Chapter 20 - Stock and Steel

Perfect! Here is the improved Chapter 20 with your changes included:

Chapter 20 — Stock and Steel

Dawn broke in silence. Pale light filtered through frost-streaked windows, the fire long since turned to embers. Caleb sat cross-legged by the ashes, chewing on a strip of boiled boar meat. It was bland and stringy, but it kept him alive. That was enough.

He moved through his morning routine slowly—checking gear, arranging his supplies, sharpening the kukri until it sang faintly when swung. But as he leaned over the glowing interface to prepare for another day, something unexpected happened.

New System Functions Unlocked

Regional Chat – Enabled

Friends List – Enabled

Player Mortality Threshold Reached

A soft chime echoed in the air, and then—flood.

Dozens of notifications surged through his vision. Desperate voices filled the chat feed:

"Please, anyone—food. Just a scrap."

"I can't feel my fingers anymore."

"I have skills to trade. Don't let me die here."

Caleb stared at the screen, eyes unmoving. The Survivors Remaining counter at the corner of the interface was now 481,209 / 1,000,000. More than half were gone.

He closed the chat.

The pleas didn't move him—not because he was heartless, but because he knew. He'd begged once too. In this world, mercy was earned. And sometimes withheld. His mercy was reserved.

A trade notification popped up.

[Player: Orlaith] — Offering: Short Sword | Request: 400g Boar Meat

Message: "Please. I haven't eaten in days. This is all I have."

Caleb didn't hesitate. He accepted the trade.

Moments later, the short sword materialized in his inventory. It was basic but sturdy—single-edged, thick-spined, with a dull iron crossguard and a battered leather grip. A weapon used by someone who'd fought, not posed.

He unwrapped the blade and gave it a few light swings. It would do.

He listed another 100g of meat and quickly traded it for a small metal cooking pot, worn but functional. Another 100g went for a pair of thick leather shoes, patched crudely but far better than his frozen and cracked boots. No bartering. No questions.

The pot clanged gently as he set it down. His little home—this hut barely bigger than a storage shed—felt a touch more livable.

Later that evening, he sat down to check his full interface again. His new tab showed blank Friend Slots. The chat window was muted.

Status: Surviving

Territory Rank: Unranked

Survivors Remaining: 480,337

Hundreds more gone today.

He didn't light a fire tonight. Just sat there in silence, turning the sword in his hands, whetstone in his lap. The steel hissed as he sharpened it, again and again, like a mantra.

This world was merciless. But he could be worse. Or better. He didn't know yet.

What he did know was this: he wasn't done surviving.

End of the 20th chapter.