[Chapter 15: Unexpected Change]
He pushed open the heavy, insulated doors of the next building, expecting more of the same white-feathered chaos. Instead, he was met with a high-pitched, deafening carpet of sound. He stood at the threshold and looked down at a sea of yellow fluff. These were not adult chickens; they were thousands upon thousands of mere chicks, barely a few days old.
Searanox hesitated for a fraction of a second, the makeshift plank hanging heavy in his hand. Then, he stepped forward. He stomped one, then a second, the small lives snuffed out instantly under his heavy boots. He swung the plank down into the mass of yellow, but as he did, he noticed something strange. There was no chime from the system. No growing counter in the corner of his eye. The HUD that had been tracking his progress was only displaying one thing at this point:
─ Adult Chicken Lv.0 x285
─ [+ 285 Exp]
Below that, there was a single entry from before his break, a cold reminder of the factory’s human staff: Adult Human Lv.0 x1.
He stopped mid-swing, the plank hovering over a huddle of chirping yellow birds. He looked at the counter, then back at the chicks.
`They aren't included because they are just hatchlings... or maybe it represents a kind of protection from the system so that the species won't get wiped out before it can even mature, he reasoned, his mind automatically trying to find the "game logic" in the carnage. No point in killing anything if it won't count toward the goal. A waste of durability and TP.`
He turned on his heel and walked out of the building, leaving the sea of yellow behind. As he moved toward the next warehouse, his keen Dhampir hearing picked up the distant, muffled sounds of his drones. The hissing and roaring of the magical cannons were a constant background noise now, a rhythmic drumming coming from the building just a few dozen meters away.
For Searanox, his own work was no different. It was the same dull whacking and thudding sounds every time the splintered fence board connected with a chicken. Occasionally, there was a wet splatter of blood and bone if he struck too hard, but the routine had become hypnotic—almost meditative.
Suddenly, the familiar hum in the back of his mind snapped.
─ [-2 Active Drones]
The connection to his drones was severed once again due to a lack of Tech-Points. He paused, leaning against a stack of crates to catch his breath, and pulled up the feat display to check the progress of the last session.
─ Adult Chicken Lv.0 x13,825
─ [+6,912 Exp]
`It’s coming along well, he thought, wiping sweat and gore from his forehead. With the four of us—me, Iris, and the two drones—it should be entirely possible to hit Level 10 before the sun is fully up.`
He went back to the task, moving into the next hall and raining blows down on the feathered mass. Somewhere in the last few hours, his perspective had shifted. It was somehow... fun now. The work was no longer grotesque or repulsive; the slight unease that had sat in his stomach since the farm massacre had evaporated. The scent of copper-rich blood and torn bodies filled the air, and to his Dhampir senses, it was becoming intoxicating. He felt faster, stronger, and more in tune with the "rhythm" of the harvest.
As soon as his TP bar flashed full again, he resummoned the drones, and they continued their relentless, automated slaughter. Hours bled into one another, marked only by the rising body count and the steady drip of experience. Then, it happened.
─ Bing! Level Up. You are now Level 9.
Searanox stood in the center of a silent warehouse, his chest heaving. He was overjoyed when he heard the announcement. He was one step closer to his goal. He was a Level 9 Progenitor. But his joy was short-lived. The system notification showing his kills did something quite unexpected—something that made his blood run cold.
At first glance, the log looked normal. It showed the staggering number of adult chickens they had slaughtered so far, with the accumulated experience listed just below. But the math was wrong.
─ Adult Chicken Lv.0 x46,452
─ [+23,226.4 Exp]
He stared at the number, his eyes going wide behind his sunglasses.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
"There is no fucking way... diminishing returns," he hissed, his grip tightening on the plank until the wood groaned.
He stopped what he was doing and sat down on a clean-ish crate to think. It made a cruel sort of sense. In any balanced system, you wouldn't get the same amount of experience for slaying the same weak beast once your own level reached a certain point.
`I'm now nine levels above them. Ten, if you count Level 0 as a baseline. That must be the threshold. The system is penalizing the 'easy' grind.` He ran the numbers in his head. For Level 10, he needed twenty thousand experience points. But if each chicken was now only worth 0.1 Exp instead of 1 Exp, that meant he and Iris needed to kill another two hundred thousand birds just for one of them to level up.
The counter in his vision rose by a fraction.
─ [+23,227.1 Exp]
`It was a total momentum killer.` He thought bitterly. `Like hitting a brick wall I didn't see coming just as I was finding my rhythm. This changes everything.`
"FUCK!!! There are not enough chickens here!"
His loud cry echoed off the metal walls, accompanied by a frustrated crash. With full force, he smashed his board against a stray chicken. His knuckles turned white from the grip as the board connected. The impact was a dull thud, and the chicken itself burst like a watermelon hit by a sledgehammer. Blood and bits of flesh flew across the open space, and the board finally splintered in two from the sheer violence of the force.
`We can still make it.` He told himself, the 'copium' thick in his mind. `We still have five more days before the infusion. We just need to find another farm—maybe another chicken farm or a larger cattle ranch. A few hundred thousand animals... no big deal. They’re everywhere in this part of Germany.`
He knew he was just trying to convince himself, but he couldn't stop. He finished up the building, his movements more frantic and angry than before. As the sun slowly dipped behind the horizon, the day finally came to a bloody end.
Searanox was soaked. He wasn't just stained; he was drenched in blood and chunks of cooling flesh. He stepped out of the final warehouse and stretched his aching back, looking up into the darkening, purple sky. His drones were merely hovering over the center of the complex, their sensors failing to identify any further living targets within their range. With a thought, he desummoned them. The mental connection vanished instantly, and somewhere above the buildings, two drones winked out in a cloud of blue sparks.
─ [-2 Active Drones]
After a few minutes, Iris came around the corner of the main office. Her once-pristine black fur was matted and clumped with blood, and dozens of white feathers clung to her mane like macabre ornaments. Searanox looked down at himself. His pants were sopping wet. A small trail of red droplets followed his footsteps across the gravel.
He turned to her and spoke in a voice that was tired and entirely indifferent to the carnage. "We should look inside the main house. We need a shower, or at least a place to clean up before we get back in the car."
"The experience..." Iris started, her silver eyes searching his.
"Don't, Iris. Just don't," he cut her off mid-sentence, held up a hand. "First we clean, then we talk about the math. My head is pounding."
They walked toward the "welfare unit" of the large-scale poultry farm—the building that housed the offices, the breakrooms, and the manager's quarters. Searanox summoned a drone one last time. It cleared the building in under a minute, scanning for any remaining life.
─ Adult Human Lv.0 x12
─ [+1.2 Exp]
Near the entrance, they found exactly what they needed: a changing room with adjacent showers inside a small, tiled washroom. Searanox peeled off his blood-soaked clothes, the fabric heavy and cold against his skin, and threw them into a corner. He spotted a laundry machine in the corner of the breakroom and stuffed his less-ruined gear inside, then stepped into the shower stall.
He turned the handle to full heat. The warm water was a godsend, washing away the layers of crusting blood and the mounting tension in his shoulders. His fist smacked the tiled wall, the tile beneath his fist splintered with a sharp crack. He stood there with his eyes closed, letting the steam fill the room.
A few minutes later, the door to the stall creaked open. Iris stepped in. Instead of starting her own shower, she crept up behind him. Her blood-soaked hands, still warm from her own recent kills, caressed his wet chest as she leaned in. He felt her muzzle press against his shoulder before her teeth clamped down in a gentle, rhythmic pressure.
"Nom."
Searanox turned his head back over his shoulder, watching her nibble on his skin.
"You like doing that, don't you?" he asked, his voice low.
"Mmm-hmm," she purred. The sound was a deep vibration that traveled through her chest and straight into his back. Her silver eyes gleamed with a primal, predatory light as she looked up at him through the steam. "It is... satisfying. The warmth of the water, the taste of you... it is a connection I do not wish to break."
She didn't wait for him to respond. She tightened her grip slightly, her claws gently pricking his wet skin as she leaned in to nip him again—this time a little higher, right where the neck met the shoulder. It was a gesture of clear possession. She was a predator staking her claim on her progenitor.
"And you do not seem to mind," she whispered against his skin.
Searanox turned around fully in the small stall, the water now flowing over both of them, matting her fur down and turning it into a sleek, dark coat. He reached out and gently lifted her chin with one hand. His touch was a stark, cold contrast to the heat of the water and her own internal furnace.
"I don't mind at all, Iris," he said softly. He looked at her parted lips and the way she was leaning toward him. Then, he placed a single finger over her mouth, stopping her. "But you need to clean up now. This is neither the place nor the time for this. We have to move on soon, and we still have a long drive ahead of us."
He let go of her chin and stepped back out of the stream. Iris stood there for a moment, her breath hitching, her eyes locked on his.
"Not the time nor the place, Iris," he repeated firmly, though his voice lacked any real bite. "Wash the blood out of your fur. We leave in twenty minutes."