Chapter 68: The Reckoning
The bath was a baptism. I scrubbed until my skin was raw and pink, watching the water turn a murky grey, swirling with the remnants of dried blood, battlefield filth, and the psychic grime of constant, low-grade terror. When I finally stepped out, steam rising from my body, I felt new. Or at least, scrubbed clean of the immediate past.
Erik, true to his word, had laid out fresh clothes on the bed. Simple, sturdy trousers, a clean linen shirt, and a new leather vest. No armor, just… civvies. It felt strange. Like putting on a costume for a person I'd never been. A peace-time person. A free man.
I was just pulling the shirt over my head, the soft fabric a foreign comfort against my skin, when the world froze.
It wasn't a glitch. It was a shift. The air solidified, the faint sounds from the inn below vanishing into an absolute, profound silence. The light in the room didn't dim, but it became flat, devoid of source or shadow.
Then, the blue box appeared. It wasn't the usual translucent overlay. It was solid, dominant, commandeering my entire field of vision.
***---***
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
MISSION 2: FREYA MIKAELSON - FINAL ASSESSMENT
PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Keep Freya Mikaelson alive for 90 hours.
STATUS: [COMPLETE]
ANALYSIS: Host successfully ensured target survival through a coordinated beast horde siege, direct magical assault, and multiple high-intensity combat engagements. Target sustained minor injuries. Objective fulfilled.
SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: Kill 10 magic beasts within a one-hour period.
STATUS: [COMPLETE]
ANALYSIS: Objective completed during the defense of the northern wall breach. Host eliminated 23 magic beasts within the designated timeframe. Efficiency: 230%.
MISSION COMPLETEION RANKING: D+ (Mediocre)
ASSESSMENT: Host demonstrated adequate tenacity and a sufficient, if crude, utilization of Ki for physical enhancement. However, performance was heavily reliant on external factors and allied intervention. Strategic planning was reactive, not proactive. Survival was achieved through a combination of stubbornness and fortunate circumstance, not overwhelming competence.
SURVIVAL PROJECTION FOR MISSION 3: 11.7%
ADVISORY: A performance regression to this level in a standard mission environment will result in terminal failure.
REWARDS:
Lesser Leather Armor: [CLAIMED - Integrated into current gear during mission.] Greater Healing Potions (x10): [AWARDED - Manifesting in designated storage.] System Feature Unlocked: [Performance Analytics & Survival Projection] System Feature Unlocked: [Basic Inventory - 5 Slot Capacity]
***---***
A small, worn leather pouch materialized on the bed next to the clothes with a soft thump. The Inventory. At the same time, I felt a slight weight appear in a hidden pocket of the new vest I was wearing. Reaching in, my fingers brushed against the cool, familiar glass of ten potion vials. The Greater Healing Potions.
I ignored them for a moment, my mind reeling. D+ (Mediocre). The word stung more than any insult from Lashley. Survival Projection: 11.7%. That wasn't a number; it was a death sentence. It was the System's cold, mathematical way of calling me lucky, not good.
Before the shock could even settle, the notification dissolved and was instantly replaced by another. This one was simpler, more brutal.
***---***
[SYSTEM FEATURE: PERFORMANCE ANALYTICS - INITIALIZED]
This feature will provide post-mission breakdowns and real-time survival probability estimates based on Host's current state, environment, and assessed threats. Use this data to improve. Ignore it at your peril.
***---***
A new, smaller, semi-transparent box now hovered at the extreme edge of my perception. In it, a single number glowed a threatening, blood-red:
SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 11.7%
It was a constant, nagging reminder. A countdown to my own statistical insignificance.
The frozen world snapped back into motion. The sounds of the inn returned, the light regained its warmth. I stood there, one arm still in the shirt, staring at the empty space where the notifications had been.
The relief I'd felt moments ago was gone, evaporated like mist. The freedom was a lie. I wasn't free. I was a lab rat that had barely passed its second maze, with a digital sign around its neck announcing to the universe just how pathetically likely it was to die in the next one.
My celebration felt childish now. Getting away from Torak? It didn't matter where I went. The System was in my head. The 11.7% would follow me.
I finished dressing mechanically, the clean clothes feeling less like a gift and more like a uniform for a soldier on probation. I picked up the Inventory pouch. It was light, seemingly empty. I focused on the potions in my pocket, and with a thought, felt them vanish, the weight redistributing to the pouch. Five slots. It was something. A tool.
But the primary tool, me, was apparently faulty.
I looked at myself in the room's small, polished metal mirror. I saw the same face of mine from when I was a high school senior but the eyes were different. The brief flicker of hope was gone, replaced by a cold, familiar grimness.
Mission 2 was over. I had my rewards. I had my new features.
And I had a 88.3% chance of dying in whatever came next. The vacation was over before it began. The only road that mattered now was the one that led to getting that number out of the red.
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