Zane stayed on one knee, breathing hard as the rush of combat began to fade. He did a quick mental check of his condition, forcing himself to stay focused through the pain.

Arrowhead in my thigh. Deep graze on my arm. Broken nose. Arrow through the waist—yeah, that one's going to hurt for a while.

He gave a shaky chuckle, muttering aloud, "So, as Tarn would say… 'Mate, it's just a flesh wound.'"

Even beaten and bloodied, he didn't feel that bad. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle, and nothing felt broken that shouldn't still move. But he knew he couldn't keep this up forever—if the next wave was anything like the last one, he'd be in real trouble.

"Right. First things first," he said, forcing his back against a nearby tree for support. "I've got points to spend."

The familiar blue glow flickered to life before his eyes.

Zane Rider — Level 11 (Vanguard) Available Points: 5 Strength: 26 Dexterity: 22 Constitution: 31 Intelligence: 13 Wisdom: 16 Charisma: 16

His hand hovered midair, ready to dump everything into Constitution. Then he paused, frowning.

I've already got thirty-one in Con and can take a few hits before I drop. But if the next mobs hit harder, five more points won't stop me from dying—it'll just make it take longer.

He exhaled, rubbing a bloody thumb over his chin. Now, if they can't hit me at all… that's a better plan.

He eyed Intelligence for a moment. Maybe… but I didn't exactly feel dumb out there. Strength's fine. Wisdom's good enough. Which leaves Dex.

A tired grin spread across his face. "Tarn's gonna give me so much crap for this," he muttered. "He's been telling me to put more into Dex since the start."

Before he could talk himself out of it, Zane dumped all five points into Dexterity.

"Let's see how you like me now," he said, forcing himself to his feet, body aching but eyes sharp once more.

Dexterity: 22 -> 27

James tossed and turned, trying to get some sleep. Eventually, he gave up and checked his phone — 7:03 a.m.

It took his foggy brain a few seconds to do the math. That makes it 10:03 a.m. on the East Coast… less than two hours before midday in Lily's time zone.

The truck was already loaded with everything he thought might help — food, water, tools, makeshift weapons, anything that might be useful if what Lily said was true. But that voice in the back of his head wouldn't shut up.

It's all a lie. Lily's just laughing at you. Go to sleep, forget this whole thing. You'll feel like an idiot in the morning.

The whisper made it sound so easy. Just roll over, get some rest, and later he could return everything, get his money back, and call Lily out on her crazy talk.

His eyelids grew heavy. He could almost feel himself drifting off when—

NO!

The word didn't come from outside. It thundered through his chest, raw and absolute, jerking him upright like a puppet on a string.

Before he even knew what he was doing, he slapped himself in the face. Hard.

The same voice — the one that reminded him of his dead mother. — kept talking, fierce and unrelenting.

You want Lily back? Then this is it! You said you'd do anything. Well, guess what? Going to that school with a truck full of supplies and weapons — that's "anything." So get up. Get that perfect parking spot before someone else does.

And just like that, James was moving. Within seconds, he was out of bed and heading for the shower, his pulse hammering in his ears.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He didn't know if he was losing his mind — or if it was his mum, giving him one last push to do the right thing. She'd always had that knack. Every time she'd put her foot down and made him do something he'd been trying to talk himself out of, he'd grumble and complain the whole way… only to realize later it had been exactly what he needed.

It was his biggest regret — that he'd never thanked her for all the love, the stubborn faith, and all those gentle (and not-so-gentle) shoves in the right direction.

Zane found a bow and a war chief's chest plate among, item drops left behind as he made his way back to his protective boulder and makeshift wall. The rest of the monsters — their gear, their blood — had already turned into black smoke and been sucked into the ground, leaving nothing but scorched dirt and the smell of iron.

Once he felt a little more secure behind his wall, he activated Item Appraisal on the bow.

Sniper Bow of the Sog Sog Tribe +1 to Ranged Shot +1 to Piercing Damage You have access to the System Store. Would you like to sell this item for 12 Silver? Yes / No

Zane let out a slow whistle. "Sweet."

But before selling, he stopped and thought it through. Can I shoot a bow? Not very well. Do I have arrows? Yeah — in my Bag of Holding. Should I rely on a weapon I'm not familiar with?

He sighed. No. No, I should not.

He selected Yes, and the bow vanished from his hands like it had never existed. Zane squinted at the little number under his mini-map.

12 sp, 26 cp.

"Nice," he muttered, rubbing his hands together. "Twelve silver, twenty-six copper — I'm getting somewhere."

He turned his attention to the war chief's chest plate, holding it up in the faint dungeon light. "Alright, show me the money."

War Chief's Chest Plate of the Sog Sog Tribe +1 Blunt Damage Resistance +1 Slashing Damage Resistance You have access to the System Store. Would you like to sell this item for 15 Silver? Yes / No

Zane groaned aloud. "Only fifteen silver? Come on — I need at least fifty for an HP potion."

He glanced again at the taunting numbers beneath his map.

27 sp, 26 cp.

The excitement he'd felt at finally working out how to sell to the System Store started to crumble into apathy and dread. He knew he couldn't afford to face the next wave like this. He still had a minimised System message hovering in the corner, asking if he wanted to leave the dungeon.

Maybe he should. He'd already earned everyone two levels. That was enough, right?

Zane debated it for a long moment before shaking his head. No — not yet.

He started digging through his Bag of Holding, testing item after item with Item Appraisal, quickly realising that only items marked with System stats gave him the option to sell.

After some quick sorting and organising, Zane ended up with a small pile of items the System recognised for coin value — the remaining goblin leather vests they'd picked up, all four of his machetes, and even his spare bike leathers.

How the last two items had System stats was anyone's guess, but Zane wasn't about to argue. If it worked, it worked.

A quick bit of mental math told him that if he sold all the goblin vests, the bike leathers, and two of his machetes, he'd just barely have enough silver for a single HP potion.

With the timer for the next wave ticking down, he hesitated only a moment before confirming each sale. The items vanished one by one into particles of light, and his coin count climbed steadily upward.

When it finally hit 50 Silver, Zane didn't waste a second.

You have selected: HP Potion Cost: 50 Silver Are you sure of your purchase? Yes / No

With a triumphant grin, he selected Yes, and the potion appeared in his hand just as smoothly as all his items had disappeared from them just moments ago.

He set it down carefully beside him, then pulled a small knife from his Bag of Holding. There wasn't time to be gentle. Gritting his teeth, he worked the arrowhead out of his thigh, blood oozing down his leg in sluggish streams.

As soon as it was free, he popped the cork and swallowed the potion in one go. It tasted metallic and bitter, but the warmth that spread through his body almost made him groan in relief.

A soft chime sounded in his mind.

Next Wave will start in: 1 Minute.

His wounds tingled, knitting slowly together beneath his torn gear.

Zane rolled his shoulders, flexing his leg experimentally. "A bit faster on that healing would be nice," he muttered, pushing himself back to his feet and gripping his machete and shield.

"Alright then," he breathed, eyes narrowing towards the surrounding forest. "Let's see what you've got this time."

The birthday party was going great.

They'd invited around three hundred guests, but with the bring a friend option on all the invites, the head count had climbed to just over five hundred people.

Emma finally found a few seconds to stop being the ultimate hostess and take in the scene — the wide, open field of warfare her beautiful twins had built for the day. She watched them moving among the groups, laughing as they organised the next batch of wannabe warriors into teams and handed out airsoft gear.

A proud smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she thought back to the conversation she'd had with them about birthday presents. In the end, the twins had agreed to put on the invitation that everyone should donate a small amount to the local church or any charity of their choice instead.

Still, looking over at the small mountain of brightly wrapped gifts that had been brought anyway — now covering two long tables near the food tent — Emma couldn't help but shudder.

If this was with the charity note on the invite, she didn't even want to imagine what it would've looked like without it.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.