Silence swallowed the lot.
The beast's last scream still echoed faintly in Charles's ears, a phantom ringing that refused to fade. Its hulking frame twitched once, then sagged against the cracked concrete, ichor pooling thick beneath it. The acrid stench of rot bit at his lungs.
For a long moment, none of them dared move.
Selene's hand clung to his sleeve, knuckles white, trembling so hard he felt it through the fabric. Marco stood a few paces away, shoulders heaving, makeshift spear still raised as if daring the corpse to twitch again.
"…Is it dead?" Selene whispered.
Charles swallowed, throat dry. "It better be." His gaze fixed on the pipe still jutting from its throat. The body didn't move. But unease lingered, a coil of tension that refused to unwind.
Marco limped closer, circling the corpse with slow, deliberate steps. He gave it a sharp kick. The mass shifted, rolling just enough to prove lifeless. No breath. No twitching, just stillness proving the lack of life.
"It's dead," Marco rasped, though his eyes didn't soften.
Relief came all at once. They'd survived, though barely, It was survival, it was a victory and an act of defiance.
Selene broke first. Her spear clattered from her hand. She bent at the waist, barely restrained sobs tearing from her throat, tears cutting streaks through the grime on her face. Her body shook, not from exertion, but from release, the fragile relief of a nightmare that still didn't feel like it had quite ended.
Charles staggered back, dropping his bent pipe. His chest heaved, ribs aching with every breath. His skin burned where ichor had touched it. He was ready to collapse.
And then
A chime rang out in his mind. Metallic. Sharp enough to make him flinch.
Glowing panels flared to life in the air before them.
Charles froze, heart hammering. He wasn't hallucinating—because Selene gasped, wide-eyed, and Marco hissed, spear raising instinctively before he realized the thing wasn't physical. Proving to him that he wasn't the only one seeing it.
> Ding!
[You have slain Corrupted Rat Level 15]
[You have gained +7 Strength +7 Agility]
[You have levelled up!]
[You have levelled up!]
[You have levelled up!]
[You have levelled up!]
[You have levelled up!]
The words hung there in glowing white light, undeniable.
Selene's breath hitched. "What… what is this?" Her trembling fingers reached out, but passed straight through the message.
Marco's jaw tightened, his soldier's mind trying to analyze, adapt. "Information. A system," he muttered under his breath, as though speaking it aloud might make sense of it.
Charles's panel expanded, new lines scrolling before his eyes:
[CHARACTER INFORMATION]
Name: Charles Taylor
Race: Human
Level: 7
[STATS
Strength: 17
Agility: 14
Mana:70
Magic: 70
Health: 11
Stamina: 10
Unassigned Points: 10
He blinked hard. The numbers blurred as his bloodied reflection stared back at him. Ten points. More strength. More agility. If what he was seeing was accurate then he was nearly twice as strong as compared to his previous self and also twice as fast. His body hummed, muscles thrumming with a faint, alien vigor.
For a moment, his mind went blank. Then the weight of it sank in.
This… is me? Numbers on a screen? Strength, stamina, health—like some damn video game?
He thought of the alley, of how the Vinyling had nearly gutted him. Back then he had nothing but a rusty pipe and desperation. Now, he had stats. Power that was his. Power that could grow.
Beside him, Selene gasped softly. "I… I leveled up." Her voice cracked, awe mingling with fear. "I'm… level five."
Marco grunted, shifting his weight as his own panel hovered before him. His lips moved as he read, eyes narrowing. "Six." He didn't brag. Just stated it flat, matter-of-fact. Then, quieter, "Not bad. At least we're not staying weak."
The soldier in him was already evaluating: how much stronger had he gotten? How much could he rely on them? How long until the next fight broke them? His jaw flexed. He couldn't protect them forever—but maybe now they had a chance of protecting themselves.
Charles clenched his fist, watching his stats glow. The ache in his ribs dulled—not gone, but muted under the strange energy now woven through his veins. His lips twisted into a grimace that was almost a smile.
"I can grow stronger, he thought. I don't have to stay weak, I don't have to only survive, I might be able to thrive, to become something other than prey." The thought of the possibilities thrilled him
Selene wiped her face, tears still glistening, but when she looked at Charles, there was something steadier in her gaze. She had seen him stand against that monster when he should've run. Seen him finish it when both she and Marco had faltered. For the first time, trust sparked behind her fear.
"Then maybe…" she whispered, voice thin but hopeful. "Maybe we can survive this."
Marco finally lowered his spear, though his knuckles stayed white. His expression was unreadable, but Charles caught the faint calculation in his gaze. Marco wasn't just relieved. He was measuring them, weighing their worth, cataloging what this "system" meant for the future.
"Don't get comfortable," Marco said at last, voice gravel-rough. "If this… thing gave us power for killing that monster, it means there will be more. Stronger ones. So keep your guard up." His tone was flat, but the implication cut like steel.
The corpse smoked faintly behind them, ichor searing pits into the concrete. The smell of acid and blood clung to their clothes. Somewhere beyond the parking lot, another distant roar rolled across the ruined city.
They were alive. Barely.
But now—armed with proof they could grow—they were something more than just fodder.
Charles looked at the others, then back at the flickering panel in front of him. His reflection glared back—bloodied, cracked, but unbroken.
He murmured, voice low but certain. "This is just the beginning."