Waking up in the Rustlands? Never fun. But coming round after a system glitch fries your mind way uglier.
My eyes flew open. Right away, I noticed the muck clinging to my cheek, damp and chilly, reeking of stale motor juice. That grimy layer stuck there hard.
The next sensation hitting me? A pounding head.
It wasn't just any headache. Like a balloon was blown up in my head then left there. Pressure built slow behind my eyes, thick and constant. Instead of sharp pain, it sat deep, weighing things down.
Ow," I moaned. It came out rough like my throat had scraped against stones.
I tried to sit up. But my body didn't like it one bit. Muscles locked tight joints cracked so hard a beetle froze mid-crawl.
[ SYSTEM REBOOT COMPLETE ]
[ PENALTY ENDED ]
[ CURRENT MENTAL INTEGRITY: 65% ]
"Sixty-five percent?" I rubbed my temples. "I need a nap. A real nap. In a bed."
I glanced around. Still crouched by the tire barrier, same spot where I'd taken down the Steel Wolf. The body wasn't there anymore vanished during my nap. Kinda sucks. Those pieces would've fetched a good price.
I looked at my inner timer. That meant I'd passed out for about four hours.
"Awesome," I grumbled, flicking dried muck from my face. Still… four solid hours hunting stuff gone, just like that
I pulled my daggers out of the soil, edges intact, faint green light humming under low glow. Weapons weren't lost, that counted for something.
I was just getting ready to rise up then I caught a sound.
Voices.
Human voices.
I froze. Out there in the Rustlands, noise never stops gears crunching, creatures screaming, air roaring through cracks. Yet voices? Almost none. Folks usually stick to protected spots or green valleys up north. Anyone wandering these scrap heaps is either lost... or fearless.
I slid toward the stack of rubber wheels, then took a quick look from above.
Beneath me, there's this open patch where wrecked vans circle around total stalemate going on.
A lady leaned against an old truck, facing away from it. Yet she seemed out of place there. Instead, she gave off movie-star vibes like someone meant for bright lights.
She wore her deep red hair long, pulled into a tight tail at the back. Her suit? Shiny silver pieces locked together like it was built just for her. Nothing like my junky set. This wasn't basic more like top-tier finds. You could tell - it reeked of cash.
Yet she seemed weak. Instead, she slumped on the truck's side. Her skin looked washed out. Because of her quick breaths, it felt like she'd sprinted nonstop for miles.
Above her head floated the name tag.
[ PLAYER: SCARLETT ]
[ LEVEL: ?? (HIDDEN) ]
[ STATUS: WEAKENED ]
"Suppressed?" I thought. "That's not good."
There she was, facing three guys. One stood slightly ahead, the others half a step behind like they'd done this before. Leather jackets hung off them wrong, stitched together from scraps, studded with nails or broken bits of metal. No badges, no signs but something in their stance screamed danger.
Not just fighters. Hunters. The kind who wait around spawn points. Eyes sharp, grins too wide. You didn't need to see letters on their chest to know what they were.
Come on, cutie," the boss muttered. This dude stood tall, bald head gleaming, an old axe slung over one arm. "No need to mess things up. Toss the sack then we're gone."
Scarlett stared his way cold, intense. Her gaze felt like a blade. "I'd just wipe my profile clean."
The leader laughed. It was an ugly, wet sound. "Suit yourself. We kill you, you drop the items anyway. We're just trying to save you the respawn timer."
He moved ahead.
Scarlett reached for her blade, one shiny rapier, cold as frost. Yet her limb trembled. Its point sagged downward. Strength had drained; battle wasn't possible.
I looked out from the rubber rims.
I oughta leave. Not my problem anyway. Just a scavenger, really. Kept quiet to stay alive never looked for fights. Those dudes? They had power. Hit them, and they'd slap me with a Criminal label in seconds.
Yet when I checked the chief's weapon, the blade had rust. Still, its grip well, that came from top-grade oak wood.
The man on the left? Well, he owned solid boots. While mine were breaking down fast.
The man on the right his belt bag seemed packed.
I ran my tongue across my lips. Meanwhile, every instinct screamed grab what you can
Plus, I couldn't stand people who picked on others. Out there, jerks would knock down my garbage stacks just because they could.
"System," I whispered. "Can I extract from players?"
[ ANSWER: NO. ]
[ BUT YOU CAN TAKE THEIR STUFF. ]
"Fair enough," I told her.
I held tight to my blades. Meanwhile, the boss wasn't paying attention too caught up in celebrating his win. His focus slipped while he bragged out loud.
I moved.
I stayed quiet, no shout, no warning. Instead of making noise, I slipped off the tire heap like it was nothing. Even though my speed sucked at 6, my shoes barely made a sound while the wind covered everything up.
The man standing on the right stood nearest. While gripping a small blade, he chuckled at the boss's comment.
He didn't listen at all.
I dropped down right after him. No stopping at all just straight into motion. I went forward fast.
My left hand pressed hard against his mouth to stop the yell. With my right, I shoved the green blade through the opening in his leather gear, just above the kidney.
[ CRITICAL HIT! ]
He froze up. Then I yanked the blade free, pushed him ahead, down he went, flat into the muck, vanishing in a flash of glowing blue bits.
"Huh?" The boss turned fast.
His eyes widened suddenly.
I probably seemed like something scary. Covered head to toe in dull, gray sludge. Some parts of my skin shone. Clutched two bright green blades, yet grinned wide.
"Hi," I said.
Kill him!" shouted the boss.
The third robber, he had those clean boots, freaked out. Instead of waiting, he took a swing at me with his spiky bat.
It swung awkwardly, overreaching, dragging behind. Not tight enough. Way off pace.
I moved into his space. That's how it goes out here in the Rustlands no guidelines, no taking shifts.
I didn't block. Instead, I dipped below his arm. My shoulder crashed into his chest.
The air rushed from his lungs. Yet he staggered backward.
I kept pushing no time to catch his breath. My dagger swung upward, sharp and fast.
The knife hit right beneath his jaw. Gagging, he let go of the heavy stick then turned into shimmering blue mist.
Then it was only me along with the boss.
The boss stopped chuckling. With a tight hold, he clutched the weapon using two palms.
"You're dead, trash," he spat. "Do you know who we are? We're with the Iron Skulls!"
"Never heard of you," I said. I twirled the dagger in my right hand. "Nice axe though. I might take it."
He shouted loudly then rushed forward.
This fella had more power than the rest. Yet, he brought the axe down straight - aimed right at my core. Though fast, his move missed by inches. Still, I felt the air cut cold.
I couldn't stop it. My daggers had power, yet rules of motion don't change. When things hit head-on, a heavier axe wins over something slim.
That's why things stayed calm.
I moved aside fast right then, the blade slammed into the dirt beside my boot.
It got stuck, only a moment.
That split second? Just enough for me.
I planted my foot on the axe's handle, holding it down. When he yanked at it, I leaned hard using every bit of my weight to keep it stuck.
I stared straight into his eyes. But he seemed scared stiff.
"You talk too much," I said.
I moved closer, shrinking the gap. As he dropped the axe, he swung at me instead. My chest took the hit from his punch.
He screamed from the hurt. Hitting my metal surface felt like smashing a vehicle panel. His hand likely cracked on impact.
I held back no pity. Out here, kindness can end your life.
I yanked his collar with my left hand, dragging him close. Meanwhile, my right shot forward fast.
The blade slid sideways against his neck smoothly.
He gasped, fingers tightening around his throat. His eyes met mine, wide, stunned. A second later, he shimmered. Like sparks, he broke apart into tiny blue bits, carried off by the breeze.
Silence crept back into the open space.
I stayed put, breathing hard. That's three down in under sixty seconds. My heart raced yet my hands didn't shake. Stillness held them firm.
I glanced downward. Right there, on the dirt three tiny loot sacks lay where the bandits fell, scattered after their end.
"Jackpot," I whispered.
That's when the girl came back to mind.
I spun round bit by bit.
Scarlett stayed propped by the truck eyes glued to what just went down. Her blade hung low, point dipping into loose soil.
Her eyes opened wide. Not focused on what I had. Staring straight at me instead.
You…" she began, voice weary yet soft. Yet you battle like some wild thing
I sort of lifted my shoulders. Then I dragged the blades down my leg fabric to get rid of the gunk.
"I fight to win," I said simply. "Are you okay?"
She stood taller, hoping to feel more composed. Yet her fingers quickly swept a hair from her eyes. Despite the grime clinging to her clothes, something about her still commanded attention.
"I am fine," she said, though her legs were clearly shaking. "I... I suppose I should thank you."
"You don't have to thank me," I said, pointing at the loot bags on the ground. "I just want first pick of their stuff."
She blinked clearly caught off guard by how straight I was. After that, just a faint, weary grin curled at the edge of her mouth.
"Deal," she said.
I moved toward the bags. Her gaze was burning into me. It wasn't hard to guess how weird I must seem. Definitely not built like your average athlete.
Yet suddenly, after stepping into Aetheria, I wasn't some error anymore. Instead, power buzzed under my skin.
I enjoyed that.