After ten minutes, the three of them stepped out into the hallway. Primo felt a cold shiver run down his spine at the sight. The corridor was a nightmare of deep gouges in the drywall, splattered blood, and foul-smelling droppings. With a solemn nod, they parted ways. Dan and Sarah headed for the stairs leading down, their silhouettes vanishing into the shadows of the stairwell, while Primo turned back toward his ruined home.
His apartment was in even more chaos than before. The pack that had been lured away by the car had clearly stopped by first. The corpse of the mutated dog he had killed was gone—dragged away or eaten on the spot—leaving behind only a dark, macabre stain on the floor.
Moving like a ghost, he slipped inside. He went straight to the bathroom. Fortunately, he had a habit of keeping a large plastic drum filled with water due to the building's unreliable plumbing. He washed the grime and the sour "sleep sweat" from his body, the cold water snapping his mind into focus.
He dressed in durable clothes and began packing his backpack with tactical precision: extra socks, every scrap of food he had left, water bottles, his phone, and his important documents. Finally, he picked up the blood-stained kitchen knife. He knew the range was too short for comfort, so he grabbed his mop, unscrewed the head, and lashed the knife to the end of the wooden pole. It wasn't a masterpiece, but it was a spear.
He sat on the edge of the bathtub, the only room with a functional door, and took a long, shaky breath. Seven days of sleep. A world turned upside down. Mutated beasts. A digital system.
"This is real," he whispered to the tiled walls. "I have to be strong."
The thought of his S-Rank skill gave him a flicker of warmth in his chest. He wasn't just a victim; he was a participant. He finally focused his gaze on the floating panels he had ignored earlier. He already knew what they would say—he could feel it.
Ever since the "burning" in Dan's apartment had stopped, his world had become louder and sharper. He could hear the wind whistling through the broken glass in the lobby downstairs and smell the metallic tang of blood from the hallway as if it were right under his nose.
[Assimilation Complete]
[Feral Canine Core (Low Grade) Absorbed]
[Gained:
+1 Strength
+1 Agility
+1 Evolution Point
Skill:
Skill:
He tapped the
[Profile: Primo Adam
Level: 1
Race: Human
Evolution Point(s): 1
Stamina: 8
Strength: 8
Defense: 3
Agility: 8
Will: 10
Skill(s):
The points had been applied to his body the moment the core dissolved in his stomach. He felt his muscles tighten, a sense of being "denser" and more reactive than before. He tried tapping on the Evolution Point, but nothing happened—no menu, no explanation. Maybe I need more than one to use it, he mused.
He turned his attention to the descriptions of the skills he was already using.
[Great Ear
Rank: D (Passive)
User can hear sounds up to a kilometer away. Can focus to increase range or isolate specific frequencies.]
[Great Nose
Rank: D (Passive)
User can detect scents up to a kilometer away. Can focus to track specific biological markers.]
The passive nature of these skills was a godsend. He didn't have to "activate" them; they were simply a part of him now. As he sat in the quiet bathroom, he practiced "focusing." He tuned out the sound of his own breathing and pushed his hearing outward.
He heard a faint, rhythmic thump-thump of a heart beating in the apartment directly above him. Then, he focused his nose. He could smell the old rain on the roof and the distinct, oily scent of woodsmoke coming from several blocks away.
It was overwhelming, but the sensory "noise" was starting to settle into a mental map of his surroundings.
He sat on the edge of the bathtub, gripped by a sudden realization.
Normally, a human being shouldn't be able to handle this much information at once. His ears were picking up frequencies from a kilometer away—the scuttle of insects in the walls, the distant groan of shifting metal, the heavy breathing of creatures outside—and yet, his brain wasn't exploding from the sensory overload. His mind was filtering the smells of rot, smoke, and rain with the precision of a computer.
"How am I doing this?" he whispered.
He should have been disoriented. He should have been nauseous from the sudden shift in his reality. But instead, it felt as natural as breathing.
His eyes drifted back to the description of his S-Rank skill: [Controlled Assimilation].
"User can fully assimilate the properties and essence..."
That was it. The skill didn't just give him the raw power of the dog; it forced his human brain to perfectly integrate those foreign traits. It wasn't just a "patch" on his existing biology; it was a perfect rewrite. Because of the S-Rank skill, his mind had already evolved to handle the input from Great Ear and Great Nose before he even stepped out of the bathroom.
A chill of excitement ran down his spine. This was why his skill was Rank S. While others might struggle or go mad trying to control their new mutations, Primo would adapt instantly. He wasn't just taking their genes; he was mastering them.
He stood up, feeling more balanced than he ever had in his life. He gripped his makeshift spear, the wood feeling like an extension of his own arm.
"If I can adapt to a 'Low Grade' core this fast," he muttered, a grim smile touching his lips, "what happens when I find something stronger?"
He checked the hallway one last time through the gap in the bathroom door. It was time to leave.
He gripped his makeshift spear. Wyn's dorm was a few streets away, and with these new senses, he wouldn't be caught off guard again. He was no longer just a survivor hiding in a bathroom. He was ready to face the new world.