The Collector of Ruins
The first rays of a pale, artificial sun filtered through a crack in the control room door, tracing a line of golden dust across the dark floor. Klaus had not slept. His body was a taut cable, every muscle protesting against the forced vigil. The sounds of the night had faded, replaced by a heavy, threatening silence, punctuated here and there by the distant chirp of a mechanical bird.
His first action was to check the System map. The safety circle had shrunk considerably overnight, pushing him closer to the center of Necropolis-7. His current location was still safe, but a vast area to the north, which he had considered exploring, now glowed blood-red on his HUD. Exclusion Zone. The squeeze was beginning.
He ate half a ration and took a sip of water, feeling the artificial taste sharpen his dulled senses. His inventory floated in his mind, a Spartan list of survival.
>> INVENTORY (32.1/1000 kg) <<
Winchester 12-Gauge Shotgun (4.5 kg) - 4/5 shells
00-Buckshot Ammunition - 12 shells (2.0 kg)
9mm Ammunition - 12 rounds (0.5 kg)
Wrench (1.1 kg)
Purified Water - 0.8 L (0.8 kg)
Emergency Rations - 2.5 units (0.5 kg)
Basic Bandages (0.3 kg)
Combat Stimulant [UNCOMMON] (0.1 kg)
Available Capacity: 967.9 kg.
The vast emptiness of space was both an invitation and an accusation. He needed to fill it. Today would not be about hunting or being hunted. It would be about collecting. Becoming a ghost that fed on the leftovers of a dead world.
His primary weapon was discretion. The shotgun was a trump card, a final argument, but its roar was a beacon that attracted predators. The wrench, silent and versatile, returned to being his main companion, materializing in his hand at a mere thought.
He left the control room, scanning the subway hall with night vision deactivated. The weak daylight revealed the sordid details the darkness had hidden: graffiti scrawled with unknown gang symbols, scorch marks from energy blasts, and in a corner, a pile of clean, broken bones. He avoided staring too long.
The subway station was a labyrinth of tunnels and auxiliary rooms. He spent methodical hours searching bathrooms, electrical cabins, and abandoned cars on the tracks. He found more trash than treasure: bits of metal, wires, rotting clothes. But his persistence paid off.
In an administrative office, locked behind a steel door that he forced open with the brutal leverage of the wrench, he found his first treasure of the day: a small, rusty wall safe. It wasn't locked. Inside, wrapped in a soft and surprisingly intact cloth, was a M1911A1 Pistol.
>> M1911A1 PISTOL [COMMON] <<
>> CALIBER: .45 ACP. CAPACITY: 7+1. <<
>> CURRENT AMMO: 0. <<
It was a classic weapon: heavy, reliable, and, most importantly, quieter than the shotgun's roar. At the bottom of the safe were two boxes of ammunition.
>> .45 ACP Ammunition [COMMON] - 50 rounds (2.5 kg) <<
Klaus loaded the M1911 to full capacity, carefully chambered a round, and placed it in his makeshift belt holster. The cold metal against his hip was an immense comfort. The excess ammunition went into his inventory. Total weight was now 36.6 kg. Still a drop in the ocean of 1 ton, but progress.
The next major find came from a security van tipped on its side on the main street, not far from the station. The approach was tense; vehicles were obvious places for traps or ambushes. He observed for ten minutes, motionless, before moving closer.
The driver's body, a security Bot like the one he had killed, was charred in the seat, a victim of a previous conflict. The rear of the van, however, was intact. The door was dented, but the lock mechanism gave way with a few precise hits from the wrench.
Inside was a treasure.
>> FIRST AID KIT [COMMON] - (3.0 kg) <<
Containing bandages, antiseptic, gauze, and—the crown jewel—an automatic morphine syringe.
>> Military Rations [COMMON] - 10 units (5.0 kg) <<. Heartier and better tasting food.
And the best piece: a Modular Tactical Backpack [UNCOMMON].
>> MODULAR TACTICAL BACKPACK [UNCOMMON] <<
>> EFFECT: REDUCES PERCEIVED WEIGHT OF STORED ITEMS BY 30%. <<
>> PHYSICAL CAPACITY: 40 L. <<
Klaus almost laughed in relief. The backpack didn't increase the ring's space, but it made carrying physical items—and transferring them to inventory—much more efficient. He could now collect more without feeling overloaded before "storing" the items.
He slung the backpack over his shoulders, immediately feeling the difference in weight of the shotgun and other supplies he decided to keep on hand. He transferred most items from the inventory to the backpack, keeping only the pistol, a bottle of water, and the wrench easily accessible. The inventory now held the bulky items: extra rations, first aid kit, heavy ammo.
His inventory weight jumped to 58.1 kg. The sensation of progress was addictive.
The day wore on, and Klaus became a machine of efficiency. He avoided conflicts at all costs, using sharp hearing and peripheral vision to hide at the slightest sign of human movement. He saw other recruits in the distance—shadows moving in distant buildings, the occasional flash of a weapon—but never approached. The System's recommendation was his bible.
His route followed a methodical spiral toward the center of the safe zone, focusing on less obvious buildings: industrial laundries, mechanic workshops, power substations. It was in one of these substations, full of burned transformers and destroyed control panels, that he found his first Special Reward.
It sat atop a main control panel, enveloped in a soft golden aura that distinguished it from everything else. It was a Contained Plasma Orb.
>> CONTAINED PLASMA ORB [RARE] <<
>> USE: HIGH-DENSITY ENERGY. CAN BE USED AS POWER SOURCE, CRAFTING COMPONENT, OR SOLD AT BAZAAR. <<
>> ESTIMATED VALUE: HIGH. <<
Klaus's heart pounded. This was exactly the type of item the System had recommended keeping. He touched it, and the apple-sized orb vanished into his inventory, adding only 1.5 kg to his total but an incalculable value to his potential assets.
By the end of the day, fatigue pressed hard. His eyes burned, muscles ached. He found a hiding spot for the night: the basement of a destroyed restaurant. Before resting, he took one last inventory check.
>> INVENTORY (89.7/1000 kg) <<
The list was significantly larger. In addition to the initial items, it included:
M1911A1 Pistol (.45 ACP) - 7+1
.45 ACP Ammunition - 42 rounds
First Aid Kit
Military Rations - 10 units
Modular Tactical Backpack (equipped)
Contained Plasma Orb [RARE]
Various rare electronics [COMMON] (3.2 kg)
Portable Water Filter [COMMON] (0.5 kg)
Two more bottles of water (1.6 kg)
15m Nylon Rope (1.0 kg)
He had nearly tripled the value of his inventory in a single day. The hunger for more, however, had only grown. Every kilogram stored was a trump card, a promise of the future. The ring on his finger, which at first seemed like a terrifying void, was now a sanctuary, an extension of his own will to survive.
As he nestled into the darkness of the basement, M1911 secure in his hands, Klaus looked over his mental list of items. Necropolis-7 was no longer just a field of death. It was a macabre supermarket, and he was its most diligent customer. Day 2 was ending, and for the first time, a glimpse of something beyond mere survival flickered in his eyes: the prospect of leaving not just alive, but rich.
The roar of the Exclusion Zone seemed a little more distant, muffled by the comfort of the accumulated weight in his inventory.
If you want, I can also translate the next chapter in the same style, keeping the immersive RPG mechanics and dark urban post-apocalyptic feel.