Chapter 3: The One Who Came Back
The red dot kept moving.
Slow. Careful. Deliberate.
I watched it from the basement, my breath shallow, the handgun cold and heavy in my palm. One hundred and fifty meters. One twenty. One hundred.
He wasn't rushing.
That was worse.
The system pulsed in my vision.
[SYSTEM WARNING: Target Entering Detection Radius.]
Footsteps echoed above—measured, unhurried. Boots over broken glass. Concrete. The sound slid down through the building and wrapped around my spine.
I pressed my back to the basement wall, forcing my breathing to slow.
Don't shake. Don't shake.
Father had always corrected how I stood.
"Feet apart," he'd say. "Balance matters."
I'd thought it was nothing.
Now I knew better.
I adjusted my stance without thinking—feet spreading slightly, knees loose. The handgun steadied in my grip, the tremor fading just enough to matter.
A flashlight cut through the living room. Dust danced in its beam.
"Bodies confirmed?" a man's voice said.
A pause.
"No sign of the kid."
The beam lingered on the basement door.
My thumb brushed the safety.
The door creaked open.
Light spilled down the steps.
I fired.
The shot went wide, the recoil snapping my wrist back. The round punched into the wall beside his head, showering sparks and concrete.
"Contact!" he barked.
Gunfire answered immediately.
[INCOMING FIRE—TAKE COVER.]
I dove sideways as bullets chewed through the stair railing. Wood splintered. Pain flared in my ribs when I hit the floor.
My ears rang.
Footsteps thundered down the stairs.
Fast. Confident.
I leaned out and fired again—twice this time. One shot missed. The other caught his leg.
He went down hard, slamming into the wall with a curse, firing blindly in return. Bullets sparked against the metal shelves behind me.
My slide locked back.
Empty.
Panic surged.
I fumbled the reload—dropped the magazine, hands slick with sweat. A round cracked past my head.
Then my hands… steadied.
Not calm.
But focused.
The new magazine clicked in.
The slide snapped forward.
I fired.
The shot hit his shoulder, spinning him sideways. His gun clattered across the floor.
We stared at each other across the basement.
Then he rushed me anyway.
I fired once more.
Click.
Nothing.
He slammed into me, driving me to the floor. The handgun skidded away. His forearm crushed my throat.
"Should've stayed dead," he growled.
My vision darkened.
My hand closed around the knife.
I didn't think.
I stabbed.
Once—too shallow.
He roared and punched me, splitting my lip. Stars exploded behind my eyes.
[WARNING: HOST VITALS UNSTABLE.]
I stabbed again.
Lower this time.
Under the ribs.
His grip loosened instantly.
I shoved him off, gasping, and scrambled back as he collapsed, blood bubbling between his lips.
His eyes met mine.
Confused.
Then empty.
Silence settled.
The system chimed.
[TARGET ELIMINATED.]
[EXECUTION CONFIRMED.]
A sharp rush surged through me—heat, clarity, something locking into place.
[Combat Data Assimilation Complete.]
[Skill Unlocked: Basic Handgun Proficiency.]
My stomach twisted.
I turned away and vomited onto the concrete.
When I looked back, the body hadn't moved.
I picked up the handgun again.
This time, my grip was better.
Not perfect.
But real.
The system pulsed again.
Not urgently.
Judging.
[FIRST EXECUTION BONUS DETECTED.]
The words sank in slowly.
Bonus.
As if this were a game.
My jaw tightened.
[Kill Classification: Direct Combat | Close-Range | High Risk.]
[Psychological Resistance: Low.]
[Survival Margin: Critical.]
A dull ache spread through my arms, my ribs, my throat—now that the adrenaline was fading, my body remembered every impact.
I leaned against a metal shelf, breathing hard.
[Reward Allocation Initiated.]
Something shifted inside me.
Not strength.
Not speed.
Understanding.
Images flashed—how the man had moved, how he had raised his gun, how his balance had shifted just before he rushed me. The recoil of the handgun replayed in my mind, slower this time. Cleaner.
[Reward Granted: Weapon Familiarity (Handgun – Basic).]
[Effect: Reduced Recoil Panic | Improved Grip Instinct | Faster Reload Adaptation.]
I stared at the handgun in my hands.
It felt… familiar.
Not comfortable.
But no longer foreign.
I flexed my fingers, adjusted my grip unconsciously—thumb placement, trigger pressure. Small things.
Things I shouldn't know.
My stomach churned again.
This wasn't training.
This was theft.
The system had ripped knowledge out of a dead man's final moments and pressed it into my skull.
I looked at the body.
Really looked.
He wasn't a monster.
Not up close.
Just a man in tactical gear, eyes glassy, mouth half-open like he still had something to say. Blood pooled beneath him, creeping across the concrete in slow, ugly lines.
I had done that.
My hands started shaking.
Hard this time.
I lowered myself onto an overturned crate, pressing my palms against my face.
This wasn't like in my head.
It wasn't clean.
It wasn't heroic.
He had looked surprised when he died.
That was the part I couldn't erase.
[WARNING: Mental Instability Detected.]
I laughed once.
A short, broken sound.
"Too late," I whispered.
The system didn't answer.
Instead, another notification surfaced—heavier.
[Resource Acquired: Bone Count +1.]
Bone.
The word made my skin crawl.
[Bones: Proof of Confirmed Kill.]
[Usage: Unlock Abilities | Enhance Skills | Access System Functions.]
[Note: Bones cannot be gained from indirect or assisted kills.]
So this was the price.
Not just blood.
Commitment.
Every step forward meant becoming someone who could never go back.
I swallowed hard.
If I stopped now…
If I ran…
The four red dots still pulsed on the map.
They weren't fading.
They were waiting.
I pushed myself to my feet, wincing as pain flared through my ribs. My reflection stared back at me from a cracked mirror panel leaning against the wall.
Pale.
Eyes too sharp.
Someone older than eighteen looked back.
I wiped the blood from my lip with the back of my hand and checked the handgun again—magazine seated, safety on. My movements were steadier now.
That scared me more than the kill.
I dragged the body deeper into the basement, out of sight. Covered the blood as best I could. Not because I was skilled.
Because I didn't want to look at him anymore.
When I stepped back, the basement felt different.
Smaller.
Heavier.
Like it was watching me.
Four red dots remained on the map.
I wasn't ready for them.
Not yet.
But now I understood something fundamental.
The system wouldn't make me strong for free.
Every reward came wrapped in guilt.
Every upgrade cost a piece of me.
And the next time I pulled the trigger…
It wouldn't shake me as much.
That thought terrified me.
And somewhere deep inside—
It thrilled me.
Four red dots remained on the map.
I wasn't ready for them.
Not yet.
But now I knew something they didn't.
Coming back to confirm a kill was a mistake.
And I was done being one.
Somewhere in the city, four red dots still burned on the map.
They didn't know who killed their partner.
They didn't even know they were already being hunted.