HercMerc, JustTin and Louie leaned against the railing of the lighthouse, eyes fixed on the terrain below.

  “The elite should spawn in the next ten minutes,” HercMerc prompted, breaking the tense silence. “We should start getting down there.”

  JustTin bit his lip, his patience wearing thin. HercMerc’s so-called lead had already cost him valuable time and a silver to drag Louie into this mess. The mysterious expert—the one supposedly able to one-shot elites—was nowhere to be seen. HercMerc’s insistence that the player had disappeared reeked of an excuse.

  I’ll go along with this for now. But if this “mysterious expert” doesn’t show up, I’ll make sure HercMerc pays for wasting my time.

  He adjusted his grip on the railing, scanning the shadowy battlefield below. Somewhere down there, the Burrowing Crab and Trash-Eating Seagull would spawn, and the chaos would begin. JustTin had no intention of leaving empty-handed, expert or not.

  “Let’s go, Louie,” he said curtly.

  Louie nodded as he turned to follow.

  “Remember,” HercMerc said, falling in step behind them, “we’re after the crab now. The crab. Leave the seagull to the others, okay?”

  JustTin’s fists tightened at his sides, but he held his tongue.

  “What’s the plan if we do spot the mysterious expert?” Louie asked. His tone was neutral, but JustTin caught the skepticism lurking beneath it. Louie wasn’t sold on this wild goose chase either.

  “We target him immediately,” HercMerc answered, puffing his chest out as if the answer were obvious. “Last time he ran. This time, we make him use his skills. Burn through his cooldowns. Then we confront him.”

  “What if he doesn’t say anything?” Louie pressed.

  HercMerc shrugged. “He dies. What else? We can’t force him to spill his secrets, but we can make sure he regrets not sharing them.”

  JustTin rolled his eyes but said nothing. The allure of learning how to one-shot elites kept him in check. If this player’s secret was real, it would be worth the risk.

  The three stepped off the rusty lighthouse and wove their way through the labyrinth of trash.

  “Remember, our plan is not to kill the wild bosses ourselves but to steal them,” HercMerc preached as they navigated the piles of garbage.

  Who died and made you king? Who does he think he is to order us around?

  For now, JustTin played the part of the sheepish follower, knowing it would make backstabbing HercMerc much easier later on if push came to shove.

  Finally, the figures of the crab and the seagull condensed out of motes of digital light, forming the shapes of the furious elites. As soon as they spawned, the creatures locked eyes on each other and began their violent dance.

  “Let’s go, boys,” HercMerc said, hefting his rusty pipe and charging toward the elites.

  The three began their chase around the islet, following wherever the elites became locked in battle. The other players mirrored their movements, throwing the occasional skill or attack to whittle down the elites’ health, all while keeping their real focus on avoiding stray attacks from the creatures.

  The health bars of both elites were beginning to edge into the yellow zone, yet there was still no sign of the mysterious player.

  Louie sent a private message to JustTin: “No mysterious player. HercMerc has swindled us.”

  JustTin replied: “Agreed. Maybe we should make sure we don’t come out of this trip empty-handed. I call dibs on the pipe.”

  Louie messaged back: “I want the cape.”

  The two nodded subtly in agreement, all while keeping up the pretense of teamwork.

  The crab snapped its massive claws, narrowly missing the seagull’s neck and sending a puff of feathers into the air. The seagull retaliated, pecking at the crab’s hard shell with a resounding clang that echoed across the battlefield. Moments later, the seagull took flight while the crab burrowed into the trash, leaving the players to wait for them to take their fight elsewhere in the islet.

  The seagull circled overhead waiting for the crab to reemerge and resume their battle. The players, too, waited, clustering in a central location where they could quickly reach any of the random spots where the crab might surface.

  But as the seconds ticked by, nothing happened. Players exchanged confused glances.

  “Where did it go?” HercMerc muttered, his eyes scanning the trash piles.

  JustTin frowned. The crab wasn’t resurfacing. Is this some kind of bug? he wondered. It was the only explanation he could think of. After all, the crab’s health bar was still in the yellow zone.

  For a brief moment, the battlefield fell into an uneasy silence, a fragile pause broken only by the occasional shuffle of feet. Then, abruptly, the seagull landed and attacked one of the players with its talons.

  “The seagull! The seagull!” someone shouted.

  The players sprang into action, their confusion about the crab momentarily forgotten as they refocused on the remaining elite. Its health bar was now in the red. If they didn’t act quickly, they’d miss out on the loot.

  The seagull landed on a trash pile, and the players swarmed it hungrily, each hoping to land the final blow and gain the XP. Skills lit up the battlefield as attacks rained down on the creature.

  Then, just as it was about to die, the seagull froze. For an instant, it hung there motionless before its health bar abruptly disappeared, leaving behind only a pile of loot.

  JustTin frowned. Did everyone get a critical hit at the same time?

  But there was no time to think. HercMerc had already dived into the fray, snatching up one of the items dropped by the seagull and stuffing it into his inventory.

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  “JustTin, cover my left!” HercMerc barked as he fended off the attack of another player.

  JustTin exchanged a glance with Louie. Without a word, the two stepped forward and stabbed HercMerc in the back. Literally.

  “What?! What’s the meaning of this?” HercMerc roared, staggering as damage numbers floated above his head.

  “You think we’re fools?” JustTin spat. “That we didn’t see through your pathetic lie? There’s no mysterious expert. He never came. You played us.”

  “No, I swear I did see him!” HercMerc protested, but there was no time for arguments.

  The commotion had drawn the attention of the other players, who seized the opportunity to attack HercMerc as well. Outnumbered and overwhelmed, HercMerc fell quickly, the pipe dropping to the ground.

  JustTin snatched it up and ran, grinning to himself. Even though I didn’t find the secret to that player, this trip was still worth it.

  *

  Deckard waited. Waited. And waited.

  Time crawled inside the cramped space of his garbage den. His only connection to the outside world was the two narrow spy holes he’d carved into the pile, each offering a restricted view of the darkened islet.

  The sky outside was a deep, endless black, punctuated by the occasional flash of light from the lighthouse. Its beam swept across the islet in rhythmic arcs, briefly illuminating piles of trash, wandering players, and the faint glint of metal from scavenged items.

  Every so often, the sounds of the islet broke the silence. The crunch of footsteps nearby. The clatter of players rummaging through heaps of garbage. The distant clash of steel against claws. Once, the unmistakable weight of a player’s boots landed right above him. Deckard froze, barely breathing as the vibrations pressed down on his cocoon until the steps moved on and the tension in his chest eased.

  For the most part, it was eerily quiet.

  Then came the notification.

  Thanks to persistence and resilience, you’ve unlocked a new skill: [Garbage Cocoon].

  Garbage Cocoon (Rare)

  Description: By surrounding yourself with trash, you boost your immune system and become mighty!

  Skill effect: Passive. Health and energy recovery doubles when you’re fully covered in trash.

  Deckard stared at the message, his lips curling in disbelief. This has to be a joke. Right?

  He let out a soft, incredulous laugh, muffled by the trash around him. The absurdity of it almost broke the monotony of the wait.

  Almost.

  As the minutes dragged on, the sounds around him began to shift. Footsteps grew quicker, more deliberate. The atmosphere outside crackled with anticipation.

  The time for the elites to spawn was close.

  Deckard’s muscles tensed as he tightened his grip on the blank cards in his hands.

  They’re coming.

  Then, it began.

  A deep rumbling sound tore through the silence, followed by a piercing shriek that split the air. War cries erupted from the players scattered across the islet.

  The elites had spawned.

  From his spy holes, Deckard could make out very little, only shadows flitting across the terrain. But his ears painted a vivid picture. The ground shook faintly as the Burrowing Crab tunneled beneath the trash. Above it all, the Trash-Eating Seagull let out its guttural caws, flapping its filthy wings to scatter players and trash alike.

  Everything was going according to plan.

  While observing the previous battles between the elites from atop the lighthouse, Deckard hadn’t just been raking in Understanding—he’d been mapping the terrain. The Trash-Eating Seagull and the Burrowing Crab fought all over the islet in chaotic loops, but there was one spot they both consistently passed through: this pile.

  I wonder how low the elites’ HP is. The lower, the better. And if they are under all sorts of debuffs, that would be the cherry on top.

  The battle outside raged on, the sounds of combat growing more intense with every passing second.

  Then, it happened.

  The ground beneath him began to vibrate.

  It’s coming.

  Deckard’s breath hitched as he stuck his arm into the trash beneath him as deep as possible, his hand holding tightly to the blank card. The rumbling grew louder, the vibrations more intense, until he could feel them rattling his very bones. He gauged the distance.

  Almost… Almost…

  The heap shifted and rustled around him, bits of debris falling away as something massive burrowed closer. It was almost here.

  Subdimensionalize!

  The vibrations beneath Deckard grew more intense, the tremors rattling through the trash cocoon until it felt like the entire pile might collapse on top of him. His heart pounded in his chest as he gripped the blank card in his hand.

  And then, suddenly, the vibrations ceased.

  Capture successful!

  The notification flashed in his vision, and relief flooded through him. Deckard wanted to shout, to laugh, to revel in his triumph—but he didn’t dare make a sound. He pressed his lips together, forcing himself to remain as still and quiet as a mouse.

  Above him, the battlefield was still in chaos, players scrambling and shouting as they tried to piece together what had just happened. He strained his ears, listening through the muffling layer of trash.

  “Where did it go?” a voice called.

  “What in the world? It just disappeared!”

  Deckard smiled. They had no idea.

  Meanwhile, the distant caws and mews of the Trash-Eating Seagull broke the stunned silence, drawing the players’ attention.

  “Forget the crab! Focus on the bird!” someone shouted.

  The battlefield grew loud again as players scrambled to target the remaining elite.

  This was Deckard’s chance.

  He moved carefully, his fingers carefully sifting through the trash beneath him. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention by sending an avalanche of garbage tumbling down the pile. He worked quickly, and his hands finally found the prize amidst the mess and pocketed it.

  He didn’t stop to inspect the loot. There would be time for that later. For now, his focus remained sharp. He wasn’t done yet.

  A dull thud echoed above him. Deckard froze. Something—or someone—had landed on top of the pile.

  He listened intently, his breath shallow. There was the wet squelch of the seagull elite vomiting trash projectiles.

  It’s here.

  The trash shifted around him as players arrived to attack the elite.

  “Not yet,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. “Let them use their skills.”

  Flashes of light illuminated the trash pile above him as players unleashed their attacks, desperate to bring down the second elite.

  One flash. Two flashes. Judging the moment was right, Deckard made his move.

  He slid his hand through the narrow opening above him, card facing the elite above.

  Subdimensionalize!

  The Trash-Eating Seagull didn’t even struggle. Its movements were sluggish and weak, the result of the relentless barrage of attacks from the players above. Within moments, the second notification appeared, confirming his success.

  Capture successful!

  Deckard withdrew his hand, clutching the second card tightly. He didn’t dare celebrate yet. Above him, the battlefield was still alive with chaos. The loot from the bird was scattered across the surface of this garbage heap, drawing players into a frenzied brawl as they fought tooth and nail for every drop.

  The voices above were sharp, heated.

  “Get off me, you idiot! That’s my drop!”

  “You wish! I hit it first!”

  “Stop crowding, I can’t grab anything—ugh!”

  Deckard didn’t dare waste time. It was dark. Even though he’d tried to mask the skill’s effects by activating it in the middle of the chaos, someone might have seen the flash of [Subdimensionalize] through the cracks in the trash. He opened his menu and logged out.

  A timer appeared in his vision: 30 seconds and counting down.

  He remained hidden, his body still cocooned in the trash. The sounds of battle began to fade. One by one, contenders for the loot fell. Deckard waited out the 30 seconds and finally logged out. He’d stolen two elites from under the noses of everyone on the islet without anyone being the wiser.

  Read here.