Broken Core [LitRPG • Cultivation • Post Apocalyptic • Romance]

Lowering the bloody leg of the hound, James gazed out over the city.

It's been two weeks already. I've only died…four times?

His leather shirt was ripped open along the stomach where the hound's claws had torn out his innards. Before he collapsed, he had finished the monster off and was now eating it. He'd need to skin the hound to make a new shirt, just like the few times before.

I'm getting stronger, but I have a long way to go. The area around my shelter is devoid of Forsaken. They are fleeing.

The thought made him smile. He was a predator and the hounds were afraid. The bodies were piling up and he had to search block after block around his shelter to find Forsaken. Still…Panning his gaze over the skyscrapers in the distance, he shivered. The city center held a whole new evil.

Yesterday, he watched a hound get crushed by a clawed hand that was twice its size. The Forsaken it had been attached to was nearly four stories tall. It simply laid in the street, not bothering to move until the hound had fled from him and into its waiting grasp.

The crunching of bones was still haunting him as he realized it could have been him. James could kill the hound in one hit of Soul Strike, but their flames were mere candles to the new creature's bonfire.

I have no hope of draining that large of a creature. Simply attaching to it would spell my death.

Picking the leg back up, he took a few more bites of the hound's flesh.

Body resources full. Time until reserves are full: Three hours and fifty-nine minutes.

With a smile, he tossed the leg over the edge of the building and stood. His hands and arms were covered in blood, and he could smell himself every time he shifted. His gray hair was more rust colored than its normal luster. Drawing his knife, he turned back to the hound.

Skinning the creature took almost no effort as he pulled the hide away and left the raw meat behind. Black vultures had begun circling the city nearly a week ago, but they had left him alone. They had actually followed him, picking clean his kills and cleaning up the messes he left behind. They had a beneficial relationship as they left offerings of feathers. The iron hard feathers were gathered and added to a pile to create better armor. He had also started collecting bones to create knives and daggers. He even had a few short spears that were more javelins than a decent length weapon.

I feel like a caveman…

He laughed at the situation as he carried his hide with him. Climbing down the building, he started on his walk back to his shelter. It was quiet and absent of scraping claws. The city felt truly dead as a few of the vultures swept down and started eating.

They were Forsaken, just like the rest of the animals and monsters he ran into. The hounds and bats didn't give him any souls worthwhile any longer. He was stronger, faster, and more durable after he passed the next level of Soul Strength. He was nearly at three in the score, and he could feel that his soul would go through some sort of growth. The small fire was steadily growing denser and was about to expand, but he was only receiving a miniscule amount of soul energy per kill. It was time to venture further into the city and start clearing new monsters.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Reaching his shelter, he scanned his palm and stepped inside as the door swung open. Shutting it behind him, he walked over to the brine and dropped the hide in. It reeked, but still worked. The burners he had been using were steadily running out and he had started cutting down trees and breaking them into burnable pieces. A crude bone rack had been built over the firepit that he used to bake the hides. He would have loved to cook the meat, but when he needed to eat, he was beyond starving and ripped apart anything near him.

Sitting with his legs crossed, he closed his eyes. His character sheet floated into his mind, and he smiled.

Name: James Matson

Soul Strength: 2.98

Soul Skills

Soul Siphon

Soul Strike

Skills

Regeneration: Level 9/10

Pain Resistance: Level 6/10

Heat Resistance: Level 3/10

Poison Resistance: Level 3/10

Rot Resistance: Level 5/10

Corruption Resistance: Level 3/10

Corrosion Resistance: Level 3/10

Piercing Resistance: Level 2/10

Improvised Weapons: Level 3/10

Crude Tanning: Level 2/10

Crude Leatherwork: Level 2/10

Crude Armor Crafting: Level 2/10

All of his skills had increased and he had even taken the time to eat more mushrooms. The pain was worth it as it built more resistances. But after reaching three in most of them, it became harder to grow his resistances. His Heat Resistance had increased only because he hadn't reached his shelter before night settled. The blazing hot wind scoured his flesh before he could open his door and step inside. He could still feel his flesh ripping open, even if the pain was dulled.

Leveling his crafting skills was harder than he expected, even if they were crude. Then again, he hadn't made more than a few pieces of leather and armor.

Opening his eyes, he scanned his shelter and found another pile of feathers having been dropped off. Retrieving them, he added them to his collection and smiled. It was time to start adding them to his next piece of armor to protect him better.

Luna sat on top of the hill, overlooking the forest all around her. A crystal clear river ran from east to west, flowing calmly. Birds chirped and flew from tree to tree as she savored nature. Her wolf form had become who she was over the last few weeks. Her village was far behind her and she had taken her first step in exploring the world at large.

This is what I wanted. Freedom to explore and cultivate how I wanted.

Air Qi flowed all around her as the cool breeze fluttered her fur. Her body was stronger and tougher after feasting on the Forsaken in the forest. She had her fill whenever she wanted and her techniques had grown. She could not only grow her claws with sharpened wind, but could project them several feet from her body. The ranged attack took foes unaware, killing them before they could charge her.

Not only that, but she could compress the air around her target, slowing their movements and soon she would be able to bend the air around her, letting her run faster. The drain on her dantian was growing with each technique, but the hot winds of the night helped replenish what she spent. It was even pushing her towards the end of the foundation stage.

Why couldn't I have been this free before? Why couldn't my village have pushed me away sooner?

Shaking the thoughts from her head, she looked into the distance. A wasteland broke the edge of the forest where stronger Forsaken resided. That was her target. The winds of the wastelands would push her to new heights and she could finally explore the old world. Something she had wanted to do for years.