The mob on the ground— or rather, the two halves of it— are outlined in glossy black, and I immediately understand: it’s lootable.

  I reach out. Above the corpse, what looks like an open leather pouch appears, semi-transparent like everything else.

  It’s empty.

  Fair enough. Level 1 mob.

  Then a message materializes in midair.

  Bestiary Updated: Dark Sapling

  The Dark Sapling is a young Tree. Nervous but mostly harmless. Best cut down before it grows.

  Because of course there’s mob lore too.

  I turn toward the edge of the forest, toward home— then pause. An idea hits me.

  I step back to the pine I’d nearly split in half and finish the job. Five meters tall. Two swings.

  Not bad for a Level 1 Lumberjack.

  The tree tilts. The moment it hits the ground, instead of crashing, it breaks apart into neatly pre-cut logs with a series of pleasant pops—like popcorn.

  Each piece is identical, outlined in the same glossy black as the Sapling.

  I extend my hand and, with a mental command, collect them.

  [Wood] x10

  The text shrinks and slides to the lower right of my vision, into a small bag-shaped icon.

  Nice. An inventory.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  If only my real job worked like that.

  When I step out of the underbrush and reach the crest of the hill, I stop.

  The world is on fire.

  And no, that’s not a metaphor.

  Well. Almost not.

  Fires dot what, only a few hours ago, was a quiet provincial town. Columns of smoke swallow entire neighborhoods. It looks like a scene from an apocalypse movie.

  The wind climbs the slope, carrying the smell of death, panic, confusion.

  My parents.

  They’re retired. At this hour they should be on the couch, having breakfast, watching TV.

  Instead they’re probably terrified.

  Or worse.

  I’m still thinking about that when a notification flashes across my vision.

  [Timed Quest Started: Family Matters]

  Time Remaining: 12:00

  My stomach drops.

  Oh God.

  I need to move.

  I sprint downhill. By the time I reach the street, what had only vaguely unsettled me from a distance—like tragedy on the evening news—hits full force.

  The nerd in me, who had stupidly enjoyed the weirdness earlier, shrinks into nothing.

  Cold terror grips me.

  Shit.

  This is real.

  Chaos crashes over me like a wave.

  A little girl stands barefoot in the middle of the street. Covered in blood and ash. She keeps repeating, “Mom, mom, mom.”

  She looks at me.

  I look at her.

  An explosion somewhere nearby deafens me for a few seconds.

  I force myself to move.

  I turn the corner—

  And something blocks my path.

  A garbage dumpster. With arms.

  It stands there like a street thug scanning for someone to jump.

  It found me.

  It’s bigger than a normal dumpster.

  Above its lid appears a green bar and red text:

  [Angry Dumpster – Lv.3]

  That looks dangerous.

  At least it doesn’t have legs. It stays where it is, glaring at me.

  Then it shoves both arms into its own mouth and pulls out a compacted ball of trash.

  I can guess what that’s for.

  Yeah. I’m leaving.

  I spin on my heel and run as the Dumpster growls and starts hurling garbage at me.

  My heart pounds in my ears.

  I glance back—

  Just in time to see a ball of trash smash into my face.

  White explodes across my vision.

  Then darkness.

  I hit the ground hard.

  The stench of rotten food fills my nose. Something wet and slimy slides under my shirt. The metallic taste of blood spreads across my tongue.

  My eyes are still closed, but at the top of my vision I can see a green bar.

  That hit took nearly half my health.

  I stagger back to my feet.

  I have to run.

  I’m not ready to be the hero.