The blue screen remained steadfast in his vision, an ethereal overlay on the grim reality of his blood-splattered apartment. It now displayed his updated stats, the numbers glowing with an otherworldly luminescence:
[Strength: 9]
[Agility: 10]
[Stamina: 7]
[Intelligence: 14]
[Willpower: 12]
[Perception: 11]
[Vitality: 9]
[Luck: 15]
[Charm: 10]
[Cosmic Energy Affinity: ???]
[Evolution Path: Cosmic Seed (Rank 1)]
Below his title, a brief description offered a sliver of understanding: "A nascent stage of cosmic evolution, granting minor physical enhancements and the potential to harness cosmic energy." Thomas cautiously touched his arm where the mutated hound had scratched him. The bleeding had indeed stopped, and only a faint red line remained, a testament to the increased vitality granted by the system.
This "Cosmic Evolution System" was undeniably real, an unbelievable intrusion into his mundane existence, and it was demonstrably changing him.
He felt a subtle yet noticeable increase in his physical capabilities. The baseball bat, still clutched in his hand, felt lighter, more like an extension of his own arm. His movements felt a touch more fluid, a newfound nimbleness he hadn't possessed before.
He took a deep breath, the metallic tang of blood still heavy in the air, trying to process the deluge of information that had been thrust upon him.
The world outside was chaos, a descent into a terrifying unknown filled with monstrous creatures that defied logic and reason.
He had somehow gained access to a system that seemed to offer a path to survival, a way to become stronger in the face of unimaginable horror.
But the questions swirled in his mind like the lingering wisps of the strange fog: What did it all mean? Where did this system come from? And what was this enigmatic "Cosmic Energy Affinity," marked only by frustratingly unhelpful question marks?
Driven by a need to understand, to exert some semblance of control in this suddenly chaotic world, he focused his will on the blue screen. A new set of options shimmered into existence:
[Status]
[Skills]
[Inventory]
[Evolution]
He mentally selected "Status," and his stat screen reappeared, the familiar numbers now accompanied by a more detailed breakdown of their effects.
Strength, it seemed, influenced his physical power and carrying capacity.
Agility governed his speed and reflexes. Vitality determined his health and resilience.
Intelligence affected his learning capacity and problem-solving skills.
Willpower influenced his mental fortitude and resistance to mental attacks.
Perception governed his senses and awareness of his surroundings. Stamina dictated his endurance.
Luck… well, the system offered no explanation for that, leaving it to the realm of pure chance.
Charm, equally mysterious in its current context, was also undefined.
Next, he selected "Skills." The screen displayed a stark and somewhat disappointing message:
[No Skills Acquired.]
That was straightforward enough. He hadn't learned any special abilities yet.
Then, curiosity piqued, he tried "Inventory." An empty grid, reminiscent of a video game storage screen, appeared before him. So, it seemed he could acquire items and store them within the system's digital space.
Useful, he mused, if he could figure out how to put things in there. Perhaps it was a mental action, a focusing of his will? He would have to experiment later.
Finally, his gaze settled on "Evolution." A new screen emerged, displaying his current path, "Cosmic Seed," along with a single, tantalizing option:
[Evolve: Requires 10 Evolution Points.]
He only had one Evolution Point, earned from the grim task of surviving the initial onslaught.
So, he needed more. How did he get more? Defeating those monsters, presumably.
The thought sent a fresh wave of fear mixed with a strange, nascent sense of determination through him.
He had to get stronger, not just for his own survival in this brutal new world, but potentially for anyone else who might still be alive, anyone who might need help.
He cautiously opened his apartment door again, the hinges groaning in protest, and peered into the hallway. It was eerily silent now, the previous sounds of chaos replaced by a chilling stillness.
The mangled body of his neighbor lay still near her shattered doorway, a grim and visceral reminder of the brutal reality that had descended upon their once-peaceful building.
He had to get out of this place, away from the lingering scent of death and the potential for more of those creatures lurking in the shadows. He needed to find other survivors, or at the very least, gather information, try to understand what in the blazes was happening to their world.
As he stepped cautiously out into the hallway, the silence was shattered by a bloodcurdling scream that echoed from the floor above, piercing the oppressive stillness like a shard of glass.
It was a woman's voice, raw with pure, unadulterated terror, a sound that twisted his gut and ignited a sense of urgency within him.
Without thinking, his feet began to move towards the stairwell, the baseball bat held ready in his grip, his knuckles white.
He wasn't a hero, he never had been. He was just Thomas, an orphan who had worked hard for his meager scholarship, a student who preferred the quiet solitude of books to confrontation.
But the thought of someone else facing that unimaginable horror alone, the sheer desperation in that scream, spurred him into action, overriding his fear and his instinct for self-preservation.
He reached the next floor, his breath catching in his throat, the air here thick with a metallic scent that was even stronger than downstairs.
The door to one of the apartments was ajar, hanging precariously on its hinges, and he could hear panicked whimpering from inside, a fragile sound that tugged at his conscience.
He pushed the damaged door open slowly, his heart pounding in his chest with a mixture of fear and a grim resolve.
Inside, a young woman with long, auburn hair, her face pale and streaked with tears, was backed against a wall, her eyes wide with terror as a smaller, but equally grotesque, version of the hound he had fought snarled menacingly at her. It was cornering her, its glowing red eyes promising a gruesome and agonizing end.
The woman spotted Thomas standing in the doorway, his unexpected appearance igniting a flicker of desperate hope in her tear-filled eyes.
"Please… help me!" she choked out, her voice trembling, tears streaming down her face as she pleaded for salvation.
The mutated hound, its attention now diverted from its cornered prey, turned its malevolent gaze towards Thomas, its snarls intensifying, its razor-sharp teeth bared in a terrifying display. It crouched low to the ground, its muscles coiled and ready to pounce.
Thomas gripped his baseball bat tighter, his knuckles white against the worn metal. He had one Evolution Point, a rudimentary understanding of a system he couldn't comprehend, and a rusty baseball bat against a creature from hell.
The odds were stacked against him, overwhelmingly so. "Well," he muttered to himself, a grim smile twisting his lips, a desperate attempt to mask his fear with a touch of dark humor, "looks like my college life just got a whole lot more extracurricular, and the final exam is apparently a fight to the death."
Just then, as if the system itself was attuned to his actions, a new blue screen flashed before his eyes, its stark white text a stark reminder of the deadly game he was now a part of:
[Sudden Quest Detected: Rescue the Survivor.]
[Objective: Defeat the Mutated Scavenger and ensure the survivor's safety.]
[Reward: 2 Evolution Points, 500 Experience Points.]
He took a step forward, raising his baseball bat, his gaze fixed on the snarling creature. "Hey, ugly," he called out to the mutated hound, trying to sound braver and more confident than he felt. "Why don't you pick on someone your own… oh wait, you are."
The hound lunged, a blur of unnatural speed and feral aggression. Thomas braced himself, his heart pounding in his ears, ready to face the next terrifying evolution of his new reality.