Zero Rating

As soon as Simon moved a bit closer to me, I took a smooth step toward him and, really putting my weight into it, imprinted my fist into his wide cheekbone. And speed strike is really good! The bearded guy didn't even have time to flinch and also slumped to the floor next to his friend.

Whispers swept through the hall with renewed force, and finally, someone pulled the trigger.

"They're beating our guys!"

"Police! Call the cops!"

"Beat the zero!"

These shouts clearly didn't bode well, so I rushed to the exit from the hall. I dodged an incoming chair, took down another person who stood in my way, and began to push through the crowd.

The schizo activated again. There was no time to read, so I immediately swiped away the message that appeared. Not now!

When the door was just a couple of tables away from me, my feet tripped over something, and I fell face-first to the floor. I tried to get up. Couldn't. Some invisible noose had tightly bound my limbs.

"I've got him!" shouted the brunette who had come out of the bathroom.

She extended her hands in my direction. A homegrown psychic, damn it!

I don't hit beauties, of course, but if I don't get rid of her, then... I'm screwed! I can't handle several dozen people no matter how much I want to.

And considering that some are doing some incomprehensible things...

My brain was frantically trying to figure out a way to escape. Click in my head! The solution came immediately. I grabbed the nearest chair with my hand and threw it at the brunette with all my might. Not to kill, just to scare.

The girl saw the projectile flying at her and instinctively covered her head.

As planned, the carved leg barely grazed her hair and flew past, but the invisible noose also fell from me. Without wasting time, I immediately jumped to my feet.

"See you again, baby!" I smiled at the beauty who was blinking her eyes in astonishment. Apparently realized she'd been outmaneuvered. I winked at her for good measure.

Then I jumped with a running start and slid across the table right in front of the raging crowd's nose. Someone behind me let out an ungodly scream, but I didn't care. Mwah-ha-ha! The door flies to the side from a kick, and I'm already outside, breathing in fresh gulps of oxygen.

I dashed forward. The sound of wind in my ears. Just like in childhood from my past life. Like a hooligan, I'm racing through the streets, and literally a couple of meters behind me, several dozen people are breathing down my neck.

There was no time to think about where to run, so I turned randomly. Supposedly in the direction I came from.

As if to spite me, the crowd kept up, and all the streets, wherever I turned, turned out to be just as wide and brightly lit.

Where are those piss-soaked slums when you need them?! As if mocking me, annoying whistling sounds were added to the crowd's shouts. Apparently, they managed to pick up a couple of cops somewhere who decided to join the merry procession. Thankfully, cars weren't appearing on the horizon yet; I wouldn't have been able to outrun those.

"Freak, I'll dig you out from under the ground! I'll find you and bury you!" came Kyle's voice from behind, already breathless from running.

Ha-ha! Not in this lifetime, buddy. I grinned and turned onto another street. The further it went into the distance, the less bright lighting there was.

Excellent! Apparently, I'm running in the right direction. After a couple of meters, some more text from my schizo friend flashed by. I swiped it away, no time to read.

A couple more wide steps, and I was again in the dark alleys.

Shabby houses rushed past at gigantic speed. Dirt, raised by chaotic running, already covered me from head to toe. But I achieved the main thing—the shouts of the pursuers were left somewhere behind.

To be safe, I turned a couple more times and stopped in a completely dark alley, relievedly leaning against the wall and catching my breath. Real guys don't give up so easily!

Now it's time to see what the schizophrenia wanted from me.

The messages I swiped away earlier immediately appeared before my eyes. At the beginning, there were several notifications about dodging being activated. The progress of skill development, by the way, was eighteen percent. Not bad. Apparently, I leveled it up a bit while breaking through. But then the text was even more interesting.

Conditions for obtaining skill met.

You have acquired a new skill — "Sprinter"!

Sprinter — level 1.

Description:

Increases running speed by 1%.

Passive

Wow, another skill! The schizo was quite generous. I hope there won't be any more chain letters? Because last time after skills, they cheered me up with a unique quest; I won't survive a second one. But for now, it seems no new messages were forthcoming.

Ding! Another notification popped up before my eyes.

Damn, I think I jinxed it. Schizo, did you overhear my thoughts? I hope it didn't really send me another quest with death as a penalty for failure? I didn't want to read it, but I saw no other option. The letter needs to be opened anyway; maybe there's a gift inside.

I exhaled. Crossed my fingers and, praying to the god of real guys, mentally clicked to expand the message.

Tip #2 for beginners:

The size of your rating matters.

The higher the rating, the higher your social status.

What? Social status? Countless messages about errors and the impossibility of raising the rating immediately flashed through my memory.

"Aaargh!" After a few seconds, I howled in frustration. I doubled over and began pounding an invisible opponent into the ground.

My mind expected anything from the schizo, but not this. Damn it! This was some kind of absurdity. To give a completely useless tip... And it would be one thing if this tip was suitable for someone else, but it didn't even mention ways to raise the rating or what "rating" even is in the end.

After letting off steam, I leaned against the brick wall, staring at one spot. With a sightless, lifeless gaze. My consciousness flew off on a journey somewhere very far away for a reboot. I couldn't understand my schizo and this so-called "rating" at all.

After a few minutes, having recovered from the absurdity of what happened, I detached from the wall and began looking around. If the schizo doesn't give sensible explanations, I'll have to find them from others.

I was standing in some dead end between two skewed houses. There was no light at all, and only thanks to the sufficiently starry sky could you make out anything. Not really knowing where to go, I tried to reconstruct the route I had trudged here, but didn't succeed. But I did hear some voices nearby.

People—that's good. I can learn at least some information, rather than making guesses by poking around.

After going around a couple of turns, a familiar scene opened up before me. Three bodies cornered a timid fat man and were waving knives right in front of his nose. Unfortunately, I couldn't see in detail because of the darkness, but judging by the cowering figure, the fatso wasn't even going to resist. Well, not a beauty, but he'll do as a source of information.

Only heroes loudly announce their presence to everyone. I, like a real shadow, softly crept up to the last guy and gently patted him on the shoulder.

"Eh?" was all the turning hoodlum managed to say before my blow dropped him on his back.

While his comrades hadn't realized what was happening, I quickly sent both of them to rest. They weren't even competitors; even the losers from the bar looked more solid. I think if the fatty had been a bit braver, he would have wiped the floor with them too. With such a belly.

The fatso, by the way, had somewhat recovered and was cautiously looking at me, and above his head appeared an inscription.

Tony (34)

"Well hello, Tony," I greeted him with a smirk. "What are you doing here at this time? This is no place for kids."

The fat man realized that no one was going to beat him, apparently, and carefully straightened up. His clothes were all so bright and colorful. And also labels, apparently from famous brands. A blue crocodile on the collar. Silver cufflinks on the cuffs. Hmm... This lady from high society definitely didn't fit into the atmosphere of dirty streets.

"Hello. Thank you very much. If I had a choice, I would never have come here. But I had to," Tony waved his hand regretfully.

"And what did you want?"

"Well..." the fat man hesitated a bit. "To pick up something... Anyway, it doesn't matter."

"Okay, okay," I raised my hands in a conciliatory gesture. "If you don't want to—don't tell me."

The conversation stalled for a few seconds, but Tony unexpectedly asked a question.

"Excuse me, please. Why do you have a zero rating? It's the first time I've seen such a thing."

And this one immediately asked about the zero rating. Apparently, it's really an important thing. I already understood that my zero was due to some strange error, but I didn't say that directly. What if he also rushes at me with his fists now?

"Listen, friend. I've been having memory problems lately, and I barely remember anything. Can you tell me about what rating you're talking about?"

Tony stared at me in surprise, as if I had asked something inappropriate. I was already prepared for an unexpected reaction, but the fat man waved his hand again and began speaking.

"You're a strange guy. Everyone knows about the rating. It's, you might say, an indicator of social significance. The more you know and can do, the higher your rating. And in general, you can get it for almost everything. For example, for the first ten skills, you'll just get one point of rating. And I earned my thirty-four by winning various olympiads. And I was able to get into a cool university, there are only three scholarship spots, can you imagine! And a year of education costs almost a million crowns. However..."

"Wait, wait, wait!" I interrupted the fat man who was getting carried away. "I'm not very interested in the details of your personal life. Tell me better, what does this rating of yours influence, and who issues and counts it. God? Aliens?"

"Ha-ha," Tony laughed. "No, of course not. The System! And neither God nor aliens exist, everyone knows that perfectly well."

"System?" I asked in bewilderment.

"Yeah," the fat man nodded. "You can't ask what it is and where it came from—no one knows anyway. But the fact remains, the System is more than real! And no one will argue with that."

"True," I agreed with Tony's strange assertions. Apparently, the voice existed not only in my head, so I hadn't completely lost my mind yet.

"And the rating directly affects the quality of life. The lower it is, the less is available to you, and restrictions are imposed directly by the System. The most striking example is the city. We're now in the slums, where only the dregs of society live. And there are also the city and elite quarters. To get into the first, you need at least a ten in rating, and for the second, already a hundred. Or personal permission for entry from a resident of the closed territory."

Yes, something like that really flashed before my eyes. But how did I get into the city?

"And what happens if someone with a lower rating decides to enter the city quarter?"

"He simply won't be able to do it," Tony shrugged. "The System will compare the rating, and the violator will immediately writhe in pain until he leaves the area forbidden to him."

Strange, I should have been turned back at the border then. However, I didn't feel any pain. But there was a lengthy list of many errors.

"And what rating do I show? Zero, right?" I decided to make sure just in case.

Tony silently nodded.

Perfect. Due to an unclear error, I can't raise my rating, but there are no penalties either. Wait a minute. The realization of the situation was slowly dawning on me.

Is that it, they're going to take me for a low-level weakling on every corner now?