The boy wouldn't stop shaking.
Curled halfway on his side, one hand clutched his shoulder while the other pressed weakly against the floor as if trying to crawl away from pain itself. His breathing came in short, uneven bursts—too fast, too shallow. Panic had him by the throat.
Alexander watched him for a moment.
Then crouched.
A quick scan.
Bruises everywhere. Some fresh, some already darkening. His leg—wrong angle. Broken. Not clean either. The way it bent told him it would only get worse if the kid tried to move.
And the shoulder—
A hole.
Not large, but deep enough. Blood soaked through his shirt, dripping steadily onto the floor.
"…Tch."
Alexander clicked his tongue under his breath.
For a brief second, he actually questioned his decision.
Helping him might've been a mistake; he was too injured to fend for himself. And he seemed like the type to make too much noise. Maybe he should have let the creature eat him and then killed it.
'Yeah, there's probably more than one person in this place that knows stuff right?'
But—
"…Too late."
He reached forward, grabbed the boy's shirt, and tore a strip from a cleaner section with a rough pull. There was no way he would get bandages from a classroom, so the nerdy kid's shirt would have to do.
And no, Alexander was not going use his own clothes.
Not a chance.
He only had two sets of clothes and one of them was all the way back at his apartment.
The boy flinched violently as Alexander moved closer, eyes widening in raw fear. He tried to scramble backward, dragging his broken leg with him—
—and failed.
"Stay still."
Flat. Irritated.
The boy didn't listen.
He kept trying to push himself away, panic overriding everything.
Alexander's grip tightened slightly.
"…I said—"
"D-Don't—!"
The words burst out of the boy in a strangled shout.
"Don't rape me—please—!"
Silence.
Complete.
Alexander froze.
Not from hesitation.
Not from confusion.
From something colder.
His expression didn't change.
But his eyes—
Darkened.
Slowly.
"…What."
One word.
Low.
Empty.
The boy immediately stiffened, like he had just realized something had gone very, very wrong. "I—I didn't mean—"
"What did you just say to me?"
Still calm.
Still quiet.
But heavier now.
The air itself felt tighter.
The boy's lips trembled.
"They—they said—"
"Who."
A pause.
Short.
Sharp.
"Who said that?"
The boy swallowed hard, voice shaking.
"E-Everyone…"
"…Everyone?"
"The school… people just say it…"
Alexander stared at him.
Really stared.
For a few seconds, Alexander he didn't do anything. His face was like a stone mask. Not even a hint of anger escaped through.
But something in his gaze changed.
Flattened.
Colder than before.
He had always known his reputation was bad.
A violent, dangerous delinquent. Hurts people, women, children it didn't matter. He was also a killer, a bloody brutal killer.
He knew that that was what others thought of him. It was why he wasn't shocked by the blatant fear and over the top begging of the girl from earlier.
If you were basically on the chopping block of the devil himself, you would also be begging like crazy.
Maybe even harder.
He usually didn't care enough to correct it, nobody would believe him anyway.
So he just stopped trying, didn't care enough to listen anymore.
But this was something else.
He didn't believe they would go so far as to spread those types of lies about him. These types of lies got under his skin way more than he would like.
Murder.
Sure, he could ignore those accusations easily compared to others. He had killed people before, but never as blatantly or as savagely as they said.
But stuff like this was the bane of what he hated. He had suffered from shit like this for three whole fucking years.
He remembered the pain.
The desperation.
The weakness.
He remembered all of it. He still had the occassional nightmare about it.
Although he would like to think of himself as an emotionless unfeeling monster, everytime he relived those moments in his dream. An inexplicable hate surged within him.
So to be slandered so blatantly like this. It genuinely pissed him off.
He should just kill this stupid fucking piece of—
No.
He was getting lost in that spiral again. It's not worth it. This kid ain't worth it.
"…Figures."
A quiet exhale slipped out.
More tired than angry. He was just plain disappointed.
Of all the things.
That was what they chose.
He straightened to his full height, looming over the boy without effort.
The kid shrank instantly under his shadow, trembling harder.
Alexander looked at him for one more second before tossing the torn cloth at his face.
"Bandage it yourself."
His voice returned to normal.
Flat.
Distant.
"If you bleed out, I'll just use you as bait for the next creature I see."
No emotion.
No exaggeration.
Just fact.
He turned away, walking back toward his motorcycle.
Then, just before he reached it—
He stopped.
"I thought you'd know better..."
A slight glance over his shoulder.
"...than to believe everything you hear."
Then he kept walking.
Behind him, the boy didn't speak.
Didn't move for a moment.
Then slowly—shakily—he grabbed the cloth.
Realization settling in.
He messed up.
Badly.
—
Alexander sat back down on the bike, resting his forearms against the handlebars.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"…Annoying."
His teeth ground together once.
Then he forced it down.
That was not important. It didn't matter for his plans going forward.
Focus. That was what he needed to do.
Those messages.
The thing that appeared after the kill.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Status."
He said it out loud.
The word felt strange on his tongue, like calling something that shouldn't exist.
Then—
It appeared.
A translucent grey panel unfolded in front of him, hovering in the air like a projection only he could see. Clean. Structured. Unnatural.
Another message followed immediately.
[Congratulations, Valorous One, on calling your Status Page.]
Alexander's brow twitched faintly.
"…Why would that need congratulations? Does it think I'm retarded or something?"
He muttered it under his breath, already annoyed.
The panel continued.
[This interface will serve as your guide through the trials ahead.]
[As one of the first ten individuals in your region to slay a manifested creature within the first day of the Reckoning of the Gods, you have been granted a
[As the first individual in your sector to eliminate a Ghoul, you have been granted a
[As the first to accomplish this feat unaided and without sustaining harm, all prior rewards have been enhanced by one grade.]
Alexander leaned back slightly.
Processing.
"…Seventh."
That part stood out.
Seventh in his region.
He had expected more.
Way more.
With everything happening, there had to be way more people who should've killed something already.
Unless—
Most people just ran.
Or died.
He also didn't know what was considered a region to this interface. Was it the whole town? If so, then it was reasonable for him to be the 7th.
"…Makes sense."
What mattered more was everything else.
Unique boon.
Special attribute.
Enhanced rewards.
He didn't understand the details yet.
But—
It was clearly something good.
And then—
The question that had been lingering surfaced again.
Why?
If the gods wanted to punish humanity—why give them this?
The panel appeared just a second into the question, as if it anticipated this.
[This is the Reckoning of the Gods.]
[A demonstration of their dominion over their creations.]
[The gods are wrathful—but not without order.]
[You have been granted a path to survival through a system derived from humanity's own collective imagination.]
Alexander let out a short, humorless breath.
"…Not unfair, huh."
Bullshit.
But—
He didn't dwell on it.
Didn't matter what they called it.
What mattered was simple.
They weren't wiping humanity out instantly, they were letting it struggle. Like a bunch of ants beneath their feet. They wanted humanity to fight, maybe somehow survive.
"…Cleanse."
The word from earlier echoed in his mind.
So that's what this was. Not purely destruction, but instead a selection.
Of those who would be able to make it in the end. But after that what would they do?
His gaze returned to the panel.
"…System."
Yeah.
He'd heard that before.
Somewhere.
Something about games.
Stories.
Leveling up.
Getting stronger.
"…Great."
Of all the times for that useless knowledge to matter.
'Since it said from the collective imagination of humanity then it probably means a large population of humanity as a whole where big into it.'
....
....
'A bunch of fucking nerds'
He focused back on the system panel. This time on his status itself.
The panel shifted, displaying his information clearly.
[Name: Alexander Unnamed]
[Rank: 0]
[Level: 1]
[Moniker: Valorous One]
[Boon: Force Projection {Legendary}]
[Attributes: Psychopathic {Uncommon}, Physical Specimen {Rare} Undying Physique, {Unique} ]
[Stats:]
Might: 9
Finesse: 7
Guile: 8
Resilience: 8
Will: 2
[Runes: None]
Alexander stared at it for a while, and all he could say was—
"…What the hell."
A headache started forming behind his eyes.
Slow, Heavy.
This—
This was too much bullshit at once.
Words he didn't understand, value with no context and this thing expected him to what?
Just understand it?
The last time he even touched something as retro as a video game was when he found his father's old childhood copy of Magnificent Robbery Car 6.
And he remembered how his father complained about how it took over 10 years for it to be released.
"…Tch."
His hand came up, pressing briefly against his temple.
This was going to be a problem.
A big one.
But—
Not something he could ignore.
Not anymore.
Maybe.
If he figured it out.
Alexander lowered his hand slowly, eyes still fixed on the panel.
Annoyance lingered.
Confusion too.
But underneath it—
Something else.
Interest.
Sharp.
Focused.
"…Fine."
If this was the game—
Then he'd learn the rules.
Fast.
Because right now—
It was the only thing keeping him alive.