The Horn Beast

Cora scooped a mouthful of steaming white rice from her iron pot, chewing slowly as she stared at the glowing system interface hovering before her. She scrolled through the bustling, chaotic daily chat channel. Most of the survivors had nothing better to do all day than spam the feed with useless chatter and mounting panic.

She tapped on the profile of a player who kept mass-adding everyone in the regional channel. Tobias Reed. Twenty-two years old. His bio simply read: *Add me, let's chat!*

He was relentless. Cora swiped past his endless friend requests, scrolling back up through the relentless flood of text to catch up on the actual conversations. Desperate players were aggressively squabbling over meager sums of money.

[I got 5 copper coins. No idea what they're for.]

[Copper coins? Let me check which dynasty. I'll appraise them for you. If you ever take them back to the real world, you might get rich!]

[Just copper coins, not those valuable ancient coins…]

[I got some silver coins. Probably worth more than yours. 10,000 copper coins equals 100 silver coins equals 1 gold coin.]

The bickering paused for a split second before a new message derailed the entire thread.

Hazel: [Gold coins x6. Is this what you're talking about?]

The chat exploded.

[Wow, where'd you get so many gold coins?]

Hazel: [I've been getting them from crates since yesterday.]

[You are seriously lucky.]

[Can I have one? Please... I haven't eaten in two days.]

Hazel: [I can share other stuff, but not money.]

Cora smirked, swallowing her bite of rice. She felt a genuine spark of appreciation for the girl. Hazel possessed a rigid set of principles and refused to bend to the pathetic begging that immediately flooded her screen. Unsurprisingly, a dozen more players tried to guilt-trip the lucky survivor, only to be met with total silence. Hazel had likely blocked them all.

Still, Cora had to admit the girl’s raw luck was absolutely insane. During her first brutal early grind, Cora had worked herself to the bone all day just to scrape together ten gold coins. Hazel just cracked open a few wooden crates and casually pulled out six. Cora leaned back against her wooden chair, immensely thankful for the existence of her reality-bending Reforge skill. Without it, she would be lagging far behind.

Out of the corner of her eye, her fishing rod twitched. She set her bowl down, stepped out the door, and quickly reeled in another dripping wooden crate. Pushing it aside for later, she opened the chat interface again.

A familiar name caught her attention.

Briar: [Trading a long knife for toiletries.]

Cora paused. She brought up the long knife’s embedded stats. It measured three feet long, boasted a lightweight build, and carried a razor-sharp edge. It was a perfectly lethal close-combat weapon. She owned a wrist-crossbow for ranged encounters, but she desperately needed something reliable for close-quarters fighting.

She opened a private message with the combat-focused survivor.

Cora: [One toothbrush, one tube of toothpaste, one towel for your long knife.]

She possessed three spare sets of those exact items. It was a blunt, practical offer.

Briar: [Deal.]

A trade request popped onto her screen a second later. Cora slotted the toiletries into the grid, confirmed the exchange, and watched a sleek, deadly long knife materialize in her hands. She turned the weapon over, admiring the balance. It was light enough for someone without overwhelming physical power, fitting her current build perfectly.

Curious, she brought up her own personal stats. She blinked in pleasant surprise. Her base strength and constitution had both increased by a full point. Her rigorous routine—two solid hours of manual paddling every single day, combined with dedicated morning and evening workouts—was paying off. She used to believe sheer survival depended solely on tracking down rare system upgrade cards. Discovering that hard work could actually rival the game’s arbitrary mechanics filled her with a profound sense of hope.

Another message chime interrupted her thoughts. Briar reached out again.

Briar: [I've got fifty arrows here. You might find them useful. Take a look: Poisoned Arrows.]

Cora tapped the item link. They matched the shape and weight of her standard iron arrows, but the dark, glistening tips were coated in a highly lethal toxin. The description promised that small monsters would drop dead within three seconds of a direct hit.

It was an absolute jackpot. Her original bundle of fifty regular arrows offered very little security, considering her embarrassing lack of real archery experience. With fifty poisoned tips, she acquired a crucial safety net. She did not need perfect aim; she just needed to break the skin.

Cora: [I'll take them. What do you want in exchange?]

Briar: [Do you have salt? I need some water and some salt.]

Cora: [Deal.]

She smiled. Her water purifier had produced a fresh batch of refined salt just last night. She grabbed a wooden bowl, filled it with fresh water from her storage, and stirred in a generous scoop of the pure white crystals. She placed the mixture into the trade window and hit confirm.

Briar: [Thanks.]

Cora: [No problem.]

She closed the floating interface and stepped out onto the front deck of her raft. Gripping the hilt of the long knife, she took a steady breath and swung the blade a few times. Having no formal martial arts training, she simply mimicked the brutal, sweeping chops she remembered from old action movies. She pivoted too fast, tangled her feet together, and stumbled forward, nearly sending herself and the new blade pitching over the edge into the dark water.

She caught her balance, letting out a sharp breath. Note to self: expand the island and build sturdy wooden railings as soon as possible.

Her stomach growled, reminding her of the half-eaten lunch sitting on her table. She stepped back inside, picking up her bowl. Maintaining a regular eating schedule was paramount. Falling ill out here meant a swift death.

While she ate, she glanced back at the regional chat. The tone had drastically shifted. The mundane squabbling over coins vanished, replaced by sheer panic.

[Holy crap, why is everyone getting coins while I run into a monster?!]

[Don't even talk about it. I saw it kill a player, so I turned and ran. I was gonna go say hi to that guy. So tragic.]

[What monster did you run into?]

Cora sat up straight. Her fingers tightened around her bowl.

[A guy with horns on his head. Looked human, but had red eyes and really long limbs.]

[And it had these huge fangs. I saw it bite a player to death in broad daylight. I fucking thought I was dealing with a zombie.]

A horn beast.

Cora’s pulse quickened. This was undeniably the creature the sharks had desperately warned her about a few days ago. The system’s beginner protection rules were wearing off, and the monsters were finally breaking into the open waters.

She wasted no time. She privately messaged the traumatized witnesses, asking for any vague, scattered coordinates they could provide. Most players had bolted in sheer terror, but a few managed to drop rough location markers. Cora compiled the data, cross-referencing the sightings.

She picked a cluster of coordinates roughly thirty miles from her current position. Marching outside, she confidently adjusted her underwater thruster, setting it to automatically cruise at six miles per hour straight toward the danger zone. She fully intended to carefully observe the creature from a safe distance, gauging its speed and strength to see if her pending combat mission was actually viable.

With the raft churning through the waves, Cora turned her attention to the two crates resting on her deck. She popped the locks and threw open the lids.

[Opened Basic Wooden Chest. Got: 1 carton of milk, 12 packs of spicy noodles.]

[Opened iron resource chest. Got: 1 gold coin, 1 solar power storage unit, 11 lbs of steak.]

"Wow, huge haul," she murmured to herself.

She sorted through the items. The milk came in two dozen tiny, cold cartons. The spicy noodle packets were a welcome sight. Eating them straight might risk an upset stomach out here, but she could easily use the intense seasoning packets as a rich sauce for her bland seafood.

Next, she lifted the eleven pounds of high-quality raw steak. The meat was thick, red, and marbled with fat. Her mouth watered at the prospect of a proper dinner.

Finally, she inspected the solar power storage unit. It was a heavy, compact block measuring eight inches by eight inches by twelve inches. A foldable solar panel rested on top, and the sides featured an array of two-prong, three-prong, and USB sockets. The capacity wasn't listed, but given the sheer weight and number of ports, it promised massive utility for her base advancement.

She carried the heavy unit up the small ladder to her flat cabin roof. She unfolded the solar panel, angling it to catch the bright afternoon rays. The battery display flashed zero percent, but a tiny green arrow slowly began creeping upward.

Feeling a surge of strategic confidence, Cora climbed back down. She needed to prepare. She grabbed a thick wooden plank from her inventory, grabbed a handful of iron nails, and forcefully hammered the makeshift target onto her exterior wall.

She strapped the wrist-crossbow to her forearm, loaded a standard iron arrow, and took aim. She fired a few tense practice shots, letting the harsh snap of the bowstring echo across the water. The distance was far too short to master any real marksmanship, but she needed to get a real feel for the weapon's recoil and trigger tension.

Around five o'clock in the afternoon, the constant, rushing ambient noise of the ocean abruptly cut off.

Cora lowered her crossbow. The water around her raft turned eerily still. A sudden, blaring system notification flashed brightly before her eyes.

[Congratulations! Your mileage has reached 300 miles, triggering a resource station. Arriving in 1 minute. Please prepare to dock.]