Joon-woo picked his way through the battered streets, each step careful on cracked asphalt and shattered glass. The sun dipped lower now, draping the apocalyptic skyline in bruised purples and reds. He couldn't deny a certain grim beauty in the ruined city. Monsters skulked through alleyways, survivors huddled behind locked doors, and he walked on—alert, sword in hand.
After the Ursal fight, his limbs still felt heavy, but he stood taller, bolstered by the Stat gains he'd earned. Strength and Vitality both up by one—small increments, but in a world where one swing or one claw-strike could mean death, every point mattered. He aimed to find a vantage point, a place to plan the next move. Perhaps a taller building or a rooftop cafe where he might rest a moment and gauge the chaos below.
A flicker of movement on the right drew his eye. Three figures crouched behind a toppled delivery van, whispering urgently. They looked young, mid-twenties at most, wearing casual clothes: a man with scruffy hair holding a metal pipe, a woman in a hoodie brandishing a short spear-like stick, and another man clutching a large wrench. All improvised weapons. They likely had Classes now, but no real training. They peered across the street at something hidden by the van's angled chassis.
Joon-woo slowed, curiosity piqued. He could slip by without engaging them. Yet, a prickle of interest urged him forward. Good vantage points might be contested. Perhaps these three knew a safe spot or were trying to reach something useful.
He edged closer, silent as a shadow, until he could see what they watched. Across the narrow street, a cluster of monsters prowled—a trio of lean, hyena-like creatures with dark spots and wicked fangs. Nightstalker Jackals, if he recalled correctly. Quick, vicious pack hunters. The three survivors had chosen a poor place to hide—these Jackals were known to sniff out prey relentlessly.
They whispered:
"We need to run," said the spear-woman, voice trembling.
"No, if we run, they'll chase us down," said the pipe-man. He gripped his weapon tightly, knuckles white.
The wrench-holder swallowed hard, "What about the Skills we got? I—mine's useless for fighting. Something called 'Steady Grip'? Just reduces recoil, I think. Means nothing here."
The woman shook her head. "I got a 'Low Thrust'—some spear skill. But I've never fought anything!"
Joon-woo sized up the situation. Three nervous survivors, three Nightstalker Jackals. Without intervention, the humans might die, their Skills and potential wasted. He had nothing against helping them—it might cost him some effort, but maybe he could gain goodwill. Or better yet, loot if any monster dropped something now. Also, a well-timed save could yield allies who knew another safe place or had rumors about hidden artifacts.
He made his decision. The monsters were relatively weak compared to the Ursal. He'd handle them swiftly. Stepping from the shadows, he spoke low, "Keep quiet and stay behind me."
The trio jerked around, startled. The pipe-man almost swung at him out of panic, but Joon-woo raised a calming hand. The sight of his sword and calm demeanor stilled them.
"Who—?" the spear-woman managed, eyes wide.
"No time," he hissed. "Monsters first. When I move, follow close. I'll engage head-on. If one slips past me, use your Skills. Don't panic."
They nodded, desperation etched on their faces. He crept forward, hugging the van's side until he got a clear line of sight on the Jackals. They pawed the ground restlessly, sniffing, ears twitching. They hadn't spotted him yet—good.
He took a deep breath. He'd start fast and hard, try to drop one Jackal immediately. With Quick Slash, he could kill one before it knew what hit it. Then handle the other two with measured strikes and Parry as needed.
He dashed out from behind the van, footsteps light but not silent. The closest Jackal whipped its head around, too slow. Joon-woo triggered Quick Slash, feeling that surge of speed in his arm. The sword flashed like a silver comet through the creature's throat. A wet hiss, and the beast collapsed instantly, blood darkening the pavement.
The other two snarled, startled by this sudden kill. They spread out, flanking him. Clever for low-level monsters—pack instincts. He shifted his stance, sword held mid-guard. One Jackal darted in, snapping at his leg. He stamped his foot down, pivoting away and letting its jaws close on empty air. Before it recovered, he lashed out with a normal strike—no Skill, just technique. The blade tore into its shoulder, making it yelp and back off limping.
The second Jackal took advantage, rushing from behind. He felt its presence, spinning just in time to see yellow eyes and bared fangs lunging for his back. He had predicted something like this. He invoked Parry, blade angled over his shoulder. The defensive Skill shimmered, and when the Jackal's jaws struck, it met a resistance that deflected its bite. It yelped, jaws sliding off the blade's surface. He twisted around and delivered a sharp cut across its snout. The creature screeched, rearing back in pain.
Both monsters injured now, both uncertain. He pressed the advantage, stepping into the wounded Jackal that he had struck in the shoulder. It tried to leap away, but he feinted high, and when it flinched upward, he reversed low, slicing across its belly. The beast's innards spilled, and it collapsed, twitching.
One left. The last Jackal snarled, hackles raised. He circled it slowly. The creature lunged in a final desperate attack. He easily sidestepped and brought his blade down on its neck with a clean stroke. It died without a sound.
He lowered his sword, breathing steady. Three kills, swift and precise. He'd grown comfortable in violence terrifyingly fast. But that was the nature of this new world. The trio of survivors peeked out, awed.
"H-how did you…?" the pipe-man stammered, stepping forward.
Joon-woo wiped the blade on a rag he found near the van's debris. "I prepared," he said simply. "You can survive too if you keep calm and use your Skills wisely. Don't just swing wildly—think about angles, timing."
The woman with the spear swallowed, glancing at the Jackal corpses. "I tried Low Thrust on a goblin earlier… it barely scratched it."
"You need better positioning," he said. "Try to hit vital spots—eyes, throat, joints. If you panic and hit randomly, you waste your advantage."
The wrench-holder nodded, taking mental notes. "Where are you going now? Are you alone?"
He considered. Allies might slow him down. But maybe they knew something. "I'm heading to find safer ground, maybe a vantage point to plan next steps. Don't travel aimlessly. Try finding a secure building with multiple exits. Barricade yourselves until you understand your Classes better."
They looked disappointed he wouldn't join them, but didn't argue. They had to know he operated on another level.
"Thanks, stranger," the spear-woman said softly. "You saved our lives."
He nodded and turned away, resuming his hunt for a vantage point. The world offered no rest, only opportunities. If he could secure a building's rooftop to watch over the city, he might spot special phenomena—rare artifacts crashing down, elite monsters staking territory, or hidden runes forming on abandoned structures.
He pressed onward, stepping over broken glass and twisted metal. The sky overhead darkened with unnatural clouds, and eerie lights played along the horizon. The System had fully integrated now—Classes assigned, Skills distributed. Humans and monsters would clash endlessly, forging a new order out of chaos.
He caught sight of a sturdy office building ahead, maybe six floors tall, its façade cracked but not collapsed. Perfect. He'd try to reach its roof. If the ground floor was monster-free, he could claim a high vantage point. Maybe find leftover supplies inside. Offices often stored first-aid kits, bottled water, energy bars. Basic comforts that would matter in a world gone mad.
Approaching the building's entrance, he saw the doors shattered. Inside, dim light flickered. He held his sword ready. If there were monsters inside, he'd have to clear them out. He stepped through the broken doorway into a lobby strewn with overturned chairs and a broken coffee machine. No immediate sign of monsters. He moved deeper, ears pricked for unusual sounds.
A faint scratching noise came from a corridor leading to stairwells. He advanced slowly, heart steady. Another fight loomed, but now he welcomed it. Each fight sharpened him, pushing him closer to the next growth spurt or hidden Class evolution. Let others cower—he'd carve a path forward.
He stepped into the corridor, sword raised, ready for whatever lurked in the dark.