“YES, I did it!" he breathed, grinning at the monstrous ball of steel that lay inert on the ruined floor of the store. For a second he let himself enjoy the victory: the thing no longer moved, no tentacles writhed, no more chasing him around!
Practicality cut through the euphoria. He still needed those cores from the panthers mini-bosses. Because of the cthulhu-crystal that spawned almost immediately after them, he was unable to collect their cores. He stepped closer, reached out, and let his fingers rest on the shell. The metal was warm under his palm—still humming faintly with the echo of his mana.
"Don’t go anywhere, buddy," he muttered. "I'll be right back."
He pivoted toward his makeshift flying chair to gather crystals and froze. A system message blinked across his vision:
[Warning: Pathfinding issue detected]
[Teleportation spell will be activated in]
3
2
He frowned. "Wait—what?!" he said aloud as the numbers ticked down.
1
The world turned inside-out in one lurch. Air screamed; a shadow folded into being. The Examiner materialized out of nowhere. The thing dropped into the air two hundred meters away, exactly where he left his flying chair, blocking the escape.
David's stomach tightened into a knot. The metal sphere at his feet suddenly felt like a poor substitute for a plan.
For a breath he tasted panic. Then he breathed out, calming himself.
The monster surged towards him with terrifying speed.
"Oh, come on—seriously?!" David snapped, pulse pounding in his ears. Who could've guessed the system came with a built-in anti-trap feature? Now his perfect metal prison was just a minor inconvenience.
Running wasn’t an option. Not on his own two feet...
He scanned the ruined interior, heart hammering. There was no metal left—he’d ripped every scrap into that sphere.
His eyes locked onto a bent slab of exterior paneling still jutting from the sealed metal cocoon like a loose scale.
“That’ll do.”
David lunged, fingers latching onto cold steel. He braced his legs, gritted his teeth, and pulled.
The panel groaned. Screeched. Stubbornly clung to its place.
“Come on!”
With a final wrenching tear, the sheet ripped free. David toppled backward and hit the floor hard—right as a massive tentacle obliterated the spot where he was standing.
No time to breathe.
He rolled, clutching the jagged slab. Another tentacle hammered down, shattering the concrete inches away.
David threw the metal in front of him. He poured will and mana into it.
The sheet lifted.
He scrambled onto it, feet barely planted before he forced it upward. A third tentacle whipped past, slicing the air beside him.
David shot through the broken wall, riding his improvised metal board like a wizard-surfer, leaving the building and the raging nightmare behind him.
"Okay—okay, think!" he hissed to himself, forcing back panic. His previous strategy—the brilliant, perfect metal-trap plan—had lasted all of five seconds before the system cheated and teleported the boss back into the chase.
Every backup idea he had dismissed earlier flickered through his mind like a rapidly shuffling deck.
No. No. Definitely no.
Everything required prep. Everything took too long.
He needed something immediate. Something strong. Something that could crush a monster without giving it room to escape.
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The city blurred beneath him—hospital... apartment complex... a rooftop pool. Useless.
Then he shot over a massive structure—glass and steel forming a rectangular fortress.
A bank.
"Wait, what if..." He felt a grin spread across his face. "Oh, that could work."
David angled his improvised transport toward the looming bank building. The monster lagged behind him, but will be here soon. The front doors blocked his way—heavy, commercial-grade steel with a mirrored glass panel in the middle. No time for finesse.
He skidded to a stop, hopping off the board as it clanged against the floor. With a sharp gesture, he seized it again using his [Metal Law], flipping the sheet upright so it formed a broad, makeshift battering ram.
"Workers of the world unite," he muttered.
He hurled the metal slab forward with every scrap of telekinetic strength he could muster.
CRACK.
The mirrored glass exploded inward. The door itself shuddered in its frame, one hinge popping loose with a squeal.
Good enough.
David ducked through the ragged gap and swept his gaze across the dim lobby. Silent ATMs, empty tables and darkness.
With a flick of focus, he summoned the metal board back into the air beside him and dashed deeper inside the bank—toward what he hoped was the key to his next plan.
David had only been in this part of the bank once—long ago, when someone tried to sell him a premium service. He hadn’t cared then, and now he regretted every second of inattention. The basement corridors all looked the same and due to the lack of electricity he had to use his phone as a source of light.
"Where is it—where is it?" he muttered, sprinting down the stairs.
He rammed another closed door using the metal board and froze for half a heartbeat. Clothes were scattered across the floor—someone who had vanished during the Rapture. A bank employee’s badge gleamed among the debris. He snatched it up along with a jangling ring of keys.
Gabriel—Senior Manager.
"Perfect," David breathed. "Gabriel, buddy, I’m really hoping you have the right keys."
A rumble echoed overhead. Dust fell from the ceiling.
"He’s already here… great. No pressure."
David bolted back into the hallway, trying keys on every door he passed until—
Vault. A massive steel door. Reinforced. Thick enough that he could not move it with magic and even the monster shouldn’t be able to smash through… he hoped.
He fumbled through the keys—one after another. Wrong, wrong—
The ground shook. The ceiling at the far end of the hall tore apart, and the creature’s hulking form forced its way through, tentacles writhing toward him.
"Come on—!" A key clicked. The door swung open.
A second steel door waited behind it.
"Are you kidding me!?" David nearly screamed as he jammed another key into the lock. Wrong. Wrong—
The monster surged closer.
Click.
He threw the gate open and dove inside. He slammed both doors shut just as a tentacle nearly brushed his leg.
He inserted the key into the first door, closed it and then shouted through the steel:
"Yeah! Chew on that, you oversized calamari! What now!?"
A thunderous impact slammed into the door. David jumped, his heart ramming his ribs—but the steel held.
The vault door shuddered twice more beneath the monster’s blows, but it still held strong. David exhaled, shoulders sagging as adrenaline finally loosened its grip on him.
"Okay… okay. That could’ve gone way worse."
Then another thought slipped in: he had brought not a single supply. No water. No snacks. Not even a cheap protein bar.
His stomach grumbled like it wanted to highlight the point.
"Brilliant planning as always," he grumbled. "Maybe some billionaire stashed a wine bottle in here…"
Hands on his hips, he scanned the rows of safety deposit boxes, imagining himself as a triumphant survivor, entitled to a reward.
He reached toward the nearest box—
A blue-tinted notification blinked to life right in front of his face.
[Warning: Pathfinding issue detected]
"What? No. No no no—"
[Teleportation spell will be activated in]
3
"OH COME ON!"
2
"I literally just got safe!"
1
The world yanked itself sideways.
David reappeared at the far end of the ruined hallway—right beneath the jagged hole the monster had torn in the ceiling.
The crystal-skinned abomination spotted him instantly. Its tentacles curled backward like grotesque wings as it rose into the air, levitating straight toward him.
"...You’ve got to be kidding me."
He glanced around in frantic futility. The staircase was buried under collapsed concrete. The hole above was too high to jump to—even with his [Physical Enchantment]. And the scrap-metal hoverboard he’d ridden down here? Not teleported with him, thanks system, you are so thoughtful.
The floating monstrosity drew close.
Well, yeah, what did he expect? I guess most normal people would barricade themselves if they found themselves in a similar situation. It's strange he didn't trigger the teleportation condition earlier in his iterations. Perhaps when he barricaded himself from the dogs at the very beginning of his attempts to survive, the system considered that they would eventually be able to get through.
David didn’t even raise his hands this time. He just frowned—a tired, exasperated expression.
The tentacle struck.
Pain and darkness followed.
