Chapter 2: The Calculus of Survival
The coppery taste of blood was a familiar companion, but the scent of his own, mixed with the ozone-tainted air of the new world, was not. Kael leaned against the cool brick of the alleyway, the rough texture grating against the tears in his jacket and the wounds beneath. Every breath was a sharp reminder of the Corrupted's claws. **Health: 71/100** glowed mockingly in his vision.
Sixty experience. A pittance. A near-death experience for a pittance.
His training reasserted itself, shoving the pain and frustration into a locked box. *Assess. Adapt.* He pushed off the wall, his movements stiff but deliberate. The two copper coins and the small vial of crimson liquid—**Minor Health Potion [Restores 25 HP]**—were scooped from the ground and stashed in a pocket. No inventory system. Just physical reality. The System was brutal in its simplicity.
The screams had subsided, replaced by a chilling, pervasive silence broken only by distant, unidentifiable sounds. The city was holding its breath. Or dying in it.
His objective was clear: secure a defensible position, assess resources, and treat his wounds. A rooftop was no longer viable without a clear escape route. He needed a strongpoint. A bottleneck.
He moved from the alley's mouth, keeping to the shadows, his senses stretched to their limits. The world was both familiar and utterly alien. A car sat abandoned, its door hanging open, a phone still playing music on the seat. Next to it, a pulsating, violet fungus grew from a crack in the asphalt, tendrils gently waving as if sensing his presence. He gave it a wide berth.
His eyes, trained for tactical advantage, scanned the storefronts. A hardware store—too many entrances. A restaurant—too many windows. Then he saw it: a small branch bank. Reinforced windows, a single heavy door, a limited line of sight from the street. It was a bunker.
The main door was locked. Of course it was. He considered shooting the lock, but the noise was a last resort. Instead, he used the rebar, jamming it into the seam between the door and the frame near the lock and leveraging his weight. His ribs screamed in protest, a fresh trickle of warmth soaking his shirt. **Health: 69/100**. The cost of every action.
With a groan of protesting metal, the lock tore free. He slipped inside, quickly re-securing the door behind him with a length of chain he found hanging on a coat rack, creating a crude but effective barricade.
The interior was dark and silent, smelling of dust and money. Emergency lights cast long, deep shadows. He cleared the space with a methodical, professional sweep—teller area, manager's office, vault (locked solid), break room. Empty. No corpses, no Corrupted. For now, it was safe.
In the break room, he found his first real prize: a first-aid kit. He stripped off his jacket and shirt, hissing as the fabric pulled away from the clotted wounds. The gashes on his ribs and thigh were deep and angry. He cleaned them with bottled water and antiseptic wipes, the sting a clean, focused pain. He used the bandages, wrapping his torso tightly. It was a temporary fix. The System provided a grim status: **[Bleeding: Minor - Health loss of 1 point per hour.]**
He stared at the Minor Health Potion. Twenty-five points. It would stop the bleeding and bring him to near full health. But it was his only one. Using it now felt… wasteful. Reckless. What if he needed it tomorrow, facing something worse? This was the calculus the System demanded. Immediate safety versus long-term survival.
He left the potion in his pocket. He would endure the slow drain. A lesson in resource management.
His stomach growled, a sharp reminder of another base need. The break room yielded a half-eaten sandwich he discarded and several granola bars. He ate one, forcing himself to chew slowly, to savor the calories. Every resource was a tool.
As dusk began to bleed the last of the light from the world outside, Kael sat with his back to the wall, facing the barricaded door. The blue screen hovered, a constant companion. He focused on it, and a new menu flickered into view.
**Skills: [None]**
**Attributes: [Unassigned Points: 5]**
So, this was how you "leveled up." Not just by killing, but by choosing your evolution. He studied the attributes.
* **Strength:** Physical power. Would make his attacks hit harder, allow him to break through barriers.
* **Agility:** Speed and reflexes. Would have let him dodge that claw. Crucial for survival.
* **Vitality:** Health and regeneration. Would have lessened the damage, might have stopped the bleeding.
* **Endurance:** Stamina and resilience. He'd felt his energy flagging during the fight.
Five points. A single currency to spend on his future. He was a blunt instrument by training, but this world demanded more. He needed to be faster, to endure longer. He couldn't afford to be hit at all.
He allocated the points: **+2 to Agility, +2 to Endurance, +1 to Vitality.**
A wave of sensation, not of healing, but of *potential*, flowed through him. His muscles felt tighter, more responsive. The ache of fatigue lessened slightly. His health ticked up. **Health: 75/100**. The bleeding status vanished. The Vitality point had pushed his natural regeneration over the threshold.
It was a small victory, but it was his. He had taken a step, chosen a path. The path of the survivor, not just the soldier.
A scuffling sound from the street outside snapped him to full alert. He rose silently, peering through the reinforced glass. Not a Corrupted human. This was something else—a large, dog-like creature, its skin hairless and covered in weeping sores, with six milky-white eyes and jaws that seemed to unhinge. **Name: [Corrupted Hound] Level: 2.**
It was sniffing the air, tracking. Tracking the scent of blood. *His* blood.
Kael's grip tightened on the rebar. He had a bottleneck. He had a weapon. He had a few more points in Agility.
The Hound turned its head, all six eyes fixing on the bank door.
The calculus began again. This time, he was ready. The price of the next level was waiting outside, and Kael was no longer willing to pay in blood. He would make the system pay in experience.
He braced himself as the Hound charged. The fight for Level 2 had begun.