Super Guardian

Chapter 4: Something’s Changing

Chapter 4: Something’s Changing

Super Guardian by LittleLYTA

Zack woke up on his back, flat against the hot sand, eyes staring up at the cloudy sky.

At first, he didn’t even move.

His heart was pounding, but his body felt weird—lighter, steady. The last thing he remembered was that glowing blue orb... and the system screaming about a hack.

> "Was that... real?"

He sat up slowly. His arms didn’t ache. His legs weren’t stiff. For someone who had just eaten raw monster meat and passed out cold in the middle of nowhere, he actually felt... okay.

Too okay.

Then, the system message popped up in front of his eyes.

> [System Hack: SUCCESSFUL]

[Mod Installation in Progress… 40% Complete]

[60% Remaining… Please Stand By]

Zack blinked, squinting at the words like they were part of a dream.

> “What the hell is this?”

He rubbed his face, then laughed under his breath. Not because it was funny, but because it felt so stupidly impossible.

> “Is this seriously like one of those games? Like that blocky one… Minecraft, or whatever?”

He remembered installing mods in that game as a kid. Mods that let you fly or shoot lightning out of your hands. Dumb, overpowered stuff.

> “Did I just install a mod in the... system?”

His mind couldn’t make sense of it. This world—the Holy Domains—wasn’t supposed to work like that. The system wasn’t a toy. It was law. It decided who lived, who died, who grew stronger. You didn’t touch it.

But apparently, something just did.

Zack looked around and spotted the blue orb again, half-buried in the sand near the torn-up body of the Platinum Carbee. It had stopped glowing. Now it just looked like a smooth, strange pebble.

He picked it up and turned it over in his hand. Cold. Lifeless. But still weirdly... important.

Without thinking, he stuffed it into his pocket.

> “You’re coming with me, mystery ball.”

He stood up and dusted himself off. His worn-out shirt clung to his chest, but he didn’t feel as sweaty or weak as usual. Actually—he didn’t feel tired at all.

That’s when he noticed it.

His body was different.

Not huge changes. No glowing eyes or giant muscles. But he could feel it—his legs felt solid, his arms stronger, his grip firmer.

> “Am I… finally changing?” he said.

"I'm guessing it's from the platinum spirit points. So much energy"

He took a slow breath and closed his eyes. He didn’t know what he was doing exactly—but he tried to focus inward, like the cultivators in the Holy Domains always talked about. He'd overheard people mention something before... a sea of consciousness—some kind of spiritual space inside your mind.

He didn’t expect anything to happen.

But something did.

It was there.

Not big. Not deep. But real.

Inside his head—like a calm space beneath the surface of his thoughts—he felt it: a quiet place, like a glowing little ocean. In the middle of it, something floated.

A faint light. Waiting.

His spirit gear.

Zack opened his eyes, heart pounding.

> “I have one… I actually have one.”

His first ever.

Everyone always said spirit gear was rare. You didn’t just get it by leveling up. You had to kill something—and even then, it was luck.

He’d never been lucky.

But maybe… that just changed.

He took a breath, focused, and tried to summon it.

> “Come out.”

A ghostly Carbee flew from his sea of consciousness—its wings buzzing softly, body glowing blue. It shot toward him, and right before it hit him, it transformed.

Armor.

It wrapped around his body in pieces—first the chest plate, then the arms, then the legs. Claws gripped onto his shoulders, and something smooth and round slid down over his face like a helmet. The whole set felt alien… but also natural.

It was like a mix of bee and crab—blue, sharp, sleek.

He looked down at himself, stunned.

> “No way…”

He turned his hands. Moved his legs. The armor moved with him, like it wasn’t even there.

> “This is… actually mine.”

He’d seen other people with gear before—huge glowing swords, cloaks made of flame, armor with wings—but they were elites. Hunters. People with teams and backgrounds and families.

Zack was none of that.

And yet, here he stood.

Alone, in the sand, wearing his first spirit gear.

He grinned. It felt dumb, but he couldn’t help it.

> “Next hunt,” he whispered. “We’ll see what this baby can do.”

With a thought, the armor dissolved—slipping back into his sea of consciousness. Zack grabbed his hide bags, full of regular Carbee parts from before the Platinum one showed up, and slung them over his shoulder.

His body didn’t hurt.

His breathing was steady.

He felt... ready.

The system message still floated in the corner of his vision:

> [Mod Installation: 40% Complete]

He didn’t know what the mod would do once it hit 100%. Maybe something crazy. Maybe nothing.

He’d figure it out later.

He turned toward the horizon.

In the distance, he saw a few crooked towers, junky solar panels, and smoke rising from a scrap-metal village built into the rocks.

The Black Human Shelter.

It wasn’t just for him. It was the assigned shelter for everyone in this part of the Holy Domains. When humans first got teleported into this world, they were sent to a random shelter like this one.

There were countless shelters, scattered across the land like forgotten outposts.

And after that first drop, every time you returned from the Human Alliance, the system made sure you came back to the exact same shelter you left from.

No rerolls. No second chances.

This place—the Black Human Shelter—was Zack’s.

Not because he chose it.

Because fate dropped him here and forgot to care what happened next.

> “Let’s hope the scrap guy’s in a good mood today…”

Zack pulled his hood up against the sun, adjusted the weight of his bags, and started walking toward the shelter.

He didn’t know what that orb really was.

He didn’t know what the system hack meant.

And he didn’t know what kind of mod was now inside him, crawling toward completion.

---

The Black Human Shelter felt like a busy street back on Earth.

Zack walked through the entrance slowly, slipping past the guard post. Nobody checked IDs. The shelter ran itself.

All around him, people moved like they were in a small city. Some were trading monster parts, others buying food or spirit tools. Some just hung out—talking, joking, acting like this world wasn’t dangerous.

Zack kept his head low.

No one really knew how these shelters came to be. They were just… here. Fully built, working like they’d always existed.

Every person who came to the Holy Domains for the first time was dropped into one of these shelters—randomly. The doors opened only to them, like the shelter already knew who they were. Once you left the first layer of the Holy Domains, your old room got cleared and reassigned to the next unlucky soul.

Zack had been here for a few months now.

He was allowed in because he had just turned sixteen—the minimum age. Any younger, and the body couldn’t handle the teleportation. There had been cases of kids younger than sixteen who tried... and their bodies broke down.

No one knew why.

Zack reached the central street. That’s when he heard it.

Laughter.

A small group of people sat by the old fountain. He recognized them—classmates from school. People who, like him, had been teleported into this strange world not long ago.

One of them nudged the other.

> “Hey, what’s a baby hippo called?”

Another smirked.

> “Zack Tennyson.”

The group laughed. Zack didn’t stop walking, but he felt the heat rise in his face.

> “Stab-Ass Fatso.”

That’s what they called him.

The nickname spread after what happened on his first day at the shelter. People still whispered about it.

> “No one hunts with him.”

> “No one should.”

And they weren’t wrong.

Zack had made a huge mistake.

He remembered it like it happened five minutes ago.

---

The first day he arrived at the shelter, everything was new. The buildings. The people. The noise.

He thought he saw a spirit beast—a glowing white wolf sneaking down an alley.

Panicked, he drew his dagger. It was dull, cheap, and shaky in his hands, but he used it anyway. He stabbed the beast—hard.

Right in the butt.

What he didn’t know?

It wasn’t a monster.

It was Samantha McPherson, transformed into her spirit gear form.

A transformation-type spirit gear—the rare kind that lets you shift into an animal.

The moment he stabbed her, the wolf glowed and changed into a girl. Tall. Strong. Dressed in torn gear. Covered in blood.

And still annoyingly beautiful.

Even worse?

She was from his school. A classmate. Someone he knew. Samantha McPherson—the most popular girl. The kind of person people followed just because she existed.

And she made it clear:

> “No one trades or hunts with him,” she had said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“If you do, you’re going against my faction—the Military Loners.”

Her faction had power. Influence. And a lot of hunters under her command.

Even Prime Hunter—the guy who clearly liked her—backed her up.

He stood in front of everyone and pointed straight at Zack.

> “I’ll make sure he suffers.”

That was all it took.

From that day forward, no one touched him. No one helped him. He was alone.

And the truth?

Zack was even weaker than an average human.

No strength. No cultivation. Just a fat kid with a dull dagger and a ruined reputation.

He didn’t fight back. He didn’t talk back.

He just kept walking.

The streets of the shelter were loud and alive, but Zack felt like a ghost as he moved toward the back halls.

Toward his dorm.

The one that only opened to him.

The one place no one else could take.