A week passed by without fanfare, the duo of Harry and Brock carving their way through the sandy countryside, slaying heinous monsters and looting what they could from the sun-bleached remains of old cars and services stations along the dust-hidden highway.

In that time, Harry had only been able to collect a single type of venom from the Sand Wraiths, with the boy managing to hype himself up and opt to bravely drink a few drops from the stinger of the monster after Brock had severed its chitin-plated head.

Unfortunately for the man who had killed it, he’d had to deal with the kid’s three-day-long vomiting spree afterwards. In the end, however, Harry had acquired a powerful paralytic toxin, assisting his solo fights by leaps and bounds. They had even managed to paralyse a few monsters just to study them up close. They didn’t glean anything much because they weren’t biologists nor did they have any idea what they were even looking at, but it was a strangely fun experience, nonetheless.

The teen had managed to skyrocket his level all the way up to an astonishing 23 before it started slowing down drastically, the majority of beasts in the area averaging at a level around half that, with a sparse few at the peak of the twenties. It was a stressful affair for the teenager to be in combat so often, but the results were in the numbers.

Brock, on the other hand, had only just reached level 9 the day prior to current, and was savouring the massive stat increases with absolute relish. While before, there weren’t many creatures that could make the man break a sweat, now he was unmatched, a true apex predator of the area. He still hadn’t made any leeway on passively using his Ascendancy despite that sizable power-up, however.

Fortunately, in its place, he had gained a bit more insight into the intricacies of his Augment what with the constant heat of the sun above them. Through experimentation and a complaint from a sweaty Harry about how he should be able to control heat not fire, Brock had realised something.

Heat was fire, or at least an aspect of it.

From what he remembered from the high school physics classes he’d taken one semester, fire as a concept constituted of two key parts; heat and temperature. To quote his textbook, heat was the transfer of energy between two objects, and if his memory wasn’t failing him, then temperature was a measure of the speed that particles moved within the flame.

Meaning, if he grasped onto the emitted heat of the sun’s rays with the influence of his Augment, he could make the area colder by slowing the movement speed of its particles. Of course, it was rather taxing to do as the heat outside of them wasn’t a construct created directly by his Augment, and he could only alter the actual temperature by around 5 degrees at most, but it was enough to give them some respite when needed.

That little revelation aside, they’d found that Harry seemed to be able to ‘brew’ poisons with his Ascendancy, his power’s injection ability allowing him to imbue simple water with the properties of his poisons to be used by others, namely, Brock. It was extremely diluted, and a far cry from what the boy could produce through direct contact, but it was still a welcome addition to their arsenal.

The only downside was that it used their supply of water, which they weren’t exactly brimming with stocks of.

His own stats had grown explosively, with the base stats of Agility and Wisdom cresting the threshold of 100, and his Intelligence bordering 150. If he had been superhuman before, he was the level of a superhero now. His arms and movements almost blurred during combat and his blade carved into beasts at speeds that left them a mess of flesh and blood after only a handful of seconds.

On the topic of stats, he’d dumped all his free stats from after level 3 into Vitality, pushing its base value to 93, allowing him to worry less about any injuries he earned during fights. Harry had also seen a noticeable increase in power, though it left the kid stumped as to how much more powerful he was, despite him being able to clearly sense the older man’s aura at a significantly lower level.

Unfortunately for Brock, it only served to make his admiration for the guy grow further.

Dangling his legs off the side of a recently slain Sand Wraith with Harry to his side, Brock cast his gaze over the red desert, the boy beside him rambling on about New York-style pizza and how it shouldn’t be welcome in Boston - his hometown - for whatever reason. Like with just about everything else the teenager said, Brock decided to humour him.

To distract himself, Brock rubbed the rough vials he had made for the boy’s weak hemotoxins through both sand and his superheated Augment of Sparks. Poking a finger into the sand and flaming it up was a surprisingly decent way to make a messy and brittle vial, but it did its job somewhat admirably, tucked into the top of his barbaric waist robe and corked with a ball of rolled-up shrubbery.

Although, if he landed on them, or moved too much, they would shatter fairly easily. Luckily for him, they required direct contact with the bloodstream to take effect. Which was great news, as Brock had already broken over seven of the things in combat just by dodging around.

The chitin of the numerous scorpions and the thick hides of those horrifying mutant kangaroos was also serving to increase the rate of wear on his blade, dulling the edge further, although it maintained a sharpness far above most knives sold on pre-System Earth. It was still disheartening to see his greatest weapon begin to fade in strength, however.

Over their weeklong trek, they had also come to learn that normal wildlife still existed outside of the System’s mutants, though they seemed to be hunted by the stronger creatures around and pushed forcefully out of their homes. It was sad in a way. The world had changed, and they were yet to adapt. They probably wouldn’t live long enough to be given a chance to either.

“…stupid thin crust, you know? I don’t-”

“Expired protein bar?” Brock cut his younger friend off and offered him one of their final protein bars directly in front of his face. The last service station had been found a few days prior, and their supplies were beginning to dwindle, even as they rationed. Brock’s stomach grumbled.

Graciously, the boy took it, shut up, and chowed down.

They chatted for a little while after, Brock taking the lead this time, before getting back on their way. In the distance, they were beginning to catch sight of fenced-off fields, meaning they were reaching into the rural farmland part of a nearby town. Hopefully. Otherwise, it was just a middle of nowhere ranch that someone had owned before the System.

Or maybe Windows 10 decided to scramble the Earth a bit. Seems like something it’d do…

As they walked, Brock checked his status screen and eyed the growing amount of Stars of Ascension in his possession. It was halfway through the week when he had found a use for the strange currency, and all it had taken was for him to just ask Harry.

Once he got to choose his first ‘Technique’, something the System allowed you to do when you reached level ten, the ‘Aetherweb’ would become open to him. According to the limited information Harry had on the topic, you used the Stars to essentially upgrade the functions and abilities of your Ascendancy and Inner Self, similar to the style of an RPG skill tree, though he didn’t know them well.

Harry had mentioned it would allow him to somewhat direct the path of growth his Ascendancy took and influence the kinds of powers and even the stats it gave. It was enough to leave Brock itching to have a look for himself.

All in all, it made Brock even more excited to reach level ten, as hopefully the options he was presented with both in Technique selection and within the Aetherweb would help him gain a better understanding of his Ascendancy, if only slightly.

Soon though, Brock’s daydreams of his future powers were cut short as they reached the fence line a half-hour of walking later. There were no worries about it being electric, as Brock doubted it could even make him feel so much as uncomfortable, and he stretched them open and made a gap for Harry. He would have felt the light pricks as something far worse.

It seemed to Brock that the downfall of electricity was a unique trait to the ruined state of his starting city, though he did feel that the power to the surviving places would soon run out and leave the world in a modern dark age.

From what he’d seen, the aging process the System used was varied and entirely random. The buildings he’d witnessed among the sands of the outback looked to be only a few decades older, maybe a little more, while the ones in the jungle-city had clearly been through centuries of artificial neglect.

Not to mention the strange phenomenon about how all the food he came by was untouched by the ravages of time. Either the System didn’t give two shits about food, or whatever it had used to age the planet worked under certain principles.

Shit’s too complicated for me to figure out. He snorted. That’s why we have scientists.

Harry pointed out a homestead far off ahead, and the two began walking toward it, noticing the rooftops of other homesteads like it closer to the horizon, obscured slightly by dunes and distance. Many had solar panels atop them, although they were cracked and dulled and covered in no small amount of bird shit. Explains the power, I guess.

Together, they trekked up to the place and inspected the area. It was almost invisible in the sand, but Brock noticed a trace of the tell-tale divots of footprints, though there was no telling how old they were, just that someone had been here since the end of the Tutorial. The previous sand level had been disturbed by the System, risen by several inches and erasing any traces of pre-System Earth from them.

The door too, they had found, while somewhat submerged in the sand of the rising outback, had been broken open, the lock mechanism haphazardly smashed out of the wooden door in a splintered mess. With Harry close behind him just in case, Brock entered and crept inside, eying the continuation of footprint divots throughout the sandy interior. They led off through the hall the door opened into and ended up in the kitchen.

Most probably, the person had been searching for food.

They walked into the culinary creation room and frowned at the mess that had been left behind. Pantry doors were torn off the walls and canned foods had been ripped open, their contents strewn about on the sand-laden floor; while humans had definitely been here, it seemed the wild monster dingoes roaming around had also paid the place a visit.

“Not the chocolate…” Brock furrowed his brows in concern as he looked over at Harry, who was on his knees mourning over the melted remains of chocolates in the sand. The kid appeared to have a bit of a sweet tooth. An overdramatic sweet tooth.

Brock snorted, “Don’t worry. Dogs die if they eat chocolate anyway.”

The boy would get his revenge.

Inwardly, Brock was somewhat relieved they hadn’t found another human within. After weeks of scavenging through the outback and killing monsters several times each hour, they were positively coated in dried gore and crusted dirt. Surprisingly, Brock hadn’t really noticed throughout the trip, but Harry had voiced his concerns about it on several occasions.

Unfortunately, water was too sparse for them to waste on hygiene. In some cases, the service stations had clearly been looted by people who’d been there before them, but for most, it seemed the dingoes had torn the place to shreds. Not much survived. They’re either in their teething phase or in their asshole phase.

If another human were to meet them now, he doubted they’d even be able to see any human beneath, instead just two humanoid machines of murder. In business, he’d been taught the first impression was everything. And if your first impression was being covered in old monster bits, it was bound to be a terrible one.

They were about to pack up shop and leave, as the kitchen was usually the place that held anything of value to them, whether it be food, water or medical supplies, though he had just enough of each stored in his spatial ring, but a primordially terrible presence settled over the area and gave them pause.

It was unlike anything Brock had ever felt before, even eclipsing the pressure he had felt from Ur’Kahn, Son of the Sword. It bore down on them like the cruel beatings of a whip, and while Brock did feel a rather heavy inhibition on his movements and ability to breath, Harry was forced to his knees, left gasping for air.

“Brock…” the man in question looked down at the askance in his companion's eyes, and he shook his head stiffly, answering the clear question within his gaze.

No. He would not be able to beat this creature. No chance.

Brock was far stronger than he had been when fighting the werewolf, to the point that he thought he wouldn’t be far off from the overall power he had when using the Vial of Combat, with some of his stats already eclipsing those once enhanced values. But this being… it would be able to tear Ur’Kahn limb from limb, with no struggle on the swordsman’s part. He could feel it.

In fact, he doubted he’d even manage to swing his weapon before the fight ended.

Just as Brock was considering luring it away from Harry and running out there, a hushed voice hit them from up on the old looking staircase leading to the second floor. It was weak and feeble, probably from being under the stress of the overwhelmingly oppressive aura, but the two heard it clearly.

“Oi! Come here and hide! Quick!”

Brock’s eyes snapped up the stairs and fell onto a frail-looking man with an unkempt beard and fraying combat fatigues, and he focused on using his aura senses to pinpoint his presence. He’d turned them off as he found the auras he sensed distracting during combat, but he decided to learn to deal with it then and there.

He hadn’t even known someone was in here with them.

Ignoring all that for the time being, he clicked his tongue and made a decision. The stranger could have ulterior motives, but to be fair, they’d all die if the beast caught them anyway. Swiftly, he grabbed Harry and exhaled from the effort of movement.

Forcing his limbs to move despite the creaking sensation they gave off, he rushed up to meet the man, the presence of the creature rapidly getting closer. The man’s breathing looked to be fairly laboured, but he was keeping himself relatively quiet, “Keep quiet and don’t make a sound. Monsters can’t sense aura, but this one has bloody good hearing.”

The desperation in his voice brokered no disagreement.

He looked to be slightly fearful of their haggard appearances, more so of Harry than Brock himself, though. It made sense to fear the level 23 horror than the level 9 one, after all. Otherwise, however, he kept his cool and huddled up out of the sightline of the room’s only window. Brock and Harry followed his lead religiously. The man clearly knew what he was doing.

For a dozen or so seconds, nothing happened, the aura too overbearing to make sense of distance any longer. And then, something did.

The house shuddered wildly, and Brock was forced to put a hand over Harry’s mouth to keep him from yelling out as several talons longer than his legs pierced through the roof and gleamed with immense sharpness. Even the strongest man present had to admit he was frightened by the idle display of power. The claws far outdid the sharpness of his chain-knife, even at its peak.

The beast remained above them for a while, snarling repeatedly in what appeared to be bellowing bird noises, before finally, it lifted off and flew away. The trio silently sagged in relief as the aura swiftly faded into the distance. It must have seen them enter from where it had come from. It must have some fucking good eyesight…

Harry’s eyes bulged and he tore Brock’s hand off his face, gasping for air desperately, “What the hell was that thing?!”

The man, who was still somewhat wary of the two interlopers replied in a noticeably low voice, “The Sky Bandit. Fucker’s a real terror around these parts.”

It was only now that Brock noticed the true-blue Aussie accent the man seemed to have. Hell, even his wide-brimmed hat was reminiscent of Crocodile Dundee’s, albeit beige in colour. Brock decided it was better not to speak, as the man seemed to be defaulting to speaking with Harry.

Currently, he appeared to be the strongest, despite his scrawny looks. While Brock was sporting lean athlete’s muscle and a toned body, appearance mattered little with the coming of the System.

Even if said muscles were the direct result of the System’s stats.

The bloke seemed to deliberate in his head for a few seconds, with Harry keeping eerily quiet after the run-in with the ‘Sky Bandit’, before he finally extended a reluctant invitation to both of them, “You should come with me. We’ve hunkered down in a town not too far north of here, rescuing anyone we find. Can guarantee safety there too.”

“You in?”

Brock and Harry glanced at each other.