First Blood and the Magic Tome
In the Erosion Zone, my body froze solid.
Footsteps? Inside? No fucking way there could be a person in here.
“……”
I held my breath and gripped the iron rod tight.
Thud, thud….
The footsteps echoed closer.
If it was an explorer, the odds of me winning were slim to none. Just venturing into the Erosion Zone—especially the normal one teeming with monsters, not some rare event—proved they were better than the average joe.
-Grrraaaahhh….
Some corpse shuffled through the building.
“Hoo…”
Only then did I exhale the breath I’d been holding.
In this world, they burned bodies after death. Otherwise, they’d rise as undead.
I approached the undead slowly.
Thud, thud.
-Grrraaaahhh….
Finally, I was right in front of its nose.
“……”
I clenched the rod and swung it with everything I had at the undead’s head.
Clang-!!!!!
Crack! Thud.
A satisfying crunch, and the head exploded as it crumpled.
Undead didn’t drop magic stones like those sewer worms. The worms had tiny ones, basically dust and worthless, and undead weren’t even monsters, so no stones at all.
I poked the corpse with my rod. This fucker was wearing clothes, surprisingly.
Most undead got stripped naked—down to their underwear—by looters.
I rummaged through its pockets, but nothing useful.
I crouched again, scanning the surroundings. Better safe than sorry.
Poke, poke… poke, poke….
Finally, I’d checked every corner and confirmed the building was safe.
Time for the fun part: farming.
First, drawers. I yanked them all open.
Moldy paper, rotten food.
I’d expected as much, but still nothing. It looked like a regular house anyway.
I swept some cookbooks from the shelf and a few usable dishes into my sack, then headed out.
The Erosion Zone was massive. An entire sprawling city eroded, leaving just Mortus over there.
Mortus wasn’t small either, but pre-apocalypse, it had been unrealistically huge. That’s the problem.
Thinking about a city this size going to shit made dungeon breaks terrifying all over again.
Next building to loot, then.
Suddenly, an old game came to mind. Escape from Tarkov.
Minus the medieval apocalypse vibe, it felt pretty similar.
Farm gear, extract. No respawns like in the game, though.
Get wiped, and you’re done.
Fucking trash game.
I searched for the next target. Having been monster-infested once, intact buildings were scarce.
Any artifacts? Magic items? Or maybe an Alchemical Coin.
I glanced cautiously at the sky. Sun hadn’t set yet.
Some people camped in the Erosion Zone, but I didn’t have the guts. I’d bail back to the city when dusk hit and return tomorrow.
And I had no watch buddy.
Should’ve come with the south sewer slaves. A twinge of regret.
But more mouths meant less loot for me. And trusting slaves with my back? No thanks.
Sure, some were wrongly enslaved like me, but most were scumbags who deserved it. The worst got branded “death row” and sent to the north sewers.
More monsters there, yet they somehow survived. Wild.
I checked a few decent-looking buildings nearby, but nada.
The books and dishes from the first one were actually a win in this reality.
Fuck me.
Yeah, if relics popped up in random houses, everyone’d be rich already.
While poking around…
“……”
I spotted a fresh corpse, blood still pooling.
Stripped to nothing, face and shoulders bruised black and blue. Deep stab wound in the chest.
This guy hadn’t been dead long.
Judging by the wounds and state, not a monster—another person did this.
“……”
I decided to GTFO this area. Unless it was some psycho killing for kicks, they wanted something.
Corpse was intact, so not a black mage after magic ingredients. Meant good gear or a relic.
Either way, valuables nearby.
Right as I turned to leave.
Thud!
A book dropped in front of me.
“Huh…?”
****
A worn yellow cover, ancient-looking, radiating mystery.
Silver script on the front—unreadable, probably the title.
I stared blankly at it.
Magic Tome.
Books holding magic were called Magic Tomes. Mages went nuts for them—one of the top relics, insane value.
I glanced around, confirmed no one, snatched it, and tucked it inside my clothes. Too precious for the sack.
“……”
Thump-thump-thump-thump.
My heart pounded like mad. Blood rushing through every vein, hyper-aware.
Anxiety crashed in too.
As I stepped away—
Thud. Thud.
A guy in an eyepatch emerged from behind the building.
“Hey, I saw everything.”
“……”
His gear was solid—mid-tier.
Way better than a slave like me.
Longsword on his hip, leather armor.
He sized me up as I did him. His lips curled.
Rags, iron rod as a weapon. I looked like dogshit even to myself.
“Gasp… grrrraaahhh!!!!”
I pointed behind him, faking mouse-meets-cat terror.
“?”
The second he turned—
Whoosh!
I bolted at full sprint.
Back to the city.
Murder was banned inside. Plus, the church was in town—extra strict watch.
“Huff… huff…”
Glancing back mid-sprint, he’d drawn his sword and was chasing.
Fucking bastard!
Insane motherfucker. Heart racing, sweat pouring.
Should I have just handed it over? Even then, no guarantee he’d let me live.
Shit…!
Breath burning. No proper meals since isekai. Stamina sucked.
He was closing in.
Stop and fight? What if he’s a sword master? Apocalypse world—weaklings died off.
“Heh, give up and hand over the book. I’ll spare you.”
“Hah, really?”
“Yeah.”
I yanked a book from my sack and chucked it.
A cookbook from the first building.
His eyes flicked to it.
Now’s my shot—attack or keep running?
Whoosh!
Clang!
Metal on metal rang out.
Fuck, should’ve run. He’d drawn and parried perfectly.
“B-bro! Sorry!”
“Who you calling retard, you fuck?!”
Clang!
Faked an apology, swung—blocked again.
“Hoo… hoo…”
Sprinting that hard wrecked me. Breath ragged.
Screeech!
Longsword slashed at me. I rolled, dodged.
Fuck.
Too disadvantaged. One graze and I’m fucked; he had leather armor.
“……”
No way to win?
“If I give the book now, you’ll let me go?”
“……”
Silence.
I pulled the book from my chest. It oozed unnatural power—obvious Magic Tome.
“……”
“……”
Silence stretched.
Flash!
I moved first, hurling the tome at him.
He flinched, reached for it—
I closed in, smashed my rod down on his sword hand.
Crack!
My rod technique pulverized undead skulls. His hand shredded instantly.
“You fucking shit!”
He charged in rage. I kicked his groin with all my might.
Kaaang!
Not a thud—a clang! I doubted my ears.
Psssh!
Indescribable pain shot from my foot.
This psycho wore steel undies?!
My right foot swelled blue like some Avatar butterfly freak.
He smirked, lunged for his dropped sword.
No way! I flung the rod at him.
Clang!
Smacked his head dead-on. Didn’t stop him.
“You dog!”
I body-slammed him.
“Guh!”
We rolled on the ground. He had my rod; I had his sword.
We grappled for weapons.
Stab!
“Cough… glurk…!”
My sword pierced his throat.
“Bleurgh…!”
He vomited blood in disbelief.
“Huff… huff…”
Right-handed, but I’d wrecked that hand. His off-hand rod swing was easy to dodge.
Thud.
He collapsed. Silence fell.
“……”
Not my first kill.
Once caught a fugitive hiding in the sewers with other slaves. Split the bounty.
No one to share with this time.
…
Steel codpiece, leather armor, longsword, leather boots, pouch of magic stones, bandages, some rations. And the Magic Tome. My haul.