Marcy was drifting. She wasn't in the equipment shed anymore; she was standing in an infinite expanse. The floor was a blinding, polished white, but the space around her was a swirling vortex of starlight, galaxies, and absolute darkness.

  Something pulled her forward. In the center of the void sat something hard to describe. It looked like a censored image in a video game—glitching, stretching, and tearing, only to reform a second later.

  "Little hero," a voice spoke. It was flat, determined, and sounded exactly like Marcy’s own voice.

  Marcy jumped, her ears pressing against her head. "Who’s there?"

  "Do not fear," the voice said. "I use your voice only because I lost my own millennia ago."

  "Who are you?" Marcy asked, her voice small in the vastness.

  "My name is not important yet. I am here to warn you. The System is not salvation. It is seasoning. Its Creator devours what he seasons. This world is being prepared to be devoured. You must fight the System, for its 'Creator' is a Devourer of Worlds. I will do what I can to help you, little bunny... hero. Go now. Your fate awaits."

  Before Marcy could ask a single question, the galaxies and white floor faded until there was nothing.

  "Ah!" Marcy gasped, her eyes snapping open. The pain in her arm hit her like a physical weight, making her wince. She looked down to see her arm bound in a makeshift splint.

  "Welcome back, bunny," Allan said, a genuine smile breaking through his rugged, draconic features.

  Lina stood nearby, her expression a complicated mess of gratitude and simmering jealousy. "Thank you," she whispered, looking at the floor. "For defeating that... that thing at the gym."

  Allan chuckled at Lina’s reluctant tone, earning himself a sharp glare from the Ice Queen.

  Suddenly, a system message flickered into existence with a Mind-Blown emoji and a sighing face.

  MAN, YOU REALLY ARE A PEST, PINK FURBALL. YOU DIDN’T DESTROY THE CORE, SO I’M BOUND BY THE SYSTEM TO HONOR OUR WAGER. ALTHOUGH, I’M GLAD YOU GOT A BROKEN ARM OUT OF IT. HEHEHE!

  "You thought I was just a snack," Marcy retorted, her triumph outweighing her pain. "And now I've taken down a Golem. Thanks, Window Troll!"

  The system window turned a violent shade of red.

  DON'T CALL ME THAT! SPIN YOUR WHEEL AND CHOKE ON WHATEVER YOU GET!

  A massive holographic weapon wheel appeared in the center of the shed. It was divided into colors: Common (Grey), Uncommon (Green), Rare (Blue), Epic (Purple), Legendary (Gold), and a tiny, flickering sliver of Unique (Red).

  For a split second, Marcy thought:

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  I’m done being mocked.

  If I’m seasoning, I’ll be spicy.

  From now on, I’m getting stronger. No matter what anyone says.

  Marcy reached out with her good hand and slammed the red button. Allan and Lina watched, breathless.

  ENJOY YOUR COMMON ITEM—

  The wheel slowed.

  It skipped over the Grey.

  It blew past the Purple

  It trembled on Gold...

  Then blew right past it.

  With a final, glitchy click, the pointer landed on the tiny sliver of Unique.

  Marcy blinked.

  The System window displayed a pair of wide eyes ?? and turned a deeper shade of red than before.

  THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE!!

  Marcy stood up, her body aching, but a fizzing excitement overriding the pain. The System, still glowing an enraged red, sent a frantic message.

  I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU'RE DOING IT, PEST! YOU CHEATED! OR YOU'RE A LUCKY BUNNY... AND I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT!

  Suddenly, Marcy felt a heavy weight forming in her good hand.

  A dark hilt slowly took shape, condensing from drifting starlight into cold, impossible metal that bit into her palm.

  Allan and Lina watched, mesmerized, as a massive sword materialized. It was forged from a metal as black as the void, flecked with what looked like distant galaxies.

  As soon as it fully formed, the sword was comically oversized for Marcy. She was 4'2"; this thing was at least five feet long.

  Then, the impossible happened. The massive blade bent toward her, stretching with lazy, predatory indifference. A deep, resonant voice, rich with boredom and a hint of sarcasm, yawned. "Ah, finally. A new wielder. What is your-"

  The sword's hilt swiveled, its unseen "eyes" focusing on Marcy.

  "A PINK BUNNY?!" it boomed, the sound vibrating the shed's walls. "This System is ridiculous and cruel and needs better management!"

  The System instantly opened a window, a furious emoji filling the screen.

  EXCUSE YOU!?

  With a lazy shwing, the sword sliced the System window clean in half. The pixels unraveled like they'd been embarrassed. Another window popped up instantly, even angrier than before.

  REALLY!? THIS IS WHY WE DON'T LET ANYONE GET WULF!! GREAT, NOW I HAVE TWO PESTS, AND THEY'VE TEAMED UP!!!

  Wulf responded by slicing the System window again, a sharp, metallic clink. "Quiet, Window Goblin!"

  Marcy threw her head back and cackled, a pure, unadulterated sound of joy and triumph. "You know what? I like you already, Mr. Wulf!"

  Wulf tilted its massive blade upwards, a subtle vibration indicating its pleasure at the compliment. "A discerning wielder. Excellent."