He tried to summon the gold interface again. He focused on the rat, squinting his eyes, trying to summon the interface that had allowed him to see through Bradley Chen.
"Come on," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Show me. Show me the weakness."
A sharp, stabbing pain ignited behind his corneas. It felt like someone was driving a hot wire through his brain. Nas gasped, doubling over, his vision fracturing into a thousand shards of light. The "gold" UI didn't appear. No stats, no Lore, no HP bars.
Instead, the world turned monochrome. Grey on grey. Except for a single, pulsing, neon-blue blur.
The blur wasn't on the rat's head. It wasn't on its heart.
It was hovering over the base of the rat's tail.
Nas stared, confused.
The tail? Why the tail?
The Dread-Rat coiled its body, its powerful hind legs tensing. It was preparing to lunge. In that split second of observation, Nas saw how the creature shifted its weight. The long, heavy tail acted as a perfect counter-balance, a rudder that allowed it to change direction mid-air and maintain its terrifying agility.
If it can't balance, it can't land.
Nas couldn't hold back a smirk of satisfaction.
If it can't land, it can't kill me.
The rat lunged.
It was a blur of grey fur and red eyes. Nas's Agility of 2 was a death sentence. He tried to dodge, but his feet felt like they were encased in lead. He threw his body to the right, but he was too slow.
The rat's claws raked across his shoulder, shredding his jacket and leaving three stinging furrows in his flesh. Nas slammed into the obsidian pillar, the air rushing out of his lungs in a painful grunt.
The rat landed gracefully, spinning around instantly for a second pass. It hissed, sensing victory. It knew it was hunting a civilian.
Nas scrambled to his feet, his shoulder burning. Blood began to soak through his shirt, hot and sticky. The monochrome vision flickered, the blue blur on the rat's tail pulsing like a heartbeat.
"My turn," Nas whispered, though his voice shook.
The rat sprang again, aiming for his throat.
This time, Nas didn't try to dodge. He knew he wasn't fast enough to escape. Instead, he dropped to one knee, making himself a smaller target, and thrust the kitchen knife upward. Not at the creature's chest, but at the empty air where he predicted the tail would follow.
The rat passed over him, its teeth snapping inches from his ear.
Schluck.
The dull stainless steel met the base of the tail. Because he hit the exact point of weakness, the knife didn't meet resistance. It didn't feel like cutting through leather and bone; it felt like slicing through warm butter.
The tail flew off, spinning into the darkness like a discarded whip.
The rat screeched. A sound of pure, unadulterated agony that rattled Nas's bones.
Mid-flight, the creature's center of gravity vanished. It tried to twist, to orient its paws for a landing, but it over-rotated. It flailed wildly, its momentum carrying it past Nas. It missed the floor entirely, its skull slamming into the far obsidian wall with a sickening crack.
The rat fell in a heap, its body twitching. It wasn't dead. Its chest heaved with ragged, wet breaths, but the impact had shattered its jaw and likely scrambled its brain. It was incapacitated.
Nas stood up, his legs feeling like jelly. He was covered in dust and the creature's black, foul-smelling blood. He looked at the kitchen knife. It was chipped, but it had held.
A flicker of light appeared in front of his eyes. This wasn't the monochrome light; it was the System's cold, standard notification.
[Enemy Incapacitated. Contribution: 100%.][+10 XP][Level Up: 1 -> 2][1 Stat Point Awarded.]
Nas leaned against the damp wall, his chest heaving. He stared at the notification.
Level 2. I barely beat a rat, and it still got me a level. Shows how far behind I am…
The Empire's philosophy was simple: The System was a ladder. Those at the top deserved the sun; those at the bottom were meant to be stepped on. To the bureaucrats in Building C, Nas was a "Below Threshold" civilian whose only value was labor. But the System didn't care about social status. It only cared about results.
He had 1 Stat Point.
He looked at his character sheet.
Mana Affinity: 1
Strength: 2
Agility: 2
Endurance: 3
Perception: 4
Luck: 1
Part of him, the part of him that wanted to be like Marcus, the part that wanted to be a Hero, screamed to put the point into Mana. If he could just get his Mana up, maybe he could cast a spark. Maybe he could be a Mage.
But then he felt the sting in his shoulder. He thought of the 99% mortality rate. He thought of the older man with the prosthetic leg who was likely already dead in some other part of this tower.
The System was a cold, unfeeling machine. It didn't reward dreams; it rewarded survival.
Nas closed his eyes and mentally pushed the point into Endurance.
A strange sensation washed over him. It wasn't the rush of power the S-ranks described. It was subtle, a slight hardening of his skin, a minor tightening of the muscles around his ribcage, a dulling of the pain in his shoulder. He didn't feel strong, but he felt... denser. Just a little harder to break than he was five minutes ago.
He walked over to the twitching rat and, with a grimace, drove the knife through its eye to end it. He couldn't risk it waking up behind him.
He picked up the severed tail, wondering if it had any value, then tossed it aside. He had nothing but a dull knife and a vial of sap.
Nas looked down the dark corridor. The flickering light globe from the chamber didn't follow him. He was heading into total darkness.
"I'm not a hero," he whispered to the silence. "But I won't stay invisible."
He stepped into the shadows, his hand trailing along the cold stone wall, moving toward the heart of the Tutorial. He was a Level 2 "Nothing," but for the first time in twenty years, the numbers were starting to change.