The first thing Kaelen Mo realized after his "grand debut" in the apocalypse was that evolution didn't just change your DNA—it made people significantly stupider.
He was currently crouched behind a rusted vending machine, staring at a group of three men who looked like they'd spent too much time watching low-budget action movies. They were "guarding" the delivery truck Kaelen had marked earlier.
"I'm telling you, Boss," the skinny one with a mohawk grunted, kicking a tire. "There's gotta be enough supplies in here to feed the whole camp for a month. We just need to find a way to pop the lock without blowing the whole thing up."
Kaelen sighed. His eyes flickered, and the translucent blue panel hummed to life.
[Target: Three Low-IQ Raiders]
[Current Plan: Use a blowtorch on a pressurized fuel truck]
[Probability of them turning into human fireworks within 60 seconds: 100%]
"Well," Kaelen muttered to himself, a dry smirk playing on his lips. "At least the apocalypse provides free entertainment."
He could have walked away. He should have walked away. But the system had other ideas. A new notification popped up, glowing with an enticing gold hue.
[Hidden Success Rate Detected!]
[If you throw that empty soda can at the mohawk guy's head right now...]
[Probability of them tripping over each other and knocking the truck door open: 100%]
[Probability of you getting caught: 0.00% (Because they're idiots)]
Kaelen weighed the soda can in his hand. It felt light, but in this new world, it was a tactical nuke. He didn't feel like a hero; he felt like a bored god playing a cosmic game of bowling.
"Sorry, boys," Kaelen whispered. "But that Tier-1 Evolution Potion inside has my name on it."
With a flick of his wrist, the can sailed through the air. Clang! It bounced off Mohawk's skull with a satisfying metallic ring.
"Who did that?!" Mohawk shrieked, spinning around and accidentally elbowing his partner, who was holding the blowtorch.
What followed was a chaotic symphony of screaming, tripping, and a very loud THUD as the heavy rear door of the truck swung open, hitting the third guy squarely in the face. Kaelen watched the whole thing with the detached amusement of a man watching a cartoon.
As the raiders scrambled in confusion, Kaelen slipped through the shadows, moving with a grace he didn't know he possessed. He reached the open door just as the dust settled. There, nestled among crates of boring canned beans, was a small, glowing vial.
[Target: Tier-1 Prime Evolution Serum]
[Probability of a flawless evolution if consumed now: 100%]
Kaelen grabbed the vial. His fingers tingled. This was it—the moment where he stopped being a spectator and started being the house. But just as his hand closed around the cool glass, a cold, sharp blade pressed against the back of his neck.
"Don't move, kid," a feminine, dangerously smooth voice echoed in his ear. "I don't know how you did that with the can, but that serum belongs to the Silver Fox Corp."
Kaelen didn't panic. He just looked up at the air in front of him.
[Target: Unknown Assassin]
[Probability of her knife slipping if you mention her 'hidden tattoo': 100%]
Kaelen chuckled softly. "Nice blade. Does the Silver Fox Corp also pay for the removal of that embarrassing 'I Love My Cat' tattoo on your left shoulder?"
The blade wavered. The "hook" was set.