Fifteen minutes later, Roman sat in the back of the pick-up truck, staring down at the unopened can of beer in his hand. They had yet to move it out of the area in front of the entrance. Mixie and John bickered over the gashadokuro skeleton currently dumped in the parking lot, bleaching away under the sun.

Mixie wanted to fuse its indestructible skeleton with the vehicle and evolve it to a new level. The upgrades Roman had seen before were only temporary, an extension of Mixie’s powers that he remained vague about; the truck had since reverted to its previous dingy form.

John wanted to save the valuable material to fashion weapons and armor for Roman in the future. While he appreciated the idea, it had its flaws, and neither of them were willing to compromise even a little

Tired of their arguing, Roman finally tossed the beer back into the case and dumped the entire thing into his spatial bag.

“Look,” he said, “you’re the one always going on about investing immediately into your survival, John. I have no way of crafting the skeleton into anything. If it leads to a real increase in our strength and makes it more likely we clear the dungeon, then we should go for it.”

Mixie grinned in triumph and shoveled a strawberry mochi treat into his gullet.

“Actually,” Roman reconsidered, “we should talk to Abigail first. Maybe the golemancer can do something with it. How much of the skeleton do you need for the upgrades, Mixie?”

He waited impatiently while the ghoul savored its morsel.

Finally, Mixie blinked. “All of it.”

“The thing’s bigger than the truck itself when it’s not forced into a pile. What are you going to do, turn the truck into a moving fortress?”

“Precisely.”

While it sounded kind of badass to Roman, he still sighed. “Let’s chat with Abigail and see. Maybe she can turn a small piece of it into a scout or guardian.”

Mixie closed his eyes and took a deep breath, looking all too similar to Roman when he was forced to tolerate foolishness. Teeth gritted, he said, “You are the one who defeated the gashadokuro, so she may use one of the femurs at most.”

John sighed. “If that’s what you’ve decided, then sure, fine. But if you’re going to use my own advice against me, I recommend you take it more often. You still haven’t assigned your attribute points from Lady Lucia.”

Roman clenched his fists. He wanted to argue, to rant that he didn’t want to benefit from the spoils of the dead, but he knew deep down how hypocritical it was. Every advancement had come at a cost, almost always paid by others. The unnatural power coursing through his body, the skills, the Titles--all of them had been stolen from others, their matter and energy converted into the Chaos Playground’s fuel and redirected his way.

Pulling up his status screen was more difficult than expected. The system itself didn’t resist him--his own mind strained not to subject itself to the diary of his sins.

It doesn’t stop existing just because you pretend, he told himself.

First he glanced at the newest Title he had gained after Mixie finalized the deal with the other Party.

[ Title granted: Chained Soldier. You have negotiated your Party’s freedom in exchange for a pittance, entering an official Mercenary contract. +3 to free attribute points, +1 to Node Points, +2 to Charisma, -1 to Will. ]

Roman wasn’t exactly thrilled over the hit to his Will, but the extra free point made it an overall net positive. Another Watcher notification followed, offering its Patronage. He didn’t even bother reading its name. Finally, he settled on the mostly-familiar text:

Roman Miller
Species: Human (E)
Class: Chaos Disciple (Rare)
Patronage: None (21 pending)
Level 7 - (7568/12800)
Nemesis: Nyarlathotep, Mammon
Titles: Savage Survivor, Eligible Bachelor, Shameless Bully, Outlaw Renegade, Pyrrhic Victory (I), Giantsbane, Reckless Survivor, Skillsmith (I), Pyrrhic Annihilation (I), Dream Ender, Defiant Suitor, Party Bond (I), Chained Soldier

Base Attributes

Strength: 40
Agility: 41
Endurance: 44
Will: 59
Perception: 36
Charisma: 21

Free points: 4

Path of the Corrupted Monk, Initiate

Skills: Chaos Touch (II), Flash Step (II), Impose Will (II), Impose Mind (II), Soul Circulation (I)

Quirks: Hunter’s Eye, Dancer’s Grace, Bulwark Mind, Actor’s Assurance
Available Node Points: 5

Defeating Lady Lucia--killing Bella--had proven very lucrative for him. Disturbingly so. Two of the Node Points came from the Pyrrhic Annihilation Title, and another came from the level he gained from her experience.

He had no doubt the system stoked tensions and manipulated narratives for the sake of bloodsport. Wiping out the other Party would have granted him an explosive growth in power. While working together may prove more profitable in the long-term, an immediate boost would allow someone to best exploit the abundance of resources available near the start of the Chaos Playground.

The concept of slaughtering the others in cold blood held no real attraction for him, but it was not hard to imagine it would entice some people. Was it even possible for a city of Players to co-exist in this new world, or were they destined to gather in small parties at most, forced to watch their backs even against their own?

Roman sighed. Letting himself wallow in despair was no better than getting hammered on cheap alcohol. If he wanted to fight against the fate of his world, he had to survive first. If his oppressors wanted to grant him the means to overthrow their despicable system, he would seize it without mercy.

The matter of his free attribute points seemed simple enough. He invested one into Will to counteract the loss from his newest Title, and the rest into Strength. It felt incongruent with his nature for the latter to be his lowest physical attribute.

Next were his Node Points.

Gambling on a new Quirk had not gone so well for him last time, granting him [ Actor’s Assurance ]. Though as he thought about it, perhaps he had taken its passive influence for granted. It was supposed to make his lies and general arguments more convincing based on his Charisma, as well as having a potential hidden synergy with his Will.

The system seemed to enjoy granting him Charisma recently, maybe as a way to mock him. This tendency had allowed the attribute to grow to a point that it was no longer useless. While it was still by far his lowest, it was significantly more than when he started. Hell, it was higher than any of his base stats from when he first became a Player.

Crushing a vague feeling of apprehension, Roman invoked [ Tempt Fate ].

[ You have unlocked the Quirk Berserker. +9 to Strength, +6 to Endurance, +3 to Agility. ]

[ Berserker: Achieve a state of blissful rage. The mad one seeks destruction above all else. Your physical attributes scale with anger, while occurring a penalty towards Will and Perception. ]

The first thing he noticed was that this one bucked the trend of the naming convention. He had expected something like ‘Berserker’s Breath’. Bulwark Mind likewise didn’t follow the pattern. He wondered if the other Quirks were part of a series, though they seemed to have no obvious relationship on his node map. Or maybe [ Dancer’s Grace ] was the actual knowledge of a specific dancer imparted onto him, while his new Quirk had not been ripped whole out of a real berserker.

The second thing he noticed was that the Quirk was a passive. He cursed. If it had been an active ability, he could have benefited from the slew of attribute points and only activated it under dire circumstances. Now, it looked like he would become a rampaging idiot if he really lost his temper.

He forced himself to remain calm and not throw a tantrum over [ Tempt Fate ]’s newest batch of fuckery. The rest of his skillset focused on mindfulness, controlling his emotions, and the like. The new Quirk offered the flip side of the coin, a way to weaponize the Buddhist dogma--or at least use it like a leash. As long as he didn’t leap over the edge completely, he could bring himself back to sanity.

Probably.

Roman relayed the broad strokes of his new Quirk to the others.

“That’s pretty good, I think,” said John. “That’s an eight point node, too. The big benefit of you picking up these Quirks cheap is the huge attribute boost. It’s letting you outscale others on brute stats for now.”

“That’s what I thought,” Roman agreed. “I just have to not lose control. As long as I maintain my cool in anything besides all-out brawls, it’s a pure force multiplier.”

“You will most certainly lose control.” Mixie shook his head.

After that, they joined back up with the other Party. Alexander had traded his greataxe for a wicked knife made from jagged stone. Apparently he possessed a skill or Quirk that allowed him to harvest materials more efficiently, so he was pulling it apart into its component pieces. Roman thought he heard the man muttering under his breath about someone destroying so much of its priceless skull.

The others were engaged in various other tasks. Both groups had decided to enter the dungeon five minutes before the next abomination was due to emerge.

Mary and Scott fussed over their new equipment; Roman noted the man indeed was some sort of gunslinger, judging from the 1911-style handgun he was oiling. Leo, Abigail, and Jessie sat side-by-side, meditating.

Noah stood away on his own, leaning against a shelf and smoking a cigarette. In one hand, he held a Zippo lighter with a moon and stars motif, flicking it open and closed like a subconscious tic. Roman’s gaze lingered on the polished object, gleaming under the harsh fluorescents. Noah caught wind of his attention and turned slightly, offering him a respectful nod.

Roman returned the nod and approached Abigail.

She was meditating in front of a pile of steel. Her eyes were closed, hands drifting in front of her in vague circles. The pile stirred and shifted slightly, its angles adjusting enough that Roman could make out hints of its intended final form. Unsurprisingly, the golemancer was creating a golem. Examining it under [ Hunter's Eye ] revealed an off-white aura that radiated a sense of sharpness.

Roman coughed into his hand, his embarrassment half-feigned. “Sorry to interrupt you.”

Abigail opened her eyes, lips parting slightly. She forced a smile onto her face and folded her hands onto her lap. “Yes, Roman?”

“Making a golem?”

“Yes, Roman.”

“Right,” he said. “I mean, you’re making it out of steel? I’m guessing that’s some special kind of metal?”

“You’re right, I got it from the delivery. Is that what you came here to talk about?”

\Mixie knelt next to the knee-high proto-golem and examined it. “For what price was dear Cecil able to foist this junk on to you? We could come to a far superior arrangement, I imagine.”

“Ignore him,” said Roman. He swallowed and withdrew a few items from his bag: the [ Corrupted Horn of Marid ] and the pair of Watcher shards he had acquired from Bella’s corpse. “I have these materials, as well as the skeleton of what is supposedly an indestructible creature. I know it’s a long shot, but I was wondering…if you could craft a golem out of them, and maybe implant these shards into it. I want to know if you can bring back my friend.”