8 — The Small Leaks
They
hunted together for real over the following days. "For real,"
because the initial sessions—the stew, the clearing, Melo’s
mandatory sleep—had merely been reconnaissance. A cautious treading
through the void. Now, it was work. Organized. Fluid. Efficient.
Their
first true target was a Marrow Weaver—an arachnid monstrosity with
far too many legs and eyes that pulsed with a sickly, rhythmic glow.
Level 6. Dangerous for a solo player, but manageable for a duo.
Vincent
had positioned himself at the front, naturally. The DPS, the de facto
tank thanks to his massive HP Stock. Melo remained several paces
back, his Celtic harp in hand, weaving a soft but persistent melody
into the stale air.
[Buff
Applied: Canticle of Courage]
[+15% Attack Speed]
[+10% Critical Hit
Chance]
[Duration: 3 minutes]
Vincent
felt the buff settle into his marrow—his movements became fluid,
his reflexes sharpened to a razor’s edge. He leaped before he even
consciously made the decision, [Feral Leap] activating automatically.
His claws found the Weaver’s joints with surgical, predatory
precision.
[Targeted
Fracture: Critical Success]
[-43% Enemy Integrity]
The
creature shrieked—a shrill, metallic sound that should have been
deafening—but Melo’s music acted as a filter, transforming the
agony into something bearable. Vincent bit, tore, and shredded. The
Hunger purred within him, satisfied but controlled, guided—almost
domesticated—by the passive Psyché buff Melo maintained.
[Enemy
Defeated: Marrow Weaver]
[+95 Shared XP]
[EchoZero: +76 XP]
[Melodream: +76 XP]
As
the creature’s twitching legs finally went still, Melo stepped
forward, already reaching for a kitchen knife tucked into his apron.
He looked ready to begin his professional harvest, but Vincent’s
hand shot out, his long, waxy fingers catching Melo’s wrist with
startling speed.
— Wait,
— Vincent growled, his voice vibrating behind the mask. — Don't
touch it yet.
Melo
froze, blinking in surprise. Vincent didn't let go, his gaze fixed on
the creature’s chest.
— The
heart, — he said, and it wasn't a request. — It’s for me. I
need it before you start carving for your sauces.
It’s my kill, technically. I’m the one doing
the heavy lifting. It’s MY loot. For his build, the heart was
essential—far more than cooking ingredients or common materials. It
was the only currency that mattered to the Beast inside.
Melo
didn't look offended. No surprise, no judgment. He simply nodded and
gently eased his arm back as Vincent released him.
— Of course,
Vincent. Go ahead. Your build needs the raw essence. I’ll just take
the leftovers for the broth.
[Social
Weaving Detected]
[Group Cohesion: +2%]
[Psyché: 73% → 74%]
Vincent
knelt and claimed the heart. He consumed it quickly—the taste was
familiar now, almost comforting—and felt the new traits integrating
into his digital DNA.
[Trait
Absorbed: Arachnid Weaving (Minor)]
[+5% Movement Speed]
[Improved
Climbing]
[HP Stock: +23]
Good.
Useful trait. And I earned it.
The thought wasn't fully formed
yet, but the instinct was there: the heart belongs to the one who
deals the death blow. The rest is shared. That was the law of their
pack.
They
hunted like this for hours. Vincent in the lead, Melo providing the
harmony. Each combat became more coordinated than the last. Melo
learned to predict Vincent’s lunges, knowing exactly when to buff
speed, when to fortify defense, or when to pluck his jaw harp to
increase critical damage during close-quarters brawls.
Vincent,
in turn, learned to trust. He stopped feeling the need to do
everything himself. He accepted the help.
Standard
group optimization. I’m the carry, he’s the support. Classic meta
in any MMO. Honest translation: I’ve finally found someone
who doesn't look at me like a freak, and I’m clinging to this
relationship like a drowning man to a plank.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
[Level
Up!]
[EchoZero] [Level: 5]
[Integrity: 91%]
[Psyché: 74%]
[HP Stock:
243]
[Transformation: 2/10]
They
stopped in a clearing that was marginally less horrific than the
others for lunch. This time, Melo prepared a more complex dish—a
spicy curry made from Swamp Glider meat and phosphorescent fungi.
[Item
Consumed: Spicy Glider Curry]
[+20% Psyché regeneration (3 hours)]
[+15 HP Stock]
[+5% Resistance to mental corruption]
[Psyché: 74% →
76%]
Two
more points. Steady. Constant. And yet... Vincent noticed something.
He watched discreetly, saying nothing. Just before the buff kicked
in, in those few seconds when Melo struck the first chord on his harp
to "activate" the meal, Vincent’s own Psyché bar had
flickered.
Just
for a second.
[Psyché:
76% → 75%]
Then,
immediately:
[Psyché:
75% → 76% → 77%]
A
net profit. But the dip was real. That’s it. That’s the trick.
He takes a little first. Then he gives back more. Vincent chewed
a mouthful of curry slowly, watching Melo talk about his recipes with
his usual enthusiasm—hands gesturing wildly, eyes bright, that
authentic smile never wavering.
He
takes. And he gives back double. Or almost. And he knows. He knows
exactly what he’s doing. The thought didn't terrify him the way
it should have. It wasn't: It
was: What if I tell him I know? What if he stops? What if I end up
alone again?
No.
He swallowed the last bite. I’ll say nothing. We keep going like
this. It’s good for me. It’s good for him. It doesn't matter.
[Group
Cohesion: Stable]
They
visited the [Agent] together to sell their excess loot and purchase
new techniques. Vincent invested heavily in the [Way of the Wolf]—a
skill branch he had unlocked after consuming the Briar Wolf’s
heart.
[Technique
Purchased: Devastating Bite 1/5]
[Technique Purchased: Savage Rush
1/5]
[Way of the Wolf: Progress 3/10]
Melo
bought advanced recipes and a strange, shimmering item.
[Melodream
has equipped: Harp of Forgotten Mists]
[All musical buffs: +15%
efficiency]
[New skill unlocked: Melody of Resilience]
The
[Agent], with his cracked mask and chilling immobility, watched them
in silence for a long time before speaking.
— You form an unusual
pair. A Wìdjigò-Phase and a culinary support. Statistically
improbable. Yet functional.
Vincent
felt a surge of pride.
Yeah. We’re efficient. We’re a real
team. Even the NPCs are noticing.
Melo
laughed.
— We do what we can! The important thing is to have fun,
right?
The
[Agent] didn't answer. He simply stared with his empty mask, as if
calculating probabilities no one else could see.
— Your Psyché is
on the rise, EchoZero. This is... unexpected. Most users of your
class show a linear degradation at this stage.
[Psyché:
77%]
[Control: Optimal]
[Transformation: 2/10 – Stabilized]
Vincent
shrugged, feigning nonchalance.
— I’m just that good. That’s
all.
And
I found the optimal build. Psychic Support + Cannibal DPS = perfect
synergy.
Melo smiled, and Vincent felt the passive group buff
pulse slightly stronger.
[Deep
Harmony: Reinforced]
[+12% to all stats]
[+7% Psyché regeneration
(passive)]
They
left the clearing together, Melo humming a jaunty tune, Vincent
walking beside him in a modified Watchdog Man pose.
We’ll
level together until 10. Then we’ll hit that class quest, unlock
the real endgame, and I’ll become the strongest player on this
server.
With his faithful support by his side, of course. Because
that’s how optimal teams worked. The carry and his support. Saitama
and Genos. Perfectly normal. Nothing pathetic or desperate about this
dynamic. At all.
But
for now, in this suspended moment within the dripping, grey forest,
two players walked side by side, laughing and talking and
being—against all odds—human. And Vincent, for the first time
since he had spawned into this nightmare, felt almost... happy.
Which,
statistically speaking, was the exact moment things were inevitably
going to go south.