I stood on the back porch, sipping a cup of instant coffee, admiring the view. The Heavenly Bamboo had grown with terrifying speed. What had started as small shoots were now twelve foot stalks of green iron. They were spaced tightly along the fence line, creating a wall so dense I couldn't even see the neighbor's overgrown grass anymore.
I walked over and tapped a stalk with my trowel.
It rang like a church bell. Solid metal disguised as plant matter.
Along the base of the bamboo wall, I had planted the moss. I’d scraped it out of my gutters and off the north side of the roof shingles—nasty work, but necessary. It wasn't impressive yet. It didn't glow. It just looked like a green carpet hugging the perimeter. But according to the system, it was passively generating trace amounts of Qi. Every little bit helped.
[Gathering has reached Level 4.]
[Nurturing has reached Level 4.]
I walked to the center of the garden. My raised bed was overflowing with life. The tomatoes were vibrant.
I poured the last of my Qi water onto the soil. The dirt drank it up, shimmering for a moment before settling.
[Mortal Soil (Grade 3) - MAXIMUM CAPACITY REACHED.]
I frowned. "Maximum capacity?"
I tried to pour more water. The soil refused it. It pooled on the surface.
[To upgrade to Grade 4, you require: 1x Monster Core.]
"Monster Core?" I read the text again. "Are you kidding me?"
A tooltip appeared.
Obtained from hunting Monsters (e.g., Awakened Vermin, Mutated Pets, Feral Wildlife).
I sat down on the edge of the raised bed. "Monsters," I muttered. "I'm a gardener. I grow vegetables. I don't hunt monsters."
I thought of Barny the demon dog.
"I can't do that," I said to the tomatoes. "I'll die."
But then I looked at the stats. The soil was capped. My growth was capped. If I wanted to get stronger—strong enough to survive if the bamboo wall ever failed—I needed that upgrade.
I sighed. "Okay. Fine. But not yet."
I opened the menu to distract myself. With the Grade 3 Soil, new recipes had popped up.
- Heavenly Cucumber: Quenches thirst for 24 hours.
- Heavenly Potato: Wards off hunger.
- Heavenly Tuber: High yield food.
I planted the cucumbers and tubers. I needed dense calories if the grocery stores never reopened.
I pulled out a notepad from my pocket. It was Monday. Time for a performance review.
- Food: Check. (Plenty of tomatoes and tubers).
- Water: Check. (Tap is still running, plus cucumbers).
- Defense: Check. (Bamboo wall is solid).
- Offense: ...
I looked at my "arsenal" leaning against the house. A shovel. A chef's knife. A metal spatula.
"Not check," I whispered.
If I had to go out there and find a monster, I couldn't do it with a spatula.
I looked at the bamboo wall. It was harder than steel. I walked over and tried to snap a stalk with my hands. I braced my foot against the wall and pulled with all my Level 4 Gathering strength.
It didn't budge. It didn't even bend.
"Right," I said. "Need tools."
I opened the System Menu. A new tab had appeared when the Bamboo matured.
[Crafting Available]
- Mortal Spear (Cost: 2 Qi)
- Mortal Shield (Cost: 2 Qi)
I checked my reserves. I was sitting at 10 Qi thanks to the moss and a good night's sleep.
"Do it," I commanded.
I placed my hand on a thick bamboo stalk.
[Consuming 2 Qi...]
The fibers unraveled and re-wove themselves before my eyes, snapping off from the root with a clean pop. In seconds, I was holding a six foot spear. The tip was sharpened bamboo that felt hard enough to punch through a car door.
"Okay," I said, feeling a little better. "Shield next."
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
[Consuming 2 Qi...]
Three smaller stalks wove themselves together into a kite shield. It was light, barely five pounds, but when I rapped my knuckles against it, it felt like a tank hatch.
I strapped the shield to my left arm. I gripped the spear in my right.
I felt ridiculous. I looked like a suburban dad trying to cosplay a Spartan. But I also felt... safer.
"Check," I said, marking the notepad.
I spent the next hour packing. Two Heavenly Tomatoes, a Cucumber, and three Tubers went into my backpack.
I loaded the spear and shield into the car. The spear was too long, so I had to angle it out the back window.
"Target: Oil Up Gas Station," I said to myself as I turned the key. "Three miles. Get in, find a small monster, get out."
My car was running on fumes. If I ever needed to flee the state, I needed gas. Two birds, one stone.
The drive was eerie. The roads were empty. The silence pressed against the windows. I gripped the steering wheel so hard my leather gloves creaked.
When I rolled into the Oil Up station, it was a ghost town. The pumps were dead. The convenience store door was swinging open in the wind, banging rhythmically against the glass.
I parked away from the pumps. I got out, shield up, spear ready.
"Here kitty, kitty," I whispered, feeling stupid.
I checked the pumps. Dry. I checked the store. Looted.
I spent an hour prowling the perimeter, looking for anything the system might tag as a "Monster." I saw a squirrel, but it was just a squirrel. I saw a crow, but it just cawed at me and flew away.
"Nothing," I said, lowering the spear. My arms were tired. "Well, at least I tried."
I turned back to the car. I was actually relieved. I could go home, tell myself I tried, and maybe try again next week.
I turned around and went back to my car.
There, standing on the hood of my car, was a roach.
But it wasn't a normal roach. It was the size of a bike. Its shell was oily and black, reflecting the sunlight. Its antennae whipped around like lassos. Its mandibles were dripping something that sizzled when it hit the paint.
[Monster Roach (Awakened)]
"I didn't need the tag to tell me that," I spit out.
The roach turned. It saw me. It let out a shriek.
And then it charged.
In the movies, the hero braces himself. He analyzes the attack pattern. He strikes true.
I am not a hero. I am a corporate drone in middle management.
I panicked.
I tried to step back, but my heel caught on a crack in the pavement. I stumbled, my arms flailing.
The roach launched itself off the hood. It was a flying nightmare of legs and spikes.
I threw the shield up blindly.
The impact was like being tackled by a linebacker. The roach slammed into the bamboo shield, the force driving me into the ground. I wheezed as the air left my lungs.
The shield held. Thank god for the bamboo.
But now I was on my back, and a giant bug was trying to eat my face.
It scrambled over the shield, mandibles snapping inches from my nose. I smelled old garbage.
"Get off!" I screamed.
I swung the spear. It was a clumsy swing. The shaft hit the roach's side, bouncing off the hard shell harmlessly.
The roach hissed and lunged again.
I scrambled backward on my butt, kicking out with my legs. I managed to get some distance, scrambling to my feet. My heart was hammering so hard I thought it would explode.
The roach circled. It was fast. Too fast.
Think, Kaz. Think.
It chittered and rushed me again.
This time, I didn't step back. I couldn't. My back was against a concrete bollard.
I grabbed a loose chunk of asphalt from the ground and chucked it. It pinged off the roach's head.
The monster paused, confused for a microsecond.
I yelled—a sound that was half battle cry, half terror scream—and charged.
I thrust the spear.
I missed the head. I missed the vitals.
The tip caught the roach's shoulder, skidding off the shell. My momentum carried me forward. I tripped over the monster's legs.
I fell under it.
We went down in a tangle of limbs and bamboo. I landed, my shield pinning its legs, my face mashed against its oily shell.
It bucked like a bronco. I was going to get thrown.
Panic took over. Pure, unadulterated survival instinct.
I shortened my grip on the spear. I jammed the tip up.
It pierced the shell. Green goo erupted.
The roach screamed. I pulled it out and stabbed again.
I didn't stop. I stabbed it until my arm burned. I stabbed it until the chittering stopped. I stabbed it until the thing over me was just a pile of twitching legs and slime.
I rolled under the carcass, gasping for air.
I was covered in yellow goo. It was in my hair. It was in my eyes. It smelled like burning tires.
"I hate this," I wheezed, wiping my face and regretting it immediately. "I hate this so much."
I stood up, my legs shaking. I looked at the mess I’d made.
I used the spear tip to pry open the shattered chest. I dug around in the goo until I heard a clink.
I levered it out. A stone.
[Monster Roach Core]
I picked it up with two fingers. It was warm.
I threw it in the cupholder of the car. I threw a towel over the driver's seat so I wouldn't ruin the upholstery.
I drove home in silence.
When I got back, I ran straight to the backyard.
I fell to my knees in the center of the garden. I used my hands to dig a hole in the Soil. I dropped the Monster Roach Core inside and covered it up.
I waited.
[Mortal Soil (Grade 4) Achieved.]
The energy didn't stop at the dirt. It flowed up into me.
I gasped as my veins felt like they were expanding. The fatigue from the fight vanished. My vision sharpened to a razor's edge.
[Cultivation Advance: Foundation - Step 2]
[Qi Capacity Increased: 15]
[New Skill Unlocked: Basic Swordsmanship (Level 1)]
I stared at the notification.
"Swordsmanship?" I groaned, flopping onto my back in the dirt. "Now? You give me the weapon skill now? After I just wrestled a bug in a parking lot?"
I laughed.
I lay there for a long time, staring at the sky.
"Worth it," I whispered.
I pushed myself up. My muscles ached, but it was a good ache.
"Shower," I said. "Then bed. Tomorrow... back to business."