Night settled in fully, pressing down on the store with a heavy, uneasy silence.
People lay scattered across the floor—some asleep, most pretending—eyes closed but bodies tense. The smell of blood and burnt flesh still lingered, and every faint scrape from outside made someone shift or tighten their grip on whatever they held.
Henry didn't rest.
He stood near the front, keeping watch. The covered entrance barely stirred now, only faint brushing sounds coming from beyond, like something still lingering in the dark.
His attention turned inward.
The system interface flickered into view.
[SP: 100]
And he has three gacha spins that are not great—two common tiers which has a probability of 50% appearing whenever he kills a supernatural monster, and one uncommon tier which has 25% chance to trigger.
Not impressive odds, but enough.
'Let's see if I can get anything useful.'
He triggered the first common spin. The wheel turned, light flickering briefly before stopping.
[Congratulations you got: M136 AT4 Anti-Tank Weapon System (5 HEAT Rounds – Crate Pack)]
[Description: A disposable anti-armor launcher used by modern infantry. Comes with additional high-explosive anti-tank rounds modified for rapid reload configuration. Effective against armored targets, fortified structures, and large biological threats.]
The second result followed.
[Congratulations you got: Nichirin Sword – Demon Slayer World]
[Description: A blade forged from sun-absorbing scarlet ore. Adapts to its wielder. Highly effective against regenerative and supernatural entities.]
A matte-black case appeared in front of him. Beside it, a sheathed katana rested.
Henry crouched and opened the case.
Inside lay a compact launcher, clean and ready, with five rounds secured beside it.
"Yeah… this is good," he muttered.
He lifted it, adjusting his grip as he brought it up slightly. The balance felt right immediately, the sight lining up cleanly even in low light.
"Dean would lose his mind if he saw this."
He set it aside and picked up the sword.
The katana slid free of its sheath.
The blade caught the dim light—
Then changed.
Blue spread across the steel, flowing along its length. Thin, circuit-like patterns formed over it, faintly glowing as they settled into place.
Henry studied it, turning the blade slightly.
"...So it reacts to Ether."
The markings pulsed once, sharper now, as if confirming it.
***
The next early morning,
Most of the people were still asleep where they had dropped the night before,
Henry was among them, leaning against a shelf with his head slightly tilted, the black rocket case secured beneath his leg and the katana still resting in his hand. Even asleep, he hadn't let it go.
Bud kept watch.
He moved slowly through the store, sweeping the weak beam of his flashlight across the aisles, over the barricaded entrance, and over the scattered figures on the floor his attention shifting constantly between the shadows and the covered doors.
For a while, nothing happened.
Then a sound broke through the stillness.
It came from the restroom.
Bud's head turned slightly, the flashlight following a second later, its beam landing on the closed door at the end of the hall.
He stood there for a moment, listening, his expression tightening as he waited for it to come again.
It didn't.
Only silence answered him.
He exhaled quietly, the tension easing just a fraction, and turned away, convincing himself it was nothing—pipes, maybe, or something settling in the building.
He had barely taken a few steps when the sound came again.
This time it was clearer.
A low, dragging noise, like something moving slowly across tile.
Bud stopped mid-step.
The light in his hand shifted back toward the restroom.
"…Hello?" Bud called out, his voice low but tense.
No answer came.
He pushed the door open slowly, the hinges giving a soft creak, and stepped inside. The flashlight beam swept across the room—empty stalls, cracked tiles, water dripping steadily from a loose pipe.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Nothing else.
Bud frowned, moving further in. He checked the first stall—empty. The second—nothing. The last—same.
"Yeah… just my nerves," he muttered under his breath.
He turned toward the sink, running the light across the mirror, then down to the floor again.
Still nothing.
Bud exhaled and turned to leave.
Something moved above him.
He didn't even get time to look up.
A shape dropped from the ceiling.
It hit him hard.
Bud screamed, loud and raw, the sound tearing through the store as he stumbled backward. The flashlight flew from his hand, clattering across the tiles and spinning wildly, its beam jerking across the walls.
"What the—GET IT OFF—!"
The creature clung to him, legs wrapping, sharp points digging into his shoulders as it forced him down. Bud hit the ground hard, his back slamming into the tile as he struggled, hands grabbing at it, trying to rip it off.
It screeched—a high, piercing sound—and lunged toward his face.
Bud twisted his head to the side just in time, its mandibles snapping shut inches from his cheek.
"HELP! SOMEBODY—HELP ME!"
He shoved against it with both hands, muscles straining, but it didn't budge. Its limbs tightened, pressing him down, dragging him flat against the floor.
"GET—OFF—!"
The creature reared back again, its body tensing as it prepared to strike.
Bud thrashed beneath it, desperate, his voice breaking into another scream that echoed out into the store.
Henry's eyes snapped open.
*****
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