Martha had dubbed him "Lucius Mercator"—a name that sounded like a knockoff Roman emperor. He leaned against the tavern's splintered wall, scrolling through floating tabs only he could see:
[STATUS]
NAME: Lucius Mercator
TITLE: Dark Lord (Trial Version)
LEVEL: 1
CHAOS QUOTA: 0/1000
CURSE: No Nut Eternal]
"What are you doing, My Lord?" Martha squinted at the empty air.
"Reading my damned employee manual," Lucius muttered. The "game" Steve promised was horrifyingly real. No respawns. No settings. Just a shitty tavern, a tax-evading goat, and—
"Oh, Great Commander of the Dark Legions!" Martha bowed so low her nose scraped the floor. "I have a tiny request!"
Lucius eyed her. "Spit it out."
"There's a slight rat infestation in the basement. Specifically, Big Fat Bad Boy."
"Rat infestation?"
"He's… a problem." She lifted her robe to reveal bite marks on her ankles. "He eats my blankets. My only robe. Last week, he stole Gary's favorite receipt!"
Gary bleated in outrage.
Lucius pinched his brow. "Let me get this straight. I'm a Dark Lord, and my first mission is… pest control?"
Martha nodded. "Think of it as… team-building!"
Lucius's "armor":
Helmet: A rusted colander ("Crit Defense +1").
Weapon: A broom missing half its bristles ("Mace Proficiency Unlocked").
Companion: Gary (Chewing a "Contract of Servitude" he'd clearly forged).
Lucius kicked open the basement door. The stench hit him first—mold, piss, and something metabolic, like a gym sock full of expired deli meat.
Gary the goat hesitated at the top step. "Move," Lucius snarled, prodding him with the broom. Gary retaliated by chewing on his sleeve.
Then—scurrying.
The walls crawled. Not just rats—a tide of fur and teeth, beady eyes reflecting the dim light like cursed pennies. And in the center, perched on a throne of gnawed femurs: BFBB. One hundred pounds of greasy, twitching king.
[STATUS: ENEMY: BFBB (Lvl 3 - Mini-Boss)
HP: 50/50 |*Overfed, Pissed*]
Lucius's new body reacted before he did.
BFBB squealed—a sound like a chainsaw murdering a kazoo. The swarm surged.
Lucius's muscles twisted, swinging the broom in a brutal arc. It splintered across three rats, sending them flying into barrels. His demonic reflexes were faster than his old, whiskey-sludged ones.
A rat latched onto his calf. He slammed it against the wall—crunch. Gary charged, horns down, goring two rats onto a rusted nail. "Receipts!" he seemed to scream in goat-ish.
BFBB moved. One moment on the throne—the next, a blur of fat and fury, teeth aiming for Lucius's throat.
Lucius dodged, but not fast enough. BFBB's fangs grazed his arm—hot pain lanced up to his shoulder.
[STATUS: Plague Bite (Minor)
HP: 15/20 | EFFECT: -1 STR per minute (stacking)]
"Fuck this." Lucius stabbed the broom handle into BFBB's eye.
The rat screeched, flailing. Lucius wrenched the weapon free—black blood sprayed.
His palm itched. Something in his gut burned. [ABILITY UNLOCKED: Fireball (Lvl 1)]
He thrust out his hand. Nothing.
BFBB lunged again.
Lucius rolled, feeling his new body flex in ways his 58-year-old spine would've vetoed. The rat crashed into a shelf—jars of pickled… something exploded.
"Do something!" Martha yelled from the stairs.
Lucius growled, focusing on the heat in his veins. His hand glowed orange—
FWOOMPH.
A golf-ball-sized fireball sputtered out, fizzling against BFBB's flank. The rat paused, sniffed the singed fur… and squeaked in laughter.
"Oh, you shitting—"
BFBB charged.
Lucius leapt onto a barrel. The rat slammed into it, toppling it—Lucius rode it down like a wrecking ball, smashing BFBB beneath it.
The rat wheezed, stunned.
Now.
Lucius jammed the broomstick into BFBB's remaining eye. Twisted. Pulled.
Black ooze geysered.
BFBB thrashed, but Lucius mounted it, pinning its neck with his knee. His demonic strength—barely there, but enough—cracked its spine. [BFBB DEFEATED]
The surviving rats fled.
BFBB's corpse twitched. A red sigil burned into its forehead.
"Touch it!" Martha screamed.
Lucius pressed his palm to the mark. The rat's body dissolved into smoke, snaking into his skin. His nerves lit up—like chugging liquid nitrogen.
Copy
[ABILITY: Forced Acquisition (Lvl 1) Activated. STORED: *BFBB (1/1)* SUMMON TIME: 10 min/day]
Lucius collapsed, panting. His arm ached. His new muscles trembled.
Gary nudged him with a rat carcass in his teeth. "No, thank you"
Martha clapped. "It worked! I'm a genius!"
Lucius stared at his palm—a tiny, snarling rat tattoo. "What the fuck."
Back upstairs, Lucius scrolled through his full stat sheet:
[STATS. STR: 8 ("Desk-job arms") INT: 12 ("Can bullshit PowerPoints") CHA: 14 ("Silk-tongued devil")]
[ABILITIES - Fireball (Lvl 1): May singe eyebrows. - Forced Acquisition (Lvl 1): Store 1 creature. *No refunds.*]
"This is garbage," Lucius spat.
Martha served "celebration stew" (mystery meat + Murky water). "You'll level up! Just need experience!"
"Experience?" Lucius lobbed a fireball into the night. It died mid-air.
Gary bleated.
"Shut up," Lucius snapped—and launched a perfect fireball.
[PROFICIENCY INCREASED: Fireball (Lvl 1 → 2)]
"Huh." Lucius smirked. "Maybe this is like management. Scream at incompetence until something sticks."
Gary nuzzled his leg. Minion +1.