I can Summon anything from toasters to AR-15s.

chapter 5: level up

Ivan made his way back towards the town. The adrenaline that had fueled him during the battle had long since faded, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness that settled in his muscles like a ton of bricks. Every step felt like wading through mud, with his legs protesting with a dull ache with each labored movement.

His damaged riot gear, once a source of protection, now felt like a cumbersome second skin. The plastic, once gleaming black, was now a dull gray, battered and worn by the battle's harsh realities. Scorch marks marred the chest plate, and his visor was cracked. He slid his cracked visor up, trying to clear the fog that had settled on the inside.

Even the weapons he carried added to the oppressive weight. The two empty flamethrowers, jury-rigged together with the hastily summoned rope, felt like dead anchors, dragging him back. He'd managed to find a scrap of cloth, another desperate attempt to shroud the bulky forms of his weapons, hoping it wouldn't draw unwanted attention if he got back to the town.

Just then, a soft chime echoed in his mind, accompanied by a translucent blue screen that materialized in front of his vision. Blinking through the exhaustion, Ivan squinted at the words displayed: +229 Mana Points Acquired.

A jolt of surprise surged through him. Mana points? He vaguely remembered something about MP from the game manuals he'd devoured before entering this world. But... how? He hadn't actively cast any spells. His gaze darted down to the bottom of the screen, where his stats were displayed.

Name: Ivan

Level: 30

MP: 230

Strength: 2

Dexterity: 3

Resistance: 1

Agility: 2;

Endurance: 3

A wry smile tugged at his lips. So, apparently, slaying hordes of goblins granted mana points. A welcome surprise, to be sure. But a new realization dawned on him. The numbers beside his stats hadn't budged. Leveling up, it seemed, wasn't automatic. He had to manually allocate these newly acquired mana points to strengthen his attributes.

With a sigh, Ivan sank down onto a moss-covered rock, the cool dampness seeping into his burning muscles. He tapped the screen, and a detailed breakdown of each stat appeared.

Ignoring Strength for now, he divided his points between Endurance, Agility, and Dexterity, each receiving a much-needed boost to 10. The screen shimmered as the points were allocated, and a surge of renewed energy coursed through his tired body. He felt lighter and more capable, and his muscles no longer felt like they were on the verge of collapse.

A sudden rustle from behind him shattered the fragile silence. Adrenaline flooded back into his system, momentarily erasing his fatigue again. Probably some goblin stragglers fled and got separated from the retreating horde, he thought. hinking fast, Ivan reached into his back, reaching a familiar weapon—the PP-19 Bizon submachine gun he'd lost in the battle's chaos. Thankfully, he recovered it after the battle, and the goblins hadn't recognized it as a weapon amidst the smoke and flames. Despite the scratches and burns marring its plastic parts, it still felt reassuringly solid in his grasp.

He won't use his flamethrower for now, afraid that he might cause another forest fire. Instead, he would rely on the submachine gun to take out any remaining threats.

A small fireball suddenly erupted from the bushes, flying straight at him. The impact sent a jolt through him, but thankfully, his battered riot gear held. Smoke wafted from the scorched material, but the flames died out quickly. Three goblins rushed towards him, with their guttural screeches echoing through the trees. Two charged at him, wielding crude stone axes. but Ivan raised his submachine gun and fired a short burst. The goblins crumpled to the ground, shouting in pain, swiftly scilenced by Ivan as he aimed for their heads—a quick and humane death for the two.