Vryn moved first and closed the distance with a straight right; the robotic fist hissed through the air. Raymond sidestepped, and he felt the air displacement graze his cheek. The punch continued past Raymond and slammed the structural pillar behind him.
Concrete exploded.
A spiderweb of cracks radiated from the impact point. Chunks of composite material scattered across the floor, dust billowing in a gray cloud.
One hit. That's all he needs.
Raymond shifted left, keeping his stance low. The knife's serrated edge pointed downward. His boots ground against the broken concrete. Each step was precise—spaced two feet apart, never overlapping.
Vryn matched the movement with machine-like efficiency. His augmented body turned smoothly on the ball of his lead foot. His shoulders formed a guarded line. His chin stayed tucked behind his cybernetic forearm.
His organic hand hovered near his solar plexus, fingers clenched tight. The knuckles stood out white against his skin.
Raymond's eyes flicked upward—a deliberate tell. Vryn reacted instantly, the chrome limb rising to intercept an anticipated high strike.
Too predictable.
Raymond dropped into a crouch, his knees bending just enough to slip beneath the sweeping parry. His knife hand whipped forward, the blade biting through fabric and flesh in a shallow, horizontal arc across Vryn's abdomen. Blood seeped through the sliced uniform, darkening the drab grey fabric.
The blade bit shallow. Three inches. Blood welled through the cut fabric of Vryn's uniform, dark crimson against pale skin.
Vryn grunted and swung a hook with his flesh hand. Raymond leaned back, but not far enough. Knuckles grazed his temple. His vision sparked white for a heartbeat.
They separated.
Vryn advanced, launching a rapid one-two. Raymond slipped the first strikes, but the third—a wide arc from the metal limb—sent him retreating.
His heel caught a piece of broken concrete. He stumbled.
Vryn capitalized. The chrome fist drove down like a piston.
Raymond rolled left. The punch cratered the floor where he'd been, pulverizing concrete into gravel. Shards peppered Raymond's face and neck, stinging cuts that drew blood in thin lines.
He came up slashing. The knife carved across Vryn's chest, sternum to right shoulder. Deeper this time. Five inches. Blood sheeted down Vryn's torso.
"Gah! Bastard!" Vryn bared his teeth and swung a reckless roundhouse.
Raymond ducked. The fist sailed overhead and punched clean through a server rack. Sparks erupted. Metal shrieked. The entire unit toppled sideways, crashing to the floor in a cascade of broken circuitry.
Raymond closed in during the recovery, slashing downward across Vryn's collarbone. The blade bit deep. Blood sprayed.
Vryn backpedaled, his organic hand clutching the wound.
Raymond's right wrist throbbed from an earlier impact with debris. His left cheek burned from the concrete shards embedded in his skin. His temple still rang from the glancing punch. Small cuts across his forearms where debris had caught him.
Minor damage. Accumulating.
Vryn's chest heaved, blood soaking through his uniform. Four cuts now. All bleeding. But his eyes remained focused, calculated.
"Rrrraagh!" Vryn charged once more.
Vryn came in fast. No guard. No defensive posturing. Just forward momentum and geometric efficiency.
His movements sharpened. Each step landed exactly where it needed to. His shoulders didn't telegraph. His weight shifted with machine precision.
That's not right. He's bleeding out. Should be slowing down.
Raymond brought the knife down in a diagonal slash aimed at Vryn's neck.
Vryn's organic arm shot up. The blade bit into his forearm, carving through muscle and scraping bone. Vryn didn't flinch. His fingers locked around Raymond's left wrist above the blade.
The robotic hand clamped down on Raymond's wrist from the other side.
Servos screamed. Bones crunched.
Raymond's radius and ulna shattered. The fracture was audible—a wet snap that sent white-hot agony lancing up his arm. His fingers spasmed open, but the knife remained embedded in Vryn's forearm, the serrated blade lodged in muscle and bone.
The robotic hand released Raymond's wrist, and the servos whined while the metal retracted. The metallic fist then drove forward into Raymond's left shoulder.
The impact struck with the mechanical precision of a surgeon's scalpel. Tendons stretched to their limit before snapping. Cartilage tore. The humeral head wrenched violently from the glenoid cavity—a grotesque, echoing pop as bone separated from bone.
Raymond's breath came in ragged, choked gasps. White noise flooded his senses. His left arm dangled, a dead weight resisting every impulse from his frayed nerves.
The pain radiated, a wildfire crawling up his shoulder, down his ribs, into his teeth. His vision swam, edges darkening as his body struggled to process the shock. The limb disconnected, and the realization barely registered through the raw, animal need to move, to fight, before the damage locked him into stillness.
He stumbled backward.
Vryn followed. No hesitation. The robotic hand shot forward and closed around Raymond's throat. The grip was absolute—chrome fingers digging into flesh, crushing his windpipe.
Vryn lifted.
Raymond's boots left the floor. His body slammed backward into the structural pillar, concrete cracking against his spine. The impact drove the air from his lungs. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't pull in air past the mechanical vice crushing his throat.
Black spots danced across his vision.
Vryn leaned in close, his red eyes flat and clinical. Blood poured from the cuts across his chest and stomach, soaking his uniform, dripping onto the floor in steady streams.
"Flesh is so fragile," Vryn said, his voice disturbingly calm. Almost curious. "Bones break. Joints fail. Oxygen deprivation causes unconsciousness in ninety seconds." His grip tightened. "What will you do now?"
Raymond's right hand moved.
The combat knife materialized directly into his palm—cool steel, familiar weight. He didn't hesitate. His arm drove upward with every ounce of strength left in his body.
The blade punched into the soft tissue beneath Vryn's jaw.
The serrated edge tore through the floor of his mouth, through his tongue, through the roof of his palate. The tip burst through bone and cartilage, driving vertically into Vryn's sinus cavity and up into the frontal lobe.
Vryn's eyes went wide. His mouth opened. Blood poured out, running over his lips and down his chin in thick rivulets.
The robotic hand released.
Raymond hit the ground, gasping, his throat burning. He looked up at Vryn's face—the knife buried hilt-deep beneath his chin, the tip protruding from the bridge of his nose.
"I cheat," Raymond rasped, blood on his own lips from where he'd bitten his tongue. "Inventory's a hell of a trick."
Vryn collapsed. His knees buckled and he went down hard, the impact driving the blade deeper. His body twitched once. Twice. Then went still.
A mechanical whir from above.
Raymond's head snapped up. The automated turrets rotated, their targeting lasers sweeping across the floor. Red dots found Vryn's corpse. Paused. Then swiveled toward Raymond.
Shit.
The turrets opened fire.
Rounds tore the air. Raymond threw himself sideways, but his left arm was dead weight, his shoulder screaming. Bullets chewed the floor where he had been. One caught his calf, punching through muscle. Another caught his ribs.
He collapsed behind a fallen server rack, blood pooling beneath him.
[ Combat Finished. Calculating rewards... ]
[ Total Kills: 1/(Tier 1) ]
[ Awarded 10 REP ]
Pain flooded Raymond's brain; he knew he would die. He calculated he would bleed out within sixty seconds, and his consciousness already began blacking out. Using sheer willpower, he summoned his REP store.
Buy [Basic Analyze]. He used his last bit of sanity to purchase it.
Raymond opened his eyes; he saw only white.
Again.
The sterile void stretched everywhere, nor did it show seams or shadows. That same geometric precision made Raymond's eyes ache because he stared too long.
His chest rose and fell. Breathing. Alive.
Second time waking up after dying. Still feels wrong.
The body remembered bleeding out, and the turret rounds had punched through muscle. The wet heat of blood pooled beneath him. Then nothing happened, and then this happened.
Like rebooting a computer.
The disconnect gnawed at him. Death should be final. Permanent. Not a loading screen between levels.
He pushed the thought aside and sat up on the bed.
The interface materialized without prompting, that familiar pale blue rectangle hovering in his vision.
[Activity Log]
[Reward Settlement]
Raymond focused on the first option.
The display shifted. Text cascaded down in organized lines; each entry was timestamped and categorized. He scanned past early entries, details he already knew, actions he had executed himself.
His eyes tracked downward, looking for what mattered.
Skill [Basic Shooting - Rifle] generated**.**
Skill [Basic Shooting - Sniper Rifle] generated**.**
Skill [Basic Shooting - SMG] generated**.**
Skill [Basic Power Armor Operation] generated**.**
Skill [Advanced Interrogation Technique] generated**.**
Overall no. of days of survival: 25. Rating increased to A+ in rating.
Difficulty modifier: Hard. Rating increased to S in rating.
Final mission rating: S
S rating. Better.
Raymond let out a deep sigh. He moved on to [Reward Settlement].
[ Calculating experience... ]
[ Difficulty Modifier: Hard. 30 EXP awarded ]
[ Main Quest: Locate and Destroy Sand Rat Gang - 93.74%. 30 EXP awarded ]
[ Sub Quest 1 (Level Requirement 1): Eliminate Sand Rat Outpost - 100%. 15 EXP awarded ]
[ Sub Quest 2 (Level Requirement 3): Rescue Rakheel Abu Al Bakar from captivity - 100%. 15 EXP awarded ]
[ Final Mission Rating: S. 110 EXP awarded ]
[ Skills Generated: Basic Tier. 50x5 EXP awarded ]
[ Overall EXP acquired: 450 EXP ]
[ Level 3 -> Level 4 | Deducted 100 EXP ]
[ Allocatable stats awarded: 2 ]
[ Level 4 -> Level 5 | Deducted 100 EXP ]
[ Allocatable stats awarded: 2 ]
[ Level 5 -> Level 6 | Deducted 200 EXP ]
[ Allocatable stats awarded: 3 ]
[ Total Allocatable stats: 7 | EXP left: 50 ]
Level 6? I didn't expect to raise 3 levels in one go.
Raymond noted the increase in exp required to level up from 5 to 6 and the increase in stat awarded for level up.
Looks like every 5 level is a jump?
More experience he acquired unfolded the system scope like layers of an onion.
A new prompt appeared in front of him, one he hadn't experienced in Tutorial.
[Select 2 Skills to retain] Below it listed the skills he generated in this scenario.
So I can only keep 2 skills from each run?
The limitation was understandable, otherwise the humans could just train in the main world and use the skill in the derivative worlds to generate them and add to their profile. Limiting the number of skills from actually realizing would incentivize the players to dive more.
Good strategy. Raymond chuckled to himself, the World System or whoever behind it knows how to make players coming back to it.
He shook his head, Who am I to complain? I am one of them too.
He picked [Basic Power Armor Operation] and [Advanced Interrogation Technique].
Next was the stat allocation, Raymond thought for a second and allocated all the 7 stats into END. He called up his profile.
=== PROFILE ===
NAME: [Ray #776784]
LEVEL: [6] [50 EXP]
TITLE: [Torturer]
=== ATTRIBUTES ===
STR: 4
AGI: 13
END: 20
PER: 5
INT: 4
WIL: 7
=== SKILLS ===
[Basic Shooting - Handgun]
[Basic Tracking]
[Basic Night Vision]
[Basic Sneak]
[Basic Concussive Strike]
[Basic Analyze]
[Basic Power Armor Operation]
[Advanced Interrogation Technique]
Sigh. Raymond realized he had unbalanced stats now. I must allocate stats more evenly next time.
A prompt asked whether he wanted to return. He accepted with resignation. Twenty-five days must have passed in the Main World. I hope Charles took care of my body, and I need to start my training with Beck later.
Thoughts swirled in his mind as his vision darkened, pulling his consciousness back to his real body inside the nutrient pod at his mansion.
Tavi knelt beside Vryn, her silk-composite suit whispering against the grit on the floor. She ignored the cooling nitrogen mist and the smell of ozone. Her green optical replacements flared, the lenses whining as they adjusted their focal length. She mapped the carnage with the cold detachment of a processor.
Vryn lay twisted against the structural pillar. His matte-black cybernetic arm remained locked in a final, spasmodic grip, the metal fingers stained with blood.
Tavi leaned closer. The primary cause of cessation was evident—a jagged puncture wound traveling upward through the soft tissue beneath the jaw, piercing the brain stem. Efficiency. Brutal, low-tech efficiency.
You were always too reliant on the plating, Vryn.
She stood and circled the chamber, her gaze darting between points of impact. Her internal HUD highlighted the environmental data in a series of glowing wireframes.
The breach started at the hydro-pump. Thermal residue indicates a plasma rifle discharge—Vryn's opening bracket. The intruder took cover here. Eight meters of travel. Three crates pulverized by automated turret fire.
She stopped near a cluster of server racks, her eyes tracking a line of spent 9mm casings.
The scatter pattern of spent 9mm casings suggests high volume SMG fire—enough to deplete Vryn's hexagonal shield. The precise damage to the floor tiles at the center point indicates the violent impact of a deployed light power armor frame. She tracked the heavy compression cracks where the armor had been engaged.
She moved to the center of the kill zone, where the floor bore the deep craters of Vryn's misses.
An EM pulse went off. The frame should have fried out caging the operator inside, yet there's no shell left behind. No body. Just the vented gas from the cracked gun.
Tavi reached the server rack where the automated turrets had focused their final, lethal volley. A thick, dark pool of blood saturated the floor. It was fresh, the scent of hemoglobin sharp in the recycled air.
She frowned.
She performed a wide-spectrum sweep of the Inner Sanctum the moment the turrets ceased fire. The lockdown protocols remained active. The air filtration system did not register a single pressure shift in the exit vents. No biometric signatures exited the threshold of the building above.
Yet, as she looked at the server rack, the space was empty. The pool of blood ended abruptly in a jagged, irregular spill. No drag marks. No bloody palm prints on the floor or the wall.
He was here. He was dying. Then he was not?.
A nagging illogicality clawed at her thoughts. It was impossible for someone to disappear into thin air while bleeding out from multiple wounds. Even the most sophisticated cloaking tech needed a tangible form to refract light and move air molecules.
The deck vibrated underfoot. The mainframe—supposed to be in failsafe lockdown—stuttered awake, its core systems igniting without authorization. A crimson glow from the holographic array spilled across the room, casting jagged reflections on the metal walls.
"Physical access requested for data transfer. Designation: Tavi Korr. Please jack in to the highlighted port."
Tavi stared at the text. Her hands, surgically slender and elongated, remained steady, but her pulse spiked. The machine was bypassing her administrative command strings.
Tavi stepped toward the console. She peeled back the synthetic-skin flap at her right wrist, revealing the integrated interface port. A fiber-optic lead slid out like a needle, its tip glowing with a faint data-blue. She pushed the cord into the console's access port.
Her body went taut.
Her green eyes rolled back, glowing blindingly bright as terrabytes of raw, unfiltered data hammered into her neural architecture. It wasn't a organized stream; it was a deluge. She saw the Sultanate's infrastructure crumbling in a thousand simulated futures. She saw Vryn's death replayed from the turret's optical feed—the boy flashing into existence and then vanishing in a flicker of white light that the sensors couldn't categorize as a weapon effect.
The torrent ended as abruptly as it began. The supercomputer slammed shut, the cooling fans spinning down into a haunting silence.
Tavi gasped, stumbling back as her lead retracted into her wrist. She clutched the edge of the console, her nervous system firing erratic signals that made her fingers twitch.
The steady thud of armored steps echoed down the hall as six security cyborgs marched into the Sanctum, their crimson optics scanning the chamber in methodical sweeps.
"Clear the facility," Tavi said, her voice a dry rasp. "Strip the servers. Burn the biological samples. Move the sensitive materials to the secondary vaults immediately."
The units moved to comply, their movements mechanical and mindless.
Tavi stayed at the console, her eyes narrowed until they were thin slits of emerald light. She replayed the final packet of data the machine had forced into her mind. It was a categorical tag, a label the system had applied to the intruder's unique energy signature before he vanished.
"Outsider," she muttered.
She looked back at the pool of blood where the boy should have died.
"Finally, after 20 years of wait."