Night flipped, day succeeded, and Viscus's agony repeated. Sand darted around his tattered clothes and prone body, the dark smog behind him inducing a new bout of nausea. He grimaced while shakily getting on all four, one hand clutching his stitching abdomen from one nasty blow from the hare Grimm.

Too numerous, he quickly came to realize, too deadly. As if he had crossed a boundary, beasts surged from all across the desert just to hunt him down, and he welcomed them with open arms, and retreating legs. One Grimm was barely doable, two was too much, but three?

He didn't need to wait for the quaking ground to spring off to the side, sand exploding in the air as a shadow grew over him. A tower of black, white, and red stared him in the eye, its height of no less than five meters. Clacking of bones was all he heard before its head snaked forward, intent on swallowing him whole while pulverizing his flesh in the midst of its void.

The blond needed no further prompting to dash away from the rocketing worm, or as the System had labeled it, [Blind Worm (Grimm) Lv15]. White with red sigils painted over the body of the worm, its segments interlocking to form an armor over its dark flesh. Its head discarded the bone in favor of size and spikes, ending in mandibles pointing at each other like a supersized claw. He dared not stare into the depth of its maw, yet running away was no option, not against Grimm, and especially not this monster. It had been chasing him for almost an hour, and Jackalopes made sure to join the fray and entertain him while it bided its time until he came within some undetermined range. The horizon would be empty, yet they would spring from the middle of nowhere. How was he supposed to react when-

The mandibles brushed against his clothes, tearing away what little remained to expose his entire torso to the sun. He growled before surging forward, a knife materializing in his hand surrounded by blue.

Too often did his weapons break facing Grimm, their flesh and armor too durable for anything not him or Mana, so the solution was to augment them. He had nothing to pierce the bone, but the head was exposed, the monster still reeling in from the missing hit. An overhead stab came over the creature, the tip of the knife scratching a mandible before sinking toward its root, but not too far and not fast enough. Just the glancing hit had the creature roar and back away, yanking the knife and his body away.

The Gamer was too slow to let go, and the fact that he did too late made the situation worse. Air surrounded his body on all sides, his hand knifeless and the sun scorching him as he flew closer. Then gravity took its hold, his heart sinking along with his body. Aura flickered just two meters away from ground, giving him just the chance to tuck into a roll and slam into the sand with the grace of a cannon ball - meaning he didn't roll in the slightest.

His Aura, just at 10%, tanked the blow and fell back to 6. He unfurled and slipped away from an incoming attack from the back, the Grimm giving no chance to recover. Mana was not by his side, already drained from nonstop combat and forcing him to ration it as much as he could.

Dust splashed on him as the Grimm sunk into the ground, slipping out of view but never out of mind. This wasn't the first rodeo, but he knew it would give him the chance to recover for just a minute more. Breaths shook as he fell to his knees, then he forced his legs back up. It was waiting for another opportunity, and to relax meant certain death.

His right arm pulsed at the shoulder.

A minute later, so did the ground.

He hopped away and watched as the Blind Worm rose, but he had a new idea. Gritting his teeth, he lunged at the armor with glowing hands, his fingers sinking into the plates with a crack, just enough for him to gain a grip. Seemingly confused, the worm wriggled to disentangle him from its body, but he just dug deeper and climbed faster. Too soon did it angle its head back to the ground, but he was already at the neck with a gun in his grip. The bullets dug into the hide, ichor splashing over his face and into his eyes, but that just made him pull the trigger faster.

Air rushed and he pushed himself off the armor as it slunk back into the deep sand, one more round to him. "It.. must be dead soon."

It had to, or he was the one dying. [Combat Discipline] triggered and his resources began regenerating. Thankfully, his choice in upgrading the skill allowed him to stay alert, but five minutes passed without another attack, which either meant the Grimm was dead, gone, or preparing for yet another attack. However, it couldn't be dead - there was no EXP notification.

A pulse of his [Radar] showed nothing, but that was just easily a false negative. The skill had a range, and the worm cared not for such limitations. It would come soon, as it did before, and he just needed to be prepared. But if it was going to wait so long, then he may as well continue on to his destination.

Another pulse detected nothing.

His hammering heart remained steadfast.

-CEM-

A brief respite came in the form of an outpost in the middle of nowhere, not even marked on the map. It was run down and barely standing, but Viscus knew very well that just another minute in the oven and he would have turned into charcoal.

The outpost was formed of four buildings surrounded by a wall torn down from a disaster or two. Antennas and a radio tower - or was it mini-CCT tower? - showed severe signs of disrepair, their metal warped and their function no doubt eluding them in their current state, though that was of no issue for him: he wasn't using any scrolls any time soon, after all.

As he hopped through a wedge in the wall, he couldn't help but blink as he realized he was finally standing on a patch of asphalt. One of the buildings shaded him from the sun as he marveled the steadiness in his stance, and he swore to never take paved ground for granted. Trudging through sand with nothing but him and his grit was nothing but tedious, tiresome, and outright dangerous.

The minimap, curiously enough, hadn't given him a hint of the presence of this place. Having merged the map of Vacuo with the System, he used it to guide himself away from the city but not too deep within the desert that he was a lost cause. As he explored the small outpost, he couldn't help but gulp as he saw one of the buildings' exposed foundations, an entire chunk of its body demolished by something, or someone. There was always the possibility that a Vacuoan did this, after all, but there yet were signs that Grimm had a hand in the situation.

Massive holes the size of his head were darted around the walls of every building, sometimes outright piercing through and creating a circular window. He gulped, "Do they really have bullets that big?"

The Gamer shivered, then continued exploring the location. He avoided the torn building, its stability coming into question with each glance, which left him with the remaining three. There was a three storey building furthest to him, where the collapsed CCT tower clung to its base by sheer stubbornness, while closest to him were two two-storey buildings that seemed more like storehouses with metal shutters. The two buildings were facing each other with one of them hosting a half-open shutter, and that was the one Viscus elected to explore first. The other was shut on all sides and the most untouched by the destruction, but he wasn't interested in breaking in by force - he was too exhausted.

Coughing, he flickered on his [Night Vision] and waded through the dust, the room, now designated garage, empty save for open lockers and crates that had clearly been looted. Even the lightbulbs were not spared, so there went any opportunity for external light. Not that there was any way to get electricity, but he could only hope.

"Yeah, hope," he scoffed.

With no locked doors, he went forward till he was finally on the second floor, sunlight partially illuminating the sheer nothingness that was present in the floor. The windows were, predictably, cracked if not torn open, but there was a chair for him to sit, dusty as it was, so that was the most mercy he would get for now.

Except, the instant he put his weight over the pile of wood, it collapsed with him on it like a house of cards, its backrest digging into his spine. The blond simply rolled away, mopping up dust, until he was on even ground, which was more than enough for his simple desire to rest. His whole body ached, and there was no way for him to rest in the middle of the sand.

He had no tent nor experience with such a situation, nor did he have a vehicle to travel with. Whereas he was shielded by the car on his first day as he navigated the dry land, this time he was exposed to the elements in their full fury. He could no longer forget the feeling of sand whipping into his eyes, and each lift of the foot draining energy as he sank by just standing.

Try as he might, he couldn't feel angry against himself. He wanted to escape the city, and he did.

But just this on-foot journey had half his mind threatening him with bloody murder if he didn't turn about and return back to the city. On the precipice of the first night, it screamed the loudest.

Now, it was silent, dormant. He was too far to comfortably go back to the city, his body aching and his brain creaking. Yet, the Gamer knew what was going to happen exactly after twenty minutes of safety and rest. That was all the System needed, after all, to tell him that he was finally back to normal, and he knew that the feeling would be both refreshing and jarring than any other before.

He couldn't even force himself up anymore, his muscles begging him for mercy.

His chest heaved up and down, a hand laying on top as he ignored the latent staleness of the room. Was this the correct choice? To leave-

"Yes, yes it was," he croaked, his throat dry. "N-now, shut up."

Simple equation, simple solution. Viscus + Vacuo = Death. Or, at the very least, current Viscus. He was weak, that much was for certain. Too weak to live how he wanted, too weak to fight against Grimm, too weak to complete his objective..

"Too weak to stop them from coming after me."

He could only beat up common rabble, thugs with levels in the single digits. Raise that to the tens, he would struggle. Twenties? He dared not. Forties?

The Dust Lady showed him how much of an ant he was. A little funny guy kept in the basement for her own desires. He knew what would happen if he accepted. What would happen if he didn't and remained at large. And that was because he was weak. He didn't want to be helpless, to constantly and endlessly watch as he spiraled into someone's grasp, or an early grave.

So he fought thugs. Bloodied his hands, ate lead like it was his dinner every night. Killed and murdered in cold blood Vacuoans who hadn't even known of him nor interacted with him. There were times in his hunts where he would spot gangsters and he would instigate them. Not always, and not usually. Rare, but he knew what he was doing, and why. They'd be observing him, watching him waltz in their territory like a wild animal, yet they wouldn't act. Vacuoans weren't dumb, they knew that for every four idiots that crossed the street, one would be strong enough to crush them beneath their heels.

Huntsmen were proof of that.

Huntsmen dressed in their iconic clothes, their bare muscles and noisy weaponry exposed, but not all were so inconspicuous. He had learned to observe more as he walked, to interact with the System, and he understood that there were too many people with Aura and thrice his level or more walking around like the general populace, carrying groceries and untold power just the same.

It scared him. He could feel his exhausted body shudder, his veins turning to ice as he imagined a scenario where he would walk around town, then suddenly find himself killed, or worse, captured by people who wore t-shirts and sandals, with no weapon in sight. Tiye was a prime example, and he had no way to manage that. The Ghost of Walkerway drew the ire of many, and no doubt they would connect the dots. The junkyard gang, the Screwdrivers, already did, so why wouldn't the gang leader with chains not do the same?

Why wouldn't the looming academy do the same?

"Oh my f-... Shut up! Shut up!" he banged his occiput on the ground repeatedly, blasting dust everywhere and into his nostrils. The Gamer coughed and sneezed, but there was no lingering pain, Aura having already taken care of the damage, and his initial skills dealing with the rest.

He raised one hand above him, sunlight shining on his palm from a window. Slowly, its surface, yellowish and grungy, began regaining its color, a wetness surrounding it as the dust was removed and instead fell with the droplets on his shirt.

His semblance, [Liquid], was what he was supposed to use to even the odds. He was supposed to splash pocket water on someone to kill them or something. He could spit faster than the semblance would form the liquid, and it would be twice as effective. He ground his teeth, staring angrily as his Aura drained, and all he got for his trouble was a hand wash. Another droplet fell over his heaving chest, another droplet to sour his mood.

"Imagine if you were, I don't know, lightning! Shock them!" he grumbled at his hand. "Or air. Or earth manipulation. Just, what am I supposed to do with water!? Powerwash them!?"

Another droplet fell, then he flicked his fingers away while gnashing his teeth. 'Burn for all I care.'

Then he heard a sizzle.

He froze while retracting his hand, then glanced at the source with glowing blue eyes. He flicked once more, seeing the liquid fly before touching ground, a bubbling and sizzling following.

The Gamer gulped, then sat up. After he directed more Aura toward his wet hand, he slowly planted it. He heard more than saw the result, then he pulled away his limb.

"W-what..?"

Like a caveman, he had just painted his fingers on the ground, immortalizing the moment he truly understood the scale of his Semblance-

By melting through the floor.

-CEM-

He hadn't planned on staying in the building till next dawn, but he did anyway. The discovery of the fact that his Semblance wasn't merely a means to materialize water, but to materialize any liquids he could bring to his mind, was mind blowing and kept him experimenting till his Aura was exhausted. He had gotten used to the sound of breaking Aura that night, and the giddiness that came over him as he felt it pool toward his hand, or any part of his body that he chose to use as a conduit.

It rose from level 0 to level 2 that night, and his palm was imprinted over multiple surfaces. Not just that - he held back a smile as he waded through the sand - the ability to melt surfaces like an acid wasn't the limit. He had slid over the ground like gliding on soap and slammed into the wall too many times to count, but it was worth it.

The weather made it its mission to harass him out of his improved mood, however. The air was orange and he couldn't see farther than a few meters. The System scoffed at the feeble weather's attempts at blinding him to his destination, the minimap caring naught and showing him his way to a village with an X drawn over it. It wasn't that he had drawn that, but the map had proved that the settlements with circles drawn over them were most likely still alive, while those with X were abandoned or destroyed. The benefit of this specific village was that it was far enough from Vacuo that he wouldn't fear his mind somehow convincing him to go back there at the slightest inconvenience, and at the same time it was relatively close to another village at an estimated distance of 12 hours of his running speed.

For all his desire to hole up somewhere with just him and Grimm to farm till he reached unmatched levels of power, his supplies of food and drink weren't exactly enough to last him to infinity, nor had he prepared for such an excursion by buying out a market's inventory. The blond was determined to correct that, but elected to focus on the task at hand.

He was just a few minutes away from the village, the minimap supplied. His steps hastened, but he couldn't help but flinch as he saw something pass by his feet. From a glance, he noted it was a scorpion colored in dirty yellow, and it was scuttling in a straight line in the same direction he was heading. Soon enough, it disappeared into the sandstorm. He blinked, his Mana layered over his eyes like a makeshift goggle. Had this been him back home, he would either have had complete preparation, or not been in the desert in the first place.

With a minute more of fighting against the weather, he couldn't help but try to imagine the state of the village he was approaching. From his current experience, he began understanding why settlements could, and would, so easily be taken down by Grimm. The horde was relentless, and the power of even the most juvenile of Grimm was enough to toy with a number of non-empowered humans. Had he not had the System, his first encounter with the Jackalope would have ended differently.

His right arm itched at the shoulder.

"Differently.." he whispered.

So, more likely than not, this village was overrun by creatures of the dark, but why? What would lead a gathering of Vacuoans to settle in the middle of nowhere (though the map indicated that there might be a source of water nearby) and not in Vacuo proper? The city was expanding day by day, and, even with the lack of policing and security, he hadn't spotted or heard of a single Grimm attack on it for his entire stay there. It had even taken him hours of walking just to encounter a single creature.

Suddenly, he felt his feet land on a hard piece of land - a paved road. What startled him as he shut his eyes briefly was his Aura sparking, a pressure on the side of his shoe. Unconsciously, he had hopped back and away from the source of damage, confusion drawn over his face. His gaze landed on the most probable cause, a scorpion with appearance much like the one that had run ahead.

He had no clue what scorpion behavior was like, but he was especially more confused when it rushed at him, the palm-sized creature intent on just.. Stabbing him.

Clicking his tongue at the scare, he stomped, a crunch echoing from beneath his feet before he kicked away the carcass. Truthfully, he had only felt rather than heard the chitin break, the sandy wind ensuring his deafness. At the bare minimum, the System provided him with a [+1 XP] for his troubles.

When he took a few more steps forward, the blond tripped as one foot sunk into what he assumed to be a pothole in the middle of the road filled with sand. Classic Vacuo, he mumbled to himself.

Finally, he saw a flat surface rise ahead of him. Soon enough, he was able to determine that it was a wall, the realization of which made him hasten his steps with the desire to escape the battering winds. He had his fill of sand just one minute into his journey, after all.

Making his way toward the gate, he noted how only half of it was patent, and quickly concluded why once he was close. The village appeared to have been larger than he expected, the entrance ornate with glyphs and murals drawn over its arch. Unfortunately, nearly the entire gate was reduced to rubble, but someone, probably bandits, looters, or the like, had mopped up the rubble to give easier access.

As soon as he stepped through, he saw the sand height lessen considerably, most of it piled up by the entrance. First order of action was to find an intact building with secure windows for his rest. He'd rather wait out the storm than continue wading through it. Huffing, he turned right toward the closest shelter, but, as per usual, it was a facsimile of one, its supports having failed it with a big part of the building, or hovel more accurately, just exposed brick and steel.

Moving onward, he glanced to his left, then paused. Like a candle floating in the air, a light waved in front of him. Viscus blinked, the sight strange and seemingly magical - there was no reason for lights to be turned on in such an abandoned settlement, nor was there any realistic reason for a candlelight to be at knee-height. Slowly, he approached, but the winds intensified and forced him to move faster lest he be drowned in the sand.

The light was bright yellow, breaking through the sandy veil and growing brighter as he inched closer. It was steady in spite of the heavy wind. Steadier than his stance, at least.

Once he was within arm's length, he noted how the light was like a bulb connected to a shaft of interlocking segments; the top of it didn't end in a smooth manner, but instead sculpted into a sharp, pointy end.

Curiosity got the better of the Gamer, and he leaned forward, one hand trying to stroke the strange light, then it moved. He blinked, and the tip was pointed at him. The next blink, the tip was scraping against his Aura, the force of it shoving him back a handful of steps, tripping him over a pothole.

Immediately, his heartbeat quickened and he scampered back onto his feet as the light moved. He shifted to the right, away from a stab, and finally saw what was attacking him.

[Deathstalker (Grimm) Lv. 5

HP: 200]

He glared as it did back, its gleaming red eyes and glowing sigils over dirty yellow armor startling him. He hurriedly dodged once it tried jabbing at him again, but failed to react when its pincers sprung at his calf, failing to chop through his Aura but giving him the kick to jump face first into combat.

When he growled, it screeched. The monster's tail extended up to his hips, the waving bulb as large as his fist. Being hit by that drained a considerable amount of Aura for the level and size of the creature, but he would ensure that wouldn't happen again.

The tail zoomed at his thigh, but once it missed, he grabbed it from the shaft. The monster tried to retract, and when it failed it snipped at him. With a feral grin, he pumped Mana into his legs and stomped over its head, the blow momentarily breaking through the wind's deafening noise as did the monster's body through the road.

When its armored shell held strong, he stomped once again, keeping hold on its tail to prevent any accidents. His method was crude, he knew, but seeing it squirm and struggle gave him a feeling of satisfaction. Each stomp cracked its shell. Each stomp disoriented its, from what he recalled, soft innards from behind the armor. Each stomp made it fight against his grasp less and less.

Finally, the shell gave, and he felt the tail lose its coherence in his hand, allowing him to let go and grab the loot. It was a part of its armor, useful if he was able to craft with it.

He stared coldly at the hole he had made with the monster, then moved toward the building that was behind it while slightly huffing. He would, at least, expect it to be hiding an intact building, but he was immediately greeted with a broken down entrance, and he was in no mood for rubble clearing.

Clicking his tongue, the blond kept one hand on the wall and followed the direction of the street. For minutes, he roamed, his pace slower than he would have liked, but a surprise stab was not what he wanted. "C'mon, just one good place.."

Grinding his teeth after one more failed inspection, he turned away from the hollowed building to cross the street-

Only to find two glowing lights.

They didn't stand still, however, and neither did he. Rather than wait, he took the initiative and approached them with [Night Vision] activated, the drain on his resources justified by the poor weather condition. Blue glowing gaze met iridescent yellow stingers, and a venomous glob to the face.

"Wha-"

His Aura hissed as his approach turned into a retreat. Without warning, he felt his knee rattle as something smashed into it in his blindness, toppling him to the side directly into a tag team jab worthy to the face. He felt the tip scrape against his Aura, burning directly over his eye.

In a fit of desperation, he channeled Mana to his arms and swatted around, one hand kept to clean off the offending, and corrosive, substance slathered over his face. The Grimm screeched, forcing him to focus on his ears to face the source of the sound, but that proved to be a mistake when his back acted as an obvious target, one that the second scorpion, he had too quickly come to realize, snapped at without hesitation.

Seething and tripping forward, the blond used the brief opportunity to spin around while falling to chuck a [Mana Bomb]. The XP notification proved his strategy worthy, he noted as his back struck the ground, and his vision partially cleared.

Cleared enough to spot the incoming stinger aiming for his head.

He yelped and rolled to the side, the stinger breaking through the asphalt and forming a circular hole where his head once was. Venom seeped out of the tip as it slowly lifted its appendage, its red eyes staring at him with pure disgust and hatred. He scrambled to his feet and dashed forward, facing a new glob of venom flying at him.

He slid against the ground as he made a sharp turn, avoiding the ranged attack before redirecting himself at the screeching monster. Its gigantic pincers snipped and snapped at him like bullet punches.

"Sit. Down!"

A metal ring echoed when a strike hit a [Mana Shield], the recoil rattling the creature enough for the Gamer to counter with a Mana-suffused fist to the eye. A universal weakness of all Grimm armor was that the holes in the masks and darkened husks were the most vulnerable, and that proved especially true in Deathstalkers. Their armor might be too strong for a blow to crush or pierce through - unless it was aimed at the exposed soft spot.

His hand sunk into the darkness within where the eye one sat, the armor around the hole crumbling. Swiftly, he pulled out his hand and dodged the retaliating tail, instead making to grasp it and suplex the dying creature, its underside now exposed.

One stomp was all he needed to finish it off, ending the fight with yet another kill confirmation by the System. He huffed as the loot materialized, a gulp and a rub to the face making him realize that a large portion of his head was still covered in the corrosive goop.

His semblance made itself useful in this situation, allowing him to wash off the acid only to instead enjoy sand crystalizing on the wet spots. He groaned, but watched carefully in fear of another incursion of Grimm. A part of him suggested he leave the town - the potential scenario of this place being infested making it an unlikely safehouse.

Yet, the other half of his mind won out: "Grimm are XP."

He was seeking out a place to both hide out and kill Grimm, and until he grew stronger, any encounter would keep him at risk. Plus, if Vacuoans knew this place was infested, "..Then no one will bother me," he grinned.

That sold it, he thought to himself.

With more pep to his step, the Gamer eyed his surroundings, the temptation to ping [Radar] touching him with every pass by a crumbling building, the circular holes in both them and the road giving him a realization that the holes were only ever growing bigger as he stepped closer to the center of the village.

The center, however, wasn't his target. He just needed a building that was decently held up and far enough from the entrance. Not hard, he imagined.

"Why are they all just broken down, then!?" he hissed, then heard one echo behind him.

His instincts screamed at him to dodge, so his body did before his mind could process the order. A whiz passed by where his head just was, the appendage halfway stuck through the concrete. He gulped at the size of the tail and the Deathstalker connected to it, and cursed out loud when he saw three slightly smaller Grimm flanking it.

Tearing the tail out of the concrete and scattering rubble around, the Grimm opted to charge him face first, clearly intent on bowling him over. The remaining three began scuttling around as well, but he was looking elsewhere.

"Can't fight three, let alone four," he grimaced, then sneered when a plan formed.

Taunting them with a middle finger, the Grimm, who he was sure had no clue what that meant but hated the expression on his face, screeched and dashed at him, one of their pincers snapping a bit too close to his clothes. Weaving his way out of the encirclement, his shoes skidded on the ground while he dragged them along - he knew how to win.

The wide street turned into a two-man wide alley, barely allowing the larger Deathstalker in first, and thus creating a one versus one situation. He made sure all four Grimm were stuck in the middle of the alley before he turned to face them, a dumpster with trash piled beside him.

Without hesitation, he grabbed one bag and swung to throw it at the Deathstalker, its red eyes reflecting the bag tearing halfway through its arc in his hands, with various pieces of trash flying toward it.

Viscus saw the garbage slam and slap into the monster, then he saw its tail snap forward, causing him to flinch and step back, though he was quite sure he was far enough from the stinger's range, but then he saw it - the Grimm was flaunting it, after all.

The yellow-armored monster stared at him with its bulbous tail hovering over its head with a distinctly blue colored aluminum can pierced through. The Deathstalker's pincers clicked twice, then the monster's breath echoed in the alley like an eerie rumble - a laugh.

Then the can began sizzling, its pieces dropping to the ground as the Grimm watched his horrified expression in amusement. He knew they could spit acid, but for the tail to be corrosive as well!?

Without warning, the Grimm jumped. It flew two meters in the air before arcing toward him, his eyes widening. A thought of running backward crossed his mind, but seeing its exposed abdomen shade him from the sun..

With gritted teeth, he dashed forward and under the Grimm, his glowing fists accompanying his jump as he made to attack it mid-air. The arc was calculated-

'But damn am I bad at maths.'

His fist, rather than hitting the abdomen dead-on, instead scraped the backside of the monster of the dark. A failed uppercut saw the Grimm screeching in panic as the blow had enough force behind it to angle its face down, but he could barely care about that as he saw yellow jab his stomach. Aura fought to keep the corrosive weapon away from his skin, but he was too unstable to properly respond to the assault.

Rather embarrassedly, he fell on his back, but managed to keep his eye long enough on the attacking smaller Grimm to allow him to roll to the side to avoid yet another jab. Another piece of the street broke off with a sizzle, then he remembered.

Once he was on his feet, he jumped over a stinger and splashed his own brand of acid on the Grimm, but it didn't react. Its armor began bubbling at spots, sure, but the amount of liquid was too low.

He glared at the red eyes, 'And I'm not aiming at the right spot.'

Hearing the tumbling behind him, he realized that he had managed to flip the larger Grimm, which meant-

With another, more Aura-infused splash of acid, he felt more than heard the Grimm flinch from the sudden melting of its eyes, and that allowed him to face the Grimm struggling to right itself with its tail, dark underside exposed.

A few Mana empowered punches and soaks of his arm in the void of its innards later, the Grimm began dissipating, and he was quick enough to turn to see the smaller Grimm approach him with half its eyes losing their luster, some of its sigils interrupted after having melted. The damage enraged the monster, its pincers swiping wildly at him while he took measured steps backward.

With a glint in his eye, he baited a jab from the monster before grasping the large bulb from its root and drenching his hand with his semblance. The monster's screeched against his skidding legs in opposition to the iron grip, a wave of understanding coming over the Grimm. With tighter grasp, the bubbling beneath his fingers and heightened strength gave him just enough of an edge, just enough to feel his emotions heighten into glee as he felt whatever muscular fibers the Grimm had tear against his yank.

"Let.. Go!"

A loud crack shook the alley, then he stabbed the displaced stinger into the reeling and painfully screeching creature's face, the sharpness popping an eye while melting into the armor easier than he predicted. Misestimated strength led to him tumbling as the stinger sunk into the monster and even into the ground, his grip failing him as it dug out of reach, though he couldn't have kept it long enough since the monster was disintegrating.

As he made to gasp for a breath of air, all he was given was a blink's time before his world turned to darkness. The blond felt sharp pain on the back of his head and a crushing pressure on his nose. A muffled yelp escaped him when he realized something was on his face, a panel from the System ignored in his struggle for the fact that he couldn't breathe. He gripped at the object, feeling the rough and spiky surface as he pulled away. Tiny sticks stabbed deeper against his Aura into his neck, ear, and hair, preventing him from moving it away. Roaring, he faced where he knew there was a wall and strengthened his entire body with the blue energy before crashing face first into the wall. Unsurprisingly, he felt his brain rattle and his nose crunch even beneath the Aura, but he also felt the grip slacken, and that was all he wanted.

With ground teeth, he yanked away whatever was on his face, which turned out to be a disoriented small Deathstalker wobbling its tail in an attempt to stab his forearms. With a yell, he dropped the creature on his knee, snapping its body in half after repeating the attack thrice. The moment of peace lasted naught but a second once the notification entered his view, forcing him to face the fourth and final Deathstalker with a heaving chest.

Only to find it gone.

"W-wha.. Where-" he scanned the surroundings, but it was as if it disappeared as soon as the face-sized Deathstalker clung to him. He tried to swallow his saliva, but all he felt in his mouth was a desert of sand on his tongue.

Suddenly, he heard the ground rumble, and it was then he felt fear. 'It couldn't have followed me till-'

He sprung forward, and not a second later did an armored tower grow from the ground, its body soaring in the air above the buildings for a few seconds along with the dumpster having been taken for the ride, its door swinging open to rain trash as the Blind Worm angled its gaping maw toward his position, but he was gone.

"Nonono, I'm out, out!"

He felt the earth break before the dumpster hit the ground, the horrible metallic ringing masking the rumbling of the street, and the fissures trailing after him. Viscus slapped away the garbage that managed to home in on him, but most of his focus was on 'leaving and never coming back to this place.'

'What was that about making this my base? Am I actually stupid? Was Tiye right!?'

As he turned, he couldn't help but think his mind was playing tricks on him. Lights, tens and tens of them gleamed ahead in the sandstorm like fireflies. Was that head bash into the wall that strong?

When he was close enough, the question answered itself with a resounding no. A cloud of dust flew toward his coughing face as he realized that he wasn't imagining anything, but instead staring at a massive Deathstalker rivaling the size of the worm, its glowing bulb nearly twice the size of his head, if not more. His frozen head had his gaze glance around, the seemingly endless amount of light soon exposing an entire nest of Deathstalkers all staring at him with no doubt the desire to give him a helping hand.

Winding up its stinger, Viscus backed away slowly, but the rumbling of the ground had him paralyzed. Was this it? He channeled Mana into a [Mana Shield], poised and ready to respond, but he feared that it wouldn't have enough strength to block it, and his legs began failing to respond, as if glued to the dusty ground.

Just as the stinger rocketed toward him, gunfire nearly shattered his eardrums with noise that broke the sandy veil. The stinger was knocked off-course and away from his erected shield. Then before he could react, he saw something drop on the massive Deathstalker, its armor audibly cracking along with the street even from where he stood as dust had his lungs itching to cough, his legs trembling.

"Hey," the voice hollered, his visage waving inside the cloud. "Need some help?"

The male veiled figure asked from atop the now dying scorpion-themed monster, and all Viscus could manage to squeak out was a single word.

"..please."

Of course, Pasta responds to Viscus. All the help you need :)

Before I make my brief comment on the chapter, I'd like to thank my dears R4nd0 and RedTheVariant for their reviews. (If it's not your thing, you may skip ahead!)

Sir R4nd0, your comment is invaluable and your observations are mostly correct. By mostly, I mean like 95%, and that's just because I've yet to show all the details. I'll take into consideration the idea about content warning and my referral to mine great self, the Pasta, as something that might annoy certain meatballs. Maybe a portion did actually abandon the story solely for how the AN's are written..

As for Sir Red, I'm assuming what you meant by "Targets" to be the Quest/Mission objectives rather than assassination targets and whatnot, and you would be correct. One aspect of the System which might actually be a weakness is how generalized it is. If you ever had any experience reading through Gamer stories, you'd see.. personalized and highly quest-driven plots. Though, don't get me started on self-propelled quests. "I wanna do X!" - Quest to do X pops up with more rewards than simply the journey of doing X. ...No thanks (though Pasta does still very much enjoy that brand of Gamer stories, keep poppin'!).

This chapter was finished exactly yesterday Sunday, and given a final touch up of an extra few hundred words around 20-30 minutes before I'm writing this AN. Maakl2001 sadly does not yet exist for a review on the changes yet, but expect a chapter update (for fixups and such) for the next few hours if there truly was an issue.

Thank you for your reviews once again, and my endless gratitude and respect for reading thus far. I do have a question, though:

Who do you think is our new savior? Hint: it's a canon character!

Pasta bids the dear meatballs great days and nights. I'll have to pre-emptively warn you that next chapter will be a non-Viscus POV, so be prepared, and stay strong!