Russian Roulette – Ant-Man Strategy
The instant the Russian Roulette window pierced through the Wood Sentinel's skull, certainty flooded me. This would work. It wasn't reckless. If my calculations held, it was guaranteed to succeed.
Crunch. The black, slick mucous membrane of the beast. The dark, squelching slime. Right at the center of its body, I activated Gigantification.
Flesh, expand.
The declaration ended, and my cells swelled. Muscles bulged, bones lengthened. My body ballooned in an instant.
'Shells exist to be broken.'
As my body grew, its living tissues were shoved backward. The heavier I became, the more its mucous membrane warped and screamed around me.
Crack, crunch.
I pushed forward with flesh, volume, weight. The inner walls split wider with my expansion; its internals twisted, unable to withstand the pressure. I slammed my entire body against its walls. This wasn't mere swelling. It was an impact. With colossal pressure. Explosive volume. A hammer named body swung at full force.
'Shatter!'
Constriction gripped me. Like a rubber band stretched to its limit. The pressure had already surpassed extremes.
Snap.
A breaking sound followed. It was almost over now.
'Break!'
I screamed inwardly. In that moment, a rupture echoed from the mucous membrane on my right shoulder.
Pop. Crack, crack.
It finally tore.
Riiip!
Through the gap, its pressurized fluids erupted like an oil geyser. It happened too fast to react.
Splash.
The fluids drenched my face. Mouth, nose, ears, skin. It tried to choke me, but it was too late—I'd already swallowed instinctively.
……Gulp.
Hot, fishy, revolting. Like downing foul herbal medicine, goosebumps rose and vomit surged. Yet I couldn't stop.
Snap, crack. Crack, crack. Thud.
Now the left shoulder's membrane ripped. Another tsunami of fluids crashed in. No time to twist away or catch my breath.
……Gulp.
More heat slid down my throat. Sticky, metallic fishiness. My guts twisted, esophagus burned.
"Fuck."
Momentum carried me. Ignoring the gushing fluids, I expanded further. My body shredded its innards to ribbons.
Riiip!
Bones and flesh burst. Chunks of meat and blood sprayed everywhere.
Crunch, crack.
The egg is the world.
'...Those who would be born must shatter their own world.'
Such a phrase flashed in my mind. As the pressure eased, I opened my eyes. The ashen world came into view.
"……Hoo."
I lifted my head from the midst of the Wood Sentinel's fragments. It was insane, but my calculations were flawless in the end.
"Thanos's asshole... Ant-Man strat."
I'd survived.
With the Wood Sentinel shredded to death, the massive tree followed suit. Looking closely, a single thin root connected its body to the tree. A symbiotic pair, apparently.
"Wilted to shit."
I panted, deactivating Gigantification. In the fight, I'd ended up swallowing its fluids despite my caution. Didn't expect it to spray like that.
'Russian Roulette round two?'
Bracing for the imminent agony, I rummaged through the flesh scraps for my prized No. 1 Treasure: the Subspace Pouch. It flung off mid-battle. Rare even on upper floors, so this thing was bound to be special. Hundred percent drop chance.
Thump.
Spot on. As I sat dazed, catching my breath, searing pain whirlwinded through me.
"…Fuck."
My heart bloated; my spine felt like it was snapping link by link. Amid ringing that tore my eardrums, every muscle fiber ripped along its grain.
Groooan.
Veins burned like fire. I blacked out.
My skin flaked like bark. Throat clogged like glue. Parched. As soon as consciousness returned, I yanked water from the Subspace Pouch and chugged.
Hoo.
Water hit, and I felt alive-ish. That's why the pouch is key.
Head still spun.
"…Survived."
Russian Roulette, …success.
"Fucking. Hell."
Neck itched; scratching revealed maggots wriggling on my nape. Puked. Brushed them off, stood.
Surroundings matched pre-blackout, save the Wood Sentinel corpse more decayed. Maggots everywhere now. Dodged them, sat on ashen wasteland, scarfed healthy-tasting bread.
Hunger clawed my gut viciously. Like nails scraping inside. Starving or hurting? Just stuff something in.
…Too damn good.
I wolfed it down, sniffling.
Gear check: Relief. Dwarf-made indeed. Belhart armor intact, unripped.
My rapier? Lodged in distant corpse chunk.
"Hoo."
Ten loaves later, retrieved it, caught breath. Wanted rest bad, but loot first.
'Been a while... hope it didn't despawn.'
Scoured: Corpse, exploded bits, wilted tree. Jackpot.
Two black orbs. And orbs double mid-grade size. So: Red 3, blue 7, yellow 2, white 5. Mid-grade-ish: Red 4, blue 3, yellow 5.
Plus two suspicious items.
"Orb party."
Swallowed gleefully—blacks aside.
Gulp.
Intense bodily shift. Way more pain than usual—big gains expected.
Crunch.
"Insane…! Combat power up 5k."
Double-size orbs? Double-plus effect. Savored the strength surge, checked stats.
'Roughly 12-13x better on big ones.'
Next: Fragment drops. Holo-like post-death; too chaotic to note then.
'Suspicious rock and weird vine.'
Rock mimicked its blue glow. Vine like stretchy bracelet—elastic enough for Gigantification.
Test 'em. Digestion gives Insight. Perfect: Buy Rune Crystal set (3-pack).
Auctioned, checked sequentially. Rock first.
◈ Fragment of voltage-amplified scream.
◈ Grants lightning attribute to weapons.
◈ Weapon Lightning Attribute +80
"One star out of five. Meh."
Vine-bracelet next.
◈ Ancient tree-root bracelet pulsing with life.
◈ Reacts to heartbeat, boosts survival instinct.
◈ General Defense +10
◈ Physical Resistance +8
◈ Detection +5
◈ Crisis Response +10
◈ Magic Resistance +4
"……."
Lots. Long. Equipped without judging. Options galore = good.
Items done. Now Digestion ability.
Rune Crystal revealed it.
Silent Bloom
Like plants entering dormancy to evade frost and drought, the user densely accumulates mana in extreme stasis. Body temp and metabolism plummet, minimizing external energy use while maxing mana accumulation speed.
Immobilized during bloom activation.
※ Prolonged accumulation risks biological rhythm collapse, coma-like state.
Dormancy ability? Focused on max mana accumulation speed.
'Mana stockpiling?'
Coma risk noted. Digestion powers always have fatal flaws.
'Try it.'
Curious, recalled sensation. Zoned in on plant-like nerve cluster. Soon sensed root-like power. Activated.
Snap.
Roots pierced Belhart boots' soles, burrowed into ground. Got it: Tree-root to soil, cut metabolism, stock mana.
No more lotus pose needed.
Deactivated; roots retracted, boots healed. Dwarf quality.
"Hoo."
Surveyed. Checks done... Offer adult form to altar for 98F.
'Before that.'
Eyed Wood Sentinel corpse. Post to Gallery or nah?
"Hm."
Urge to prove existence. Maybe depression precursor.
'Proof gets me nothing good.'
Loneliness isn't solitude. It's feeling invisible in social context. Existence blurring. People leave traces: talk, write, post, draw eyes, scream I'm here.
But I can't. No proving existence.
'Better skip.'
Gallery has good folks, but plenty bad. Most gray zone: kind or cruel by circumstance. Even goodwill backfires.
'Even Geomseong types exist.'
Many like me. But favor flips to hate anytime. Can't forget.
'No one's constant.'
Humans shift with situations. No proof this time. For survival.
But survival check? Posting would explode the Gallery.