How to Get Girls, Get Rich, and Rule the World (Even If You're Ugly) Chapter 20: How to Regret All Your Life Choices in Under Ten

I ran.

Not out of strategy. Not out of courage.I ran because my body already knew that staying ant getting torn apart.

The sounds behind weren't footsteps — they were claws scraping stone, bones grinding against each other. A chorus of creaks, thuds, and dry snaps closing in with steady rhythm.

I turned left, lungs on fire. The tunnel narrowed, the ceiling dropped in carved stone arches. The floor was made of slick plates, full of dry moss and faded inscriptions that felt like they were watching as I passed. The walls... they trembled. Just enough to make you question if your heart skipped or if the cave did.

There was energy in the air. Not magic. Sothing older. Sothing alive.

The fungus light began to fade as I descended — and yes, I was descending. The corridor sloped downward in a spiral so subtle it was almost cruel. Pulling deeper, below where anything should live.

Short breaths. Tensed arms. A brain doing its best to stay sane.

A crack in the right wall revealed an ancient window, no glass, open to a collapsed chamber — inside, small stone statuettes faced the wall, like they were being punished. Or like they had seen sothing they shouldn't have.

I didn't stop. Didn't ask questions.

I crossed a narrow stone bridge over a silent abyss. No wind. No echo. Just darkness. Pure, endless, hungry dark. Behind , footsteps echoed in chaotic rhythms — wet, panting breaths — if that thing was alive, it shouldn't be.

That's when the system chid in:

| ENEMIES IN PURSUIT || ENTITY: FRACTURED GUARDIANS| TYPE: Runic Echoes / Defender Fragnts| LEVEL: 4 (Group)

| ATTRIBUTES |→ Strength: 14 (Flint claws; continuous pressure)→ Dexterity: 17 (Quick, climb walls, jump)→ Constitution: 10 (Easy to break, co in waves)→ Perception: 15 (Runic sensors — track via vibration and scent)→ Intelligence: 3 (Instinctive hive, no strategy)

| ABILITIES |→ Vibration Tracking [Passive]→ Coordinated Grab [Active – Close range]→ Residual Fragntation [Passive]– On death, leave behind runic shards that explode if touched (small AoE damage)

| WEAKNESSES |→ Weak to intense light and high-frequency sound→ Fragile bones, exposed rune cores→ Disoriented when separated from the main cluster

I turned another corridor.

The ceiling rose again, revealing an ancient stone staircase — spiral, way too old. Older than anything else I'd seen in this place. The walls bore faded paintings... humanoid shapes with hollow eyes, holding stars between their fingers. Like they were showing the sky to soone who had never seen it.

But there was no ti.

I heard claws on the stone above .

They were scaling the walls, getting ahead of . Splitting up. Surrounding .

Quick thinking.

If I went up, I'd be boxed in on higher ground.

If I went back, it was a death sentence.

So... the side.A niche carved into a crack. Natural? Maybe. A structural flaw widening into a vertical gap.Narrow. Uneven. But maybe — just maybe — passable.

I looked in. It slled like wet stone, mold, and old tal.

And I jumped.

Dove into the crevice like soone diving into a nightmare — too narrow, too dark, and damp like the breath of sothing that shouldn't breathe.

The left wall scraped my back. The right, my ribs. It was a vertical maze, ford by collapsed cracks, slick with moisture and lined with dead lichen. I crawled forward with difficulty, hearing my own heart beat like it was chasing down the corridor.

A click.

Then again.

And once more.

Three short, muffled, tallic clicks.

"Oh, sh—"

Before I could think, I threw myself to the floor.

ZUNNNNNK!

Three darts shot from invisible holes in the wall ahead, fast as broken promises. One of them struck exactly where my eye would've been if I'd been just one second slower.

I rolled to the side — and the floor gave under my weight.A false stone plank dropped half a foot.

CLICK.

No darts this ti.

There was smoke.

A golden mist, dense and quiet, began to rise from the ground, carrying the scent of burnt cinnamon and sothing... sour. I breathed by reflex and nearly collapsed. The world spun twice in my skull before I could cover my mouth with my hood.

Poison gas.Reactive.Archaic.And painfully effective.

Dragged my body along the ground, breath short and dry, until I reached a narrow ledge. Threw myself into it. Banged my elbow, scraped my cheek, but escaped the direct line of the smoke.

Behind , voices.

Not human voices. Not spoken. But echoed.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

They were coming through the crevice too.

The Guardians didn't breathe. The gas didn't affect them. Their claws tapped against the stone like anxious cleavers. One of them burst through the curtain of smoke and shot forward like a living arrow—embedding itself in the wall next to as I tried to move ahead. I twisted, slamd my heels into its skull, and sent it flying backward. It exploded.

BOOM.

Runic shards. Fragnts in the air.

The shrapnel hit —one of them cut my arm. Thin, but deep. The pain ca after, hot and pulsing. There was blood, and probably so arcane residue, which ant the wound might... react.

No ti to think.

I moved forward again.

Another click.

Another dart.

This ti, I blocked it instinctively. The dart's impact cracked the shaft—but it deflected just enough not to skewer .

Narrow corridor. Noise behind. Smoke still slithering like a hungry snake.

And then... more light.

A hole in the ceiling. Thin. Natural. It had ford from an upper collapse—or maybe, sothing... digging. The glow of the fungi trickled down from above like greenish mist.

And there were steps. Real ones.

Hidden between cracks, covered in roots. A collapsed spiral staircase, but functional.

I started to climb. One foot at a ti.

More traps. I felt the ground vibrate—circular pressure plates. I recognized them. Slipped by the side. One went off by itself. Behind .

A tallic scream. One Guardian stepped wrong. It was impaled from above by a spiral spear, like an enchanted drill. Its body burst into blue flas.

I kept climbing. But the ones behind were learning. They were watching.

They were getting faster.

Closer.

And the staircase... was starting to collapse under my weight.

The stairs gave way beneath my feet.

Cracked by centuries of neglect and the weight of every bad decision that had brought here. Each step was a roulette spin—and I had already lost too many chips.

The Fractured Guardians didn't stop. Two of them scaled the wall like stone lizards, using sharp elbows as improvised hooks in the cracks. They were getting closer with every breath.

The air was hot. Dense. The sll of ancient mildew mixed with the heat of silvarite burned in my nose like molten tal.

My body ached. Blood leaked from the cut on my arm and from the gash on my thigh. My shoulder throbbed from an earlier hit. Every breath was a negotiation with pain.

And then, for a mont, I stopped.

Not physically—my body kept moving on autopilot, climbing, dodging, grinding through.

But inside my head, everything froze.

Like when you stare at a plumting stock chart and think:"Okay. Panic's over. Where's the pattern?"

I'd always been good at that.

Reading data while the world burned.Spotting micro-shifts in flow while executives panicked around .The difference now was that the thing crashing wasn't a stock—it was .And the cost... was my life.

I forced myself to breathe deep—as deep as the gas would allow.

Closed my eyes for just a second and pulled up the system interface.

I had a silvarite core burning in my palm.

An unstable runic fragnt that responded to emotion.

A Ferralu with latent magnetism and magical conduction.

And wrapped in cloth, the Alveary Crystal—one that stored ntal echoes and responded to living blood.

Each one a vector of risk and opportunity.

And like a war-ti trader, I had to cross those vectors and find a margin of survival.

"Okay... think like before," I muttered, throat scratching with dust.

Ferralu amplifies... and attracts.Silvarite explodes with magical stimulus... or pressure.Alveary is unstable with blood... and reacts to strong emotions.

And ?

A walking catalyst of pain and panic.

I imagined a ntal diagram—like the ones I used to make in my old life.

Quick action. Three targets. One overload.

Ferralu in the center: it channels.Silvarite at the base: provides heat and combustion.Alveary on top: emotional energy as the trigger., in the middle. Mana low, but still burning.

And then a pattern ca to mind. That symbol carved into the stones of the previous hall: two spirals crossed by a slash.

In the system, it ant: "Breaking Point."

A breach.

If I could place the Ferralu near the runic wall...

Set the Silvarite against it to create instability...

And then activate the Alveary with my own blood...

Maybe the system would freak out.

Or reset part of the traps.

Or fry everything around .

Including myself.

"Not a good idea," I muttered.But the best idea had already died back there, with the first spear that scraped my ribs.

I started assembling.

Ripped the cloth from my wrist.Wedged the Ferralu into a crack in the wall.Brought the Silvarite core closer—its hiss started imdiately: heat against living stone.Finally... the crystal.

It was already whispering.Old words. Voices that weren't mine.

I closed my eyes. Pressed the tip of the pickaxe to my arm and cut lightly.

One drop.

The crystal pulsed.

The wall answered.

Dormant runes began to spin—slowly, like eyes opening after centuries of sleep.

And I thought:

If this is a chart... I'm going all-in on a reversal candle.

The energy built.

The voices murmured.

Heat climbed through the palm of my hand.

And behind , they scread.

They were coming.

And I still didn't know...

If this would save .

Or wipe off the map like a terrible investnt.