The blade in Jude's hand dripped crimson.
Its jagged edge, notched from repeated collisions with bone and rusted steel, looked more like a butcher's tool than a weapon now.
He held it steady, breath flowing in slow, deliberate pulls—measured, precise.
Like he'd done this before.
Like muscle memory had guided the strike.
But he hadn't.
Not in this life.
At his feet, the goblin twitched once—a reflexive spasm—before going still.
The puddle of blood beneath it expanded in jagged ripples, catching the pulsing red light of the emergency panels above.
The stench of iron and wet cloth filled the air, mingling with the acrid scent of fear.
A notification blinked faintly in his mind's eye:
[Goblin Slain! You have been awarded 100 Shard Stones][You have been awarded 10 Experience Points]
He didn't look away.
Instead, he scanned the chaos, short blade still gripped tight in both hands.
The kill had brought his total up to 200 shard stones and 20 XP.
Just eight more kills to level up.
And then, the rabbit's words echoed in his skull:
"One hundred shard stones equals one stat point."
At the time, Jude hadn't understood. Not really.
But he did now.
Every shard was a rung.
Every kill, a step higher on a ladder dangling over hell.
He tightened his jaw.
"System," he said, voice low and even, "convert 200 shard stones into 2 stat points. Allocate both to Strength."
A hum reverberated through his bones—subtle, electric, like a pulse beneath the skin.
A presence brushing up against the limits of his body… and pushing.
His limbs responded instantly.
Muscles coiled tighter. Joints aligned. Balance adjusted.
There was no monstrous bulge or grotesque transformation—just refinement.
Sharpening.
Like tuning a weapon that had always been slightly off.
His grip on the blade felt cleaner. Surer.
It wasn't much.
But it mattered.
All around, the supermarket was devolving into its own brand of war.
Screams echoed off shattered tiles.
A man tackled a goblin with a stool, slamming it into the side of an overturned cart.
Nearby, a shelf came crashing down, pinning another creature beneath it as a woman drove a broken umbrella into its skull again and again.
The panic was beginning to splinter.
The paralysis of fear had cracked.
People were realizing they had a choice:
Fight or die screaming.
Jude raised his blade again.
Then—
A scream ripped through the air.
Sharp. Female. Close.
He turned instantly.
Two goblins had cornered a woman near the drink aisle. One already had its blade buried in her thigh. The other jabbed ruthlessly at her abdomen, slicing through denim and skin as she shrieked.
Her arms flailed in helpless defense.
Her eyes were wide, mouth gasping for air.
Jude didn't think.
He sprinted.
Boots slapped hard against the blood-slick tile. The goblins turned toward the sound, one hissing as it lunged.
The blade came first, a crude arc through the air.
Jude sidestepped, caught the goblin's wrist mid-swing, and twisted. Momentum turned against the creature as he drove it down, slamming it shoulder-first into the floor with a crack like splintered firewood.
It screamed—shrill, ragged.
He silenced it with a clean thrust through the neck.
[Goblin Slain! You have been awarded 100 Shard Stones][You have been awarded 10 Experience Points]
Blood splattered up his forearm.
He blinked through it and twisted to face the second goblin.
But he was too slow.
The second was already on him, and its blade grazed his ribs—a sharp line of fire tearing open his shirt and skin.
He grunted, pain flaring like a hot iron. But there was no time to recoil. He brought his elbow up into the goblin's jaw, forcing it backward into a rack of potato chips. Bags exploded everywhere, raining snacks like confetti.
Jude didn't wait.
He lunged.
The blade pierced through its ribcage, grinding into bone.
The goblin spasmed, hissed, then gurgled as its lungs filled.
[Goblin Slain! You have been awarded 100 Shard Stones][You have been awarded 10 Experience Points]
He yanked the blade free, then hissed and clutched his side. The cut wasn't deep, but it stung like hell. His fingers came away red.
For a second, he considered spending on Constitution. Just enough to dull the pain.
But no. He needed strength. More force. More kills.
"System," he said through clenched teeth, "convert 200 shard stones into 2 Strength points."
The hum returned—deeper this time.
Resonant. Heavy. Like something ancient waking inside his bones.
His body tensed.
Sinew grew denser.
His stance adjusted on its own. The short blade no longer carried any weight—it felt like an extension of his will.
With breath steady and mind focused, he rose to his full height.
Something in him had shifted.
Two goblins loomed ahead, stabbing at a man curled on the floor near the dairy section. Jude took off in a blur—feet light, vision clear.
One of them looked up, and the blade came down like judgment.
[Goblin Slain! You have been awarded 100 Shard Stones][You have been awarded 10 Experience Points]
The second turned to run.
Jude caught it by the neck mid-flee and slammed its head into the tile. Bone cracked. It shrieked.
He ended it with a single thrust.
[Goblin Slain! You have been awarded 100 Shard Stones][You have been awarded 10 Experience Points]
That brought his total to five kills now.
And the more he killed, the easier it got.
Around him, others had found their rhythm.
Michael—shirt torn, blood-soaked—drove a makeshift spear through a goblin and pinned it to a shattered freezer. Glass exploded, gore painting the meat section.
A woman jabbed a sharpened broomstick at another goblin, protecting a trembling boy. Someone else torched a creature's face with a can of bug spray and a lighter, screaming as the fire hissed across skin.
Fear was turning into fire.
And that made the goblins hesitate.
The tide had turned.
One was ripped apart by three civilians wielding broken signage and fury.
Another tried to run.
Michael skewered it through the back.
Shrieking. Silence.
Then, only one remained.
A lone goblin.
Back pressed against a toppled display stand. Eyes wide. Breathing erratic. Bloodied from its kin's massacre.
It shrieked and ran.
Jude moved.
No hesitation.
No noise.
He slipped through wreckage and ruin, closing the distance down the snack aisle like a phantom with a purpose.
The goblin turned to fight.
A desperate flurry of wild slashes—none clean.
Jude parried once. Then ducked.
But it bit him.
Hard.
Its rotten teeth sank into his forearm, drawing blood, dragging a howl from his throat.
He snarled and drove his knee into its gut.
It reeled back, coughing, gagging.
Jude tore his arm free and struck—first a disarming feint, then a brutal twist. The goblin's shoulder dislocated with a pop. Its blade clattered to the ground.
It landed on its back, screeching in pain.
Jude raised his blade.
His eyes were on fire.
He stepped forward, blade gleaming, ready to finish it.
But then—
"Wait!"
A shout sliced through the haze.
Jude stopped.
He didn't lower his blade. Just turned.
Michael stood at the edge of the aisle, bloodied but breathing, a flicker of something human still alive in his gaze.
Jude's brows furrowed.
"Why?"
Michael stepped closer, cautiously.
"It's not fair to monopolize all the shard stones," he said. "Others need a chance, too. To grow."