system overload, a litrpg

Drazuul licked his wounds.

His body ached, still recovering from his last fight with the gatekeeper.

Had it been days? Weeks?

Time was meaningless here.

The sun never moved.

Not that he could see it through the endless fog.

If only he still had his wings.

Then he could take flight—escape.

Nothing would be able to stop him.

A scent drifted through the air.

Rotting flesh.

His stomach growled.

A feast would hasten his recovery.

And then…

He could challenge the gatekeeper again.

Especially if he could avoid that damned knight.

Or, better yet…

Find a way to finally get the upper hand.

They had always been evenly matched.

Which meant acknowledging that a scrawny elf could match his might.

Drazuul's jaw clenched.

Unacceptable.

He followed the scent, weaving through the fog.

Then, he found them.

A pile of corpses.

Denizens of this foul place feasted upon them.

He crept forward.

Slow.

Silent.

They would flee the moment they sensed him.

Not this time.

A clawed hand shot out.

He skewered one, popping it into his maw before it could scream.

Its bones crunched between his teeth.

He swallowed fast.

Didn't bother to taste it.

Another snatched.

Devoured just as quickly.

This one had been clinging to a body.

Rot seeped into his mouth.

He snarled.

The other creatures froze.

Then—

They scampered off.

At least they were smart enough to recognize his superiority.

He let them go.

Chasing them would be beneath him.

Instead, he turned to the corpses.

At first glance, they resembled elves.

But…

Their ears.

Not as pointed.

Had they been cut?

He remembered.

A punishment for common criminals.

But this was Limbo.

They wouldn't send just any criminal here.

After all—

He himself had committed treason against the emperor.

And for that, he was damned.

He chuckled.

Remembering the way they had tried to hold themselves above him.

Weak.

He looked closer.

Considering eating a fresher one.

Then—

A flicker of memory.

A word.

Humans.

A shudder ran through him.

Unbidden. Uncontrolled.

Unwelcome.

Those things.

Dangerous when left unchecked.

A scar near his heart itched.

As if it too remembered.

Rage billowed in his chest.

The longer he thought about them…

The smug faces.

The disgust.

They had seen him as nothing more than a mindless animal.

His snarl cut through the silence.

His talons slammed down.

The pile of corpses scattered.

What wasn't crushed beneath him was sent rolling into the fog.

That damn swordsman.

Drazuul gritted his fangs.

That bastard hadn't even finished the fight properly.

Hadn't even delivered the killing blow.

He had just walked away.

As if Drazuul was nothing.

Heat blossomed in his chest.

Burning.

Rising.

A primal fury.

He threw his head back and roared.

The fog split apart.

For a single moment—

He could see past it.

Then—

The heat surged higher.

Behind his fangs, flames danced.

He exhaled.

A wave of fire roared out.

Condensed. Focused. Relentless.

The scattered bodies ignited.

Flames devoured them whole.

Burned them beyond recognition.

A funeral they did not deserve.

----

We watched the fire flicker softly.

The warmth. The stillness.

I could grow to enjoy this place.

Of course, I'd need to learn Vorondil's language.

He seemed like a good guy.

And staying near him?

That would definitely keep me alive longer.

But…

I still had a quest to complete.

And I still didn't know what a Blessing was.

A special skill, maybe?

A guttural roar tore through the silence.

My body moved before I could think.

Hand snatching up the bone club.

I looked to Vorondil.

He was already staring at the doorframe.

Still.

Listening.

Then, he stood.

Fast. Precise.

With a fluid motion, he secured his sword at his hip.

Then, without a word—

He stepped through the door.

But just before disappearing into the fog—

He paused.

Didn't turn back.

Didn't hesitate.

Just spoke.

"Namárië, Narmo. Áva firë."

Then, he was gone.

"What did he say?"

I peered into the fog, but there was nothing but emptiness.

I frowned at the screen.

I grimaced.

It wasn't wrong.

But that didn't mean I had to like hearing it.

I exhaled sharply.

No use dwelling.

"I guess I should start practicing my skills."

My voice came out hollow.

"Where should I start?"

I blinked.

I nodded slowly.

It knew the system.

Even if it was questionable in other ways.

For now…

I'd trust its advice.

"And my class level?"

I tightened my grip on the bone club.

"Okay, then. Let's get started."

----

Vorondil dashed through the fog.

A familiar path.

An unbroken cycle.

It had been some time since he had tested his blade against draconian scales.

The appearance of the human had been unexpected.

But it changed nothing.

This was routine.

Fight. Rest. Train.

Fight. Rest. Train.

Challenge the Gatekeeper.

Rest. Train. Fight.

Centuries.

Of this imitation of life.

Perhaps things would change now.

Perhaps they would stay the same.

Either way—

He fought all the same.

Creatures scampered past him.

They altered their paths slightly—just enough to avoid him.

They weren't what his blade desired.

Then—

The scent of charred flesh.

Flickers of fire.

He slowed his pace.

Drazuul's snarls carried through the fog.

Low. Rumbling.

Seething.

It must have fought the Gatekeeper again.

It would be tired.

Vorondil considered turning back.

Letting the beast lick its wounds.

He didn't want to slay it yet.

It still had more to offer him.

If it wasn't at its best, there would be no fight worth having.

But then…

He considered its rage.

Perhaps it would fight harder than before.

He strode forward.

Confident. Unwavering.

Past the burning remains of a corpse.

As the smoke curled into the fog—

He disappeared into the mist.