The last thing Leo Jiang remembered was the cold, greasy asphalt of the alley biting into his cheek and the coppery taste of his own blood filling his mouth. His final, pathetic thought was a whimper, a silent admission that echoed through the fading corridors of his consciousness: I should've stabbed first. Should've been faster. Should've been crueler. The boot connected with his ribs one last time—a final, punctuation mark of failure—and his world dissolved into static, then into nothing.
He died as he had lived: a coward. A low-tier thug who couldn't even collect protection money right, whose ambitions had always been bigger than his backbone. A footnote in the story of a city that ate the weak for breakfast.
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[SOUL PROFILE ANALYZED. CONGRUENCY: 98.7%. HOST DESIGNATE: LEO "VIPER" JIANG.]
[SYSTEM INTEGRATION COMMENCING…]
A voice, colder than the alley floor and utterly devoid of emotion, shattered the nothingness. It wasn't a sound that traveled through air, but a resonance that vibrated through the very fabric of his being.
Leo's consciousness sputtered, a dying ember suddenly fanned by an unnatural wind. What the hell? Is this hell? Am I in hell? The thought should have been terrifying, but all he felt was a numb curiosity. Even in death, he was mediocre.
Before Leo could form another thought, a shimmering, semi-transparent interface materialized in the void before him. It was sleek, modern, and glowed with an ominous blue light. Text, brutal and direct, scrolled into view.
[CORE DIRECTIVE: BECOME THE ULTIMATE VILLAIN]
[INITIAL TASK: EMBRACE YOUR NATURE. ELIMINATE THE WEAKLING WITHIN.]
[PRIMARY REWARD: A NEW LIFE, A NEW BODY, AND THE POWER TO CLAIM WHAT YOU REGRETTED NOT TAKING.]
[FAILURE: PERMANENT SOUL DECOMPOSITION.]
The words hung in the emptiness, each one a hammer blow against the shell of his former self. Permanent soul decomposition. The concept wasn't just death; it was erasure. It was the ultimate finality.
"Who… what are you?" Leo's mental voice trembled, the last vestiges of the scared kid from the alley clinging to him.
Memories, unbidden and painful, flashed before him—not a life review, but a highlight reel of his most shameful failures. The shopkeeper, old man Chen, laughing as he'd fumbled his threats, handing him a loaf of stale bread instead of the weekly payment. "For your mother, boy. Now get out." The local gang boss, Khoa, backhanding him for coming up short on collections, the other enforcers snickering as he wiped blood from his lip. The boot coming down in the alley, the sound of his own ribs cracking. The shame of those moments was hotter, more acidic, than the pain of dying had been.
A spark of something long-suppressed, something he'd buried under a mountain of fear and apathy, flickered in his soul. It wasn't goodness. It wasn't remorse. It was ambition. A vicious, snarling, hungry thing. I regret nothing? That's a lie. I regret everything. I regret not being stronger, crueler, smarter. I regret not making them fear me.
"What do I have to do?" The tremor was gone from his voice, replaced by a raw, hungry curiosity that felt both alien and more like the real him than anything before.
The offer wasn't a temptation; it was a key turning in a lock he didn't know he possessed. This was it. The ultimate excuse. Permission to be what he'd always been afraid to become. A slow, vicious smile spread across his non-existent face. The decision was terrifyingly easy. "No more regrets."
[DIRECTIVE ACCEPTED. HOST SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE.]
[INITIATING TEMPORAL AND PHYSICAL RECALIBRATION…]
The world snapped back into focus with the violent suddenness of a thunderclap. Leo gasped, and cold, clean air flooded new lungs. He was standing upright, his back straight, not bleeding out on grimy asphalt. The air smelled of recent rain and wet concrete, not blood and rotting garbage. He looked down at his hands. They were younger, the knuckles unblemished by fight scars, but they hummed with a latent, wire-tight strength his old body had never possessed. He flexed his fingers, marveling at the responsiveness.
He was wearing clean, dark clothes—a black hoodie and jeans that fit perfectly. In the reflective glass of a closed convenience store window, a ghost stared back. It was him, but not him. Sharper. Leaner. The eyes that met his were no longer dull with resignation but glinted with a dangerous, hungry potential. He looked… capable. He was 22 again. The System hadn't just given him a new life; it had given him back his prime and then upgraded it.
A new prompt appeared, overlaying his vision of the rain-dampened city street without obstructing it. The text was crisp, urgent.
[TUTORIAL TASK: 'A TEST OF RESOLVE']
[OBJECTIVE: ROB THE MAN IN THE BLUE JACKET CARRYING THE RED BACKPACK. INFLICT PUBLIC HUMILIATION. DO NOT KILL.]
[REWARD: [Basic Stealth Lv. 1], 100 Villain Points, System Function Unlock]
[FAILURE: Neurological Punishment: Simulated Agony x 10 minutes.]
Leo's heart hammered against his ribs, not from fear, but from pure, undiluted exhilaration. This was it. His fresh start. No more Leo the loser, the pushover, the failure. He was Viper, reborn. He scanned the street, his new eyes quickly picking out the target—a young man, maybe college-aged, wearing a blue windbreaker and a pair of expensive-looking headphones, obliviously bopping his head to music only he could hear. He hugged a bright red backpack to his chest like it held his entire future.
Old instincts, the cowardly ghost of Leo Past, whispered: What if you get caught? What if you can't do it? What if he fights back? The System's presence in his mind was like an ice-cold clamp, silencing the doubt. No. More. Regrets.
He fell into step behind the kid, his movements unnaturally quiet already, a subconscious benefit of his new body. His footsteps made no sound on the wet pavement. This was just a tutorial, a warm-up. He felt a grin, sharp and predatory, tug at his lips. This was going to be fun.
As the kid paused at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change, Leo made his move. It wasn't graceful or technically skilled; it was brutal, efficient, and fueled by a newfound confidence. He shoved the kid hard from behind, sending him stumbling forward to sprawl onto the wet pavement with a grunt of surprise and pain. The headphones were ripped from his ears and skittered across the concrete. "Hey! What's in the bag, rich kid?" Leo snarled, his voice lower, more menacing, than he remembered it ever being.
The kid yelped, more shocked than hurt, scrambling to protect his backpack. A small crowd of evening commuters froze, forming a silent, wide-eyed ring of spectators. This was the humiliation part. Leo didn't just want the bag; he wanted to make a statement. He wanted the memory branded into everyone present. He planted a foot on the kid's wrist, pressing down just enough to make him cry out in pain and release his grip on the backpack strap. Leo yanked it free.
[OBJECTIVE: ROB MAN IN BLUE JACKET - COMPLETE]
[SUB-OBJECTIVE: PUBLIC HUMILIATION - IN PROGRESS…]
The kid was crying now, tears cutting clean lines through the grime and rainwater on his face. People on the sidewalk were muttering, shifting uncomfortably. One man pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen, unsure. Leo felt a surge of power so intense it was dizzying. He owned this street, this moment, these people. He leaned down, getting right in the kid's face, close enough to smell his fear. "Remember this feeling," Leo whispered, the words a venomous promise that carried in the hushed air. "This is what power looks like."
He straightened up, slinging the backpack over his shoulder. He turned to the crowd, meeting their shocked gazes one by one, his expression daring them to do something, to be a hero. Nobody moved. They just watched, a cocktail of fear, outrage, and morbid fascination on their faces. He had dominated them all without throwing a single punch.
[SUB-OBJECTIVE: PUBLIC HUMILIATION - COMPLETE]
[REWARD: [BASIC STEALTH LV. 1] ACQUIRED. 100 VILLAIN POINTS AWARDED.]
[UNLOCKING: [VILLAIN PROFILE] AND [SKILL TREE] FUNCTIONS…]
A wave of new information, of instinct, flooded his mind—how to control his breathing to become silent, how to shift his weight to minimize sound, how to use shadows and crowd movements to become virtually unseen. It was intoxicating. This was better than any drug he'd ever tried. This was real, tangible power.
Leo turned to leave, and the crowd parted for him like he was royalty. He felt invincible, untouchable. This new world was his for the taking. He was a predator, and everyone else was just prey. He couldn't wait to see what the System would ask him to do next. What bigger test awaited.
He ducked into the very same alley he'd died in just hours—or a lifetime—ago, a fittingly ironic place to check his spoils. The scent of garbage and damp brick was familiar, but now it smelled like opportunity, not failure. He leaned against the damp wall, the red backpack at his feet, and willed the system interface to appear.
New menus shimmered into existence, overlaying the grimy brickwork.
[NAME: LEO "VIPER" JIANG] [VILLAIN RANK: NEOPHYTE] [INFAMY: 5 (LOCAL)] [VILLAIN POINTS: 100] [SKILLS: [BASIC STEALTH LV. 1]]
The [Skill Tree] was a vast, holographic web of interconnected nodes, most greyed out. At the very bottom, [Basic Stealth] was lit, with branches leading to [Silent Step], [Shadow Melding], and [Pickpocket Mastery]. The costs ranged from 200 to 1000 VP. He was just getting started.
He was so engrossed, marveling at the paths to power now open to him, that he almost didn't hear the soft, deliberate click of a safety being switched off behind him.
"Don't move, you piece of trash," a voice growled, low and laced with hard-edged authority. "I saw what you did to that kid. Hands where I can see them."
Leo froze, his blood running cold. It was a cop. A beat cop, probably, drawn by the commotion or a bystander's call. The man stepped out from the deeper shadows of the alley, his service pistol held in a steady, two-handed grip, aimed directly at Leo's chest. His eyes were hard, experienced, and utterly devoid of fear. This wasn't some scared civilian; this was a professional.
The cop's flashlight beam snapped on, pinning him to the wall, destroying any hope of using the shadows. "On your knees. Hands on your head. Now." The command brooked no argument. Leo's mind raced, calculations flying. This wasn't part of the tutorial. This was real. The System had given him a taste of power, but it hadn't made him bulletproof. He was just a guy in an alley, staring down the barrel of a gun, right back where he started. The cruel irony was almost funny.
But as he slowly, reluctantly began to kneel, playing for time, a new prompt, framed in blood-red and pulsing with urgency, flashed across his vision, overlaying the cop's furious, stubbled face.
[CRITICAL CHOICE!]
[OPTION A: SURRENDER. ACCEPT INCARCERATION. (CONSEQUENCE: TUTORIAL FAILURE. AGONY PUNISHMENT. GAME OVER.)]
[OPTION B: RESIST. UTILIZE [BASIC STEALTH LV. 1] AND 100 VILLAIN POINTS TO ACTIVATE [SHADOW SHROUD] (ONE-TIME USE). (CONSEQUENCE: INITIATE HOSTILE ENGAGEMENT WITH LAW ENFORCEMENT. ESCAPE PROBABILITY: 18%. REWARD UPON SUCCESS: SIGNIFICANT.)]
The System's voice was a glacial whisper in his soul, the final nudge over the precipice. <Choose, Host. Will you return to being a weakling, or will you become the villain?>
Leo's eyes narrowed. The fear was still there, a cold knot in his stomach, but it was being smothered by something hotter, something darker. He looked at the cop, at the gun, at the alley of his failure. He thought of the boot, the blood, the shame.
He made his choice.