Leo came to with a groan, lying on the cold, dirty ground of an alleyway, his body bruised and blood crusted around the edges of his clothes. His head throbbed like a hammer had been taken to it, and when he sat up, a sharp sting ran down his spine.
He pressed a hand to his temple and muttered hoarsely, "I'm… alive?"
It didn't feel like he should be. For a moment, back there, he'd honestly thought they were going to beat him to death.
All he'd wanted was a shot. A real chance at changing his life. That beginner-level skill book was supposed to be it—a stepping stone to finally awakening. He had saved for months, scrimping on food and rent, working crap jobs just to pull together the ten grand it cost.
But the moment he turned into that alley, they were waiting. Three of them. Faces he didn't recognize, but the kind you didn't forget once they got their hands on you. They didn't even ask questions. They just laughed, called him weak, and tore the skill book out of his bag like it was theirs all along. One of them even had the audacity to say they'd make better use of it—like Leo hadn't bled for that thing.
He fought back, of course. Tried to. But they didn't come for a fight. They came for a robbery. The kind where you leave a message.
And they left him that message with fists, boots, and a kick to the ribs that had him gasping for air. When he finally hit the pavement and everything went black around the edges, he vaguely remembered one of them chuckling and tossing something beside him.
"A consolation prize," they said. "Useless, but hey—you earned it, hero."
Now, as Leo pulled himself to his feet, he spotted the so-called prize lying a few feet away: a different skill book. Not the one he bought. Just one they clearly didn't want.
He picked it up, brushing off the grime. There was no title on the cover, no indicator of what it contained. Without a system, he couldn't scan it. But at this point, he didn't have the luxury of being picky. That stolen book had cost him everything. And unless he awakened soon, he'd have nothing left to bargain with.
He tucked it inside his jacket and limped out of the alley, careful to keep his head down. The streets were empty this time of night, especially on the outskirts of Emerald City, where streetlamps flickered unreliably and monsters weren't the only things that lurked in the dark.
His apartment building stood like a forgotten relic at the edge of town, where rent was cheap because danger was always a block away. Dungeon breaks weren't common inside the city thanks to the Adam Warlock Barrier—a ward established by Earth's strongest hunter after the Great War, the one that nearly ended civilization. But out here? Where the barrier's protection waned? Things got ugly fast when portals opened.
Reaching the building, Leo paused, scanning the entrance. The last thing he needed was a run-in with his landlord. The man had a sixth sense for sniffing out unpaid tenants.
The coast looked clear, so he crept up the stairs toward his unit on the top floor. But just as his fingers brushed the doorknob, a hand yanked him back by the collar.
"Where the hell do you think you're going, you little bastard?"
Leo winced. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath.
The bald man standing behind him smelled like stale beer and bitterness. His name was Mr. Vanko, and he only ever opened his mouth to spit insults.
"Where's my rent, Leo Warlock?"
"I'll have it soon, I swear."
"Soon?" Vanko's voice rose with every syllable. "That's what you said last month. And the month before that. Meanwhile, you've been sneaking around like a damn sewer rat."
Leo offered a weak chuckle, hoping to defuse the situation. "Have I? Guess I've got good instincts."
"Smartass," Vanko growled, jabbing a finger in his chest. "You've got until tomorrow. No money? You're out. Streets don't care if you're starving or dying. That clear?"
"Crystal," Leo said through clenched teeth.
With a final scowl, the landlord stomped away, muttering curses under his breath.
Leo slipped into his flat, shut the door, and leaned against it, letting out a long, exhausted breath. The place was barely bigger than a closet—peeling paint, a broken window covered with plastic wrap, and a creaky fan that never worked—but it was his.
Or at least it was, for one more day.
He sank to the floor and pulled out the book again, turning it over in his hands.
Ten thousand dollars. That's how much the original one cost. Ten thousand, gone in minutes. And for what? This nameless, worthless thing someone had thrown away like garbage?
He was tempted to chuck it too. Who knew what kind of junk or trap it held? But what choice did he have?
If he didn't awaken soon, he'd be powerless. And being powerless in this world was a death sentence.
"This better not kill me," he muttered, placing the book against his chest and bracing himself.
A sudden warmth spread through him, and then the book dissolved into light—so bright it forced his eyes shut. When he opened them again, there was a flicker in the corner of his vision.
A system prompt.
[Leo]
[Strength - 10]
[Magic - 10]
[Vitality - ]
[Skills: Duplicate]
Leo stared at it in silence. He'd done it—he was awakened.
His fists clenched in a mix of relief and disbelief. After everything, it had finally happened.
But then his eyes caught on something odd. The skill: [Duplicate]. And the stat: Vitality—blank.
"…What the hell?" he muttered, a pit forming in his stomach. "Where's my vitality?"