The world was burning.

  Fire exploded out from the refugee apartment complexes, scorching their inhabitants, charring the street, walls, and air. Within those fires, there were people dying, clutching loved ones for comfort.

  It happened in an instant.

  And it was just getting started.

  Masked figures ran through the chaos, throwing themselves into burning houses. The fire would suddenly re-ignite, flaring a bright blue with a spike of temperature that could be felt from down the block.

  My feet clapped against the street, struggling for purchase as I lunged toward our apartment complex.

  “Junior! Axel! Sern!”

  Sern plowed through one of the walls with Axel slung over her shoulder, sound asleep. She glanced at me, sniffed, and bolted away.

  “Junior!” I shouted back. “Where’s Junior?”

  She was already gone.

  “For crying out loud, this isn’t the time!” I hissed.

  Amidst the roar of fire, I heard a quiet sobbing noise from the bedroom. Junior had barricaded himself in with the bed braced against the door.

  “JUNIOR!” I screamed. “We need to get out of here! Now!”

  His voice was muffled. “Grind?”

  I shattered the door with my good shoulder and grabbed his arm, hurtling the two of us out the window all in a single smooth motion.

  A moment later, our room exploded, raining fiery debris down on the other buildings.

  Moments after, my stump of an arm struck the road and I blacked out with pain.

  …

  “Grind?” A quiet voice pleaded, forcing my eyes open.

  Darkness wrestled with the light in my eyes, before fading, revealing twisted black shrubbery and a boy far younger than myself, with green skin and black hair, kneeling at my side. A bright red notification hovered next to my head, chastising me for flinging myself out a multi-story window.

  “Grind!” Junior cheered, grabbing me in a tight hug.

  “How are you?” I asked. He didn't seem to have any broken bones, and his scratches didn’t seem serious, but it was better safe than sorry.

  Junior grimaced, trying to avoid looking at my one arm, which only brought more attention to it. “You’re bleeding—. Grind, I’m sorry—”

  He cut off, holding his head in his hands.

  I took a look at my good arm.

  “Ah.”

  I had slung my arm around Junior, holding him tight. When we hit the ground, my shoulder broke, dotting the skin with black spots and nasty bruising.

  “Well that’s not too bad,” I said with a shrug.

  Junior choked on his words, hugging me tighter. “Grind, it’s horrible.”

  “I’ve already traded one arm for your lives, what’s another?” I chuckled.

  “The pain’s making you delirious,” Junior muttered.

  “I don’t feel a thing.”

  “That’s why you ought to be worried!” He shouted, grabbing my head. Suddenly, terror shot through his body, and he pushed the two of us further away, before speaking much quieter. “There’s these people everywhere. What do we do?”

  As he spoke, I closed my eyes, listening to continued screaming.

  Junior shook me. “Grind. What are we going to do?”

  I gave a big warm smile. “We’re going to live.”

  “You don’t know that,” he snapped.

  “I’ve got a good feeling about this,” I said, chuckling. “We’ve had enough bad luck for a week, don’t you think?”

  Crapshoveler appeared in my hand, guiding my arm like a muscle. If I kept his position right, there’s a chance I’d still be able to fight a low-level enemy—

  “Grind?” Junior asked, eyes widening. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m dead serious,” I chuckled. “Junior, I need you to run. Sern and Axel can’t be far, and they’re going to be the strongest people in this whole fight, no question.”

  “And you?”

  “Didn’t I tell you?” I asked, allowing myself a little smirk. “I’m immortal.”

  “You’re delirious." Junior took another look at my arm, suppressing a shudder. “Promise you’ll be okay.”

  “Only if you are.”

  I stood up, noting a handful of broken ribs. They were unpleasant, but I’d fought in worse conditions.

  And then a shadow peeked out from the bushes. There was a masked man rushing toward me with a gleaming sickle in his hand.

  “Run,” I said.

  {Lesser Cultist of the Peacekeepers}

  [Copper]

  [113 Str 102 Hp]

  The masked figure swung once, missing Junior. When the assault turned toward him, I cracked Crapshoveler on the back of his head.

  {Lesser Cultist : (-6) 98 Hp}

  At best, the blow stung against his defenses. At worst, and most likely, he hadn’t even felt it.

  Before I had the time for a second attack, his closed fist was at my face, and I flung backward, piercing through a steel dumpster.

  [(-113) 10 Hp]

  My body screamed in pain, damage notification flashing as I cracked against the road and spun, smashing my elbow into the other side of the street.

  But, given my current situation, the pain came and went. It hurt. And then it didn’t.

  So I got back up, like a puppet on strings, muscles twitching and twisting.

  The cultist looked a little disturbed, glancing down at his bloodied hand. He promptly wiped it on his pants.

  “Dirty sympathizer.”

  But, as he watched me, the man registered the black blood from my side and arm. His expression hardened in an instant.

  Crapshoveler was a blur, cracking and sparking against a flurry of attacks, each steadily faster than the one before it. He was inexperienced. His stance was sloppy. Even without a proper understanding of combat I fully understood this man had not been fighting for more than a couple days.

  But his stats more than made up for it.

  Crapshoveler tried to parry the blow, for all the good that did. One hit and he was gone, rusty-golden blade flashing into the distance.

  The cultist grinned, pushing up his mask, giving me a glimpse of his face.

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  “Monsters killed my wife,” he snarled.

  I nodded. “Touching.”

  “Don’t mock me!” the man screamed.

  A punch ramming into my face, driving it through the building behind me. Before a single breath could pass, he started laying blows down, cracking bone after bone, shredding muscle tissue.

  Beyond a certain point, his individual blows refused to do any damage.

  In this moment I learned something new. Once the body cannot take any more damage, the mind compensates.

  That meant that my mind was forced to absorb all of the additional impact, ringing after each strike, splitting shuddered coursing through my consciousness, flaring into my vision.

  Which, come to think of it, explained quite a bit of my mood following Rose’s death.

  After no less than a hundred blows, he allowed my half-dead corpse to drop down, staining the burning lawn.

  “This is what we do to monsters,” he hissed, re-summoning his blade.

  Looking closer, it was like a sickle, but much larger, with a serrated edge and an odd sort of energy around it, almost like the taste of blood.

  He flicked his wrist, slicing across my cheek, and I felt pain beyond anything I'd ever imagined. But I couldn’t black out. I was forced more awake than ever before, just to endure the full weight of the enchantment.

  {Grind}

  [(-1230) 10 Hp]

  [You have been infected with [BlindingFocus]]

  [You have been inflicted with [SoulClamp]]

  [The presence of items and beings outside of your power threshold have an exponentially stronger effect and damage output.]

  “You’re tough. But a monster knows nothing of true power,” the Masked man whispered. “Destruction blinds you. You are unworthy to live, and to grow.”

  He struck across my face again.

  {Grind}

  [(-4670) 10 Hp]

  [[BlindingFocus] has been refreshed.]

  [You have been inclifted another instance with [SoulClamp]]

  [The presence of items and beings outside of your power threshold have an exponentially stronger effect and damage output.]

  The pain was unimaginable, beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined or naturally experienced.

  The cultist took a step back, glancing down at his blade. He looked up at me.

  “Eh?”

  I chuckled back, spitting all over the dirt.

  His attacks were simple, but ruthlessly effective. After only a couple hits, enough stacks of SoulClamp would cause serious damage to weakened enemies, only made stronger by the presence of himself, and of his weapon, as well as the presence of all the strong people around him.

  Normally, the blade couldn’t have been so powerful, but there’s a world of difference between a Copper and a Dirt.

  I could do nothing to stop him.

  Absolutely nothing.

  Again.

  And it was the funniest thing in the world.

  He attacked.

  {Grind}

  [(-15840) 10 Hp]

  [[BlindingFocus] has been refreshed.]

  [You have been inclifted another instance with [SoulClamp]]

  [The presence of items and beings outside of your power threshold have an exponentially stronger effect and damage output.]

  The pain struck.

  It was a constant ringing through every piece of tissue and bone in my entire body. Every cell screamed, developing into an attack centered purely around the damage of my mind.

  But it was one thought, stinging against the back of my mind, that finally broke something.

  This man was not important.

  This man was a Copper.

  In the second area, these are the first three ranks.

  Dirt.

  Tin.

  Copper.

  Ardenidi, Harva, and Leo were all Coppers.

  Which meant he was on their level. Actually, he was weaker.

  How much stronger was I than them? My power should have dwarfed him. I should have dwarfed everything, completely overpowering his technique with even a glazing blow of my most basic ability.

  This man was not some sort of boss, or miniboss, or core.

  Not even a step over average, really. This man was to the cultist’s attack what goblins are to their king.

  A speck.

  And he was mopping the floor with me.

  I could die, then I would respawn, get stronger, and beat him. But how strong was it? A million strength? A billion?

  Did numbers even matter here? How many more times would I have to die, over and over and over, again and again, over and again, each and every day, just to be some incremental amount more competent?

  The man was choking.

  I hadn’t even realized I had one hand wrapped around his throat.

  I was weak.

  I was so, so, weak. And by now, I was getting sick of it.

  My grip tightened.

  {Grind}

  [10 Hp 10 Str]

  This was the area designed to test the mind, wasn’t it?

  My muscles spasmed, but my hold only increased in strength.

  He struck down, slashing out of desperation, hacking at my arm.

  But I had reached the limit. I had already taken the absolute most amount of physical damage I possibly could.

  {Grind}

  [(-48930) 10 Hp]

  [[BlindingFocus] has been refreshed.]

  [You have been inclifted another instance with [SoulClamp]]

  [The presence of items and beings outside of your power threshold have an exponentially stronger effect.]

  So much force unloaded from this attack that the sickle itself blew apart in his hand, glowing red hot.

  The mental attack resounded, tearing into my mind.

  I focused, and blew it away, like a puff of air.

  {Notice}

  [Your sense of self has gone through substantial changes]

  [Your willpower has been successfully weaponized.]

  The second area values two things. Mind, and power. Not that I really knew how it all worked. For now, I’d go off the vibes.

  The man was gasping and clawing at my hands.

  I probably shouldn't kill him. But if I let him go, he would kill somebody else.

  There was a sound of cracking bone.

  {Lesser Cultist : (-100) -2 Hp}

  He plopped onto the grass, dead.

  My breath rushed out in a hiss.

  I felt the fullest extent of my own injuries.

  Everything that could be broken was. Only through an extraordinary force of will could I even keep myself standing.

  On the other hand, I felt just fine. Broken and in searing pain, yes, but with a certain distance between it and myself.

  What was really stopping me from moving?

  I flexed my hand, and Crapshoveler returned, bracing against my broken legs.

  Once we were safe, I would rest. I would get healed. I would learn more of myself, and of my own power.

  Once we were safe.

  I considered crawling, but that may not be better than just forcing myself to walk. Step by step, foot by foot, I was moving.

  Soon, I found Sern. She knelt beside a huddled figure, squeezing his hands.

  Axel had a deep cut that ran from the top of his chest through his neck, then several yards deep into the building beside him, which was built almost entirely from the titan’s shell.

  Junior lay next to him.

  He wasn’t moving.

  So much blood and ash covered the ground, I almost failed to notice the tarish liquid running from Sern’s side.

  They were all dead.

  All of them.

  Axel and Junior had been killed in the same instant, though Axel had tried to place his body over Junior's, using it like a shield.

  It hadn't made an inch of difference.

  Sern was covered in scratches and cuts, having fought hard for several minutes.

  In the end, she could have won, or lost. Either way, the blood loss caught up to her, and she died.

  They were all dead.

  Was this my life now?

  I had grown stronger, sure, but nothing really changed.

  But what other option was there?

  For a moment, I considered giving up. I could do nothing. I could try nothing.

  I could stay in the first area, without a care in the world. If, by some chance or accident, somebody died, I’d shrug it off and move on. With nobody who mattered to me, I would be truly, finally invincible.

  But I wouldn’t be me.

  And that wasn’t something I could take back.

  So I would break myself over and over again, because I was the only one who could break over and over again. I would break and break until I learned how to break everyone and everything that stood in my way.

  If the game tried to break me, I’d break it back, harder.

  A presence settled on my shoulder in a deep rumbling of energy.

  The masked figure took a step back, pushing a whistle over her mouth.

  I waited until there were thirty of them, Irons, Coppers, a couple Brass, and several other ranks higher than I recognized, all waiting to take me down. While I still didn’t quite know exactly how strong they were, collectively, they had the weight of a glacier, squeezing the air out from my lungs by the weight of their power alone.

  “Remove your veil, monster!” the Lead shouted, leveling an axe the size of a small car. “Do not think us so easily fooled, Iron!”

  Iron?

  The first attack landed before I saw it.

  {Grind}

  [(-100,000) -46693 Hp]

  The pent up damage finally set in, and I fell apart, dead.

  But not before I realized that I’d gotten the Brass to attack. Her face flashed with shock even as the world spun black.

  She’d expected me to be stronger.

  Much, much stronger.

  I shouldn't keep her waiting.

  // {Notice} //

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