Grinding (IV).

Netherworld, First Floor,

A yellow-haired boy sat beneath the shadow of one of the many bone hills that spun across the desolate yellow expanse of sand.

His breath came in short rasps, and his yellow hair was wet with sweat; the body armour he had bought was singed and burnt, and around him lava pits had been created from the molten blood of the Nether Hounds he had just finished killing.

He retrieved a bag of potato chips from his inventory, and with trembling hands, he tore it open.

" Hissssssssssss. "The scent hit him like a divine uppercut.

Butter. Salt. Crisped perfection.

"Oh sweet merciful crunch gods…" Derek exhaled, eyes fluttering shut. "They smell like heaven dipped in deep-fried sin."

He took a single chip.

Golden and curved with light gleaming off its surface like it was forged by angels.

He bit into it.

"CRUNCH." Then, it hit him in waves.

First came the buttery salt, that addictive tang that danced across his tongue like a mischievous spark, salty, savory, and just enough to make his mouth water for more. Then came a creamy undertone, something subtle, like sour cream but gentler, smooth and cool against the blistering heat of his battle-scorched mouth.

For a moment, time paused.

His aches? Gone. His bruises? Irrelevant. His existential dread about being trapped in a demonic world ruled by nightmare dogs? Who cares?

All that mattered was the chip. He had decided to buy a lot of these high-quality potato chips, which he had never been able to afford before. 

"...Yeah," Derek whispered, chip dust clinging to his lips. "This is it. This is peak living."

He shoved a handful into his mouth with the zeal of a man reborn. Crumbs cascaded down his chin. Grease smudged his fingers. His legs were still shaking from the recent fight, but his soul was dancing.

He lay back against a scorched bone, staring at the sickly yellow sky as the chips crunched between his teeth. "Y'know, if this is what monster hunting pays… I might be okay with the apocalypse."

A notification dinged suddenly, disturbing the rare moment of peace and serenity.

[System Notification: Wow. All that effort. Near-death experience. Glorious victory. And this is the hill you choose to die on, snack appreciation?]

"...You're just jealous you can't eat," he muttered, reaching into the bag again.

It was like Derek had hit the nail on the head; the system did not respond and remained silent. Derek felt a vain sense of accomplishment, finally, he had been able to hit back at the system.

" Alright, let me see what new features have been unlocked."

Host: Derek Carter.

Title: Serial Dog Killer

[Remark: After killing a lot of slightly bigger dogs, you gained the title of Dog Killer. Your stats will be boosted by 15% whenever you are hunting dogs, a shame really, with all this power, you chose to become a canine hunter. Someone call 911, there is a dog killer on the loose.

Derek rolled his eyes at the system's shamelessness, what 'slightly bigger dogs', and 'what dog killer '; however, the effects of the title were quite good, as long as he was facing the Netherhounds, he would receive a 15% boost, he could not complain.

He continued to look down, below were his attributes, after all this levelling up, his stats were no longer pitiful as they looked at first. For starters, there weren't any single digits.

Attributes

Strength: 56

Agility: 54

Endurance: 55

Intelligence: 58

Perception: 53

Speed: 59

Available Attribute Points: 20

System Credits: 245

Lottery Draw ( F-rank ) : 3 Free Draws Available

Inventory ( F-rank ): Objects are not worth mentioning, a disgrace to the system.

System Shop: Now available, come and spend those hard-earned credits

Skills:

Appraisal:

See more details than your myopic eyes can see.

Adaptive Combat ( F-rank ):

Your body learns through pain, failure, and repetition—especially when you don't have time to think. Each time you're struck in battle, there's a small chance your muscles, instincts, and reflexes adapt to that specific type of attack.

Quickstep ( F-rank ):

A decent skill for running away from battles, suitable for a coward like you, don't you think?

System Evaluation: A trash host with a track record of bullying the weaker four-legged friends, apart from the assistance of the system, would have already been dead.

With every scroll downwards, Derek felt the system was getting more and more dirty and smug, the accomplishment of hitting back at the system did not feel so great anymore.

Derek scrolled further down, still munching.

The notification text blurred slightly with every bite, his other hand idly wiping crumbs onto his already half-burnt pants. With all the grace of a man reviewing his taxes while eating dessert, he casually opened the System Shop tab.

[SYSTEM SHOP UNLOCKED]

Are you broke? Do you dream of shiny weapons and overpriced potions? Spend wisely. Or stupidly. We really don't care.

The introduction alone was enough for Derek to know that this new feature was one of the system's elaborate traps. However, his curiosity was piqued. 

Featured Items( Items will change daily ):

Molten Ember Dagger (F+) – 200 Credits

"A blade forged in pocket lava. Not dishwasher safe."

A sleek, glowing dagger that looked like it had been dipped in hellfire and sold at a designer weapon boutique. Probably sharp enough to slice Netherhound hide, but for 200 credits? Derek squinted at it like it had personally offended him.

"Do I look like I need a glowing butter knife?" he muttered.

He scrolled down.

Elixir of Maybe Healing – 180 Credits

"A mysterious concoction that might heal you. Might not. Roll the dice."

A little glass vial with a swirling violet liquid and a question mark on the label. Literally. A question mark. No guarantees, no description of side effects, just vibes.

[Warning: Side effects may include dizziness, euphoria, temporary death, or uncontrollable dance impulses.]

Derek stared. "So I'm gambling with my life for… a potion that may or may not un-kill me?" He checked again. "One-eighty credits? For a shot of purple regret?"

Cluxor's Chicken Drumstick (One-Time Use) – 230 Credits

"Tastes like fried legend. Heals minor injuries and regenerates stamina. Only one bite allowed. Only one."

The image showed a golden brown drumstick on a silk pillow, glistening with heavenly grease. 

"...230 credits for a single bite?" Derek looked from the price to the picture to the price again. "Who the hell is Cluxor, man his fried chicken are too expensive. Is it fried in phoenix tears?!"

Still... his stomach did growl a little.

He glanced at his 245 credits.

"I could buy one of these overpriced scams… or," he tapped his chip bag with a solemn nod, "I could restock on more divine crunchy joy."

The system pinged again.

[Recommendation: Buy something useful, you edible-obsessed imbecile.]

[Alternate Recommendation: Eat another chip and transcend your mortal limits.]

"…okay, that second one was mine," Derek admitted, chip halfway to his mouth.

He exhaled, dusting his fingers. "Yeah. Still not buying your overpriced chicken nugget of destiny."

Instead, he navigated down to the Lottery Draws, because if the system was going to insult him no matter what, he might as well gamble with flair.

"C'mon, Daddy needs a new skill that doesn't call him a coward…" he whispered, finger hovering over the draw button.

With one last glance at the swirling chicken drumstick, he hit Draw.

Author's Note: I was preparing for my exam, but when I saw your golden tickets, I decided to pause and post a chapter or two. Thanks DaoistbCRiAw for your motivation.