He pushed through the main doors, and the city greeted him with a sickly gray haze. Smoke spiraled from several points downtown, curling into a bruised sky. Burned cars and debris littered the streets, some flipped on their sides, some charred black. The spire loomed in the distance, a dark, pulsing wound in the skyline. His stomach twisted at the sight. Every step forward was a reminder that his world had changed, and he had six months of unconsciousness to make up for.
“At least I’m not six months behind everyone on progression with the System,” he grumbled.
He knelt beside a shallow puddle, the water shimmering faintly in the sick light. Breathing deeply, he focused, sensing the water as a single responsive mass. He pushed harder, sending the puddle toward a street sign, which toppled with a clang. The motion drew attention. A low hiss came from the shadows. His pulse quickened, and Marcus realized—this was more than practice. He was attracting danger.
Well, that was stupid. Why would I hit something that could clearly make a loud noise?
A creature slithered from the shadows, eyes glowing green, claws scraping across the asphalt. It moved with unnatural precision, teeth glinting in the dim light. It had the body of a mountain lion, but its eyes held a cruel intelligence that promised it would toy with him before killing him.
He gripped the IV pole, heart hammering. The pole alone could not stop it. He forced himself to breathe, focusing on the air in front of him. Hydrogen and oxygen—they were his tools now. Slowly, he pressed outward, compressing the particles in a subtle but growing wave. Dust swirled, debris trembled. The creature lunged, and Marcus pushed with everything he had.
With a swish of air, the creature was launched backwards into a dumpster. The creature let out a whimper of pain, not expecting any resistance from what it believed to be prey. Its roar shook the empty streets, and Marcus barely had time to react before it lunged again.
He stepped aside, concentrating, and sent a thin but sharp pulse of air across its chest, forcing it to shoot further past him. His mind raced. He could feel the particles bending to his will, but only barely. Every effort required focus. Every misstep could cost him his life. He realized his control was not instinctive—it had to be learned.
He backed toward a broken car for cover, measuring his next move. Unluckily for him, the mutant mountain lion circled the car, closing the distance to limit the possibility of his escape. He reached out to the puddle below him, moving the water to the palm of his hand. He imagined the water condensing further as if the space between the molecules was shortening.
Noticing the change in the air, the creature lunged.
This time, there was no hesitation.
He forced the water tighter—compressing, condensing—imagining the molecules collapsing inward. The air around his hand felt heavy, unstable.
The mountain lion struck, giving him no time to dodge.
The weight of it slammed into him, knocking the breath from his lungs. Pain exploded across his back as he hit the asphalt.
But his hand was already in place—right where a normal mountain lion’s heart would be. He released everything.
The compressed water detonated inward. There was no visible explosion, only a wet internal rupture. Warm liquid poured over him, and the creature twitched once before going still.
He lay there, stunned, waiting for pain that didn’t come. The blood soaking his torso wasn’t red—it was green, and it wasn’t his.
With a new surge of effort, he rolled the mountain lion onto its side, allowing him to take a deep, refreshing breath. He looked over his body, noticing that he was covered in the green liquid. The blood made his skin itch at every point it contacted.
Realizing the danger that this could cause, he moved towards the puddle, intent on removing the blood from his skin to prevent further irritation. Surprisingly, once the water came into contact with the blood, the blood completely evaporated.
He stepped back, chest heaving, staring down at the mutated mountain lion sprawled on the cracked concrete. Its fur was mottled gray, veins blackened beneath the surface. The smell of burned ozone and decay lingered.
A soft chime echoed through his mind.
Creature Eliminated: Mutated Mountain Lion
Experience Gained: 250 XP
Loot Available
He rubbed the back of his neck. Loot? The System didn’t usually explain how it worked. Could he just take it automatically, or would he need to do… something more?
He crouched next to the corpse, inspecting the twisted claws and jagged teeth. The IV pole-turned-spear felt heavier in his grip. Somewhere in his mind, he imagined the System waiting for him to act, to collect the spoils properly.
Another chime. Blue letters shimmered in the air before him:
Loot Acquired: 2x Mutated Beast Hide, 1x Claw (Sharp), 4x Blood Essence
Note: Manual collection bypassed. Items have been placed in a clean area on the ground.
He exhaled, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. So it was a hybrid system. I could take the time to harvest manually for extra resources, or let the System handle the basics. Either way, he had what he needed. For now.
He stared at the materials.
They looked… processed. Clean. No gore. No smell.
Convenient.
Another notification replaced the first.
Welcome Package Unlocked: First Crafting Authorization
For defeating your first Ranked Creature, you may select one item to craft using the available materials.
– 2x Mutated Beast Hide
– 1x Claw (Sharp)
Selected materials will be consumed upon confirmation.
Available Options:
Mutated Light Armor
Light torso protection crafted from treated mutated hide and reinforced with claw fragments.
Designed for mobility and endurance.
? Moderate Physical Resistance
? Minor Resistance to Beast-Type Attacks
Claw-Reinforced Spearhead
The claw is reforged and bonded to a compatible shaft.
Designed for piercing and armor penetration.
? Increased Thrust Damage
? Bonus vs. Unarmored Targets
Predator’s Grip Bracers
Treated hide bindings reinforced with claw splinters.
Enhances weapon control and climbing ability.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
? Improved Grip Strength
? Minor Agility Enhancement
He crouched slowly, fingertips brushing the hide.
It was warm. Real. The System wasn’t conjuring equipment from nothing.
It was transforming what he’d earned.
A line of smaller text flickered beneath the options:
Crafting will occur at the current location. Ensure the immediate area is secure.
His jaw tightened.
So it wasn’t instant safety either.
He glanced around the street, aware that the battle from before could have easily alerted nearby predators.
He didn’t have long.
He exhaled and focused on the first option.
“Mutated Light Armor.”
The hide lifted—not fast, not violently—and unraveled in midair...
Fibers separating and weaving together as if invisible hands were working at impossible speed. The claw cracked with a sharp snap, splintering into thin, curved shards that embedded themselves along the forming surface.
The materials thinned. Fused. Reshaped.
Then the construct dropped.
A fitted chest piece landed in his hands—light gray, layered, flexible but firm along the ribs.
The claw was gone.
The hide was gone.
Only the armor remained.
A final notification shimmered briefly:
Item Crafted: Mutated Light Armor
He pulled it over his hospital gown, adjusting the straps along his sides. In a flash of light, the armor fused with the gown and became a single item with the sleeves now removed.
It fit. Too well.
As if it had been measured for him.
Steadying his breath, he leaned against the IV pole, trying to steady his racing thoughts.
Then the sky darkened.
A titanic shadow rolled across the broken highway. A roar tore through the air, violent enough to collapse a section of concrete less than a mile away.
The creature was dragon-shaped — but wrong. Its scales weren’t regal or radiant. They were slick. Inky. Lightless.
To his immense relief, it flew in the opposite direction.
Still, his mind latched onto the image of it suspended effortlessly in the sky.
“If hydrogen is lighter than air…” he muttered.
In theory, if he could gather enough of it — shift the composition of the surrounding air — create lift—
He immediately grimaced.
“Right. And turn myself into a floating bomb.”
People were afraid of hydrogen bombs for a reason.
He stared at the puddle again.
He crouched slowly, pressing two fingers into the surface.
The water trembled at his touch.
He focused.
The liquid rose obediently, swirling around his hand in a thin ribbon.
“Okay… so water works.”
He narrowed his eyes and pushed harder.
Instead of lifting it, he tried to pull it apart.
He imagined separating it—isolating the hydrogen from the oxygen.
Nothing happened.
The ribbon quivered and collapsed back into the puddle.
He tried again, concentrating until pressure built behind his eyes. The water resisted—not like air, not like loose dirt. It felt unified. Whole. As if it rejected the attempt outright. The surface rippled violently for a split second before snapping back into stillness, and a sharp pulse of pain lanced through his skull. He stumbled backward, clutching his temple.
“Okay. Message received.”
He exhaled slowly, forcing the strain away.
Water could be moved, compressed, redirected—but not undone.
A soft chime resonated in the back of his mind.
Aspect Resonance Increased
Elemental Compound Unlocked: Water (H2O)
Note: Water has been recognized as a stable compound within your Elemental Domain. Manipulation efficiency increased when interacting with recognized compounds.
Element Control Increased: Hydrogen +19.9%
Element Control Increased: Oxygen +19.9%
He shifted tactics.
Instead of breaking it apart, he decided to manipulate what is already there.
He forced the puddle into a sphere, tightening it, condensing it.
The water responded—but sluggishly.
The tighter he pushed, the heavier it felt.
Not physically. Mentally.
Like trying to squeeze something that didn’t want to shrink.
Sweat beaded along his brow.
After a few seconds, the sphere destabilized and splashed back to the pavement.
He dropped to one knee, breathing hard.
So…
He could manipulate what existed, but he couldn’t rewrite it—couldn’t pull elements from compounds or create anything new.
He glanced at the sky.
“If I can’t separate water…”
Then, hydrogen in the air was even less realistic.
It was there. But scattered.
Threaded invisibly through everything else.
Trying to isolate it felt like trying to grab a single grain of sand from a beach without touching anything else.
He extended his hand toward the air one more time.
A faint current stirred. That was all.
Not enough to lift a feather.
Let alone a person.
He lowered his arm.
“No breaking compounds. No creation. No forced fusion.”
He let the conclusions settle naturally in his mind.
Influence only. Presence required.
And the more stable something was, the harder it resisted.
That felt… right.
Balanced. Dangerous—but not infinite.
He stood slowly, the new armor creaking softly as it adjusted to his movement.
The dragon had disappeared into the haze.
But the sky no longer felt empty.
It felt contested.
And for the first time since waking up, he understood something important.
He wasn’t weak. He was limited—and there was a difference. Limits could be learned.
He adjusted the armor again, testing the range of motion. It flexed smoothly beneath his fingers, firm but responsive. Lighter than he expected.
A distant crash echoed from behind him—not the dragon this time, but something closer, metal scraping against asphalt.
He froze as the sound came again—slow and deliberate, from inside the hospital.
His eyes shifted toward the shattered entrance doors he had exited minutes earlier.
A shadow moved behind the broken glass—taller than the feline creature from before, unmistakably humanoid.
His pulse quickened.
He hadn’t cleared the building.
He’d run.
And something had followed the noise of his fight.
A hand pressed against the cracked doors—too long, the fingers bending at unnatural angles.
The glass trembled.
He instinctively reached toward the air, feeling for resistance.
Hydrogen and oxygen were everywhere.
Thin.
Scattered.
But enough.
He exhaled slowly and pushed outward in a wide arc instead of a focused blast.
The air distorted, dust and debris skidding across the pavement as the hospital doors slammed outward under the pressure wave. The shadow staggered back—and Marcus didn’t wait.
He turned and moved down the street at a controlled jog, forcing himself not to sprint. Sprinting would drain him.
Think. Noise attracts. Air is easier than water, though water hits harder. Hydrogen is dangerous. Oxygen is abundant.
He glanced back once.
The hospital doors hung crooked again.
The shadow did not emerge.
But it was there, waiting and watching.
He slowed near an overturned bus, placing a hand against the cold metal to steady himself.
His breathing was uneven—not from exhaustion alone, but from understanding.
He had made noise. He had killed. He had obtained a crafted reward. And the world had noticed.
The dragon ruled the sky, the streets belonged to predators, and the hospital behind him was no longer safe ground.
He looked toward the distant spire again.
It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat echoing through the ruined city.
If this were a game, then he needed territory—knowledge, control. Staying meant reacting. Moving forward meant choosing.
He straightened slowly.
The armor shifted quietly against his chest.
The IV pole rested solid in his grip.
The sky remained bruised and restless.
“Alright,” he murmured.
“Let’s see what this world really looks like.”
And this time—
He stepped forward with intent.
And the System quietly logged his movement.