1.15 Flames of Vengeance

As if to mock him. The creature's leg twitched. It was snapping at the empty air, trying to cling to the life it must have known it had lost already. What kind of monster refused to die even after being decapitated. Fucking cockroaches.

Michael stood up and grabbed the axe. It felt heavier than before, its blade smeared with the viscous remnants of the creature's body. He used it to toss the creature into the hearth. It barely fit inside.

Now what? Michael thought. Take all the supplies and run away?

Michael looked up and gritted his teeth. The banging from upstairs had not stopped, reverberating through the farmhouse. What if they managed to follow him? What if the windows were open in there and they crawled out of it?

The fire popped. He took a step back from the hearth, where the flames eagerly consumed the still struggling insect. Michael gazed at it until the creature stopped moving, its legs curling up. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of the burnt flesh.

Michael closed his hand into a fist, feeling a surge of determination flood his soul. "You know what? I will not run. Not anymore."

The memory of their haunting eyes and the fear they instilled in him fuelled his resolve. He couldn't let those creatures live, not after what they had made him endure. He had cowered and peed himself because of them, and that humiliation demanded retribution.

But deep down, Michael understood that vengeance had nothing to do with his resolve. If he fled now, he would forever be running, haunted by his own fear, never fighting his own battles. He had to face this, to confront the darkness that lurked in this world. He needed to learn kill such creatures if he ever hoped to survive in this unforgiving world.

I may not be a warrior, but I can still take care of pests.

The first thing Michael did was carefully carry all his supplies out of the house and heft them into the sturdy handcart. Its capacity was more than sufficient to accommodate everything he had collected and then some.

Michael had no intention of losing his supplies for what he was about to do next. He grabbed the gallon of kerosene and propped it open. From there on it was sweaty work, but not difficult.

He sprayed the flammable liquid on the walls, the floors, every room from the hall to kitchens—anywhere he imagined the fire could effectively consume and burn this entire building down. If that didn't kill the creatures that were trapped inside, nothing would.

Once he was done, Michael carefully carried a stick ablaze with flames out of the house, trailing a deliberate line of kerosene behind him—a fiery pathway destined to burn the entire structure.

"This is my vengeance," he said, his eyes flashing fiercely. His voice carried both anger and pain. "Not just for these creatures, but for this world that has torn me from my family."

Without hesitation, Michael dropped the burning stick onto the oily trail of fuel and swiftly retreated. The fire erupted hungry and destructive, devouring the walls and engulfing everything in its path with ferocious intensity. The crackling roar of the flames was like music to his ears and searing heat washed over him.

It was done—by doing this he had accepted this world and his hatred for it.

As flames licked at the sky, Michael stood watching, listening to the shrieks of dying creatures with grim satisfaction.

With a smile, Michael grabbed the cart and walked along the trail. His right earring hummed. The humming was like a nagging child who wanted his candy right then, giving him a headache, but he did not allow that pull to take hold of him. Not until he was far away from that burning building, anyway.

Once he was far enough, so far that he could not even see the light of the burning flames, he finally accepted the insistent tug of his right earring.

The throbbing ache in his head from that demanding pull had intensified, becoming unbearable, forcing him to acknowledge its call.

The world around him dissolved abruptly, fading into a blank expanse of white.

Congratulations! You Have Killed Seven Titanspawn: Wood Creepers And Fourteen Eggs. Appraising Your Results.

A Wood Creeper Is A Low Level Threat For Any Warrior But You Have Destroyed A Small Nest Of These Creatures. A Worthy Feat For An Aspiring [Hunter].

[Level Up.]

[Level Up.]

[Level Up.]

[Level Up.]

[Level Up.]

Congratulations, You Have Levelled Up 6 Times. Lucky You!

[Hunter Level 6].

Congratulations, You Have Gained A Skill;

[Palm Strike]

Congratulations, You Have Gained A Skill;

[Axe Hand]

Michael did not know whether to be astonished or not. For nearly a month, he had struggled, repeatedly failing in his attempts to hunt and level up, yet now, in the span of a single day, he had achieved what seemed impossible. And he had not just levelled up once but five times, jumping to level six [Hunter]. Incredible!

So the system wanted result, not just experience for him to level up. It dawned on him that the system demanded more than mere experience. It wanted specific results.

And those skills—were they somehow linked to how he had fought? Michael pondered this as he replayed the encounters in his mind. The first time, he had instinctively slapped away in a moment of panic. It was a reaction driven purely by defensive instincts—he hadn't even seen the aggressor.

The second time, however, he had acted in a mad frenzy, wielding his axe to deliver endless blows, severing the creature's head from its body.

Was the system watching all facets of his life? The thought sent a chill down his spine.

What a perv.

Michael couldn't shake the feeling that he was part of a larger experiment, where his decisions and actions were being observed and evaluated. Was he perhaps just a pawn in a grand game, used for the amusement of some god or powerful being.

If it was true, he couldn't allow it. He decided to use the system to grow strong and sever any string that would dare to use him as a pawn. He was no one's bitch. He would not be controlled.

Michael clenched his jaw in frustration, attempting to probe the system with subtle questions, hoping for answers to assuage his doubts. Yet, to his dismay, the system remained silent, offering no answers. Instead, the blank expanse of white dissolved around him, thrusting him back onto the trail amidst the forest shrouded in the night.

He pushed aside thoughts of what dangers lurked within the shadowy depth of the forest.

His mind raced with questions about his status as a level 6 [Hunter]. Was he, perhaps, stronger now? He could not tell, there were no physical changes.

"I will learn soon enough," Michael said, just as he reached the cabin in the dead of night.