Leaving the room, I felt my palm sweating, and my grip on the shotgun tightened. A part of me wanted to go back to my house and take some supplies, especially water. My tongue felt like sandpaper.

  According to the tile relic, I was in a section of the palace where bedrooms and various other rooms were located. Part of me hoped that some creature would show up, looking for a spray of bullets on their head. But as I passed through each room, it seemed deserted. No luck with water either; the faucets in the bathrooms had been drained.

  I didn’t take this personally, but I couldn’t help feeling a little frustrated. Dammit!

  The place looked looted—like a bunch of robbers or crack addicts had taken over and turned it into their playground. Torn clothes, destroyed furniture, broken glass—nothing had escaped their wrath. Everything pointed to druggies, except for the absence of feces. So yes, no fighting the addicts.

  It took hours just to check each room; my sense of size was completely off. This place felt bigger than a district, with red and dark red dominating the color scheme—the only exception being the wooden, stony maroon floor. The palace had an endless series of stairs going up and down, like some medieval hotel building complete with chandeliers and all that jazz. All fit for more than Houonas sized people, big as hell.

  No wonder no one cleaned this mess—it was too vast for anyone to handle. In hindsight, it made sense that no one would be here. By what Houonas said, the heir to this place should be me, and I needed to remain incognito for now. So there wasn’t much point in searching these rooms again—the scavengers had already looted all they could, until I showed up to the others heir tiles.

  If the intruders—those black-robed guys—had caused all this chaos, they probably had already done a thorough check-up or started here. The nearest places from my current location were the cooking complex, library, and saloons—all located on the top floors like where I was now.

  Soon enough, I reached the exit of my area. As expected, there was an enormous wall made of the same material as the floor—strange design choices indeed. Where did they get so much material? It looked to be from a single tree, with no signs of boards or composite materials used in construction.

  I had no idea how expensive it would be to buy this place. Not that I intended to sell it after becoming its owner—I needed not to die first for that to happen. Houonas hadn't said anything about selling the palace, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think I could do so without consequences.

  Talking about money, I still hadn’t found any of those precious shards. One way to get them would be from someone's corpse—Houonas implied this much. Easier said than done; while I might have a chance against some rats, taking on the intruders seemed more daunting.

  There were even these leeches called Erythocetes, probably the strongest creatures here.

  Now for the big question: which place to go next?

  For my sanity and thirst, the choice was clear—the kitchen!

  My body felt like lead; after all that walking up and down, my legs ached. Carrying a shotgun didn’t help either. At least I had left my camping bag in my room, only carrying the shoulder-bag with ammo.

  The ritual refresh my body, even though I felt fatigued after all this seach. Still worth it, especially since these past hours seemed to have topped up my energy through natural regeneration—a beautiful thing indeed.

  Walking across the intersection of this great wooden wall, I tried to keep noise levels down. Here, there was no hope of not encountering anyone. According to the map, it seemed to be the main way of crossing between areas.

  From what I could see, the illumination came from things resembling light bulbs far away enough that it wasn’t clear how they worked but provided adequate lighting nonetheless.

  Still, if everything blacked out I still have my phone flashlight.

  Suddenly, as I approached the end, a group of abominations appeared—like some kind of targeted missile running in my direction with uncanny precision. Their rat-like noses were bigger than half my face—a mix from hell between a gray sewer rat and something ugly beyond belief. Crooked teeth like someone had mashed their heads with a hammer.

  Of average height and build, they wore clothes that looked like potato sacks sewn into makeshift miner garb—except for the one in the back, who wore a strange brown skinsuit. Not only was it a skinsuit, but the material also looked like leathery skin.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Two of them held pickaxes; another carried a shovel. The last one wasn’t even wearing any clothes but was wrapped in dirt instead.

  Freezing up and letting them make the first move wouldn't work, so I lifted my shotgun as the nearest creature approached within range and pulled one of the triggers.

  The shot sprayed into the bastard’s body—his skin didn’t seem resistant to lead pellets that penetrated his flesh. The creature fell to the ground, the blood flowing like a fountain, the cretin spasming from blood loss.

  His companions continued their charge without hesitation; I didn't wait and targeted another one right in the head. His face exploded like a broken watermelon of red, white, and gray.

  No time for fooling around as I walked back while sliding my forearm to eject the spent shells. But the shovel rat wasn’t done yet—he jumped forward with his metal shovel aimed at my head.

  Adrenaline surged through me; legs followed commands as I leaped aside. The air moved past my arm hairs, showing how close he had come to hitting me.

  Crouching down, a soccer ball-like object shot from the side—panic set in and I blocked it with the shotgun.

  The impact hurt like hell—the brown ball exploded into a cone of dirt that hit my left arm, causing it to bleed profusely. You give me blood; I get ideas.

  Flaming ones.

  Using the divine spell again, I doubled down on this gamble—the wound giving me double the bloody prize. Karate-chopping the air generated momentum as the blood pooled in my skin flew forward toward the rat shovel enthusiast.

  The critter twitched its nose, smelling blood on his fur—now for the final aroma. Without delay, crimson flames erupted around him; the creature screeched like mad.

  Both spells consumed an arm’s worth of energy each. Strangely enough, the flames kept growing bigger with every passing second as the rat fell to the ground in agony and convulsions.

  The spell continued consuming more of my energy while a dirty rat watched his fellow being burn alive—like some kind of trance.

  My adrenaline kept pumping; I didn’t want to waste this opportunity. Running toward the shotgun, one eye on Marlene and another on the burning rat, I noticed that screeching stopped as almost half of my body’s worth of energy was consumed, the crimson flames snuffed out like they had run empty.

  The dirty rat broke his trance, running at me with a ball forming in his hand—consuming earthy material and dirt around him.

  Son of a bitch—I changed direction and did almost a drift with my shoes while lifting an arm to cast another divine spell, pumping more blood into the mix. The rat used its pea brain and jumped at me, betting that he would hit me first.

  I threw a looping punch as I leaped to my right, trying to give him less surface area for his attack. Smart move—his ball whizzed past my shirt. I too missed my punch entirely due to instinctive head movement on the rat’s part.

  That's alright.

  "Some-blood-in-your-eyes," left my lips in synchrony with an open-handed spray of blood onto the creature's face. The bastard only had a second before flames erupted, enveloping his entire head as he scratched at it desperately trying to peel off skin and flames.

  There was no use waiting; I dashed toward him while spraying more blood on his burning body until he became nothing but ash in the ground. My energy fumes were nearly depleted—cutting the spell short seemed like a wise choice now.

  Taking a deep breath, I smelled the acrid aroma of burned meat mixed with pungent rat stench. In that moment, something moved at what remained of the dirty rat—a postmortem reaction as his body contracted in itself and emitted light enveloping it.

  What was left behind was a crystal emitting red hues—no doubt another shard. The smooth sensation of this crystalline wonder fell into place; another light erupted from one of the rats I had shot earlier, convulsing throughout our battle.

  Concentrating all essence in yet another shard, this time there wasn’t any distinct hue but weaker refraction around its transparent crystal.

  With both shards snuggly in hand, it was time to consume them.

  Maybe Houonas’s words were true; the shards held more than just energy within their cores.

  But did I have a chance of getting back to ask? More importantly, could I explore here without being followed by hordes of rats?

  I didn’t think so.