Harem God- Dimensional Motel System-Chapter 48: Interactions With The Night Part 7

Luck woke up to a loud ringing sound that reminded him of his school days.

For a moment, he almost thought he just imagined the zombies, the siege, and the new world.

But the System’s text glowed bright and intrusive at the edge of his vision.

[Congratulations! You have survived Night 1]

[Survivors 5/5]

[Daily Rewards]

[50 EC - Survivor Allowance]

[10 Party Stats Points]

Luck’s eyes widened. "System, what are party stat points?"

The System responded in its usual tone:

[Party Stat Points can be used to increase any main skill of your party members. However, each point spent reduces that person’s lifespan by one year.]

"Woohoo!" he hollered, flinging his fist skyward like a victorious superhero.

The whole lifespan dilemma? Pfft, who had time to worry about that when zombies roamed around like grumpy neighbors?

Seriously, who lived long enough to even notice a missing year?

It was all about the power—pure, unfiltered, no-instructions-needed power.

Felt just like being back in H.E.O, when he souped up his main avatar to godly status with +99 armor and a flaming horse.

"Let’s break this game wide open," he chuckled, eyes sparkling as he pulled up the party stats.

The names blinked in a neat row, each with their own miserable little icons:

=====

Dima

Heavy Machinery Operation: 6/10

Mechanical Repair: 6/10

Electrical Repair: 5/10

Driving: 6/10

Cooking: 5/10

=====

Fernando

Leadership: 5/10

Shooting: 6/10

Tactical Planning: 6/10

First Aid: 5/10

Fist Fighting: 5/10

=====

Gregor

Athletics: 6/10

Wrestling: 7/10

Running: 5/10

Trap Setting: 5/10

Carrying Capacity: 7/10

=====

Roger

Improvised Engineering: 5/10

Problem Solving: 6/10

Trap Setting: 6/10

Physics Knowledge: 7/10

Carrying Capacity: 5/10

=====

Yuna

Shooting: 8/10

Melee Weapon: 7/10

Cock Sucking : 11/10

Dick Riding : 11/10

Cum Swallower: 11/10

=====

"What the hell am I looking at?" Luck’s eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of her... unusual skill set.

She got the highest overall stats—if he averaged their five main skills, no one else came close.

And not just that. She was the only one skilled enough to surpass what was considered humanly possible.

’Shit... now I’m curious what it felt like,’ he muttered, shaking his head as the thought slowly crept into his mind.

"System, are you messing with me?"

[Negative. The skills shown are their main ones because they each have at least five points. Additional skills will become visible as time progresses.]

"Hey, what about mine? I wanna see my skills too."

[Owner must pay 10 EC to view it]

"Aren’t you just robbing me at this point? You showed their stats for free—so why am I getting charged?"

[They are ordinary humans. Owner is more special, so retrieving your data requires additional effort.]

"Fine, I’ll pay," he acted annoyed.

Still, he couldn’t help but smile a little after being called special. It meant he was some kind of higher being... or part of a godlike race.

=====

Luck Marshal:

Sword Skill: 42/1000

Martial Art skill: 31/1000

Shooting Skill: 25/1000

Strategic Skill: 110/1000

Taunting Skill: 510/1000

[Required more authority]

=====

"Hey, why is mine over 1000?"

[Owner, your stats are measured using your grandfather as the baseline.]

"Seriously? He scored higher than me in taunting? Me?"

[Your grandfather is so skilled at taunting that 99.99% of the powerful individuals in the universe can’t even stand being in the same room as him.]

[The remaining 1% only stayed because they were bound by a contract or cursed into it.]

"So... I’m still way behind, huh," he sighed.

Funny thing was, he was more fixated on that one stat—taunting—than the fact his sword skill, the one people would cheer and bow over, was sitting at just 42 out of 1000.

That gap was like comparing a bicycle to a missile—both could move, but only one made nations nervous.

He waved his stats away—it was too depressing to look at.

Instead, he focused on memorizing the party’s stats so he could assign roles more efficiently later.

As for the stat points, he decided to hold onto them. Maybe someone with worthy skill would show up later.

Stepping outside, he found the group of five already awake.

They loitered just inside the shadows of the east wall, blinking at the blue-bright morning and the scatter of bird less, cloud-thin sky.

Someone boiled water on a camp stove, and the scent of cheap instant coffee was so sharp he nearly gagged.

They looked at him as he approached, like they were expecting a pop quiz . Judging by the bags beneath their eyes, none of them had slept much.

Either they were too scared, or they spent the night messing around with Yuna—who, for some reason, looked like she was glowing this morning. Almost like someone smeared a magical sticky lotion all over her face.

Luck wasted no time. "First order of business—let’s open the gate and get my arrows."

He pointed at Fernando and Dima. "You two, on corpse duty. Don’t let the blood get on your skin. Mask up, and use the tongs."

"Twins—go fix the barbed wire and set up more traps."

He was calling the shots now, and no one argued. Even Fernando, who last night carried himself like a leader, nodded and followed orders without a peep.

The sun hung high, baking the top layer of corpses until they turned crisp, dry, and easier to drag off. Even the smell was roasted out.

"Be careful not to break the base," Luck shouted as he supervised the arrow retrieval, counting each one as it got yanked from a skull or pried loose from a ribcage.

"We make these last, or we’ll be throwing rocks," he said, holding up a splintered shaft that had gone clean through two heads.

"Nice shot... oh yeah, that was mine. Got so many good ones last night, I lost track."

Yuna tried not to smile. Dima just grunted, muscling the rusty shopping cart filled with dried corpses without slowing down.

After they cleaned up the arrows and counted them—only five could not be reused, which wasn’t bad.

Soon, Luck turned to inspect the damaged perimeter.

The barbed wire on the north fence was caved inward, sagging under the weight of last night’s assault.

Luck ran a gloved hand along the line, shaking his head at the frayed strands and bent supports. "

"Roger, Gregor. Patch this up. "

Gregor hoisted the spool of barbed wire over his shoulder, and his brother followed, hands jammed into his hoodie.

They fanned out along the fence, falling into a rhythm of cursing, snipping, and twisting wires.

Fernando lingered near the gate, watching Luck with the respect of someone who once been a cop and was now considering a permanent demotion to Luck’s private gopher.

"You want help with the inner perimeter?" he asked.

Luck shook his head. "I need you and Yuna running recon in that mall. Don’t take risks. If there’s more than five zombies anywhere, come back."

He chose both because they got the best fighting skills in the group. Yuna was likely trained from a young age by her father.

Fernando nodded, while she was already zipping up her jacket and slinging the bow over her shoulder. Then she gave Luck a quick, knowing smile.

’Keep dreaming.’ He shook his head, finding her obvious attempt laughable.