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Atlas stood before the massive, blast-proof steel door. The magnetic locks had disengaged, the green light on the panel beckoning him forward.
The metal surface was cold, unyielding, scarred with faint claw marks left from his earlier, failed attempts.
He felt powerful. He felt unstoppable. With a Strength of 17, he was nearly twice as strong as a peak human athlete. He imagined ripping the door off its hinges, a display of raw dominance to announce his arrival to the Hive.
Atlas stepped forward, his boots crunching on the glass shards littering the floor. He placed a pale, clawed hand on the cold steel surface. He planted his feet, braced his core, and pushed.
Nothing happened.
The door didn't budge.
'Hmph. Heavier than it looks,' Atlas thought, his brow furrowing.
He gritted his teeth, engaging his new musculature. He pushed harder, veins bulging in his neck, putting his entire 17 points of Strength into the shove.
Still nothing. It was like pushing against a mountain.
Atlas stopped. He stood there for a second, blinking.
"Don't tell me that Red Witch—that pixelated brat—jammed the exit protocols even after the magnetic locks were killed. Why won't this thing move?" Atlas snarled, glaring at the steel barrier. "Is she mocking me? Trying to trap me in here with a firewall glitch?"
He braced his shoulder against the metal and shoved. He pushed with enough force to derail a train. The door didn't budge a millimeter.
"Stubborn piece of Umbrella junk," he hissed.
He stepped back, ready to tear the walls apart with his bare hands. That's when his eyes drifted to the floor. Specifically, to the deep, greased grooves running parallel to the wall.
'Ah.'
The frustration vanished, replaced by a dull, sinking realization.
Atlas shifted his stance, planted his feet, and casually hooked his fingers into the side handle. He pulled to the left.
Griiiind—Chunk.
For a split second, there was resistance—
Then the steel moved.
A deep, grinding sound echoed through the corridor as the airtight seal disengaged. The door slid open inch by inch, heavy mechanisms screaming in protest.
Hiss... Click.
'...Nobody saw that,' Atlas told himself firmly, brushing off the embarrassment. 'I am an apex predator. Apex predators do not fail to operate doors. That was a tactical test of the integrity of this place.'
He stepped through the threshold, his composure regained.
The Hive lay before him.
And it was crawling.
Click! Clack! Clank!
The sound of the door opening echoed like a gunshot in the silent facility. Immediately, the corridor beyond erupted with movement.
This wasn't a small cluster of stragglers like in the labs. This was a convergence. The corridor was packed with them—researchers, security personnel, maintenance workers. Dozens of milky eyes turned toward him in unison. The spinning amber emergency lights cast long, dancing shadows that made the horde look like a single, writhing organism.
They groaned, a collective sound of hunger that vibrated in the floorboards.
They stood unnaturally still at first, clustered together in uneven groups, heads tilted at strange angles as if listening to something only they could hear. Unlike the scattered, isolated undead he had slaughtered earlier, these were packed tightly together—five, six, sometimes more in a single cluster.
Atlas didn't flinch. In fact, the corners of his mouth twitched upward, rising into a smile that was just a shade too wide to be sane.
'Numbers,' he thought, scanning the crowd. 'So many beautiful numbers.'
"Let's grind some more EXP first," he whispered.
He bent his knees, loading the tension in his legs like a coil spring.
CRACK.
The linoleum floor beneath his boots spiderwebbed.
Atlas vanished.
To a normal human eye, he would have been a blur. He launched himself forward with such velocity that the air displacement ruffled the hair of the first zombie before the blow even landed.
SNIKT—
"First one," Atlas murmured.
He appeared in front of a burly zombie wearing a maintenance jumpsuit. He didn't just swing; he slashed with the precision of a surgeon and the force of a guillotine. His right hand passed through the zombie's neck.
There was no resistance.
The zombie's head separated cleanly, spinning through the air before splitting into three distinct pieces mid-flight, the cut so precise it looked surgical.
'I love my claws already.' he thought as he pivoted on his heel, using the momentum to slide past the falling body. Before the first head hit the ground, Atlas was already engaging the second and third targets.
Shing-Shing!
A dual cross-slash. Two security guards dropped, their chests opened in X-shaped wounds that severed the spine.
Atlas was a whirlwind of death. He weaved through the grasping hands, his Agility of 17 making the zombies look like they were moving in very slow motion. He ducked under a bite, came up with an uppercut that impaled a jaw, and kicked another enemy so hard the ribcage imploded.
He wasn't just killing; he was dancing.
He moved left, decapitating a scientist. He sidestepped right, severing the hamstrings of a runner before finishing it with a stomp to the skull.
He took two steps forward, claws flashing again and again, his movements fluid, efficient, terrifyingly practiced. Heads flew. Limbs dropped. Torsos collapsed as spinal cords were severed with casual ease.
He flowed through the horde like a living blade.
Left.
Right.
Upward slash.
Downward carve.
Blood sprayed across the walls, the floor, the ceiling—painting the Hive in violent streaks of crimson. Bodies hit the ground one after another, already beginning to shrivel as their vitality was ripped away.
One by one, they fell. And one by one, as Atlas moved on, the corpses behind him began to wither, their fluids evaporating, their skin tightening into mummified leather as the System drank their essence.
In less than a minute—
Final slash.
The last zombie, a woman in a shredded business suit, crumpled to the floor, headless.
Atlas stood alone in the hallway, the amber lights spinning over a carpet of dried husks. He shook his claws, shedding the gore.
'And that is my fourth victory, I could get used to this feeling. First things first Pleione,' he called out, his mental voice buzzing with the high of combat. 'Tally the score.'
[Calculations Complete.]
[Targets Neutralized: 23]
[Experience Gained: 230 EXP]
[Evolution Points Acquired: 46 EP]
[Loot Acquired: 100 V-Gold]
Atlas froze. He stared at the last line of the notification.
"V-Gold!?" he exclaimed aloud, his raspy voice echoing. "Pleione, explain. I haven't gained a single coin from the previous kills. Why now? I didn't do anything special."
The System AI responded, her tone informative and calm.
[Apologies, Atlas. I neglected to elaborate on the resource mechanics earlier.]
[V-Gold is not a physical currency, nor is it a random drop like in a video game. It is a System-granted resource, synthesized from the crystallized fragments of a defeated being's 'Soul Matrix'. Creatures with higher vitality, stronger bodies, or more developed Soul Matrices possess denser residual essence, allowing greater accumulation over time.
Creatures with higher vitality, stronger bodies, or more developed wills possess a denser residual essence.
Upon death, the Soul Matrix begins to destabilize. A portion of its remaining vital essence is slowly siphoned by the System before total collapse. This essence is refined and converted into V-Gold, alongside Evolution Points (EP) Experience (EXP), and Multiversal Transit Authority (MTA). Weaker entities yield little or none, while those with reinforced cellular structures, heightened life force, or superior physical strength provide a more substantial return.]
[Thus, all your kills combined accumulated 100 V-Gold]
Atlas absorbed the information, nodding slowly. It made sense. The stronger he got, the more he could squeeze out of his prey.
"Okay," Atlas said, waving his hand. "No need to apologize, but next time, put the lore in the tutorial. Information is power."
[Affirmative.]
"So," Atlas asked, a greedy glint in his eyes. "I have 1,100 V-Gold now. Can I open the System Shop?"
[Negative.]
[Access Denied.]
[Shop Unlock Requirements:]
Accumulate 5,000 V-Gold.
Reach Level 5.
Reach Tier 1 Evolution. (Completed)]
Atlas sighed, crossing his arms. The metallic clink of his claws touching his dermal armor rang out.
"Of course. A paywall," he grumbled. "So I have to wait until I fulfill these requirements to open the shop. I hope it doesn't disappoint me, Pleione. If I'm grinding souls for this, the merchandise better be top-tier."
[Do not worry, Atlas. The Shop connects to the Multiversal Transit Authority's central hub. It contains items, weapons, bloodlines, and technologies from infinite realities. You will be... considerably satisfied.]
'Infinite realities,' Atlas mused. 'Tech from Halo? Magic from Skyrim? Devil Fruits? The possibilities are... intoxicating.'
"Well, if you say so," he replied. "One more question. Is there any other Body Evolution Path available for me right now? Or am I stuck with just the claws until the next Tier?"
[There are always paths, Atlas.]
[However, major structural changes are unlocked at milestone intervals. Every 5 Levels, you will be presented with 3 randomized suitable distinct Body Evolution Choices.
Be advised: specific limb evolutions (like your Claws) are permanent, but situational adaptations may reset or merge upon major Tier evolution.]
"So, Level 5 is the magic number," Atlas summarized. "New shop. New evolutions. I'm currently Level 3."
"So it works like that… interesting."
He rolled his shoulders, feeling power coil beneath his skin.
He checked his status bar. [Level 3: 390/400 EXP].
He was tantalizingly close.
"I'm sitting at 390 EXP," he noted. "I'm literally one kill away from Level 4. And then a bit of a grind to Level 5."
Atlas turned his head, looking down the dark corridor that led toward the residential quarters of the Hive. Deep in the shadows, he could hear the shuffling of feet. The moan of the hungry.
"So be it," Atlas grinned, his silver claws glistening under the red emergency lights. "Let's hunt one or two more zombies to hit Level 4. And then..."
He stepped over the dried husk of a security guard.
"Then, we find the main course."