I swiped across the interface, and the profile screen unfurled like a well-kept dossier. Text and diagrams replaced the aftermath of the battlefield, presenting a sharp, clinical breakdown of my stats and abilities. It was precise and methodical—a stark contrast to the raw, chaotic fight I had just survived.
"I can't believe this has become my life," I muttered under my breath. "Man, I just wanted something quiet."
The screen displayed my current stats and abilities with all the charm of a tax audit. Still, there was a strange comfort in the cold objectivity of it all—no room for bias, no room for excuses. Just raw numbers and potential.
System Profile:
Name: Archibald WalkerClass: Crisis OperativeLevel: 2XP: 305 / 400
Core Stats:
Strength (STR): 12
Dexterity (DEX): 17
Wisdom (WIS): 19
Constitution (CON): 14
Intelligence (INT): 12
Charisma (CHA): 8
Resource Pools:
Health (HP): 140
Stamina: 70
Internal Energy (IE): 120
Derived Stats:
Critical Hit Chance: 16%
Evasion Rate: 16%
Skills:
Tactical Reload
Description: Ensures seamless reloading during combat through reflexes and combat instincts.
Mechanics:
Instantly reloads equipped weapons upon landing a critical hit.
Grants a 10% movement speed boost for 3 seconds after each reload.
Passive Bonus: +3% critical hit chance.
Powers:
Echo Gates
Classification: Legendary – Dimensional Manipulation: You have awakened a portal-casting ability
[Tier 1] Effect: Open a linked portal between two flat surfaces within 20 meters and line of sight. Portals last 6 seconds. Momentum and energy pass through uninterrupted.
Cooldown: Fast
Mana cost: Low
Operative’s Aim
Description: Activates heightened perception, overlaying visual indicators for weak points, ricochet paths, and optimal targeting zones.
Mechanics:
Critical Hit Boost: +10% critical hit chance while active.
Ricochet Mapping: Displays ricochet paths for bullets to hit otherwise inaccessible targets.
Weak Point Detection: Highlights enemy weak points for bonus accuracy and damage.
Duration: 8 seconds.
Cooldown: 45 seconds.
Gear and Equipment:
Glock 19 (Standard Issue)
Base Damage: 20–30
Condition: Pristine – Deals 100% of its base damage.
Craftsmanship: Basic – Standard issue with no additional bonuses.
Scaling: Adds +2 damage per user level.
Utility Belt
Description: Contains basic tools, a flashlight, and spare ammunition.
Reinforced Boots
Description: Durable combat boots offering moderate protection and traction on uneven terrain.
Tactical Knife
Description: Military-grade blade, effective for close-quarters combat and utility use.
Unique Bonuses:
First Blood Title
Effect: Grants +25% XP for all eliminations.
Narrative Impact: Designates Archibald as a global bounty target, visible within specific radius notifications.
I exhaled slowly, my eyes scanning over the screen one more time. The System’s efficiency was almost chilling. It felt clinical, even dehumanizing. But it worked.
“What’s it say this time?” Andrews asked, not looking up from the faint glow of his wrist tablet. The drone’s footage played back on the screen, cycling through slow-motion clips of the fight. He tapped the screen, replaying one of my ricochet shots.
“Stats, abilities, gear,” I replied, my tone neutral. I dismissed the profile and turned my attention to the notifications. The prompt to allocate my attributes hovered in my vision demanding attention.
“Anything spicy?” Andrews asked, glancing up with a smirk.
“Nothing I haven't already told you about,” I said, opening the attribute allocation screen. “I guess I’ll assign my points next.”
The System displayed my current stats alongside the three unassigned points.
Strength (STR): 12Dexterity (DEX): 16 (+1)Wisdom (WIS): 18 (+1)Constitution (CON): 14Intelligence (INT): 12Charisma (CHA): 8
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
The auto-allocated boosts to Dexterity and Wisdom made sense—every movement, every shot in that last fight had relied on precision and awareness. But where to put the rest? My fingers hovered over the options as the memory of the tank replayed in my mind. It had taken everything to drop him. His durability had been unreal, but I couldn’t ignore how much of an edge speed and precision had given me.
“You’re overthinking it,” Andrews said, his tone light as he sat on the bench, still scrolling through the footage on his tablet. “Pick what works and keep moving. You’ll gain more levels, more points. Plenty of chances to refine things as you get stronger.”
“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, still weighing my options. “You’re not the one making the decisions right now.”
“I’m serious,” he replied, leaning back and gesturing vaguely. “From where I’m sitting, I don’t think you’ve made any missteps so far. Look, you took down a guy twice your size and glowing like a goddamn lightbulb. That’s not bad for Level 2.”
I snorted softly, “Precision doesn’t mean much if I can’t drop a big ass mother fucker like that fast enough." "There’s only so much dancing around someone that size I can do.”
Andrews winced, rubbing his leg absentmindedly. “Okay, fair point. But you can’t really go wrong with how things are shaping up so far. First few levels are all about figuring out what works. Besides, if this is anything like a game—and I know you'll hate me for thinking of it like that—but you’re probably better off doubling down on your strengths early.”
I let his words settle for a moment, glancing at my HUD again. I didn’t know enough about the System’s nuances to make overly cautious decisions, but I also couldn’t ignore what the system perceived as my stats or what had already worked in my favor.
“Fine,” I muttered, locking in my choices. Two points to Dexterity, one to Wisdom. The System pulsed in acknowledgment, the updated stats displaying in my HUD:
Strength (STR): 12Dexterity (DEX): 17 (+2)Wisdom (WIS): 19 (+1)Constitution (CON): 14Intelligence (INT): 12Charisma (CHA): 8
“Done,” I said, standing as the faint hum of the drone buzzed in the distance. The slight tension in my limbs eased as the changes settled in—a subtle sharpness, like the world around me was a fraction slower than before.
Then, another notification flashed in my HUD, catching my attention.
System Notification: Team Interface Unlocked.
My brow furrowed as I opened the notification. A new tab slid into view, labeled Team Settings.
The interface was slick and minimal, with a short explanation hovering at the top:
The Team Interface allows users to share selected information with designated allies. Shared data can include health, position tracking, ability cooldowns, and more. All information sharing is voluntary and requires mutual consent.
I scrolled through the options, each one accompanied by a toggle:
? Health Bar
? Position Tracking
? Ability Cooldowns
? Experience Progression
It wasn’t just a tool—it was a doorway. I could practically hear the System’s cold logic humming beneath the polished UI: work together, survive longer, kill more.
“Uh, Archie?” Andrews called out from the bench, his tone curious. “Did you just get something about a team interface?”
I glanced at him, the notification still fresh in my HUD. “Yeah. Looks like it unlocked after we survived that fight together.”
“Thought so,” Andrews said, leaning back slightly. “My notification mentioned the same thing. Something about sharing data between team members. You checking it out yet?”
I nodded, scrolling through the options. “Yeah. Seems straightforward enough. Lets you pick what you want to share— I toggled on Health, Position, and a bare-bones summary of my abilities. Nothing about my cooldowns, limitations, or the nitty-gritty details. Just the descriptions.
Andrews tapped a few buttons on his end. “Done,” he said, his tone casual.
A new notification blinked in my HUD: Team Connection Established. Instantly, a clean overlay of Andrews’ status appeared—his health bar, his exact position on the mini-map, and a concise summary of his abilities. Unlike me, he’d shared everything without hesitation, from ability descriptions to cooldowns.
I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “You sure about giving me the full spread?”
Andrews leaned back slightly, his expression unbothered. “Why not? Nothing to hide. Besides, after what I saw you do back there… let’s just say some of Fernandez’s stories are starting to sound a little less like tall tales. At this point, sticking close to you seems like the best way to stay alive—and maybe pick up a thing or two.”
His candidness caught me off guard, but I kept my face neutral. “Fair enough,” I said. “Then the first thing you can pick up is the ground rules for what you’re recording.”
Andrews straightened, the casual smirk fading slightly. “Ground rules? What kind of rules?”
I gestured toward his tablet. “I’m not saying don’t record—I get it. That drone’s obviously useful, and you’ve got a knack for this stuff—"
“Hold up,” Andrews interrupted, lifting a hand. “I get it—really. But let me explain something first.”
He tapped on his wrist tablet, and a faint holographic projection of his System interface flickered to life. “This isn’t just me screwing around, Archie. Recording isn’t about ego. It’s how the System tracks my contribution.”
I frowned, glancing between him and the glowing stats. “What do you mean?”
He gestured to the glowing XP bar on the display, his voice steady but laced with quiet intensity. “I’ve gained experience from all of this—for the drone overlays, the recon, the recording. Even if you don’t directly use the intel, the System recognizes that I’m contributing." He paused, tapping another line of text. "Even the footage itself—it’s labeled as ‘tactical documentation.’ The System rewards me for analyzing, organizing, and making it actionable. That’s how I pull my weight.”
“And the ‘Go Live’ button?” I asked, eyeing the inactive icon still dim on his display.
His expression shifted, a flicker of excitement breaking through. “That’s the thing—I think it’s tied to my progression. Like the System wants me to broadcast or share what we’re learning out here. Every time I prep footage or edit, I feel this… nudge, like I’m close to unlocking something bigger. I’m pretty sure it’ll trigger when I finally level up.”
“And then what?” My voice was quieter but firm. “What happens when it unlocks?”
Andrews let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “That’s the big question, isn’t it? But I’m not an idiot, Archie. I know what’s at stake. People are dying out here—this isn’t just a game. I’m not about to go live and post our location for every lunatic to track us down.”
He leaned forward, his gaze meeting mine. “Streaming’s always been my dream, sure. But I know this is different. The stakes are real, and I’m not about to put us in danger. When the time comes, we’ll figure it out together. No reckless moves.”
His words had weight, a sincerity I couldn’t ignore. After a moment, I nodded slowly, letting the tension in my shoulders ease. “Fair enough. But we still need to set some boundaries.”
Andrews raised an eyebrow. “You mean the ground rules?”
“Exactly,” I said, crossing my arms. “No live streaming. Nothing goes out unless we’ve reviewed it together—every second. We control the narrative, and we don’t share anything that compromises operational security—locations, routes, supplies. If we can cut around it or edit it out, fine. But if there’s even a chance it could get us ambushed or tracked, it’s not worth the risk.”
He nodded, his expression serious now. “Makes sense.”
“And another thing,” I continued. “No detailed stats, no ability breakdowns. It’s fine to show what I can do—hell, make it look as flashy as you want if it helps—but no one outside of us needs to know the details. Let them think I can pull that Operative’s Aim trick all day if it keeps them second-guessing.”
Andrews chuckled softly, his smirk returning. “OK, God Mode—invincible, infinite stamina, no cooldowns. Yeah, I can work with that.”
“Good,” I said, giving him a faint smile. “Now let’s see what else this system has to offer." I thought. “And remember, Andrews—this isn’t a movie. There’s no reshoots if we get it wrong.” I said, pulling up the backlog of notifications, letting them unfurl one by one.
System Notification: Operative’s Aim Progression Achieved.
Current Level: 1.1
Bonuses Unlocked:
+3% Critical Hit Boost (Total: 13%).
System Notification: Operative’s Aim Progression Achieved.
Current Level: 1.2
Bonuses Unlocked:
Extended Duration (+1 second, Total: 9 seconds).
System Notification: Operative’s Aim Progression Achieved.
Current Level: 1.3
Bonuses Unlocked:
Improved Weak Point Detection Sensitivity (+5%).
System Notification: Tactical Reload Progression Achieved.
Current Level: 1.1
Bonuses Unlocked:
Faster Reload Speed (+5%).
+1% Movement Speed Boost During Reload Window
Each notification brought a small but noticeable improvement. The System’s upgrades weren’t flashy, but they stacked. Each bonus was a subtle shift in efficiency, precision, and control—tools that would sharpen my edge when it mattered most.
I closed the last notification, exhaling softly. “Incremental progress,” I muttered, mostly to myself. “But it adds up.”
“Incremental’s good,” Andrews chimed in, glancing up from his tablet. “That’s how you build a foundation. Everything else gets easier after that.”
I nodded, closing the interface and letting the changes settle into my thoughts. The faint hum of the drone signaled its return, zipping through the air to hover at Andrews’ side.
Andrews stretched his leg experimentally—“Well, good news—I’m patched up. Leg feels solid again.”
I nodded, closing the interface and glancing around the dimly lit corridor. The air felt heavier now, the silence too deliberate. “Good. We need to move.”
Andrews raised an eyebrow, grabbing his tablet and giving it a quick once-over. “What’s the rush? Place seems quiet enough for now.”
“Exactly.” My voice was low, sharp. “Too quiet. We still havent heard anymore of those earlier gunshots and our fight wasn’t subtle. Someone, or something, would’ve heard it.” As if on que the radio you crackled, the static breaking the oppressive silence of the corridor. A voice, faint and strained, filtered through the interference.
"—lo? Can anyone hear me? It’s—dez. I...I need backup."
Andrews’ eyes widened, and he instinctively straightened. “Oh, shit that’s Fernandez
“Yeah,” I said, my voice clipped as adrenaline spiked in my veins.
The radio hissed again, followed by another burst of static and Fernandez’s labored breathing. “I’ve got one hostile down, but...I’m out of ammo, and my health’s tanking. They’re hunting me.” There was a pause, and his tone turned sharper, urgent. “I’ve got a civilian with me—a girl. We’re cornered in the Spanish exhibit.”
