Chapter Four: Soul Shards

The orb floated up from where the skulker’s corpse had been. Like a soap bubble, but made of glowing diamond—peaceful and beautiful, if you ignored the fact it had come from something with a mouth full of hand-sized fangs.

The orb didn’t move, didn’t attack. Just floated, pulsing with faint light. I stepped toward it, extending my newly healed arm.

Just a faint hum of power.

And a System notification:

[Examine loot? y/n]

“Yes,” I muttered.

Two holographic panels blinked into existence with a soft tone, one flanking each side of the orb.

I was starting to suspect this entire world really did operate under the rules of a deranged video game.

>>

[Loot: Skulker – Level 30]

• Greater Bestial Shard

• Skulker Hide

• Skulker Meat

>>

The second window was just my inventory screen:

>>

[Inventory: 0/50]

• N/A

>>

I hovered my focus over each item. Context windows popped up—buttery-smooth UI and all:

>>

Greater Bestial Shard

A condensed fragment of soul energy brimming with primal force. Usable in spell-forging, enchanting, or alchemical refinement.

Rarity: Uncommon

Item Level: 3

Skulker Hide

Tough, flexible skin of a mid-tier predator. Crafting material or reagent.

Rarity: Uncommon

Item Level: 3

Skulker Meat

Dense, sinewy flesh. Restores 20 HP/minute for 60 seconds. Spoils in 12 hours.

Rarity: Uncommon

Item Level: 3

>>

Curiosity nudged me. I focused on the soul shard.

My palm lifted, fingers curling.

The shard materialized as if I’d always known how to summon it. A jagged crystal, humming with wild green light. It wasn’t just glowing—it throbbed. Like a heartbeat. A wild, bestial heartbeat.

If I concentrated, I could almost feel something within it—a stampede, just beyond the veil of crystal.

It was… almost alive. Somehow I knew just by looking into its cloudy light:

The shard wasn’t just loot. It was a sliver of what the skulker used to be. Its instinct. Its fury. Its refusal to die easily.

And that… lined up, didn’t it?

The System had shown an intense interest in my soul. Now here it was, packaging souls into tidy trophies. Not whole souls. Fragments. Shards. Like it had split the skulker’s being—experience into me, and the remaining essence into loot.

XP for the killer. Shards for the craftsman. Meat for the desperate.

Souls had been monetized—or at least commodified.

But why?

“Why did you bring me here? Why do you want souls?” I directed the intent at the System. “System?!”

Nothing. Again.

And if it wouldn’t give me the answer, that meant it was probably a thousand levels away.

I shelved the thought and reabsorbed the shard into my inventory with a flick.

Crafting, enchanting, even consumption... the possibilities teased me.

Just holding the shard had been invigorating. Maybe it could be refined into a stamina potion. Or something stranger.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

The hide? Trade good. If there was a market anywhere. Or maybe I could make armor. Maybe.

The meat? Survival. Distasteful, but necessary.

None of it solved my real problems.

Water and shelter were still non-negotiable, nagging priorities.

I remembered my dad’s voice—tinny, half-forgotten:

“If you’re ever lost, Clare—find high ground. Let the land show you where to go.”

So I walked and I climbed.

The forest sloped gradually upward, tangled in colors too vivid to be natural on Earth. Vibrant reds. Sulfurous greens. Trees that looked half alive, half sculpted.

The first stream I found wasn’t much better. The water shimmered like liquid crystal, barely disturbing the soil it moved through. It glowed faintly, and I could hear it hum—like a wet wine glass singing on the edge of hearing.

Didn’t go to drink it.

Would have to eventually. But not yet.

For now, I was frozen. Holding my breath. Hiding behind an amber-barked tree.

Because something was already lapping at the stream.

It looked like a panther—if panthers had two extra hind legs and fur like polished indigo silk.

[Mana Cat – Level 20]

The nameplate floated above it like a curse. I noticed an extra eye on its forehead. Weird--

Then again, I had elf ears. Who was I to judge?

It was weaker than the Skulker—maybe. But only by ten levels. I still didn’t know how levels translated to actual threats. But I did know it had eight on me.

I stepped back. Careful—

—and heard a low growl.

Not from the first cat.

I spun.

[Mana Cat – Level 20]

Another one. Closer. Watching from behind me.

Its eyes locked on mine like I owed it something.

Panic scratched at my ribs. The first cat was turning, too.

Were they mates? Hunting partners?

Fuck. Big cats were never friendly in the wild.

And I couldn’t talk my way out of it—not that it had worked the first time with my first foe.

No exits. No bluffing.

Just me. Two monsters. And my heartbeat climbing the walls of my skull.

I inhaled. Focused.

I’d always been decisive. Always known who I was.

Didn’t mean I wasn’t scared. Just meant I could act through it. And now I at least had weapons of my own.

I reached inward—beneath my ribs, where the mana had stirred the first time I cast a spell.

It answered. Deep. Potent. Charged, awakened—maybe from leveling up.

Burn for me, I thought.

Fire crawled down my arm like it belonged there. The air hissed. A blade devoid of metal formed—long, flame-born, single-edged, red-hot.

My [Raging Blade].

A mana bar appeared in the corner of my vision. Subtle. Translucent. Easy to track, easy to ignore.

The sword cost one mana per second. I regenerated thirty-eight per minute.

I didn’t do the math. But it meant I should be alright for a while.

The first cat hissed as I armed myself, ears flattening back. Good.

“An animal acting tough just means it’s scared of you too,” Dad once told us on a hunting trip.

He’d wanted sons. Got two daughters. Taught us the same way anyway--loved us more than he'd thought he'd love male heirs.

And now, weirdly, his backwoods wisdom applied to monsters in a magical dungeon.

Posturing meant the mana cat saw me as a threat. Maybe that meant I could be one.

I shifted into a stance—half fencing, half boxing. The sword felt weightless.

I lunged. Aimed for the third eye of the nearest panther.

The white cat blinked—literally. Disappeared with a vacuum pop.

Reappeared behind me.

I flinched. My new ears caught the distortion just in time.

“Shit—”

My body was too slow. Claws caught me before I could dodge the monster's strike.

Pain ripped up my leg. My calf screamed. Flesh tore. Pants split.

A tenth of my health vanished. A health bar now joined the mana bar in my vision—bleeding red in real time.

Rage flared.

The sword responded.

It grew longer. Brighter. Hotter. Gave me more range.

I struck back—bit into the cat’s shoulder. It didn't just cut. The fire ate the monster's flesh. Incinerated it--bit by bit.

Guess a Weapon-Class of seven wasn’t too shabby.

The cat vanished again—leaving my blade to hum through empty air.

No time to recover.

The second one was already on me.

I pivoted. Thrust on instinct.

The first reappeared mid-lunge—and skewered itself on my blade with only a minor adjustment from me.

Perfect, I thought.

Until the second tackled me.

I hit the ground. Sword torn from my hand—still buried in the other cat.

The second panther bit into my ribs. Teeth sunk deep. Health plummeted. Pain exploded.

We rolled. Dirt. Blood. Snarls.

This. Wasn’t. Happening.

Then: fire.

My eyes blazed. My pupils ignited with orange heat. Red flames wisped off my sclera.

[Raging Sorcery] activated—on instinct alone.

My blade detonated inside the first cat’s chest--blade converted into an explosion thanks to the perk.

The second monster didn’t care. It wrenched flesh from my side and went for my throat.

My right hand flew up instinctively to try to ward it off.

Just like before, primal need became something more.

My body screamed, but I had no room for hesitation. No room for anything but survival.

What I had left was Mana. And fire that poured from my anger and fingers.

[You have created a spell! Fireball [2nd] added to spell list.]

The blast threw the cat off me—its face disintegrating mid-air.

I gasped. Barely alive.

Leg: wrecked. Side: torn open. Chest: burning.

No level-up ping.

I stood anyway.

Had to.

The first cat was stirring.

I didn’t hesitate.

My hand shook, fingers twitching, as I summoned fire back into my palm.

[Fireball] formed, bright and hungry. Cast two.

My mana bar dropped. A quarter empty now.

The panther leapt.

I launched the orb. There was a whoosh of ignition, then:

BOOM.

The forest trembled. The shockwave passed over me harmlessly.

[Congratulations! You have reached Level 13.]

[Level 14.]

[Level 15.]

Relief hit like morphine.

My wounds stitched shut. Mana surged.

Breath returned.

Two glowing orbs floated from the corpses.

[Level 16.]

[Level 17.]

Progression was slowing. That was fine.

I’d survived. I was stronger.

I stepped forward to claim my loot—

—and the mountain roared.

A cliff above split wide. Something huge stepped from a cave.

Cat-shaped. Lion-sized. Glyphs burned across its hide like star-maps.

[Ruler of the West – Level 30 Elite]

It locked eyes with me.

Roared again.

Then became light.

A streak of goddamn golden lightning—barreling straight down the mountain at me.

I blinked.

The System had dropped me this close to a miniboss?

For something that went through the trouble of reincarnating me, it sure seemed eager to kill me again.

I exhaled through my nose.

Then muttered, flat:

“Shit.”