The silence was heavier than the screaming.
For the first hour, the chaotic symphony outside the "Stop & Go" convenience store had been deafening. Car alarms blaring in a discordant loop. The wet, tearing sounds of flesh being separated from bone. The desperate pleas for help that were abruptly cut short by gurgling chokes.
Arthur Lin had listened to all of it from behind a wall of cardboard boxes in the back storage room. He had listened, shivering, clutching a heavy, red-painted pipe wrench he'd scavenged from under the utility sink.
But now, three hours in, the world had gone quiet.
The silence was worse. It implied that whatever had been hunting was finished eating. It implied that it was now looking for dessert.
Arthur shifted his weight, his legs cramping on the cold linoleum. The air in the storeroom smelled of dust, industrial cleaner, and the faint, coppery tang of old blood drifting in from under the door gap.
He stared at the air in front of his face. To anyone else, he was staring at a shelf of expired canned beans. But Arthur was focused on the translucent blue rectangle that had been hovering in his peripheral vision since the sky turned purple.
[System Initializing... 99%]
It had been stuck on 99% for twenty minutes.
"Come on," Arthur whispered, his voice dry and cracking. "Don't freeze on me now. Not now."
He was a rational man. An accountant by trade, a gamer by hobby. He understood numbers. He understood rules. When the voice in the sky announced the "Integration of Earth," he didn't panic like the customers in the front of the store. He calculated.
Variable 1: Unkown hostiles.Variable 2: No military response.Conclusion: Hide and wait for the power-up.
In every novel, every game, the System was the equalizer. It was the only reason humanity stood a chance. He needed a class. A skill. A fireball. A shield. Anything other than a pipe wrench against monsters that could flip cars.
Ding!
The sound was crisp, digital, and echoed directly inside his skull. Arthur flinched, gripping the wrench so hard his knuckles turned white.
The text on the screen rippled and changed.
[Initialization Complete.][Scanning Host Biology...][Scanning Host Psyche...][Error: Compatibility fluctuation detected. Rerouting...]
Arthur held his breath. Error? That didn't sound good.
[Trait Assigned.][Skill Acquired: Basic Regeneration (Rank F)]
Arthur stared. He blinked, waiting for the rest of the text. Waiting for the "Divine Sword" or "Shadow Step."
Nothing happened.
The blue box hovered there, mocking him.
"Regeneration?" Arthur hissed, the disappointment hitting him like a physical blow to the gut.
He focused on the skill to expand the details.
[Basic Regeneration (Rank F)]
Type: Passive / Biological
Description: Accelerates the natural healing process of the host.
Effect: Restores 1 Health Point (HP) per minute while the host is in a state of rest.
"You have to be kidding me."
Arthur slumped back against the metal shelving unit, his head thumping against the steel upright.
One HP per minute. While resting.
It was trash. Absolute, unmitigated garbage. If a zombie—or whatever those things were—broke through that door, it would tear his throat out in three seconds. Resting wasn't an option. In a combat scenario, this skill was effectively useless.
"Great," he muttered, bitterness coating his tongue. "Everyone else probably got lightning bolts, and I got a metabolism boost."
He shifted aggressively, angry at the unfairness of the universe. As he moved, his shoulder scraped violently against the rusted, jagged edge of the metal shelf.
"Ah—shit!"
Arthur winced, grabbing his shoulder. He pulled his hand away. Bright red blood smeared his fingertips. It wasn't deep, just a nasty scratch, but it stung like fire.
"Perfect. Just perfect."
Curious to see just how pathetic he was, Arthur mentally commanded: Status.
The screen flickered.
[STATUS: Arthur Lin]Race: Human Class: None Rank: F Level: 1 (0/100 EXP) HP: 99 / 100 MP: 50 / 50 Strength: 8 (Avg: 10) Agility: 9 (Avg: 10) Vitality: 10 (Avg: 10) Intelligence: 12 Wisdom: 11
"Strength 8," Arthur scoffed. "Sitting at a desk for five years really paid off."
His eyes drifted to the HP bar. 99 / 100.
At least he could test the skill now. He checked his watch—a cheap, digital Casio with a scratched face. It was 4:15 PM and 10 seconds.
"One minute," Arthur whispered. "Let's see if this 'system' is actually accurate."
He sat perfectly still. He tried to slow his breathing, forcing his body into what the System might consider a "state of rest."
Outside, a heavy thud vibrated through the floor. Something had fallen in the main store area. A shelf? A body?
Arthur froze. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. Don't come back here. Don't come back here.
He watched the door handle. It didn't move.
He looked back at his watch. 4:16 PM and 20 seconds. More than a minute had passed.
"Okay," Arthur exhaled, looking back at the blue screen. "Heal me."
[STATUS: Arthur Lin]HP: 99 / 101
Arthur blinked.
He rubbed his eyes with his clean hand and looked again.
The 99 was still there. The scratch on his shoulder still stung. The blood hadn't clotted magically.
But the number on the right... the denominator.
It wasn't 100 anymore. It was 101.
"Wait." Arthur frowned. His accountant brain woke up, pushing aside the fear. "That's not regeneration."
Regeneration meant restoring the current value to meet the maximum value. It meant filling the cup.
The System hadn't filled the cup. It had made the cup bigger.
"Is it a display bug?"
He needed more data. One data point was an anomaly; two was a trend.
Arthur set the chronograph on his watch. He hit [START].
He stared at the tiny ticking numbers.
00:15...00:30...
The silence of the room felt oppressive. He was trapped in a box, possibly surrounded by monsters, timing a software glitch. It felt absurd.
00:45...00:55...01:00.
Arthur instantly triggered the Status screen.
[STATUS: Arthur Lin]HP: 99 / 102
Arthur's breath hitched. The air in the room suddenly felt very thin.
It happened again.
"It's not healing," he whispered, a strange, cold thrill running down his spine. "The logic is inverted. Instead of Current HP +1, it's coding Max HP +1."
He looked at the skill description again.
Restores 1 Health Point (HP) per minute.
The System was interpreting "Restore" as "Add." It was a translation error. A glitched pointer in the cosmic code.
Arthur did the mental math instantly.
60 minutes in an hour. That was +60 Max HP. 24 hours in a day. That was +1,440 Max HP.
An average human had 100 HP. A Rank F zombie probably had around 150.
In one day, Arthur would have the vitality of fifteen men. In a week, he would have over 10,000 HP.
This wasn't a trash skill. This was a game-breaker. This was a god-tier exploit.
"If I survive," Arthur muttered, his grip on the pipe wrench tightening. The fear was still there, but now, it was mixed with something else. Greed. Ambition.
The potential was infinite. But potential meant nothing if he died in the next five minutes.
BOOM.
The heavy metal door of the storage room shuddered violently. Dust rained down from the doorframe.
Arthur scrambled backward, kicking boxes aside, raising the wrench.
BOOM.
The wood around the lock splintered. A groan, low and wet, vibrated through the wood. It wasn't a human sound. It sounded like lungs filled with fluid and hate.
"Open the door," a voice rasped from the other side. It was garbled, wrong. "Meat. Fresh... meat."
Arthur backed up until he hit the rear wall. There was no exit.
He glanced at his HP bar. 99 / 102.
"I need time," Arthur thought, panic rising in his chest. "I just need time."
But time had just run out.
With a final, sickening crack, the door hinges gave way. The heavy door fell inward, crashing onto the linoleum.
Standing in the doorway was the store clerk, Dave. Or at least, it used to be Dave.
Half of Dave's face was missing. His jaw hung loose, connected only by strands of wet muscle. His uniform was soaked in black gore. But his eyes... his eyes were glowing with a faint, red light.
[Enemy Identified]Rotting Walker (Rank F)Level: 2
Dave let out a shriek that sounded like tearing metal and lunged.