Morgan awoke suddenly. There was a violent thunderstorm raging around him. It was daylight, but the storm filled the air with a thick gray veil. He was being pelted by freezing rain, his shivering, and the wind buffeting his body made him move just enough to send shocking waves of pain through from his hip to his armpit. The stinging rain and wind made his eyes water. He tried to gulp down some of the rivulets, realizing he was so thirsty. The only upside to being impaled face up was that it was easier to drink the rain.

  A box swam in front of his vision. The ogre had died sometime ago while Morgan was unconscious.

  ::Title Granted - Brawny - You are in the first 10 people to kill an ogre on your planet. - Ability Granted - More Brawn than Brains - Lose 2 Intellect, Gain 6 Strength. Strength is treated as 1.5 times greater when using a two-handed weapon.::

  ::Title Granted - Elitist - You are in the first 10 people to kill an Elite Creature on your planet. - Receive double rewards from elites, champions, and dungeon drops.::

  Sophia said as he slowly came to his senses and dismissed the title windows.

  ::Your current attributes are Str - 26, Dex - 21, Con - 16, Wis - 13, Int - 17.::

  Morgan asked wearily.

  Morgan asked, tension creeping into his voice.

  Sophia responded softly.

  Morgan responded, then grabbed feebly at the rod and pulled himself as far as he could before passing out.

  Morgan lost track of time as he slowly and methodically tortured himself. He would pull himself as hard as he could towards the end of the bar. He only moved inches before the pain caused him to spasm, which would create waves of mind-shattering pain. Then he would faint and collapse back to the end of the rod. He was in a terrible position. He could only get a fraction of his foot on the floor below him. And the angle of his shoes and the collapsing rubble under his shoes made it impossible. A vast majority of his body weight was balanced on the bar, holding him face up from the inside, at a weird angle.

  He contemplated the plan of cutting his own ribs out at one point, but he didn’t have a sword or his dagger. He didn’t think for a second that he would be able to rip his own chest and ribs open with his bare hands. Even if that was something he was willing to do, he would pass out before he could. He resigned himself to the task of slowly building up his constitution until he could slide himself the four feet off the bar.

  It was the 15th attempt, according to Sophia, that got him another point in Constitution. He was unable to comprehend the amount of time that had passed. He heard Sophia continue speaking, but couldn’t focus on her words and read at the same time. The system message taunted his cracking mind.

  ::Congratulations! Your hard work and tireless dedication have paid off. You were able to increase your Constitution naturally.

  ::Your current attributes are Str - 26, Dex - 21, Con - 17, Wis - 13, Int - 17.::

  Morgan lay suspended there, panting. Sweat, blood, and his own excrement were all assaulting his nose even as he ignored them. His frame was taunt and wiry in a terrible way. His throat was dry and cracked, rattling hoarsely whenever he breathed. He hadn’t had any water since the small amount he was able to gulp down in the storm. He hadn’t eaten anything, and his stomach clawed at him as he endured baking in the midday sun.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The length of the rebar sticking out of his body had dried, cracked, black blood on almost half of its length. This layer of ichor was a silent testament to his tribulations and resolve.

  Sophia was so insistent.

  Morgan’s voice, even in his head, was labored and cracked.

  Morgan replied dryly.

  Sophia corrected him.

  ::Ability Granted - Wrecking Ball - If at least two survivors concentrate, they can extract raw materials from the surrounding structures or resources.::

  Morgan sagged, letting his arms go limp and stretching toward the floor. This triggered bolts of zigzagging pain in his chest, but he ignored it. If he had the extra liquid, tears would have been streaming off his face. In his current condition, his body was just shaken with silent sobbing.

  “I finally start to get something of a normal life,” he croaks harshly, the words forced from his dusty throat. “And then, this fucking system thing happens!” He stops, taking in a huge gulp of air, “I meet people, people who don’t know I’m some rejected orphan, people who actually ask me what I think, my plans. I mean, they might not have known anything about me, but they knew me. Hell, some even respected me,” He scoffed, “And now here I am talking to myself, trying not to die of thirst.”

  “Damn it, Sophia, you know what I mean!” Morgan retorted weakly, without and heart in it.

  Sophia’s voice in Morgan’s head became rougher and deeper in a crude copy of Frank’s. “

  Morgan stopped talking. Grabbed the end of the bar and started pulling himself up again.

  Nineteen hours, it took three more cycles of him pulling himself along he rusty rebar, slicing his organs and causing massive internal hemorrhaging before he got the next point in constitution.

  ::Congratulations! Your hard work and tireless dedication have paid off. You were able to increase your Constitution naturally.

  ::Your current attributes are Str - 26, Dex - 21, Con - 18, Wis - 13, Int - 17.::

  Morgan felt a rush of short-lived exhilaration. The feeling lasted all of three seconds before he remembered that this was an estimate, and entirely based on his just being able to endure removing himself from the rebar. Not actually being able to do so. He reached forward, preparing to make the final push. His hands and arms were almost skeletal. He had lost a lot of the wiry cords of sleek muscle, and he could feel a new, inevitable weakness settling into his body.

  This time, when he pulled, the pain was still there. A nauseating, twisting, gut-wrenching pain that made him see stars and whimper, but he stayed conscious. As he slowly slid farther and farther, he could feel his old dried blood cracking off and chipping away as his weeping flesh pushed its way up the bar. He reached a section of the bar that wasn’t caked thick with old blood and knew this was the farthest he had ever been.

  He shuffled and got a foot under him with enough leverage to take some of his weight. It was miraculous. The debris shifted treacherously underfoot, and the angle was still awkward, but he wasn’t holding all his weight up by a bar through his chest anymore. Once he got his other foot flat as he could on the debris under him, he made a decision.

  “This is it, do or die.” And he leapt as hard as he could.