Chapter 17 – Anti-Mutant Forces (Part 1)
Zane exhaled softly, letting the silence settle around him in the blood-slicked corridor. Then, without warning, a small flicker of light danced across his vision. A retinal notification bloomed across his field of view, startling him slightly.
He blinked. "...Oh. Right. The system."
In the rush of combat and bloodlust, he'd completely forgotten about the thing—this strange, game-like interface embedded in his very being. Now, it was reminding him that it had been watching all along.
"Hm. So killing that mutant does count toward something," he muttered aloud, voice echoing faintly off the concrete walls. "I suppose that's how I get stronger. Fight monsters, kill them, and…"
As if reading his mind—or finishing his thought—the system chimed again.
[Ding!]
[You have gained +1 Agility, Strength, and Stamina.]
[You have leveled up!]
[You have gained +2 Bonus Points. You may allocate the bonus points as desired.]
[You have gained +200 Store Points.]
More notifications followed, stacking one atop the other in quick succession. Zane winced slightly as the synthetic voice echoed inside his head.
'Is there a way to lower the volume on this thing?' he thought, rubbing his temple.
[Ding!]
[Notification volume has been reduced by 20%.]
Zane blinked. "...Thank you."
His eyes scanned the hallway absentmindedly while his mind processed the information.
"So leveling up is real," he murmured. "Confirmed."
He'd suspected as much before, given the game-like structure of the system. But this was the first concrete proof. Kill a monster, gain stats. Gain stats, level up. It was all familiar—eerily familiar.
"The stat gains make sense… Strength, Agility, Stamina. Straightforward enough," he continued, pacing a few feet across the bloodstained floor. "And bonus points… Interesting. So I can distribute them whenever I want?"
That flexibility wasn't something most games offered. In the middle of a real fight, having a pool of unused points to quickly bolster a specific weakness could make all the difference. He could raise his reflexes mid-battle or boost his endurance just enough to take a hit he normally couldn't.
That level of tactical freedom was dangerous. And powerful. It gave him so much more freedom and depth when it came to fighting style and even techniques he could use. It was a whole new world of its own.
'If used right, it's practically cheating,' he thought. A small grin tugged at the edge of his mouth.
And then there were the Store Points.
"So you get them from leveling up, too," he mused. "Not just from quests."
That was a relief. He had worried, briefly, that acquiring Store Points would be a slog—like grinding for currency in a stingy MMO. But if they came from natural progression as well, he had room to breathe.
'I should probably start browsing the store eventually. Maybe there's a healing item or stealth skill tucked in there.'
He exhaled, dragging his gaze back to the scene in front of him.
The creature's mangled corpse still lay at his feet, its skull a shattered mess of bone, blood, and gray matter. The black, tar-like veins no longer writhed; they just oozed in slow, lifeless pulses. The stench was already starting to settle in—thick, cloying, metallic.
"What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" Zane muttered, frowning at the remains. "Cleaning it would be… ugh. Impossible."
He knelt briefly, examining the viscera. It looked like something straight out of a horror film. And yet, it was real. Tangible. His kill.
He was just beginning to consider dragging the body somewhere less conspicuous when he heard footsteps.
Fast ones.
Someone was sprinting up the stairs.
"Shit."
A second later, a door on the same floor creaked open. More footsteps. Voices.
"What the hell is that noi—"
"Did I hear someth—"
Zane didn't have time to react. They all arrived simultaneously—a group of tenants from the floor, faces pale and tense. They froze at the threshold, their eyes flicking between Zane and the mutilated corpse on the floor.
Blood pooled in messy splashes around Zane's boots. The monster's head looked more pulp than skull. Brain matter stained the walls like paint.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence.
Then—
"AAAAAGH!"
"WHAT THE HELL?!"
"IS THAT… IS THAT A DEAD BODY?!"
"C-CALL THE POLICE!"
Chaos exploded.
People screamed. Some backed away immediately, shielding their mouths. Others turned to run or fumble with their phones. A few just stood there, frozen in disbelief.
Zane's eyes scanned the group, and his expression changed instantly.
Gone was the calm, calculating demeanor.
In its place: wide eyes. A pale face. Shaking hands.
He stammered, voice cracking. "I—I don't know what happened! I was just opening my door, and he came out of nowhere. He was acting weird—like, twitching and bleeding, and then he just—he started melting! Then he turned into… into that!"
The group stared at him. Some still doubted. Others were too overwhelmed to think.
"A mutant?" one man finally asked, voice cautious.
"Y-Yeah," Zane said, eyes darting between them. "I didn't know what to do! He lunged at me—I tried to push him, and he hit the railing hard, and then—then he just… changed!"
Silence again.
Then a woman spoke, voice trembling. "S-Should we call the AMF?"
"Wait," another man said. He stepped forward, clearly trying to play the leader. "Let me confirm first."
"Be careful!" someone shouted.
"I know…"
The man approached Zane carefully, holding a hand out. "Hey, kid. Zane, right? Could you just step back? Stand against the wall, please."
"H-Huh? Why?" Zane asked, voice still pitched with fear.
"It's just a precaution," the man said. "We're calling the AMF. They'll handle this. Just stay where we can see you, alright?"
'The AMF… Anti-Mutant Forces?' Zane thought, stepping back slowly. 'That must be this world's version of special ops or something. Makes sense they'd have a unit dedicated to this sort of threat.'
He leaned against the wall, watching as the man knelt beside the corpse. The closer he got, the more his face twisted in revulsion. He gagged once, but managed to keep it down.
After a few moments, he straightened.
"It's a mutant," he said, voice low. "No doubt. Call the AMF."
Immediately, a flurry of murmured conversation followed. Phones came out. People clustered into anxious knots, whispering and glancing nervously at the corpse—and at Zane.
'The fact that everyone is reacting this way tells me it's not common that a mutant appears inside the city.' Zane thought, absorbing everything like a sponge.
He glanced toward the hallway entrance. 'That means this whole incident… isn't normal.'
The leader turned back to Zane. "We're going to wait here until the AMF arrives. For your own safety, don't move from that spot. Understood?"
Zane nodded quickly, eyes still wide. "Y-Yes, sir."
'So far, I'm playing the part perfectly. The traumatized survivor. But whether or not they actually believe it… depends on what the AMF does next.'
He adjusted his breathing, staying slouched just enough to look vulnerable.
'This encounter could go many ways. Depending on how they assess me, I might end up interrogated… or worse.'
Still, his heart beat steadily.
This was uncharted territory, but also a golden opportunity.
Zane's eyes narrowed slightly.
Let's see who these AMF really are.