Luck of the Dice (A Former Dungeon-Master's LITRPG)

Miles sat on the edge of the creaky bed, frustration mounting. The shimmering barrier over the door taunted him, its faint glow a constant reminder of his captivity. Every attempt he made to roll the dice had failed; the system refused to allow it, citing his insufficient level to overcome the magical restriction.

Current Objective: Survive.

Status: Restricted.

"Thanks for nothing," Miles muttered bitterly to the system.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows through the cracks in the wooden walls. Just as his stomach growled in protest, the door creaked open, and Vadamir stepped inside, carrying another tray of food. His calm demeanor hadn't faltered, but there was an unmistakable edge to his movements.

"I trust you're feeling better," Vadamir said, placing the tray on the table.

Miles's eyes narrowed. He hadn't forgotten the system's warning about the man's intentions. He needed to act fast.

As Vadamir turned to leave, Miles shot to his feet and lunged. His body still ached from his previous injuries, but adrenaline surged through him.

Roll for Attack: Knock Vadamir Unconscious.

The dice clattered to the floor, landing on a 5 and a 4.

Result: Success.

Miles shoved Vadamir with all his strength, sending the larger man stumbling backward. The chieftain's head struck the edge of the table with a dull thud, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Sorry about this," Miles muttered, panting heavily. He bent down to check Vadamir's pulse, relieved to find it steady. "Not personal. Just trying not to die."

The system chimed:

Time Remaining Until Vadamir Wakes: 20 Minutes.

Miles bolted out the door, his heart pounding.

The scene outside stopped him in his tracks. The village was nothing like the serene safe zone he'd envisioned. The wooden houses were dilapidated, their walls barely standing. Fields that should have been lush with crops were barren, the soil cracked and lifeless.

Villagers staggered through the streets like ghosts, their sunken faces pale and gaunt. Many of them leaned against walls or sat on the ground, too weak to stand. Their clothes hung off their skeletal frames, and their eyes were dull, devoid of hope.

"What the hell happened here?" Miles whispered, a pang of guilt twisting in his chest.

For a moment, he considered going back to help, but his survival instincts screamed louder. This place is a death trap. I need to get out.

Shaking his head, he ducked into the nearest abandoned-looking house. The door creaked loudly, but no one seemed to notice. Inside, the air was thick with dust, and broken furniture was scattered across the room.

Miles froze when he heard a faint cough. His eyes darted to the corner, where a small figure huddled beneath a tattered blanket. It was a child, no older than six or seven, with hollow cheeks and frail limbs. The boy's breathing was shallow, and his skin was alarmingly pale.

"Hey, kid," Miles said softly, kneeling beside him. The boy's eyes fluttered open, dull and unfocused.

The system chimed:

Target Scanned: Malnourished Child.

HP: 1/20. Condition: Critical.

Miles bit his lip. He had one potion left—a low-grade healing potion he'd been saving for himself. But looking at the boy, he knew the kid wouldn't survive much longer without it.

"Great," Miles muttered. "Save myself or save the kid. Awesome."

Sighing, he pulled the potion from his inventory and gently tilted the boy's head up. "Here, drink this."

The boy sipped weakly, and a faint glow surrounded him as the potion took effect. His breathing steadied, and some color returned to his cheeks.

Potion Used: Low-Grade Healing Potion.

Target HP: 5/20. Condition: Stable.

Miles exhaled in relief. "Well, that's something."

The boy's eyes focused on Miles, and he whispered hoarsely, "Thank you."

Miles managed a small smile. "Don't mention it, kid."

The system chimed again as Miles scanned the boy:

Roll for Health Check: Analyze Recovery Status.

The dice rolled in his vision, landing on a 2 and a 3.

Result: Success.

Analysis Complete: Subject's Base HP Stat is Critically Low (Max: 10). Nutritional Deficiency Detected. Recovery Limited Without Proper Sustenance.

"Max HP of ten?" Miles muttered, his stomach sinking. "That's... not good."

The boy tugged weakly at Miles's sleeve. "Mister... why are you here?"

Miles hesitated. How could he explain his situation to a child? Instead, he asked, "What happened to this village? Why is everyone so..." He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

The boy's eyes filled with tears. "There's no food. The fields stopped growing. People tried to leave, but..."

"But what?" Miles pressed.

"They never came back," the boy whispered, his voice trembling.

Miles's mind raced. A village with no food, no escape, and a chieftain who wasn't what he seemed. Something dark was happening here, and he was right in the middle of it.

Footsteps echoed outside, and Miles's heart leapt into his throat. Vadamir was waking up—or worse, someone else was coming.

"Stay quiet," he whispered to the boy, gripping his sword tightly.

He didn't know what was coming, but one thing was clear: this "safe zone" was anything but safe.

Miles felt like he was safe and he was about to relax when he suddenly heard a loud knock at the door. He knew that he was out of luck, but his first instinct was not to roll the dice - it was to hide.

Miles pressed his back against the wooden wall of the closet, his breath shallow and quiet. The faint footsteps outside the house grew louder, and then came the dreaded knock.

"Open the door," Vadamir's deep voice called, calm but laced with an edge that made Miles's skin crawl.

The boy, still weak but recovering, glanced nervously toward the closet where Miles hid. He seemed to weigh his options before shuffling to the door. As it opened with a creak, Miles could just barely make out the conversation from his hiding spot.

"Where is he?" Vadamir asked, his tone sharp and authoritative.

"W-Who?" the boy stammered, his small frame trembling.

"The outsider. I know he came through here. Did you see him?"

The boy hesitated, but his voice was steady when he replied, "No, sir. I've been alone."

There was a tense pause before Vadamir sighed. "Move aside. I'll check for myself."

The boy tried to protest, but Vadamir pushed his way inside. Miles's pulse quickened as heavy boots creaked across the floorboards. His hand hovered over the dice in his pocket, desperate for a miracle.