A deafening noise echoed through the hall as the shotgun's fierce recoil jolted through me, sending green goo splattering everywhere—myself included.
"Fucking gross," I choked out, gagging at the sight and smell.
The "puppy" was down. Or so I thought. Something horrifying began to happen—the shredded bits of its body started squirming, inching toward a larger chunk of its remains.
"Hell no, you don't," I growled, unloading a few more shells into the abomination. For good measure, I manifested a flamethrower and torched every last piece of the grotesque creature until it was nothing but ash.
Once the ordeal was over, I crouched on the floor, trying to steady my breathing. What kind of hell had I stumbled into? Every passing second seemed to escalate into something worse. The hope that this might all be a bad dream was fading fast.
First, it was a giant fucking floating head, and now I was dealing with some kind of monster that shapeshifted into a seemingly harmless puppy. Had I encountered the puppy before I had the previous monster, then I would've most likely have ended up dead. That thought was a dreadful one.
"I don't want to die…" I muttered to the empty space around me, leaving the unspoken second half—especially not like this—to linger in my mind.
I had too many questions, none of which were getting answers anytime soon. After a moment to compose myself, I stood up and surveyed the scene. It was a disgusting one, to say the least. While I had torched the damn thing's fleshy bits, its "blood" remained.
"What now…" I murmured, eyeing the shotgun and flamethrower. The ammo was running low, so I restocked both. Not knowing what to do with the empty shells and cartridges, I stuffed them into my backpack. Better to keep them than regret it later.
Then a thought struck me—why was I running around without any proper protection? It was time to arm myself with some decent armor, preferably something that wouldn't slow me down.
An image popped into my head—a multi-functional combat suit from a sci-fi game I'd played a month ago. The suit was perfect: heat-resistant, scratch-proof, blunt-force resistant, and even stab-proof. What made it truly remarkable was its advanced tech. It used nanotechnology for quick equipping, unequipping, and upgrades. Powering it was pretty convenient stuff: solar energy and plasma cells.
I focused, piecing together every detail I could remember, from the sleek design to the plasma cells needed to run it. Soon, I succeeded in creating it, but I knew better than to trust it blindly. A test was in order.
Once I slipped into the suit, testing its functions became my next task. The flamethrower proved its heat resistance, a blade confirmed its stab protection, and a bat validated its ability to absorb blunt-force impacts. Everything worked perfectly.
I didn't hesitate to burn my old outfit—grimy green cargo shorts and a black shirt, which were covered in monster blood. Now, this this suite of mine equipped, it felt oddly empowering, like I was finally prepared for whatever was out there; well, after I had wiped the blood from earlier off of my face.
Then my mind wandered back to the healing potion from earlier. If consumables could grant temporary benefits, why stop at healing? A game I once played had potions for agility, superhuman jumps, and even fire immunity.
Curious, I materialized an agility potion. In the game, this thing provided improvements to the player's movement speed. The moment I drank it, a warmth surged through my legs, and my vision seemed to stretch ahead. Testing it, I sprinted down the hall, moving significantly faster than before.
Delighted and encouraged, I considered creating something with permanent effects. Potions were great, but their effects were fleeting; particularly so were the potions from that specific game.
Then, a game item came to mind: a ring that enhanced physical strength. It was something that originated from an RPG.
When I conjured and wore the ring, however, nothing happened. My punches against the air and walls felt no stronger than before. Disappointed, I removed it and tossed it into my backpack for later consideration.
"Well, that's a bummer," I sighed. "No point wasting more time here."
I pressed on, my defenses bolstered and ideas flowing. As I walked, inspiration struck again—why stick to the shotgun when I could create a sci-fi plasma rifle from the same game I got the suit from?
A weapon with better range and more firepower was too good to pass up. I brought it into existence, fully charged and ready to go. It needed testing though, so I pointed it down the hall before pulling the trigger.
A searing blue energy beam shot out, leaving a smoldering hole at the far end of the corridor. Burn marks framed the edges, evidence of the weapon's intense heat. The raw power it offered left me thoroughly impressed. Of course, it also provided comfort in its own way.
For now, I was satisfied with my progress. Yes, I was aware that there probably other things that I hadn't considered at that moment, but such worries were best left to hindsight.
All in all, without the creation powers, I probably wouldn't be so optimistic, but I had to admit—things were off to a solid start. I was well aware that had it not been for the powers I had woken up with, I would've been done for immediately. That was the reason I was all the more curious about its nature and figuring out my limits with it.
The road ahead of me was a dangerous one, so I had to adapt as soon as possible. Something was telling me that despite how much of "cheat" this power of mine was, if I failed to figure it out, my end was guaranteed.