Blood and Bargain

The city had gone quiet—but it wasn't peace.

It was the kind of silence that pressed against your throat, waiting for you to let your guard down. Most of the monsters had moved deeper into the city, but this area wasn't safe. Tier 8 creatures were likely still lurking.

And I needed food.

I remembered a narrow hiking trail near the edge of the residential zone—half-overgrown, once popular among joggers. If I was right, a few Mountain Hounds should still be lingering there. Dangerous, but manageable.

I kept low, hugging the walls, sticking to alleys, using every ounce of instinct and desperation I had. The Steel Fang Dagger felt natural in my grip. Lighter than the steel baton. Faster. Deadlier.

The trail was quiet. No birdsong. No wind. Just claw marks carved into bark and faint streaks of dried blood. The Hounds had definitely been through here.

Then I saw them.

Three of them—matted fur, muscular limbs, and slavering jaws—feasting on what was once a woman and her child.

For a moment, I froze. If I had been faster, could I have saved them? No. Useless thought. Now wasn't the time to mourn. It was the perfect chance to strike.

Steel Fang Dagger had a passive bonus—higher crit chance from behind. I couldn't waste this opportunity.

I crouched low, crept up behind the nearest Hound, and drove the dagger straight into its spine.

The blade hit true.

[Critical Hit]

The beast let out a strangled yelp, collapsing with a twitch. The other two reacted immediately. I yanked the dagger free and hurled a trash can lid at one of them, catching it in the face. It staggered back, snarling. But the third one had vanished—smart. It circled wide, using its pack tactics. Then it lunged from my blind spot.

Its fangs grazed my cheek before I managed to slash across its lower jaw. Blood sprayed—but it was still alive.

The first one recovered, foam bubbling at its maw. It was enraged now.

I didn't have time to second-guess. I raised the trash can lid like a buckler, gripping the dagger tight.

They charged.

The healthy one came straight at me. The injured one flanked from behind. I rammed the lid into the first Hound's jaws, forcing its head upward, then pivoted, twisting my body to throw the dagger over my shoulder.

The blade embedded deep into the injured Hound's throat. It collapsed, whimpering.

But the last one was on top of me. Claws tore at my jacket. Teeth snapped inches from my neck. I rolled, straining, shoving the lid between us like a wedge.

I couldn't die here. I wouldn't.

I gritted my teeth, forced my knees under its gut, and heaved. It flipped over with a snarl. I mounted it, hammering the lid into its skull—again and again—until it stopped moving.

Silence.

Panting, I pulled myself up, my limbs shaking. The third Hound was still alive, barely. It lay on the ground, whimpering, the dagger jutting from its neck. Its eyes locked with mine, pleading.

"Mercy?"

I stepped forward.

"I don't have time for that shit."

One clean thrust. It didn't suffer.

[You've killed Tier 8 Mountain Hounds ×3] [Agility has increased by 0.1]

[Agility: 4 → 4.1]

Nice. Every decimal counts.

I lifted one of the carcasses onto my shoulders and turned back. I had what I needed. Now I just needed to reach the safe zone.

The Gwanak Community Hall loomed in the distance—fortified with wooden barricades, the glow of firelight flickering through gaps in the walls. I approached slowly.

Two men stood guard, gripping rusted steel pipes.

"Stop right there!"

I raised my hands. "Not hostile. Just looking for shelter."

Their eyes narrowed at the blood covering me—and at the wolf carcass slung over my shoulder.

"What's that?"

"Hound meat. I'm willing to share."

Their posture shifted. One disappeared through the gate. Moments later, a woman in a stained vest emerged. She studied the meat, then gave a reluctant nod.

"We'll take it to the cook. You can come inside. But don't try anything."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

They let me in.

Inside, the Safe Zone was chaos dressed as order. Mats and cardboard shelters lined the floors. Murmurs, coughs, quiet sobs—fear saturated the air. The smell of antiseptic mixed with stale sweat and desperation.

I found a spot in the corner and sat. Eating quietly. Observing.

No sign of him.

The protagonist wasn't here yet. That was good. It meant the story hadn't deviated from the original timeline.

None of the supporting cast either. No awakened.

People were talking though. A woman swore she saw her neighbor light a fire with her bare hands. Someone else claimed they saw a man leap over a wall.

It was starting.

[Awakening: A phenomenon where individuals manifest a class based on personality, experiences, and pivotal moments.]

Classes ranged from: [Common] → [Uncommon] → [Rare] → [Elite] → [Heroic] → [Mythic] → [Legendary]

Most would end up stuck in the lower tiers. A few would rise higher. The real monsters.

Classes defined everything—stat scaling, growth rate, access to skills, survivability.

Then there were Traits. Rare. Permanent. Often triggered by life-altering moments. They were passive, but powerful—shaping how you fought, how you survived.

The protagonist had one of the most broken ones.

[Path of Justice] — Boosts all stats when fighting for what the user believes is 'just.'

A cheat, camouflaged as virtue. The more righteous his cause, the stronger he became. Ridiculous. But that's how this world worked.

And me?

No Class. No Trait. Just… luck. A stat I didn't trust.

But maybe that would change.

The woman from before approached, offering a quiet nod. "That meat… it's helped. Thank you."

I gave a brief nod. Said nothing.

I wasn't here to be a hero.

This wasn't a victory. It was just the eye of the storm.

Soon, I'd be out there again—searching for a way to survive. Exploiting the cracks in the system. Finding the hidden variables the story hadn't revealed.

People stared at me. I looked like a monster—bloodied, bruised, still carrying the stench of the kill.

Sigh.

This world wasn't the same anymore. More people would die. And I couldn't stop it.

That wasn't my role.

The protagonist would save the world.

I just needed to make sure the story stayed on track—from the shadows.

But that's a long way from here. At dawn, I'll be out to find the cheat manual of this shitty world.