Level: Gluten Intolerance]
[Culinary Note: A massive ball of aggressive, sentient yeast. Extremely sticky. Digestible, but causes heavy bloating. Best baked before consumption.]
"A level eleven," I said, gripping my skillet with both hands. "Trent, back up. That thing is highly resistive to physical attacks."
Trent didn't listen. He turned to the Sourdough Slime and hit a lat spread pose.
"Watch an alpha work, beta," Trent barked. He puffed out his chest and screamed at the slime. "Do you even lift, bro?! You look soft! You're nothing but empty calories!"
The Sourdough Slime gurgled. It didn't have eyes, but I felt like it was insulted.
"My 'Alpha Stare' skill is maxed," Trent bragged, stepping closer to the towering blob of dough. "It's intimidated. It's losing its frame."
The slime didn't lose its frame. It surged forward like a tidal wave of wet dough and completely engulfed Trent.
"Bro! What the—mmpfff!" Trent's hyper-masculine shout was instantly muffled.
I watched in horror as Trent was suspended inside the translucent beige blob. He flexed wildly, his massive biceps straining against the sticky dough. He tried to punch his way out, but the slime just absorbed the kinetic energy, bouncing him back to the center.
"Eat your way out!" I yelled. "Bite it!"
Trent's muffled voice bubbled out of the slime. "No... carbs! Breaks... the fast!"
"You're suffocating, you idiot!" I screamed.
He refused. He literally crossed his arms inside the dough and tried to hit another pose. Five seconds later, his eyes rolled back in his head. His body went completely limp. The baby oil mixed with the yeast, and the slime unceremoniously spat his lifeless body onto the stone floor.
[Raider Defeated.]
[The Sourdough Slime has established market dominance.]
"Unbelievable," I muttered. "Liquidated by bread."
The Slime turned its attention to me, bubbling aggressively.
I didn't hesitate. I dashed forward, my Agility of 12 making me a blur. The slime launched a thick tendril of dough at my head. Thanks to my Noodle Flexibility, I bent backward at an unnatural angle, letting the dough fly harmlessly past my nose.
"Let's knead this out!" I shouted.
I swung the cast-iron skillet like a golf club, smashing it directly into the slime's center of mass. My Strength of 17 transferred beautifully through the iron. The impact created a massive shockwave of displaced dough. The slime splattered against the walls, losing half its volume in a single hit.
It tried to reform, but I didn't give it a chance to consolidate. I raised the skillet overhead and brought it down like a hammer, flattening the remaining dough against the stone floor until it stopped twitching.
[Sourdough Slime Defeated.]
[EXP Gained: 0]
I leaned on my skillet, catching my breath. "Too easy. I'm bullish on my combat skills."
[Ding!]
[Combat concluded. It is time to secure your profits. Two targets are ready for consumption.]
I looked at the flattened dough. Then I looked at Trent's corpse.
"Whoa. Time out. Two?" I said, taking a step back. "I'm not eating the frat boy. I'm a gourmet, not a cannibal."
[Correction: Trent is no longer human. Upon death in the Maze, transmigrated souls depart, leaving behind their physical vessels. Due to his 'Giga Chad System', his vessel is pure, unadulterated, ultra-lean protein. It is highly nutritious and contains rare stat boosters. Do not let the gains go to waste.]
"I am not eating a guy," I argued. "That violates every ethical regulation in the market."
[Appraise Activated.]
A blue box popped up directly over Trent's muscular, lifeless arm.
[Target: Grade-A Alpha Bicep]
[Quality: Mythic. 0% Body Fat. Rich in Creatine and Pre-Workout.]
[Note: Tastes like vanilla whey and unearned confidence. Yields massive Strength bonuses.]
My stomach rumbled loudly. I hadn't eaten since the Ramen Viper. The Sourdough Slime was right there, but raw dough sounded terrible, and I didn't have an oven. Trent's bicep, on the other hand, was functionally a premium cut of meat now.
"If I do this," I muttered, looking around nervously as if the SEC was watching, "we never speak of it again."
[The System keeps no moral ledgers. Only macros.]
I sighed. I pulled out my pocket knife and approached Trent. I closed my eyes and quickly sliced a neat, steak-sized chunk from his right bicep. There was no blood. It literally looked like a perfectly marbled cut of pale poultry.
I set my cast-iron skillet on the ground. I didn't have a fire, but the skillet was still faintly radiating heat from my battle with the cheese boar earlier. I dropped the Alpha Bicep onto the iron.
It sizzled slightly. I pulled out my shaker of MSG.
"Forgive me, bro," I whispered, sprinkling the white powder over the meat. (48 uses remaining).
I flipped it with my wooden spatula. Once it looked relatively seared, I picked it up with my bare hands. My Asbestos Mouth passive protected my fingers from the heat.
I took a bite.
I gagged immediately. The system wasn't lying. It tasted exactly like chalky, dry vanilla protein powder mixed with plain, unseasoned boiled chicken breast. The MSG fought bravely to add some umami, but Trent's strict diet had ruined his flavor profile.
I chewed quickly and forced it down, shuddering violently.
[Ding!]
[Consumed: Grade-A Alpha Bicep (Seared)]
[Evaluation: A disgusting meal. The host's sacrifice of taste for raw stats is truly an alpha move.]
[EXP Gained: 600]
[MSG Bonus Applied: +30 EXP]
[Condition Met. Level Up!]
[Condition Met. Level Up!]
A brilliant golden light exploded from my body, washing away the chalky aftertaste. Two levels at once. The massive influx of energy nearly knocked me off my feet.
I wasn't done. I turned to the flattened Sourdough Slime. I grabbed a handful of the raw, sticky dough and shoved it into my mouth. It tasted like sour beer and flour.
[Consumed: Sourdough Slime (Raw)]
[EXP Gained: 250]
[Condition Met. Level Up!]
Three levels in five minutes. The market was booming.
I wiped my mouth, actively trying not to look at the rest of Trent's body. I had eaten enough. I burped, and a small cloud of vanilla-scented yeast escaped my lips.
"Status," I commanded, my voice deeper than before.
STATUS WINDOW
Name: Kingsley
Level: 11
Class: Gourmet Consumer
Title: Cannibalistic Bull
[Base Stats]
HP: 275/275
MP: 45/45
Strength: 17
Agility: 12
Stamina: 15
Intelligence: 8
Luck: 1
[Skills]
* Iron Stomach (Passive) - Lv. Max
* Appraise (Active) - Lv. 2 - Minor Toxin Resistance (Passive) - Lv. 1
* Asbestos Mouth (Passive) - Lv. 2 - Noodle Flexibility (Passive) - Lv. 1
* NEW: Unwarranted Confidence (Passive) - Lv. 1: Absorbed from the Giga Chad. You are now completely immune to psychological intimidation, fear, or logical reasoning during combat.
[Available Stat Points: 15 ]
"Unwarranted confidence," I laughed, flexing a bicep that was starting to look slightly Trent-like. "I already had that. It's called being a day trader."
I immediately allocated the 15 unspent points. I dumped 10 points into Agility, pushing it to 22. I wanted to be too fast for anything to catch me. I put the remaining 5 points into Strength, pushing it to a monstrous 22 as well.
My body cracked and popped as the stats integrated. My muscles compressed, becoming insanely dense. I picked up my heavy cast-iron skillet and spun it on my index finger like a basketball.
"Rest in peace, Trent," I said, stepping over his remaining assets. "Thanks for the liquidity."
I turned eastward and continued down the Maze.