[Ding!]
[Task Complete: Win a basketball game.]
[Reward: +2 Agility, +2 Stamina, 100 Store Points.]
A subtle pulse of energy surged through Zane's limbs, a warm wave settling into his muscles like molten metal being poured into a mold. His body, which had been tense and slightly sore from the match, now felt lighter—more responsive. He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders and extending one arm forward in a smooth stretch. There was a faint pop from his joints, followed by an almost unfamiliar sense of fluidity in his movement.
'Good,' he thought, flexing his fingers. 'Two of my stats finally reached the average mark. Not bad for day one.'
Opening his status screen with a thought, Zane studied the glowing numbers and text that only he could see. The difference was clear. What had once been a set of dismal, red-highlighted figures had now grown respectable—still not remarkable, but no longer embarrassing.
He cracked his neck and turned his gaze toward the group of boys slumped against the far wall. Not one of them had spoken since the end of the match. Their eyes were hollow, locked onto the air in front of them as if witnessing the aftermath of something unspeakable.
'Did I go too hard on them?' Zane wondered, watching their vacant expressions. The way they looked at him—like he'd just burned down their homes or killed their pets—was unsettling. It was just a basketball game. He hadn't even used force.
'No... I'm underestimating how pathetic this kid must've been before I arrived.' His gaze lingered on their stunned faces. 'The old owner really must've been the lowest of the low. These guys are acting like they just saw a ghost.'
He took a slow step forward. "Anyway," he said casually, voice echoing through the gym, "you four will do whatever I say for the next week. Don't disappoint me."
That snapped them out of their trance.
"Wait."
The sudden shout was raw, filled with trembling fury. Zane turned, watching as one of the boys finally stood. His face was twisted with rage, jaw clenched, eyes burning.
"How dare you?" the boy hissed, fists shaking. "How dare you cheat?!"
Zane blinked slowly. "Cheat?" He tilted his head slightly. "And how exactly would I cheat at a game like this?"
"I don't know! But there's no way a fat piece of garbage like you could beat all four of us! This isn't some dumb coming-of-age movie!" The boy's voice cracked as he jabbed a trembling finger in Zane's direction. "Tell us what you did! If you don't, I'll knock your teeth out!"
Zane stared at him in silence for a moment, then exhaled through his nose.
'This guy…' he thought, lips parting slightly. 'Is he bluffing, or is he actually that stupid?'
It didn't take a genius to realize Zane hadn't done anything unnatural. He didn't possess monstrous strength, nor did he move with any superhuman speed. If anything, his movements had been deceptively slow, calculated.
But that was the trick. Zane hadn't relied on physical prowess. He'd used something far more potent—his assassin instincts. Years of manipulating perception, controlling movement, and reading micro-expressions had translated perfectly into dominating the court. The human brain was fragile, after all—easy to fool when you knew what to look for. He simply moved in ways that tricked their nervous systems, baiting reactions before slipping past their defenses like mist.
It wasn't cheating. It was mastery.
"Speak!" the boy barked again, taking a threatening step forward.
Zane looked away, pretending to consider something. "Hmm... how should I explain this?" he said softly, then turned back, locking eyes with the boy.
The change was immediate.
The angry teen faltered. His steps froze mid-stride as a wave of primal dread hit him like a crashing tide. His breath caught in his throat. Zane wasn't just looking at him—he was piercing through him.
A presence coiled around the air, thick and suffocating. In that moment, the boy saw something he couldn't explain. Behind Zane's calm eyes, he imagined shadows—tall, jagged, bleeding shadows. He saw a figure wrapped in darkness, soaked in unseen blood, radiating silent death like a forgotten god of war.
"You," Zane said coldly, each word slow and deliberate, "are pathetic."
The words cut deeper than any insult, deeper than any punch. They weren't shouted. They weren't barked. They were spoken—soft and measured, like a teacher explaining a hard truth to a failing student.
"Cheating?" Zane stepped forward. "I wouldn't need to cheat to beat you. I could do it with both hands tied and still not break a sweat."
Silence.
No one spoke. No one even breathed.
The other boys sat frozen, eyes darting between Zane and their friend like rabbits sensing a predator in the tall grass. There was no fire left in their eyes now. Just quiet, suffocating fear.
Zane turned, spitting to the side with a disgusted look on his face. "Now, if you'll excuse me… I have better things to do."
He walked toward the exit, the sound of his shoes echoing in the vast gymnasium like war drums. Just as he reached the doors—
"You…"
That trembling voice returned.
Zane didn't turn around.
"You… you think you're better than me?!"
His voice cracked. Rage and humiliation churned into madness.
"SHUT THE HELL UP!!!"
The boy launched forward with a furious scream, his fist raised high. "You're just a lowlife! You don't get to look down on me!"
His punch came down fast—a wild, desperate swing meant to hurt, meant to humiliate.
Zane moved at the last possible second.
Without even looking, he ducked. His body flowed like water—low, smooth, precise—and in a single motion, he swept the boy's legs out from beneath him.
CRACK.
The sound of his back hitting the floor echoed like a gunshot. The boy gasped, eyes wide, wind knocked from his lungs. As he tried to sit up, he froze—Zane was standing over him, staring down with eyes that felt like twin blades.
The boy saw no anger there. No emotion at all. Just cold, unshakable contempt.
Zane said nothing.
And then, he turned and walked out of the gym.
The door creaked shut behind him, sealing the gym in eerie, heavy silence.
'I should head home now,' Zane thought as he walked across the schoolyard, climbing the wall like it was second nature.
'I didn't mean to create such a scene, but it was unavoidable. The system gave me the task. Completing it meant exposure. Still…'
He paused at the top of the wall, looking out over the darkening city.
'I don't regret it.'
His instincts screamed for subtlety—years of training drilled into his bones. But this world was different. The rules were skewed. The people, the system, even the planet itself—everything about it was unpredictable. Trying to stay in the shadows might've worked before, but here… it might just get him killed.
"This world is far too strange for me to hide forever," he murmured aloud. "And honestly… I'm tired of hiding."
His voice was quiet. Steady.
This life—this new life—was his to command. No chains. No codes. No masters.
He had a system backing him, yes. But more than that, he had freedom. And for the first time in as long as he could remember, Zane intended to live without restraint.
Nothing can stop me. Not anymore.
The sky above was painted in strokes of pink and purple as the last light of day faded away. Stars blinked into view one by one, clearer than they had any right to be in a city. The moon hung large and heavy, bathing the world in silver.
Zane paused, looking up at the strange beauty above.
"Hm… Sky's clearer than usual," he murmured, surprised.
It was rare to see so many stars in an urban skyline, but he remembered the reports: ever since the mysterious global shift, the atmosphere itself had changed. Pollution levels plummeted, gravity fluctuated in places, and strange anomalies appeared even in broad daylight. Maybe this clarity was just another side effect.
Still… it was beautiful.
Eventually, he arrived at his apartment complex. The neighborhood was quiet, unusually so. He climbed the stairs in silence, boots soft against concrete.
Reaching the upper floor, he paused.
The entire building was silent.
Too silent.