Beacon

Two hours and several rounds later, Sunny found himself caught up in the bizarre camaraderie of the cleanup crews. These people faced death daily for scraps from the Player economy. They had no special powers, no divine patrons, just their wits and whatever weapons the company provided.

And yet, they laughed. They told stories. They lived.

"You know what," Garrett slurred, pointing an unsteady finger at Sunny, "I like you, kid. You got balls. Killing that rat like that."

"Thanks," he replied, feeling pleasantly warm but nowhere near as drunk as the others, thanks to his new skill.

"No, no, you don't get it," Garrett insisted. "That was impressive. Most trainees die first day. You killed instead."

"Garrett thinks you might be Player material," Jackson explained, his words more controlled. "Hiding your time with us bottom-feeders."

Sunny tensed. "I'm not—"

"Relax," Miller cut in. "We don't care what you are. You did the job. You saved Cooper's stupid ass when he missed all his shots."

"Hey!" Cooper protested, nearly falling out of his chair.

They all laughed, and after a moment, Sunny joined in.

[UNIQUE SKILL PROGRESS: 8%]

"Come on," Jackson said eventually, checking the time. "Let's get you set up somewhere better than that flophouse you mentioned."

"I can't afford—" Sunny began.

"My cousin runs a hotel," Jackson interrupted. "Nothing fancy, but clean sheets and hot water. I'll call in a favor, get you the employee rate."

Sunny hesitated, then nodded. "Thanks."

They paid their tab—considerably higher than Sunny had expected—and stumbled out into the night air. The others dispersed in various directions, shouting goodbyes and reminders about tomorrow's shift.

Jackson guided Sunny through several winding streets until they reached a modest building with a flickering "VACANCY" sign.

"Hotel Impel," Jackson announced with a grin. "Don't let the name fool you."

Inside, Jackson exchanged words with a sleepy-looking man at the front desk, slipped him some credits, and returned with a key.

"Room 307," he said, handing it to Sunny. "Paid for a week. Consider it your welcome gift."

"I can't—"

"You can and you will," Jackson said firmly. "When I started, someone did the same for me. That's how it works."

Sunny felt something tighten in his chest. "Thanks," he managed.

"See you tomorrow, 6 AM," Jackson called over his shoulder as he left. "Don't be late!"

Alone in the elevator, Sunny leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

[SYSTEM: WOULD YOU LIKE TO VIEW YOUR UPDATED STATUS?] 

[YES]/[NO]

He tapped YES.

[NAME: SUNNY NIMBRIL] 

[CLASS: FALLEN] 

[LEVEL: 2] 

[HP: 110/110] 

[MP: 310/310]

[STRENGTH: 6] 

[AGILITY: 8 (+2 TEMPORARY)]

[INTELLIGENCE: 11] 

[WISDOM: 9]

[STAMINA: 8]

[GOLD: 0] 

[CREDITS: 56,450]

[UNIQUE SKILL: VOID ABSORPTION (8% UNLOCKED)] 

[ACTIVE SKILLS: NONE] 

[PASSIVE SKILLS: PAIN TOLERANCE LVL.2, ENDURANCE LVL.1, TOXIC RESISTANCE LVL.1]

Progress. Slow, but real.

The elevator doors opened, and he made his way to room 307. Inside was nothing special—a bed, a small bathroom, a dresser. But compared to the hostel, it was luxury.

He collapsed onto the bed without bothering to undress. His muscles ached from the day's exertion, but it was a good ache—the kind that meant he was getting stronger.

As he drifted toward sleep, his shadow stretched across the wall, darker and more solid than it should have been. It seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat.

Just before consciousness faded, he thought he heard a whisper:

"̸F̸e̸e̸d̸ ̸m̸e̸ ̸m̸o̸r̸e̸.̸"̸

But sleep claimed him before he could process the words.

One Week Later

Sunny ducked as a glob of corrosive slime flew over his head, sizzling as it hit the dungeon wall behind him.

"Third quadrant clear!" he shouted into his radio, the device now permanently affixed to his jumpsuit collar. No longer marked "TRAINEE," his gear had been personalized with black tape around the joints—Gamma team's unofficial signature.

"Copy that," Miller's voice crackled back. "Finish the sweep and get back to disposal."

Seven days. Five dungeons. Two hundred and ten thousand credits.

And six more dead cleanup workers.

None from Gamma team, though. They'd become something of a legend at SEM—the team with the rookie who killed monsters instead of running from them.

[DUNGEON SWEEP COMPLETED] 

[EXPERIENCE GAINED: 25]

[PAIN TOLERANCE SKILL EXPERIENCE: +10] 

[STAMINA: 9/12]

He wiped sweat from his brow and checked his surroundings once more. The Level 4 dungeon—codenamed "Acid Pits"—lived up to its name. Pools of bubbling green liquid dotted the stone floor, each emitting noxious fumes that would have overwhelmed him if not for his Toxic Resistance skill.

His shadow rippled across the dungeon floor, stretching toward a slime corpse nearby—if you could call the puddle of goo a corpse.

"I see you," he muttered under his breath. His shadow had become increasingly active over the past week, especially around monster remains.

With a quick glance to confirm he was alone, Sunny knelt beside the slime remnants. His shadow extended, darker than the surrounding darkness, and touched the edge of the puddle.

The effect was immediate. The slime seemed to liquify further, then flow—not spreading outward, but directly into Sunny's shadow. Within seconds, nothing remained.

[UNIQUE SKILL: VOID ABSORPTION - 27% UNLOCKED] 

[ABSORBING MONSTER ESSENCE...] 

[TOXIC RESISTANCE SKILL INCREASED TO LEVEL 3] 

[NEW PASSIVE SKILL ACQUIRED: ACID IMMUNITY LVL.1]

"Handy trick," he whispered, watching as the status messages faded from his vision.

"Talking to yourself again?" Jackson's voice came from behind him.

Sunny spun around, heart racing. How long has Jackson been there? How much did he see?

"Just counting corpses," he replied smoothly, gesturing around the chamber. "Slimes are tricky. Sometimes they split into smaller ones."

Jackson's eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. "Walsh says to wrap it up. Alpha found the source of the slime infestation—some kind of egg sac. They're burning it now."

"Roger that." Sunny fell into step beside the older man as they headed toward the dungeon exit.

"So," Jackson began casually, "one week in. Still desperate?"

Sunny glanced at him. "Still need about eight hundred thousand credits, so yeah."

"For what exactly? You never said."

"Player registration."

Jackson stopped walking. "You're serious."

"Dead serious."

"Kid, no offense, but you failed the testing, right? Otherwise, you wouldn't be here with us bottom-feeders."

Sunny shrugged. "Things change."

As if on cue, his shadow rippled unnaturally around his feet. Jackson's eyes followed the movement, his expression unreadable.

"Yes," he said finally, "I suppose they do."

They continued in silence until they reached the disposal area outside. The rest of Gamma team was already loading the last of the waste containers onto the transport.

"There he is—our lucky charm!" Cooper called out, waving Sunny over. The burn-scarred man had become surprisingly friendly over the past week, often insisting Sunny join the team for drinks after shifts.

"Any trouble?" Miller asked, her gray hair now pulled back in a tight bun beneath her helmet.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Sunny replied, helping secure the final container.

"Of course not," Cooper laughed. "Our boy's a natural monster killer!"

Walsh approached, datapad in hand. "Good work today, teams. Standard pay, hazard bonus for Alpha team due to the egg sac discovery." He glanced at his screen. "Sunny, you're requested for a special assignment tomorrow. Report to Admin at 0500 instead of the locker room."

He frowned. "Special assignment?"

"That's all I know," Walsh said with a shrug. "Probably noticed your kill count is abnormally high for a newbie."

As Walsh walked away, the rest of Gamma team exchanged concerned glances.

"Special assignments are never good," Miller muttered.

"Could be a promotion," Cooper suggested. "Kid's got skills."

"Or management finally realized he's not normal," Jackson said quietly, his eyes fixed on Sunny.

The ride back to SEM headquarters was tense. Gamma team spoke in hushed tones while Sunny pretended not to notice their concerned glances.

When they arrived, Miller pulled him aside while the others headed to the showers.

"Listen," she said, her voice low, "whatever this special assignment is, be careful. SEM isn't just a cleanup company. They have connections."

"Connections to what?"

"To people who would be very interested in someone with your... aptitude."

Before Sunny could ask for clarification, she pressed something into his hand—a small metal disk with a button in the center.

"Emergency beacon," she explained. "If things go sideways tomorrow, press this. Gamma will come."

Sunny stared at the device. "Why would you—"

"Because that's what teams do," she cut him off. "Even dysfunctional ones like ours."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Sunny holding the beacon and feeling strangely moved.