The hospital smelled like bleach and quiet dread.
Jack sat upright in the bed, no longer hooked up to machines, but he was acutely aware of how fragile everything still was. His muscles ached with a deep, phantom pain. His ribs screamed a protest whenever he moved too fast. But none of that mattered.
The debt was paid.
His mother was outside, her voice, for the first time in days, light and full of hope as she called relatives.
His little sister was curled up in the same hard plastic chair beside him, breathing softly in a peaceful, secure sleep.
They were safe, they were happy. But Jack wasn't at peace.
His eyes burned not with tears, but with a cold, simmering fire.
The faces of the two thugs who beat him flashed in his mind.
He remembered the sickening crunch of his own jaw as the boot came down.
The sound of his mother screaming his name. The pain was a distant echo, yes. But the helplessness? The absolute, suffocating humiliation? That was as fresh as an open wound.
He had survived, had even paid the bill. But that wasn't enough. That was a temporary defense.
He wanted to attack. He wanted them to feel that same helplessness.
The System must have sensed the shift in his thoughts, because a prompt appeared in the lower right corner of his vision like a whisper.
[Would You Like to Issue a Personal Wager?]
Jack didn't hesitate. "Yes."
[Please identify your target.]
"The thug who kicked me in the ribs. Brown jacket, neck tattoo. He called the other guy 'Lupe.'"
[Processing...]
[Target Identified: Rico Mendez | Age: 28 | Known Affiliation: Local Enforcer for Brass Fang Group]
[Last Known Location: Tiger's Den Poker Lounge – Eastside District]
A small profile slid across the screen: a grainy mugshot, a short criminal record, and current betting stats. He was at a backroom poker table right now. Alive and laughing. No bruises. No fear.
Jack's jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped. The injustice of it was a physical thing, a ball of hot lead in his gut.
He let himself sit in the rage for a full minute. Let it boil.
[Would you like to challenge Rico Mendez to a Shadow Wager?]
"Explain Shadow Wager."
[A Shadow Wager links the Host's consciousness to the Target's subconscious. The Target is unaware of the wager, perceiving it as a normal, real-world event. The outcome, however, is binding.]
Perfect. A weapon that left no evidence.
"Yes."
[Game Format: Street Dice – Over/Under]
[Wager Type: Sudden Loss (One Round Only)]
[Jack's Stake: Analytical Eye Lv.2]
[Opponent's Stake: Psychological Imprint – Permanent Fear Response Triggered by Jack's Presence + Cease-All-Aggression Suggestion]
[Begin Match?]
Jack didn't flinch. He was risking his only skill, his only advantage.
But this wasn't about getting stronger. This was about drawing a line. This was about making a monster afraid of the dark.
[Yes.]
Reality warped around him.
His hospital room didn't just blur away, it dissolved into a haze of grey static, like a bad television signal. The sounds of the heart monitor and his mother's distant voice faded into a low hum.
The static coalesced, reforming into a hazy simulation of the Tiger's Den lounge. It was a dark, smoky room with flickering neon signs and the stench of cheap liquor. But something was different… this version was twisted.
The walls pulsed faintly, and the lights dimmed every few seconds like the simulation itself was holding its breath.
Rico Mendez sat at a virtual table, leaning back in his chair, smirking. His eyes glinted with arrogance as he tossed a pair of virtual dice in one hand.
He didn't know he was being watched. To him, this was just another round at his poker table, another sucker's bet. But the System had hijacked this single moment, pulling his subconscious into this shadow space.
Jack's avatar was no longer a simple silhouette. It had changed to darker, taller. Its features shadowed, but its glowing eyes burned crimson like coals. It radiated menace, deliberately so.
The System's voice spoke in Jack's mind, a neutral, clinical tone.
[Both parties have been seeded with subconscious awareness. Stakes have been set.]
[Dice Game Initiated: Predict Over or Under 7]
[If Jack wins: Target will develop a trauma-level fear response to Jack Bernard and withdraw all aggression toward him or his family. If Jack loses: Analytical Eye reverts to base level.]
In the simulation, Rico grinned, his voice echoing slightly. "High or low, pretty boy? What's the call?"
Jack looked him dead in the eye. His voice echoed with unnatural weight.
"Over."
Rico laughed and tossed the dice.
They tumbled across the virtual felt, bouncing once, twice. Jack's [Analytical Eye] flared. Digital overlays flooded his vision, feeding him rapid data. He saw the angle of the throw, the speed of the toss, the rotational inertia of each die.
He didn't see the future, but he saw the probability streams, faint lines of light showing the most likely outcomes. He saw it before it landed.
Five.
And a three.
[Total: 8 – Over]
[Victory Confirmed]
The virtual space snapped.
Rico gasped. His eyes widened in horror. The simulation flooded his subconscious with a fear imprint.
Jack's face looming over him, eyes glowing, shadow stretching like a reaper's cloak. He screamed and stumbled back, hands raised.
In the real world, inside the actual Tiger's Den, Rico jolted up from the poker table mid-hand. He threw the dice across the room and collapsed to the floor, screaming.
"GET HIM AWAY FROM ME! HE'S HERE! THE DEVIL'S HERE!"
Chairs scraped. People cursed. Two bouncers rushed forward.
Rico clawed at his own face, his eyes wild with a terror no one else could see.
"I WON'T TOUCH HER AGAIN! I SWEAR! JUST DON'T—DON'T LET HIM IN MY HEAD!"
They dragged him away, still screaming.
Back in the hospital room, Jack opened his eyes. The whole event had taken less than a second. The world hadn't even blinked. But he… had changed.
[Personal Wager Complete – Outcome: Success]
[New Trait Unlocked: Fearmaker Lv.1 – Your presence can trigger minor fear reactions in previously defeated targets.]
[XP Gained: +100 | Bronze Tier I]
[Current XP: 100/100]
[Bronze II Unlocked at 101]
The blue screen faded. Outside, Jack heard a nurse mention something about a crazy gambler having a breakdown on the east side.
He smiled, then leaned back into the pillows. His sister stirred.
"Jack?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "You okay?"
He glanced at her.
"Better than ever."
She smiled sleepily and snuggled closer to his bed.
Jack looked out the window at the sprawling city. This was just the beginning.
"This time," he whispered to his reflection in the glass, "I'm not running from monsters. I'm hunting them."
And for the first time, he didn't just feel powerful.
He felt dangerous.
[End of Chapter 4]