The benefits of his Level Up were waiting for him — but he couldn't really stop and collect them. That'd mean taking a few moments to look through the menu, and that'd look suspicious to the asshole who stared at him from the car.
No — that'd have to wait. And while it did, Carter cleaned his dagger of clotted blood again and turned his gaze towards the open metal door. By all accounts, it should be empty — his fight had been both loud, bright and had some unfortunate smells involved, which should cover most ways of localising oneself.
If there were any creatures still inside, they'd be in the basement, too far from the action to notice the show. Which didn't make stepping through the metal door any easier than it would have been had he not come to that conclusion — the first step was taken tentatively into the dark room, where his eyes quickly caught sight of scattered shelves and broken fridges. To his right, the counter where payments were once conducted was now coated in a thick layer of coated blood, and a Dreamer was draped over hit, a chunk of its head missing.
The smell was noxious, and so was the sight. He would likely have puked under different circumstances — all the while, Carter told himself, in uncertain certain terms: He hadn't killed them. They hadn't been alive, after all.
He swallowed dryly, averted his eyes and continued to explore. There were some packages of food scattered throughout the floor, likely knocked down by the uknown number of abominations that laid within. Though the shelves had mostly been emptied, some cans of canned food could still be seen near corners — useful on a pinch. Had he a backpack, he would've grabbed them, but life is hardly that kind.
A quick round of the place revealed what he had hoped for — no Dreamers. Good enough, though his stomach was still mildly unsettled. By his estimate, he'd already wasted close to seven minutes, which meant he'd some twenty three ahead of him. Not nearly enough, in his mind, but it'd have to do.
He turned a gaze to the door in the back — a sign with the words 'Exit' had been stuck to it, glowing dimly with energy he assumed came from a generator downstairs; it was doubtful a place like the hidden prison wouldn't have its own energy layout. The door, thank the lord, was closed. Unfortunately, however, it was a 'pull' type of door instead of a 'push' one, which meant the opposite for the other side.
Fun. And unsafe for him. But it'd have to do.
"Menu," he whispered softly, dagger in hand.
Ping!
[You have leveled up!]
[Stat points awarded! Skill point awarded! Talent point awarded! Talent awarded!]
[SYSTEM] (!)
[USER] (!)
[QUESTS] (!)
[ACTIVE EFFECTS]
"...Huh."
Interesting — that was a considerable number of awards. Or perhaps he simply wasn't used to these kinds of systems; he supposed Level 2 was significant enough a mark to hit that it warranted more bonuses, but it was hard to be sure. Regardless, there was a lot to unpack and not enough time.
So he went straight to what would help him.
"User."
[User: Carter]
[HP: 100/150]
[MP: 75/85]
[Level: 2]
[Title: Bound]
[EXP: 20/50]
[STR: 11]
[DEX: 14]
[CON: 8]
[CHA: 10]
[INT: 13]
[Points: 3]
Three points — perhaps that was the standard per Level Up? He would have to figure such things later. For now, there were two questions that needed his immediate concern — what to invest such points in and the effect that would have on his body.
He had gained +1s in both STR and DEX — and, unlike he had initially feared, the effect was surprisingly noticeable, having served to get him out of a difficult situation in a pinch. It had also proven quite effectively that he could gain Stat Points merely by training (more commonly known as exerting great effort). Therefore — an argument could be made for simply stacking stat points until they proved necessary.
As a counter-argument, however, he could say with some certainty that his life quite literally depended on it. That DEX boost had been the difference between freedom and death — and these points could make just as large a difference.
"I guess… INT would be intelligence?" He muttered, eyebrows furrowed slightly. How would that even work, exactly?
… well, no matter. What did matter was — His INT was already respectable enough. He could either invest into DEX and STR or DEX and CON, but he wasn't sure what CON did just yet. It meant his physical constitution, clearly, but he wasn't sure if it affected his HP or disease resistance or god knows what. And CHA was out of the question.
"Yeah. STR and DEX, then."
That seemed like the smartest decision. Therefore — he put a point in STR and two in DEX and hit 'Confirm'.
Ping!
[STR: 12]
[DEX: 16]
That should be enough to outrun most people who weren't actively using [System] skills to hunt him — and probably some who were, if not most. It would also most likely make his likes of sneaking through the basement and to the elevator unnoticed considerably larger.
Oddly enough — he didn't feel any different. But he didn't have the time to think about that, because the clock was ticking and Carter rather liked his body without bullet holes in it. With that enticing thought serving as a brilliant motivator, he took silent steps towards the door and pulled it open, revealing darkness. And then —
Click, click, click!
The lights on the basement turned on. All of them — Carter almost had to look away. As it was he instantly stepped back in surprise, heart thumping loudly against his chest. Adrenaline once again rushed through his veins.
— A low gargle came from within the basement. The characteristic sound of something being knocked down followed, and Carter fought his fear and peeked in.
"... Well, shit."
It had to be said. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but this was still something of a metaphorical kick to the metaphorical balls. How… quaint.
The basement was expansive — deceptively so, covering at least three times the span of the convenience store itself and with twice as many shelves. From his spot by the door and above the staircase, he could see no less than five Dreamers roaming aimlessly, with one directly below the staircase and looking around with a frenzied look, laid on the floor as if knocked down.
The Dreamer's eyes landed right at him — and, with an enraged screech, it started to crawl up the stairs. Clearly, something was wrong with its legs… Hm, wait, nevermind. What was wrong was fairly obvious in that it had none; they seemed to have been ripped off at the knees.
Again, Carter had to resist the urge to puke. No time, he told himself. He could puke and grieve for these faceless people later, once Grandfather was dead and he was free from this hellhole.
— The other dreamers didn't follow the crawler. Clearly, they weren't attracted by their own screeches; perhaps, after spending God knows how long locked inside the basement, they had grown too used to them. It didn't matter.
His gaze traveled to the knife in his hand. An idea occurred.
Dexterity, noun — 'skill in performing tasks, especially with the hand. Within the context of his [System], the term was used as a stand-in for Agility, clearly, but perhaps…
He raised his hand, holding the knife a little loosely by the handle, and waited until the Dreamer had finished it's crawl. Then,
A rapid flick of the wrist, followed by the characteristic noise of something piercing bone and sinking into soft flesh.
[Critical Hit!]
[Dreamer: 0/100]
[Enemy defeated!]
[Challenge Rating: ⅛. Penalty: ½. EXP Awarded: 7]
It stopped moving. Carter frowned, taking note of that — if the Dreamers had been human, it made sense that they would share a Human's weaknesses. If you were stabbed thoroughly through the skull, you would die, no questions asked. So — it made sense.
And yet… It begged the question of how 'HP' worked in the first place. His own HP was already 150, but it had started at 100 — meaning, it was now 50% higher than it has been. But he was still human — if he was stabbed through the head, would he simply lose all of his HP? And if so, what did HP do in the first place?
Would he die if he received 150 tiny cuts?
… No. Those were questions for later.
Carter retrieved his knife and paused to look around. He hadn't been noticed yet. Good. The smart thing to do now would be to make a beeline for the Elevator — and let the Captain rush in and kill the Dreamers later, assuming he kept his promise. On the other hand, there was no way to make sure the Elevator was there or that it would open for him — if it didn't, he might be putting himself at a lot of risk.
Again, the question that haunted him: Risk Vs Reward. What was more worthwhile, trying to cross the Dreamers one by one whilst sneaking and risk running out of time or dying? Or rushing to the next part of the 'quest' and risk getting stuck AND dying?
Well, whatever he chose —
He'd have to choose soon.