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    <div>


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    A crazy smile on my face starts to crack wide in slow motion, like a damn Grinch.


    My eyes scream with joy, and my teeth are exposed like never before.


    I barely had any hope left, as I''d already given up on the possibility that the latest events would bring any gain or result.


    Something definitely happened, and there’s no way this is a bad outcome. My strength was first shown in plain color, simply engraved on the bronze-augmented floating panel.


    Later on, when I chose my first skill, the skill name appeared in dark turquoise, like it had oxidized into the plate—the same color as the Statue of Liberty, but now, the whole line is glowing dim gold, standing out completely from the other entries.


    <table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 36.6613%; background-color: rgba(52, 73, 94, 1)" border="1">


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    <tr>


    <td style="width: 33.466%">Markus Rain</td>


    <td style="width: 33.466%">foreigner</td>


    <td style="width: 33.1645%">level 64</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 33.466%">Strength</td>


    <td style="width: 33.466%">60</td>


    <td style="width: 33.1645%">Focus [Bonus Skill]</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 33.466%">Agility</td>


    <td style="width: 33.466%">3</td>


    <td style="width: 33.1645%">no skill</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 33.466%">Willpower</td>


    <td style="width: 33.466%">4</td>


    <td style="width: 33.1645%">no skill</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 33.466%">Endurance</td>


    <td style="width: 33.466%">10</td>


    <td style="width: 33.1645%">no skill</td>


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    </tbody>


    </table>


    I have no idea what that even means, but I somehow know that being gold and shiny is definitely an upgrade compared to oxidized green.


    Why it’s connected to my Strength and Focus skill is a mystery to me, but I can guess—simply, it''s my only stat with a skill attached or basically my primary and most used form with the highest accumulated number, of course.


    How do I even activate this?


    I wonder, sitting there still in a cross-legged position, half of my legs buried in the sand.


    <hr>


    It’s almost dark; the sky is covered in heavy clouds, and the weather is nearly the same as it was at the mysterious quarry with the basin—or let’s call it the Well of Power, not my words, but Poccos’s.


    “Sorry, fluffball, I’m not gonna call you names anymore. You have your own weird, simple way of communicating, but the stupid one here is definitely me.


    You were right, and I thank you for choosing me.” I say out loud, like a prayer, knowing it might not even be heard by anyone, but I feel a deep gratitude—definitely an aftereffect of the inevitable hype I just got from the glowing letters.


    Looking all around, I kneel and pivot in place while supporting myself with my hands. Even though I lost them only for a brief moment when they melted off, I’m glad that I feel them and see them now.


    I never thought the present moment could feel so satisfying.


    The dune behind me is definitely the one with a view over the black humongous castle, I assume quickly, even though the hole where we dug the Hummer out and the carcass of the rhinoceros bug are probably well buried in the sand and changed by now.


    “Yep. This should be the fast route toward the place I died.” At least I think I know.


    Jeez.


    Sigh.


    I hope Harald isn’t trying to salvage my clothes as spares.


    I don’t want them to see me naked, but at least a second pair of weathered sneakers and another bulletproof vest would be good for the future use.


    A quick thought flashes, and I quickly open my inventory, checking for the spare slots:You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    One jug of fresh water, One silver pitcher, Tall armchair, A bundle of keys, Wooden stick, Bulletproof vest, Plastic container filled with chunks of cooked or dried meat, Metal dining plate, Simple fork with only three teeth, Rather deep spoon, Small bowl (ready for Harald’s soup), One simple metal cup without any handle, One dull knife, Huge golden sledgehammer with a peculiar, flexible organic handle, A whole yellow Hummer car.


    Fifteen items with one slot left again. Always only one slot, as my bulletproof vest was on me, but I had one glass bottle filled with flathead acid on me.


    Shame it’s all lost.


    I secretly want to get hit by the acid again and enjoy that zero-pain sensation.


    Being all dark and murky, I already know now is the perfect time for one of my possessions I’ve saved for moments like this.


    First, I take out my hammer from my inventory and grip it tightly.


    Then, I pull out the bulletproof vest, put it on, and adjust the laces and Velcro tightly around myself.


    The third item to materialize in my hand is a deformed silver pitcher.


    As it appears, I grab it gently by the ornamental handle.


    With my two finally clean, freshly grown fingers, I gently pluck one of the tiny black berries between my index finger and thumb.


    *Pop*


    “Omnomnom.”


    A quick toss after a brief sniff, and the tart, rather hard berry pops in my mouth, probably staining my teeth dark purple.


    “Gosh!”


    I hover the pitcher over the metal plate, watching as everything changes colors, like someone flicked a switch and turned everything bright with a hint of blue.


    Focusing my gaze into the distance, I can’t shake the haunting feeling as everything takes on a blue tint.


    “You’re the predator now! Stop being afraid. Mike’s powers are yours for a short time, and you can freely use both eyes. Be glad,” I encourage myself in this vast, empty, yet dangerous desert, and finally start walking toward my goal.


    <hr>


    *Loud blast*


    “Fuck!”


    Even before I take my first step, I crouch instinctively.


    What the hell? Harald!


    That’s definitely the shotgun; I’m more than sure. But from the direction the blast came, I must be slightly off course.


    Squinting, I turn toward the still-echoing sound.


    *Blast*


    Another loud bang from the single-barrel shotgun, accompanied by a bright flash.


    My night vision passive effect picks it up easily.


    Time to give them a helping hand—or more likely, the hammer.


    The blinking dot in the distance seems far, so I hide my weapon right away and go for my old, well-known move—sand jumping.


    Crouching slightly, I call for Focus with my tongue.


    Muscle mass shifts from my upper body to my lower body as usual, and I stop it quickly before it reaches too high a level.


    I’m not about to strain my silky-smooth, freshly grown skin by overuse, and I quickly launch myself forward again, closing almost a dozen meters in one jump, avoiding the tedious, laborious walk through the deep sand.


    *Fwoosh*


    One jump follows another, and each occasional flash of a bright dot is followed by a loud bang. I can count almost five dots in the distance, with one slightly apart from the others.


    It’s Harald and the party versus the acid flatheads.


    I’d bet the one farther away is Astrid.


    <hr>


    *Loud voices, screaming, and gunfire*


    “As I said, he’ll be here in twenty seconds! Now come and help!” Mike yells, his headscarf loose around his neck, one eye squinting, and the monkey eye wide open.


    Dual-wielding sabers, he spins swiftly, striking two targets precisely.


    *Bang. Bang. Bang.*


    The pale girl sits in the sand, leaning against one of the rocky tops of a flathead, shooting her Glock.


    I see that Harald and she look slightly disoriented yet are aiming carefully.


    Only Mike and I, with our night vision, seem fully aware of the situation.


    <hr>


    It seems they’ve managed to kill nearly four on their own, and I feel a bit bad that the old man had to waste a few dozen more rounds of precious ammo.


    “More incoming!” Mike yells, his night vision apparently picking up life signs.


    I bet both he and Astrid leveled up a bit; that’s probably why they’re so confident in this fight.


    Still, I feel a strong need to repay them.


    “Prepare for your finishers!” I announce proudly.


    Grasping my hammer tightly, I crouch and go for my ultimate move.


    *Fwoosh*


    Jumping into the air, I channel my slightly used, heavily regulated Focus to my arms.


    *Bang*


    Hitting the hardest part of the beast, I crack its dome wide open.


    "That''ll do!" I smirk.


    *Squelch*


    Mike rushes in, buries his saber deep, then quickly jumps back to avoid any splatter from the flathead.


    In the meanwhile I see the old man holster his gun and join Astrid.


    With zero hesitation, I launch myself into the air toward the next flathead traversing the sand.


    Landing and jumping up again swiftly, I start to feel a slight strain in my muscles.


    *Bang*


    The hammer buries into the hardened top, and as I pull it out, another massive chunk of its malformed skull breaks away—at least, that’s what I assume it is.


    Mike wastes no time, jumping in with a precise saber strike.


    The last one is close enough, and I decide to try something new.


    <hr>


    My hammer head rests on the ground in the sand, and I hold the handle with both hands.


    Crouching low, I release a lot of power—I can tell by the strain in my sweatpants.


    *Fwoosh*


    Flying straight up above the foe, I know this jump is higher than I’ve ever done.


    Shifting my power, I let the flow continue, secretly hoping my new ability will awaken.


    *Bang*


    <hr>


    "Dude what the fuck is that?!"