The evening had dissolved into a glorious, mana-infused haze. Sleep came late, my brain still humming with the echoes of "Lumos!" and the satisfying tingle of arcane energy. Just as I finally succumbed to exhaustion, a familiar ding! chimed in – Basic Mana Manipulation, now officially Level 5. The night remained blessedly monster-free, so I woke up feeling almost human, greeted by the System's usual cheerful pronouncements.
Ding!
[Good night's sleep fully restored your HP, MP, and SP ]
(System Comment: Rise and shine, sleepyhead! Hope your dreams were less stabby than your waking hours tend to be!)
Then came the big one:
Ding!
[You have passed Level 10 and reached Level 11! Congratulations, you are now officially a Newbie Chaos and Order Gamer!]
(System Comment: Welcome to the slightly less clueless club! Your membership card is invisible, and the perks are… debatable.)
"Newbie Chaos and Order Gamer?" I muttered, still half-asleep. "What was I before? Like, pre-noob?"
Before the System could offer another sarcastic gem, a new notification hijacked my mental screen:
Ding!
[As a newly official Newbie Chaos and Order Gamer, you have unlocked your Daily Fortune Wheel!]
Suddenly, a mental image assaulted me: a ridiculously oversized fortune wheel, like something Zeus would spin after a particularly good lightning storm. It had to have a gazillion tiny sections, each one so small I couldn't even squint out a single letter. The wheel blurred into motion, spinning faster than a caffeinated squirrel on a sugar rush. Then, it began to slow, the colors swirling into a less frantic pace, finally grinding to a halt on a sliver so thin it was practically a line. The System's voice boomed in my head:
(And the winner is… One Pair of Socks of Invisibility! Slip them on for a +5 to Stealth, and an additional +5 to 'Subtle Olfactory Camouflage'. May your enemies be too overwhelmed by the mystery scent to notice your lack of visible footwear!)
And just like that, a pair of slightly damp, grayish socks materialized in my open palm. The fabric shimmered with an odd, almost translucent quality. The promised Stealth +5, huh? Well, the smell was definitely a +5 to something… maybe "Odor Offense." An unholy alliance of gym socks and something vaguely… sentient… wafted into my nostrils. My other hand shot up to pinch my nose, my eyes watering.
"Ugh," I gagged, backing away from the offending footwear. But even as my stomach threatened rebellion, a tiny voice of reason (probably the "Newbie Chaos and Order Gamer" part of me) whispered, "Precious item." Stealth +5! For an F-class nobody like me, any boost was a lifeline, even if it smelled like a troll's gym bag after a week-long marathon.
A hasty retreat to the bathroom ensued. I filled the sink with hot water and enough detergent to strip paint, shoving the socks in and hoping for the best. Five days of soaking felt excessive, but the initial wave of stink suggested it might be necessary. I couldn't bring myself to throw them away. Stealth +5!
Emerging from the fragrant (in a chemical sort of way) bathroom, I shot a mental glare at the undoubtedly smug System. "Hilarious," I muttered to the empty air. "Real knee-slapper."
Shaking my head, I headed out for my daily exercise quest. An hour later, slightly less smelly and feeling a touch more virtuous, I was on my way to school, the faint ghost of sock-stink still clinging to the air. At least I was now +1 free stat and skill point richer for my efforts. Small victories, right? Even if one of them came with an invisible (to smell, apparently not to see) and highly aromatic price tag.
I don't like time skips in books or movies. They always feel like cheating—one minute it's "Tuesday," and the next it's "Six Months Later: Apocalypse." But in real life? Time skips like it's late for the last bus.
A whole week passed in a blur.
Between daily quests, surprise missions from my mom (like "Heroic Grocery Run: Defeat the Checkout Line"), actual school (bleh), and LETI lectures on supernatural theory (yep, even more lectures—I can't escape them!), I was running around like a caffeinated chicken. A chicken with a stat screen and occasionally on fire.
Of course, I was also grinding like a good little gamer. Everyone knows the early levels are the easiest to power through.
Emergency Quests showed up two, maybe three more times this week. That's three more near-death experiences, but hey, they also came with loot! I jumped three whole levels, collected enough bones and rusty junk to start my own medieval museum, and earned over 700 bucks. (Still no idea how the system converts rusty spoons into actual cash, but I'm not asking questions.) I also gained more ancient coins, which I still can't spend anywhere. Maybe there's an ancient vending machine hiding in a pyramid somewhere?
The Daily Fortune Wheel kept showing up too. Most of the stuff was hilariously random. One day I won a basket of fruit. I gave it to Mom, and she got this proud "my son isn't totally feral" look on her face. So worth it.
Another day? Diet Coke. The system claimed it gave me +5 Stamina. Honestly, I just used it to wash down a granola bar.
And then there were the joke items, like "Lucky Left Sock" (+1 Confidence when worn solo) and "Instant Noodles of Minor Wisdom" (useless but delicious). I'm not sure if the system is trolling me or training me to survive a comedy apocalypse.
Either way, I'm still alive. Leveled up, slightly traumatized, but alive.
...
Alright, so after a week of dodging supernatural skeleton and surviving my mom's grocery gauntlet, you'd think a guy could catch a break, right? Wrong. My life apparently runs on the narrative equivalent of a sugar rush followed by a face-plant into a brick wall.
It was Saturday morning, and for once, I wasn't on some desperate quest to find a mythical lost homework assignment or battling sentient dust bunnies under my bed.
But, of course, my semi-relaxed, semi-normal life didn't last.
Ding!
[Urgent System Announcement]
Chaos Energy Surge Detected.
Localized Instability Detected Near You.
Advised to Exercise Extreme Caution.
Further Investigation Required.
Great. Just what I needed. A friendly reminder from the universe that peace is for NPCs.
So... what now? Do I grab my trusty (and mildly rusty) baseball bat? Duct-tape some pizza boxes together for armor? Or maybe just dive under my bed and hope this "anomalous energy surge" decides to go harass someone who didn't almost die twice this week?
Yeah, no. Hiding's not in the rulebook for caffeinated teenagers with stat screens. I'm pretty sure it violates some ancient gaming law.
Looks like it's time to investigate. Or die trying. Probably both.
I opened my map screen, and boom—there it was. A glowing red dot pulsing ominously a few blocks away. Not super far. Maybe three, four blocks? Huh. Suspiciously close to Jimmy's house.
Obviously, I had to check it out.
Then my phone buzzed. Rhea. Of course.
"Where are you, Kyle?"
"At home,"
I said, which was technically true. For another six seconds.
"Don't go out."
"Why?"
"There's… something. An unknown energy signature just showed up on LETI's radar. They're trying to pinpoint the source now."
Wait, what? LETI's top-secret, high-tech radar couldn't locate it, but my sarcastic video game system could? Somebody needs to ask for a refund.
"Okay, cool. Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. Saturday's my lazy day."
We hung up.
I was out the door in under a minute.
My junk loot and weapons were still in my inventory (thanks, system), but my beloved cardboard-box armor had finally met its end during last night's skeleton dungeon fiasco. Rest in pieces.
Now I was headed out in a hoodie, sneakers, and a pocket full of danger.
Let's go see what the Chaos Energy doing in my neighborhood.
Of course it was an abandoned factory. Because nothing says great life choices like wandering into the set of every ghost story ever.
Broken windows? Check. Rusty gates that creak like a horror movie soundtrack? Double check. Weird tingling sensation crawling up my spine like ants doing the cha-cha? Yup. This was the place.
Ding!
[Emergency Dungeon Mission Detected!]
Some rogue goblins are attempting to breach your reality.
Do you accept this mission?
[Yes] [No]
And then, because my system can't help itself:
(Pro tip: If you choose "No," you can go home, microwave a burrito, and wait for the world to end. Your call, hero.)
Well. When you put it that way…
I sighed, cracked my knuckles, and hit [Yes].
Time to goblin up.
The world wobbled like a cheap CGI effect.
Ding!
[Emergency Dungeon Initiated!]
The abandoned factory didn't vanish. It just... aged. Instantly. Walls crumbled. Rust bloomed like mold on fast-forward. The air got heavier, dustier—like the building had aged a hundred years just to spite me.
I blinked. Still a factory. Just... more apocalypse-y. So, fun.
Then I saw them.
Goblins.
Tiny, green, and as fashionably challenged as ever. About three or four feet tall, wearing what could generously be called "loincloths" but should honestly be banned by the Geneva Convention. Their weapons looked like they found sticks, shrugged, and called it a day.
Cute, honestly. If you ignored the beady red eyes and the very obvious intent to murder me.
Compared to the skeleton dungeon—where everything was level 15 and up, and smelled like expired regret—these goblins were baby mode. Level 5 to 7, tops.
I could handle that.
The problem?
They traveled in packs. Like, full discount store clearance sale kind of packs. Ten, maybe twelve of them, all glaring at me like I'd just stepped on their turf and insulted their goblin moms.
I tightened my grip on my baseball bat. The one with the slight crack and three confirmed undead knockouts.
"Alright, you little swamp muppets," I muttered, "let's do this."
I stepped forward, trying to look brave, heroic, and totally not like a caffeinated teenager holding a semi-cracked bat in a haunted, time-warped factory.
The goblins hissed. One of them raised its... flute?
Yup. A goblin bard. He had a pan flute made of bones and zero shame. He blew into it, producing a sound somewhere between a dying seagull and a car alarm. The goblins went wild. Literally. They jumped, hooted, and charged like they were late to a concert.
Ding!
[Goblin War Drummer (Lv. 6) has buffed the enemy mob. Goblins gain +10% speed and +5% volume.]
Volume? Seriously?
The goblins shrieked like toddlers denied screen time. I barely had time to brace myself before they were on me.
WHACK!
First swing: home run. A goblin went flying into a broken vending machine and made friends with a very expired bag of chips.
WHAM! SMACK! BONK!
The rest weren't so lucky. Or maybe I wasn't. Ten of them surrounded me. I ducked a wild swing that looked more like a tree branch flailing in the wind than a weapon.
I dropped low, spun, and swept a pair of goblin legs. They toppled over like green bowling pins.
"Still think loincloths are a tactical advantage?" I muttered.
One lunged at me with teeth bared like he thought he was a zombie in training. I twisted out of the way on pure instinct—
Ding!
[Skill Acquired: Dodge Lv.1
Your dodge success rate 10% +
Congratulations on not dying.]
Hey, I'll take it. That's 10% more survival, which, rounding up in gamer logic, meant I was basically immortal now.
The goblin who tried to bite me faceplanted, and I bonked him on the head for his trouble. He exploded into sparkly green pixels. Very satisfying.
Then the ground rumbled ominously, and the goblins actually froze.
Even the bard dropped his bone flute like, "Nope, I'm out."
Ding!
[Mini-Boss Approaching: Goblin Brute (Lv. 20)]
Out stomped a goblin twice as big, dragging what might've been a stop sign but now looked like it retired from traffic control and took up violence as a hobby.
He wore a spiked loincloth. Because of course he did.
I sighed and raised my bat. Time to test out my new dodge skill—and try not to become a statistic in goblin-themed obituaries.
The Goblin Brute roared like someone had just told him there were no more spicy Cheetos left in the apocalypse. His breath smelled like compost and broken dreams, and every step made the whole abandoned dungeon-factory creak like it was trying to file a complaint.
I tightened my grip on my trusty bat. Sure, it was technically a "rusty bat of questionable durability," but it had personality. And emotional support weapon vibes.
"Alright, big guy," I muttered. "Let's dance. But, like, slow dance. Preferably from a distance."
He charged. I rolled.
[Dodge successful
Dodge level up –Dodge level 2
Dodge success rate 12% ]
Sweet! Dodge skill was actually working. He swung his street-sign mace and embedded it into a support beam behind me. Concrete dust rained down, and I started to question the factory's structural integrity. Also my life choices.
I swung back—CRACK!—right on his knee.
"OW!" he screeched.
"Yes!" I cheered.
We did this back-and-forth nonsense for like, a full minute. I dodge-rolled so many times I started to feel like a Zelda character. Every hit I landed chipped away at his HP bar, which hovered over his head like a very angry progress bar of doom.
Then the Brute's eyes glowed red.
Ding!
[Mini-Boss enraged – Attack power doubled for 30 seconds]
"Wait, WAIT—pause button? Anyone?!" I yelped.
He lunged again, all teeth, rage, and swamp breath. I dove behind a pile of ancient crates—probably held together by dust and prayers—and tried to stay low.
Spoiler: not low enough.
The goblin's tree-branch-club missed me by a hair, but his backhand? That connected. Solidly. Like a home-run swing, and I was the baseball.
WHAM.
I flew. Like, actual air time. My feet left the ground, and I soared straight into the wall like I was auditioning for a superhero movie—as the guy who gets punched through a building in the first five minutes.
Everything hurt. My ribs were singing, my brain was buffering, and my HP bar plummeted like it just saw a stock market crash.
[HP: 29%]
I groaned and flopped onto my side. "Okay. That one hurt."
The goblin snarled and came stomping toward me again, and I realized I had two choices: play dead or play smarter.
For thirty painful seconds, I danced around like a caffeine-fueled ballerina, barely dodging club swings and trash can shield slams. My breath burned in my lungs, my vision was doing the fuzzy TV thing, and I was this close to just lying down and accepting my new role as Factory Wall Decoration.
Then... the brute slowed down.
He panted. His swings got sluggish. His eyes stopped glowing murder-red and downgraded to mildly-annoyed-orange.
Now. Or never.
I yanked an F Grade HP Potion from my inventory, popped the cork with my teeth like a desperate soda addict, and chugged it in one go.
Ding!
[HP +200 Recovered. Current HP: 70%]
[Mouth coated in weird cherry-metallic flavor. Ew.]
I wiped my mouth. "Round two, ugly. Let's dance."
This time, it was my turn to go full chaos mode.
The goblin hesitated, confused by my sudden confidence. Bad move, buddy.
I lunged, dodging low this time, and slammed the base of my rusty bat right into its knee. It screeched, stumbled, and I took that opening like a gamer on double XP weekend.
One—crack to the side of the head.
Two—swing to the ribs.
Three—straight-up uppercut with the bat like I was in a fantasy baseball league.
The goblin reeled, dazed. Its club dropped to the ground with a thunk. I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. My new skill was active now, and I felt faster, sharper, like I actually knew what I was doing.
[Dodge Lv. 2 – 12% more dodge chance]
It swung again in desperation. I twisted out of the way and brought the bat down on its head with a final, bone-rattling crack.
The goblin collapsed in a heap of green limbs and groans. I stood over it, panting, legs shaking.
Ding!
[Emergency Dungeon Mini-Boss Defeated!]
[+500 XP | +$200 | Rare Drop Acquired: Goblin Core (D)]
[Level Up!]
"Who's the dungeon boss now?" I muttered, right before collapsing on my back, flat on the factory floor, surrounded by loot and smelling like goblin sweat.
Victory never smelled so... awful.
After a solid ten minutes of lying on the cold, suspiciously sticky factory floor, I finally sat up. My ribs still felt like they'd been used as xylophone keys, but the potion had done its job.
The Great Sun Inner Energy didn't just sound cool—it worked overtime. My health and stamina were trickling back in like divine juice from a celestial espresso machine.
Time to clean up.
The rest of the goblins didn't stand a chance. With their mini-boss gone, the little green guys were more confused than a cat at a cucumber convention. They scrambled around in panic, swinging their twigs and screeching like angry wind-up toys.
I took them down one by one, like swatting particularly aggressive weeds.
Thirty goblins later—yes, thirty—I stood victorious on a battlefield of faintly twitching goblin limbs, broken clubs, and way too many loincloths.
Ding!
[Dungeon Exit Permit Acquired!]
Emergency quest completed .
+1000 XP
Level up!
[Loots Acquired: Random Assortment of Goblin Junk, 470 acient coins, $380, 2 Mystery box]
"Ooooh, mystery box,"
I said, grinning like a kid who just found out Christmas came twice this year.
I took one last look at the ancient, crumbling version of the factory, now covered in goblin glitter (a.k.a. blood). But as I watched, the monster parts began to vanish—fading into pixel dust like someone hit the "clean up" button on reality.
Well, that was mildly disturbing.
I sighed, tugged my slightly dented shirt back into place, and muttered, "At least I don't have to explain goblin guts to Mom. Next time," I muttered, "I'm staying home and watching cartoons."
And with that, I stepped through the glowing portal and out of the dungeon—just a regular guy with a backpack full of loot and a level-up screen still blinking in my vision.
Kyle Walker (Lv. 16)
HP: 390/390
MP: 310/310
SP: 390/390
Stats:
STR: 21 (+5 from Great Sun Inner Energy) (+3 from Arm Guard) ( 29 )
VIT: 21 (+3 from Arm Guard, +5 from Great Sun Inner Energy) ( 29 )
DEX: 35 (+1 from Title ) ( 36 )
INT: 20
WIS: 19
LUK: 30
Unassigned Stat Points: 52
Unassigned Skill Points: 70
Att: 39
Def: 29
Eva: 36
[System :
Congratulations! You're officially overleveled for "guy who fought a goblin with a toilet plunger." Now assigning points might actually matter. Try not to put everything into Luck and hope for the best... again.
" Hmmm .. Rude."