《Don't Fear the Reaper [A System Apocalypse LitRPG]》 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 I sat on the bench in my locker room, staring at the floor, waiting for the news. I had heard the ambulance driving in, heard the cries and screams. I knew what I was about to hear¡ªI had heard it before¡ªyet I waited. Coach finally walked in, kicking the door open. I stood up to face him¡ªa chubby, middle-aged man in his mid-fifties who was six feet tall. Owing to my height, I had to look down to keep eye contact with him. ¡°What¡¯s the word.¡± ¡°Dead.¡± I sniffed. Damn. Jackson was strong, too. That¡¯s why I picked this fight, why I felt comfortable giving it my all. Coach continued, ¡°You ain¡¯t done nothin¡¯, so they ain¡¯t gon¡¯ do nothin¡¯, aight?¡± I nodded. I knew that. The league made damn sure I came into every bout perfectly legal every time. They had to, owing to my track record. Two bodies in boxing had to drop before I decided to move to the UFC instead, but every now and then, someone would drop. Coach sighed. ¡°That makes four, now. Charon, I¡­¡± I frowned at the sight of his consternation. ¡°I tried, Coach. You saw it, too.¡± ¡°I know, I know,¡± he said, looking down at the floor and shaking his head. ¡°You played a damn good game. Best game I ever saw. It¡¯s just¡­ it¡¯s a damn shame about that boy Jackson.¡± I nodded. But I didn¡¯t say anything. Couldn¡¯t say anything, really. I had learned long ago to shut up when it came to discussing death, specifically the deaths that I dealt. Not everyone was as equipped to process them as I was, which was a shame. Coach was hurting, and he didn¡¯t deserve that. All he ever did was try his best to teach me the ropes, get me in shape, and help me excel. But shit happened in combat sports. You really couldn¡¯t count on controlling the outcome of high-speed bone-on-flesh impacts. Deaths were a given. ¡°There¡¯s talk they wanna blackball you, now,¡± Coach said. I frowned. ¡°Me? But I played ball. The regulators cleared me, didn¡¯t they?¡± Coach snorted. ¡°Yeah. But here¡¯s the thing, son; what you can¡¯t do, nobody else can. Either they send you out there with foam gloves and blindfolds, or bodies keep on piling. It ain¡¯t a good look. They¡¯re calling you the¡ª¡± The door busted open, and in strode a man with an obscenely expensive suit. ¡°Reaper, my man!¡± He shot me a pair of finger-guns. ¡°You certainly delivered today.¡± At the sight of Coach¡¯s pained expression upon hearing that, I entertained a couple of thoughts on how I could kill Tom¡ªwith bare hands, it would be easier to strike a heart attack, or maybe a brain hemorrhage¡ªbut I brushed those thoughts away easily. It just wasn¡¯t any fun if they didn¡¯t fight back at all. Besides, being an asshole wasn¡¯t a capital crime. ¡°Thomas,¡± Coach looked at my agent with clear disdain. ¡°Coach Jeff,¡± Tom returned the greeting with a nod, then faced me with an affable grin. ¡°You are up, my boy!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand!¡± Coach said, looking at Thomas with befuddlement. ¡°But there was talk of¡ªof blacklisting the boy¡ª¡± ¡°Nevermind that!¡± Tom waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Tensions get high when millionaires lose money. But he made some pretty high rollers waaay more than what those peons lost, so he¡¯s in the good graces of the league.¡± Tom gave me a reassuring grin and put a hand on my shoulder. ¡°How¡¯s it going, bro? You good, man?¡± I stared at him in confusion. ¡°Uh, yeah. I mean, I¡¯m not traumatized or anything.¡± ¡°Hah, okay,¡± Tom took a step back, chuckling nervously. ¡°A man died. You seem¡­ weirdly cool with this. Cold, man.¡± Ah, so he thought I was crazy. Cool. ¡°I¡¯m dealing with it,¡± I said. ¡°Just processing. No worries on my end.¡± ¡°Aight,¡± Tom nodded. ¡°I trust you.¡± ¡°And Tom?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t ever call me your boy again,¡± I said. ¡°It makes me cringe out of my skin.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± ¡°And also, could you just, kinda, stop saying ¡®my man¡¯ too? I dunno, it just sounds weird when you do.¡± Tom nodded emphatically. ¡°Yes, I will, of course!¡± Hah. Always fun to see that. People really did get way more tense around you after you¡¯d freshly killed someone. Usually, Tom had zero preservation instinct around me, but now it truly sounded like he listened when I spoke to him. I always did wonder about how humans tended to get so¡­ complacent about this sort of thing. Blind trust in the social contract? I couldn¡¯t say. I always thought it was stupid. You should always be on guard against someone who had the power and capability to kill you. That just felt like common sense to me. Someday, Tom would end up forgetting his fear and we would slide right back to the status quo, and I would continue to remain mystified by his obliviousness. Not that I ever planned to kill him, or had any real intention on doing so. Most people who knew me could attest to the fact that I really wasn¡¯t that quick to anger. Anger had nothing to do with my ability to take a life. ¡°Uh, certainly,¡± Tom said. ¡°At any rate, are you headed to the afterparty at all or¡­?¡± ¡°Nah,¡± I said. ¡°Straight home for me. You just look for my next opponent, alright?¡± I pointed at him. ¡°And remember, make sure you pick someone strong. We don¡¯t want this happening again, right?¡± ¡°Yeah, no! Of course not!¡± he chuckled incredulously, putting on a clear affect of empathy. ¡°I¡¯ll get someone lined up for ya, alright? Anyway, I need to catch some drinks with the dudes who make sure your check is fat. Stay out of trouble. See ya!¡± And then he walked out from the locker room at a quick clip. I wondered for a moment about whether I¡¯d overdone it. Then I decided¡ªyeah, maybe a little. Guy¡¯s heart was beating like a rabbit. ¡°Don¡¯t overdo it, boy,¡± Coach chided me. ¡°You still need an agent, don¡¯t you?¡± I threw my hands to my side. ¡°I guess. Just wish he wasn¡¯t so corny is all.¡± Coach huffed. ¡°What can ya do? Least he ain¡¯t callin¡¯ you a crazy nigger to your face. Shit could have been way worse, boy. Mark my word.¡± I rolled my eyes back at the old-timer¡¯s tirade. ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± I waved my hands at him. ¡°I doubt he¡¯d call me shit even if it was the fifties. All men fear death.¡± ¡°I gotta ask you, son,¡± Coach said, stepping towards me, looking uncharacteristically serious, ¡°Do you get off on killing? Is that what you aim for when you fight? Answer truthfully, son.¡± I winced. Maybe I had laid it on too thickly. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m a bad person?¡± I asked. The question wasn¡¯t asked with any urgency¡ªrather, it was pure curiosity. Personally, I didn¡¯t have any criticisms about my own personality in any case. It would be nice to hear another perspective. ¡°No,¡± Coach replied without hesitation, ¡°I know bad apples and I know you ain¡¯t one. You¡¯re a good man. But the thing is, you¡¯re the only good man I know that¡¯s got nearly as many bodies as you got, and it don¡¯t bother you none.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t love killing,¡± I said to him, ¡°It just comes naturally. And when I do it, it¡¯s no skin off my back. But the circumstance is important, too. They need to try to kill me before I can kill them. I¡¯ve never killed a man that hasn¡¯t been angling to put me down as well.¡± ¡°Not sure if Jacob Jackson would have wanted to kill you,¡± Coach said. I shook my head. I didn¡¯t know how to explain it, but¡­ ¡°I could see it in his eyes. Man wanted to kill me. He was trying to kill me. It¡¯s how it always starts, I guess. Shit gets serious, and I up the ante.¡± Coach nodded, ¡°You think it¡¯s a good idea to keep fightin¡¯ then?¡± I shrugged, ¡°It¡¯s all I¡¯m good for anyway. Don¡¯t see myself doin¡¯ anything else, truth be told.¡± Coach looked at me with something akin to pity, before dismissing that expression with a shake of his head. ¡°You know you¡¯ll get put under the damn jail if they find you doin¡¯ anything illegal, and I mean anything, down to smokin¡¯ a joint. Watching yourself like a hawk like this, making sure the cops don¡¯t got shit on you¡ªit won¡¯t do your mental any good, you know that?¡± He poked at his head, ¡°One day you¡¯re gonna slip, and they¡¯ll be waiting. You¡¯re a big fish now, Charon. Big enough that folks wanna see you fall. You best believe they¡¯re watchin¡¯.¡± I exhaled sharply through my nose, pushing off from the wall I had been leaning on. ¡°Maybe I just won¡¯t slip.¡± Coach let out a dry chuckle. ¡°Yeah, sure. And maybe I¡¯ll wake up tomorrow with a full head of hair. Listen, kid, just¡­ be careful. I seen too many men think they invincible. They ain''t. Ain''t nobody invincible.¡± I nodded, knowing the conversation was winding down. ¡°I hear you.¡± ¡°Good,¡± he said, slapping my shoulder lightly. ¡°Get some rest. You gotta be sharp for the next one.¡± I turned and walked off, hearing Coach mutter something under his breath before he, too, went his own way. He worried too much. I had it handled. Always did. I probably should have gone to the afterparty¡ªthere was always free food in those. Then I wondered if me filling my stomach without talking to anyone would fly in the wake of what I had just done¡ªin the minds of the other party-goers, at least. I chuckled mirthlessly to myself as I walked down the dark streets of Oakland¡¯s seedier underbelly, considering that fact. It seemed like everywhere I went, death would follow me, like an eternal companion. Or rather, I just couldn¡¯t help myself. My hands were dealers of death. It all just came naturally to me. I stopped on the sidewalk to think, wondering just how healthy it was to chalk things down in such a way. Despite everything, I¡¯d never seen the need to go to therapy. I woke up every day, brushed my teeth, ate my breakfast, went to work, and then did whatever with what was left of my free time. I didn¡¯t feel any particular compulsion to kill anyone at any point in time. And I didn¡¯t want to kill Jacob Jackson. I just wanted to win, and I did. And Jackson ended up dying. Just like Roger Northrup. Abe Goldman. Julio Gonz¨¢lez. After realizing that it was particularly easy to kill my opponent in boxing, I made the executive decision to switch to MMA instead, knowing that it would be easier on my mother to not be associated with some sort of fucked-up boxing boogeyman. All that ended up happening was that I found new and creative ways to kill my opponents. Two dead in boxing. Two dead in MMA. Three separate police investigations in which I had been totally acquitted. Now the league required me to go through a full-on police pat-down before every match to make sure that my fists weren¡¯t bound in plaster or some other crap, and I knew damn well that they never drug-tested anyone as rigorously as they did me. My phone rang. It was my agent. I accepted the call. ¡°Reaper, my man! You make it home yet?¡± I winced at the over-the-top energy. ¡°Not that I don¡¯t like you or anything, but can you just get to the point? No need to lube me up or nothin¡¯.¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Alright then, I¡¯ll go in dry. Your next match is in two months.¡± I perked up. ¡°Who?¡± ¡°Michael A. Moyers. He¡¯s got a stellar record and a mean head on his shoulders.¡± ¡°I know him,¡± I said, remembering a couple of matches I had watched. Moyers was good. Probably wouldn¡¯t die, either. Then again, I had thought the same of Jackson. And Northrup and Goldman and Gonz¨¢lez. ¡°I¡¯ll take him.¡± Two months was ample time to prep as well. My body could take that level of rigor with ease. I hadn¡¯t survived a three-month tour in Mali rooting out terrorists just to come back and bitch about how hard it was to do some push-ups before a fight. Plus, I already had my conditioning from this Jackson fight, so it wasn¡¯t like I was about to reinvent the wheel or anything. ¡°Great. And, about that offer I floated to you.¡± I sighed. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Three million, Charon. This is stupid-money.¡± I snorted. ¡°What¡¯s my record again, Thomas?¡± Thomas sighed, ¡°Nine and oh.¡± ¡°And oh,¡± I completed. ¡°My stupid-money comin¡¯.¡± ¡°It could come way faster if you played ball, you know.¡± ¡°Nah,¡± I said, ¡°I have my dignity.¡± There wasn¡¯t a lot that I was proud of in my life. Or perhaps, there wasn¡¯t a lot that I was supposed to be proud of. But my fighting record was certainly one thing I had no reservations about, even if it was littered by a death or two. That was just the game. I wouldn¡¯t lose for any amount of money. It sucked that all the ¡®friends¡¯ I had ever made in my life were categorically incapable of handling that part of me, or even tolerating it in daily conversation, because death and violence were such gross things to talk about. According to common sense, at least. Me? I was fine with whatever. ¡°Run me them pockets, fuck nigga!¡± ¡°Shit!¡± I almost dropped my phone at the sudden sound. I turned around to see the barrel of a glock nineteen pointed at my face, held by some dude wearing a blue ski-mask of all things. Gangster chic, maybe¡ªfuck if I knew. ¡°Fuck, you scared me.¡± For a moment there, I thought I was under a real threat. Still, it was a little embarrassing that I hadn¡¯t noticed this idiot walking up behind me with a gun of all things. Guess my edge must have been blunted a little after this fight. Jackson had been strong, after all. Perhaps it was because my opponent was strong that he ended up having to die? Something worth thinking about at least. ¡°I¡¯mma have to call you back, Tom.¡± I said before cutting the call and turning around to fully face the man. ¡°Yeah, can I help you?¡± ¡°Nigga, is you deaf or is you blind? Matter of fact, hand me yo phone right now or shit gon¡¯ get hectic, cuh.¡± I put my phone in my pocket while keeping eye contact. ¡°Really.¡± ¡°Oh, you finna die today, boy, if you keep actin¡¯ like this shit ain¡¯t happening, cuz it do,¡± he shook his gun at me as he spoke. ¡°Run me yo phone and yo wallet. I ain¡¯t askin¡¯ again!¡± ¡°Alright,¡± I raised my hands up placatingly. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll give you everything I have on me, if you can answer just one question.¡± ¡°You think this is a fucking game, cuh?¡± ¡°You ever kill somebody?¡± I tilted my head. ¡°Not with a gun. Not even with a knife, either. That shit¡¯s too easy. I¡¯m saying, with your fists. You ever kill a man with your bare hands? Punch ¡®em to death, or strangle ¡®em or some shit?¡± ¡°You think I ain¡¯t got bodies, cuh?¡± A person with a real killer instinct would have knee-capped me by now¡ªor tried to at least. Kid could have killed somebody, that was certainly possible, but he wasn¡¯t a killer. Just a kid who killed somebody. ¡°How did you feel when it happened?¡± I asked. ¡°Did you feel satisfied? Happy? Cuz you a big man now. You¡¯re strong. Cuz you are. When you kill somebody, deliver them from this life to the next, you gotta be strong enough to carry that soul out and keep it movin¡¯. Or it¡¯ll latch onto ya, like a ghost. Or maybe you didn¡¯t feel so good? Maybe it fucking hurt? Maybe you hated yourself.¡± Or maybe he was like me, with not a shred of self-hatred, nor a need to be strong, because really, all those souls that I had taken had flown to the afterlife of their own volition. I had opened the door and simply let them in. They had never even so much as given me a bad look in my dreams or in my thoughts. As far as I was concerned, none of the people I ever killed really even hated me. I only ever saw peace in their last moments. That was the sort of thing that was difficult to talk about, because it made you sound like a deranged killer. But if there was one thing that I was confident about, it was that I could bring death. I was born for it. This one was clearly not the strong type, nor was he like me¡ªnot that anyone I had ever met in my life really was. Instead, he was the weak type, the one that got hurt by the killings, the one that had ghosts all attached to him. That must probably hurt. A lifetime of therapy could maybe ease the pain, but the thug probably wasn¡¯t the type to submit to that shit. And chances were that some other gangster would probably kill him, and end up getting haunted by his resentment as well. Might as well nip that cycle of hatred in the bud. Do me a good deed for the day. I surreptitiously looked around any of the storefronts in the streets, and found a couple of good cameras that would have caught everything by now. ¡°Yeah!¡± the guy shouted, ¡°I got bodies on bodies, fuck-nigga, and you bout to be one of them right the fuck now if you don¡¯t run me all yo shit. Shit, I¡¯ll kill your whole family, don¡¯t fucking test me!¡± So much pain. So much suffering. And all for what? I shook my head in disappointment. What a waste of a perfectly good life, spent in utter agony. When I thought about it like that, I imagined his life as a canvas painted in all the colors of his life¡ªan artwork, albeit an unfinished one. All it waited for was the final stroke, and a signature, and he would be complete. I could complete him. Like I completed Jacob Jackson, Roger Northrup, Abe Goldman and Julio Gonzalez¡ªand scores upon scores of those hapless Malians too weak to rebel against their fate. ¡°I could free you,¡± I said. ¡°Hah!¡± he laughed, ¡°You gon¡¯ talk about Jesus now, cuh? You might need him right now.¡± ¡°Ain¡¯t nobody talkin¡¯ about no Jesus,¡± I scoffed, ¡°I¡¯m talking about me. I can free you from this life.¡± I shrugged, ¡°Well, more directly, I can free you by killing you.¡± The man pressed the gun into my forehead. ¡°Say one more word, fuck-nigga.¡± ¡°You fucked up big, man. I see it in your eyes. Your life fucking sucks. And you could walk away and keep living, or you could give yourself up to me, and let me end it, nice and clean. What do you say, boy?¡± I could see the moment in his eyes faster than I saw it in the guy¡¯s fingers, and my hands were already moving. I quickly palmed up the man¡¯s gun, making him fire into the air. With superior strength, I ripped the gun out of the thug¡¯s hand, released the magazine, unchambered the round, and held the gun by the barrel high over his head. And then I brought the handle down on the guy¡¯s skull. The world changed a moment before the impact. The boy crumpled instantly. Welcome, Earth. You have been successfully inducted into the Infinite Nexus. A new window popped up beneath it, with a progress bar at that. Initializing¡­ Then another. Analyzing User Data¡­ And finally another. Assigning Initial Parameters¡­ System Integration Complete. Prepare for your journey. ¡°The fuck?¡± I muttered as he took a step back from the floating windows. He closed his eyes and shook his head, and when he opened them, they disappeared. And then it was replaced by another. Title achieved: Natural-Born Killer Be the first organism in a newly inducted planet to kill another being. Reward: +3 Strength, 10% efficiency in Strength Title achieved: Cain Be the first person in a newly inducted planet to kill another person of the same species. Reward: All attributes gain 10% additional efficiency Title achieved: Instant Kill Kill another creature within one second of planetary integration Reward: All attributes gain 20% additional efficiency ¡°What the fuck?¡± I stood there for a moment, baffled, wondering if something in my mind had cracked. Perhaps all those people I had killed truly had taken a toll on my psyche, one that I had never even noticed until this very moment? Bloodline Quest attained! Upgrade your race from [Human (F)] to [???? (D)] Rewards: [???? (D)] Race Level rewards +2 Strength +1 Coordination +2 Endurance +3 Free attribute points Quest requirements Skill gained due to attaining this Bloodline Quest! [Ferryman] Skill gained! ¡°What the fuck?¡± I repeated again. ¡°[Ferryman] skill?¡± I muttered. And then the entire world turned bright white. And right before me stood¡ªstood¡ªthe thug who had tried to rob me. He still wore his blue ski-mask, tight and ripped jeans, and his black hoodie. Oh, hell no. ¡°I killed you,¡± I said, ¡°I know I did.¡± The man ripped off his ski mask, and I could finally see the boy underneath. He looked young. He still had that baby face, those na?ve eyes, and his lips were open in disbelief. ¡°You¡­ you killed me, cuh?¡± I was certain, with every bone in my body, that I did. And I could almost sense it, too, for some reason. The boy before me was clearly dead. There was no mistaking it¡ªeven though I couldn¡¯t even point to what ¡®it¡¯ was. I just¡­ knew. I looked around this white space, and saw a gaping black hole in space a couple dozen feet away from us both. I looked back at the boy. And I had no idea where this idea came from, but I knew that the boy should go into the hole. I made to move towards the boy, but suddenly my body locked up. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m dead?¡± Am I dead? I wondered for a moment. I seemed to have gone the same place that the kid did, so maybe? ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°You killed me,¡± he said. ¡°You fuckin¡¯¡ªyou fuckin¡¯ killed me!¡± I snorted. ¡°Yeah. I did.¡± I folded my arms. Ah¡ªI could move now. I connected the dots quickly. I couldn¡¯t force the kid into the hole. I could only talk to him in this¡­ weird liminal space. That was fine. Maybe the same went for the kid, too? If all this place was, was a space to talk, then I could do that as well. Talking was cool. All vitriol drained out from the boy at once, and he just stared at me. ¡°I¡¯m dead. Like, I¡¯m actually dead.¡± That was probably the best thing to fixate on, given the circumstances. ¡°Look, kid, fucking with me probably wasn¡¯t your finest moment. But I ain¡¯t mad or nothin¡¯. Actually, I¡¯m kinda curious. How¡¯re you feeling?¡± He stomped forwards aggressively. ¡°I¡¯m dead, nigga. The fuck do you think?¡± Then he stopped in front of me. ¡°The fuck am I supposed to feel?¡± ¡°Free?¡± I suggested, shrugging. I wondered if he could touch me¡ªeven if I couldn¡¯t make a move to do the same. I tried again and¡ªnope. Still couldn¡¯t do anything to physically affect him. The boy took a deep breath. Then he nodded. ¡°Yeah. Yeah,¡± he looked away. ¡°I just¡­ don¡¯t know what my momma will do. Or my boys. Or anyone, really.¡± ¡°Kid, I ain¡¯t gon¡¯ hold ya,¡± I said, ¡°They¡¯re probably gonna put your face on a T-shirt or something, black and white photo, ¡®gone too soon¡¯, the nine yards. Your momma¡¯s just gonna march with the rest of the mommas of your dead homies. End the violence, no more gangs, all that old shit. And you might end up a story to tell the youngins so they don¡¯t get the idea to go around banging and thugging. And¡­ that¡¯ll be it. Another kid who slipped through the cracks and paid the ultimate price.¡± The boy¡¯s face scrunched increasingly up in naked grief as I spoke. He closed his eyes, pressing out a pair of tears before nodding along. ¡°Mhm,¡± his voice cracked. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t tell you what comes next, either,¡± I said as I faced the hole in space. ¡°But I can tell you, with my chest, it probably ain¡¯t heaven. Or hell, really. It might be nothing. Or it might be another go at it. What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Randall,¡± he said. ¡°Randall is dead,¡± I continued, ¡°But your spark won¡¯t disappear. Leave Randall behind and¡­ move on.¡± ¡°Hell ain¡¯t real?¡± Randall asked. ¡°No,¡± I said, ¡°It ain¡¯t. It¡¯s a story you tell children to make ¡®em behave. But if you were a God, and you actually tried to pull that wive¡¯s tale shit on all of creation, you¡¯d be an idiot to expect it to work. And then you¡¯d be an asshole for multiplying all the world¡¯s suffering. Hell don¡¯t save women from getting raped, or kids from getting butchered. And it don¡¯t save the rapists or the butchers either, so what¡¯s the point? And I like to think that life ain¡¯t some kind of suffering factory for God, if he happens to be real, so¡­ nah. Hell ain¡¯t real. Heaven might be, but hell? Nah.¡± Randall nodded, ¡°Lotta my boys didn¡¯t believe in no Bible, neither. Come to think of it, they probably were just frontin¡¯ cuz they was scared of hell and all that. I think I was doing that too. Running from a scary truth.¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t take you for a poet, Randall.¡± Randall snorted. ¡°Maybe I shoulda started rappin¡¯ instead of bangin¡¯.¡± ¡°Ain¡¯t nothing to it, now,¡± I shrugged. ¡°Best not get hung up on all the things you could have done.¡± Randall squinted his eyes at me. ¡°Say, you look mad familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?¡± ¡°You watch UFC?¡± Randall backed away, ¡°Oooh, you fuckin¡¯¡ª¡± He put his head in his hands, ¡°Fuck me, fuck me, cuh. I can¡¯t even¡ªnigga, I can¡¯t even talk right now. Is you that nigga Charon? The Reaper?¡± I laughed. ¡°I mean. Yeah.¡± ¡°Why did I even¡ªyou big Brolic back built motherfucker, you could have murked me with yo damn hands, why the fuck did I even step up to you?¡± I raised my hands placatingly, simultaneously defusing him and gloating, ¡°Look, I gave you a chance to step back¡ª¡± ¡°You were fucking monologuing too, like what the fuck, why did I even go for it?¡± ¡°Who knows, man?¡± I tried to talk him down. Wasn¡¯t my fault he didn¡¯t believe a word I said. Randall sighed. ¡°I ain¡¯t gonna lie, I wanted to be the big man. I saw you walkin¡¯ and thought it¡¯d be nice to see you piss your pants or some shit, cuz, you know, you¡¯re fucking huge. And¡­¡± he sighed for a moment, ¡°I dunno, sounds stupid.¡± ¡°What?¡± Randall shrugged. ¡°Maybe, I dunno, a part of me thought¡­ a part of me thought you might kill me? I think¡­ I think I wanted this.¡± I nodded. Huh. ¡°Shit was real out there, huh?¡± ¡°Could¡¯ve been worse,¡± Randall said, ¡°I think most of my potential, I really just wasted it. My momma didn¡¯t do no drugs or nothin¡¯, she worked hard for me and my sisters. I coulda gone the straight way, but I thought taking what was mines was faster. Better. That¡¯s what my boys did anyway. And they was living large.¡± ¡°The ones that didn¡¯t die,¡± I said. Randall laughed, ¡°Yeah. You know, none of my homies ever really died. I guess I¡¯m the first dead homie they¡¯ll pour one out to.¡± His expression grew conflicted. ¡°I wish they¡¯d stop instead. Get scared and get they act right.¡± He looked up at me. ¡°Can you find them and set them straight?¡± I snorted. ¡°No. I¡¯m not a hero. I literally killed you, right? And if they step up to me, I¡¯ll kill ¡®em too. Word is bond, I¡¯ll end ¡®em as fast as I did you. And I ain¡¯t sayin¡¯ that on some hatin¡¯ shit, brother. Trust me. It¡¯s the truth. And this ain¡¯t about them, anyway. It¡¯s about you.¡± Randall nodded, looking disappointed. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± ¡°Look over there,¡± I pointed at the hole in space, ¡°That¡¯s where you¡¯ll go. Level two.¡± Randall stared at the hole. ¡°Yeah?¡± I nodded. ¡°Nowhere else to go.¡± I looked around. There really wasn¡¯t. Not to my knowledge, at least. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Randall said as he took his first step towards the hole. And then another. And then another. He stopped before the hole, and turned around to look at me. ¡°You sayin¡¯ it ain¡¯t heaven or hell waitin¡¯.¡± ¡°Most probably,¡± I nodded. I could be wrong, but voicing that doubt just wasn¡¯t fair to the poor kid. He should face the end with dignity rather than cower at the unknown. ¡°Then it might be rebirth,¡± Randall said, ¡°And if I¡¯m going back to life, then God almighty, please make me white.¡± I made a choked sound as I watched Randall get on his knees, put his hands together, and gaze pleadingly into the white sky. ¡°And not that redneck-methhead-sisterfucker white either. I¡¯m talking that Grey Poupon old money white. I¡¯m down for that new money shit, too. Hell, make me a Bezos-baby, I ain¡¯t picky!¡± I gaped, and then I devolved into a laughing fit. Randall smoothly stood up to his feet and gave a contended sigh. ¡°Amen.¡± Right before he turned around, I called out to him. ¡°You know,¡± Randall stopped to look at me. ¡°You could have made a decent comedian, too.¡± ¡°I¡¯d settle for being Bill Burr¡¯s baby too then,¡± Randall said, ¡°Light-skinned baby ain¡¯t half-bad either.¡± ¡°Boy, if you don¡¯t get yo ass outta here!¡± Randall cracked a grin. ¡°Peace, Reaper.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but grin right back, ¡°Peace, man. Don¡¯t get killed next time, aight?¡± ¡°Word.¡± ¡°And Randall?¡± Randall paused half a step. ¡°Whatever you become, be proud. Only way to make sure this don¡¯t happen again.¡± Randall looked at the ground and nodded. Then he stepped into the hole, and disappeared. Chapter 2 Name: Charon Freeman Level: 1 Class: N/A Titles: Attributes: Free Attribute Points: 0 Skills: I blinked. ¡°What the honest-to-god fuck is happening?¡± I muttered as I stroked my goatee and stared at the violet window before me. Then down at the cooling body of Randall, whose soul I had just ¡®ferried¡¯. Query: ¡°What is happening?¡± accepted! Earth has been inducted into the Infinite Nexus! The Infinite Nexus is a vast network that spans multiple worlds, dimensions, and planes of existence, woven together like a great cosmic web. This integration marks the beginning of a new era for humanity, where the very fabric of reality will be reshaped by the presence of the System. System integration is currently in progress! Lifeforms across the planet are undergoing synchronization. New rules of existence are being implemented. Anomalies are forming as reality stabilizes. Things will be strange, but those who adapt will reap the greatest rewards. Upcoming Changes: ? Ecological Shift Imminent! ? ? Dungeon Manifestation in Progress! ? ? Societal Restructuring Incoming! ? So¡­ everyone was getting these floaty windows? I looked around in the dark streets¡ªcouldn¡¯t find anyone to share in my confusion with, but I was hearing some commotion from within the surrounding buildings. When I focused on my hearing, I could hear shouting. I looked back at the window, fixating on one line. Things will be strange, but those who adapt will reap the greatest rewards. Okay. I took a deep breath and tossed out everything I thought I once knew, replacing it with pure curiosity instead, making room in my head for this new reality. Levels. Okay. Levels were power. That was easy enough to intuit. Video game logic. Thus, the only other question of interest was¡­ ¡°Where does it end? How far does it go?¡± Another violet window popped up before my eyes, replacing the one I had finished reading. No one has reached the level cap as of yet. The power that the system offers is transcendent and unending. There are those that can extinguish your star system¡¯s sun with barely a thought, and they too are considered trivial by even greater existences within the Infinite Nexus. In this vast cosmic web of reality, you are barely an atom. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. But all journeys of a thousand miles begin with a single step. You, too, can gain this power¡ªby felling monsters and absorbing their essence, gaining experience points, completing quests, gathering and processing objects of power, the list goes on and on. I blinked. Power unending. Okay. Power unending, sure, yeah. ¡°And¡­ everyone is level one? Did everyone start off at level one? I mean¡ªon Earth, at least?¡± Earth¡¯s system integration occurs all at once¡ªno human on Earth gained access to it before any other. You are all at the starting line. My mind boggled at that. Really? ¡°Hah!¡± I couldn¡¯t help but let out a loud chuckle at that. Just like that? I could just¡ªbecome godlike just like that? With no one to stop me, and soon with no one that could claim to stand above me¡ªunless their level reflected that reality? I blinked repeatedly at the screen. Suddenly, it was as though all weight left my shoulders¡ªeverything, even my own weight. I felt like, with a thought, I could just take off. Fly like Superman. There was a lightness to even my thoughts, too, as though I had shrugged off some sort of mental yoke that stopped me from thinking certain things for fear of consequences. But¡­ what if¡­ consequences no longer applied to me? What if I could just¡­ do whatever the hell I wanted? But, what did I want? I had so many other questions. ¡°Explain the attributes¡ª¡± I heard faint, muffled shouts through the streets and immediately put those thoughts away in order to prioritize the present. I looked around at the ground and found the bullet I had ejected from the gun¡¯s chamber. Swiftly, I picked the bullet up, pushed it into the magazine, and the magazine into the gun before facing the noise. Out from an alleyway, a pack of ski-mask wearing dipshits ran out, looking around. When one saw me, his hand darted towards his waistband. I aimed the gun and fired, hitting his chest, but not putting him down. I took a chance and tried for his head. It was reckless, but I felt calm enough that I thought I could make the shot, even from forty feet away. I hit. The gunfire immediately alerted the other gangsters¡ªfriends of Randall, possibly¡ªbut they couldn¡¯t get their guns up in time for me to aim and fire. I aimed at the heart of one guy. Then I hit the heart. I barely questioned the luck before moving on, aiming at another guy¡¯s chest¡ªspecifically the heart. I hit the target again. The first guy whose heart I hit dropped by the time I moved on to the third, hitting his heart, too. Then the fourth¡ªheartshot. ¡°The fuck?¡± I whispered. I aimed at the blue ski-mask-covered head of a fifth gangster, struck him right on his forehead, and moved on to the sixth. Hit the sixth guy, too. All done. I blinked. I looked down at the gun and blinked again. Then I frowned. ¡°What the actual fuck,¡± I whispered. I walked up to them¡ªall dead. All of them. Human slain! Human slain! Human slain! Human slain! Human s¡ª I waved the windows from my vision like batting away a bunch of flies as I continued to inspect each of them. Yeah. All dead. My eyes caught sight of one window that had stubbornly remained despite my waving it away. All beings within the system are in possession of six core attributes. Strength, Dexterity, Endurance, Mind, Power, and Temperance. Strength affects one¡¯s ability to exert physical force with their body. Dexterity affects one¡¯s control over their body. Endurance affects the body¡¯s durability, resilience and recoverability. Mind affects cognition, memory, and mental skills. Power affects the intensity and magnitude of the various forms of energy that a being can harness, and Temperance affects a person¡¯s ability to control that energy, and incidentally, oneself. ¡­Okay? The hell did they mean, though? The numbers. Ten is the average value across a species¡¯ population. Thus, each attribute is weighed differently depending on species. So a bear¡¯s ¡®Strength 10¡¯ was miles greater than a human¡¯s ¡®Strength 10¡¯? That¡¯s what it was saying, at least. Hold on, then why was my aim so much better all of a sudden? I summoned the screen thing once more and inspected my attributes more closely. I ignored the numbers in the square and round brackets for now, and instead focused on the numbers right next to the attributes. Dead average Power and Temperance, above average Mind, good Endurance, and¡­ twice the magnitude of Strength and Dexterity compared to an average human? I definitely considered myself stronger than two average people pre-all this, but there¡¯d be a time and place for measuring what those attribute numbers meant in real terms. And that time wasn¡¯t now, and the place definitely wasn¡¯t here. This particular¡­ murder spree of mine, though¡­ hmmm. Dexterity? Yeah, it was definitely Dexterity. I supposed that¡¯s what I would be leveling up on then, from now on. ¡°How do I get a free attribute?¡± A window didn¡¯t appear. Wait¡ªwhat? ¡°Also¡ªwhere is my level up? I killed a bunch of guys just now, didn¡¯t I?¡± Due to this being the first day of system integration, the denizens of Earth are granted a unique opportunity to gain levels¡ªand thus attribute points, both free or assigned. All experience gained from killing via system-approved methods are tripled during the first twenty-four hours of integration. Wait¡ªholy shit! Wait¡ªsystem-approved? Death dealt via the delivery of projectiles not propelled through a person¡¯s own Strength or Power does not constitute a system-approved method of killing, and will thusly be penalized. Huh? It took me a moment to piece together exactly what the fuck that meant. Guns didn¡¯t use physical strength to propel bullets, so¡­ that was right out. Okay. No guns. Just brawn. Hands. Melee weapons, too, I guessed. Anything that didn¡¯t use non-strength-based propulsion. Was it also not allowed to just drop stuff on people to kill them? That would be using gravity for propulsion after all. Probably. Not important. ¡°Penalized by how much?¡± That was the more important question. Nothing. Okay, then. I heard sirens in the distance and my eyes widened. Then I looked down at the dead gangsters and¡ªjust to be safe¡ªgrabbed another glock, ripped off the stupid fucking switch, and reloaded the gun I had just used to a fresh mag. ¡°What the fuck am I doing?¡± I asked myself. But I didn¡¯t stop. I inspected the trigger of another gun, made sure it wasn¡¯t tampered with, before stuffing it into my pocket. Then I pilfered the magazines from the other guns¡ªwhat the fuck am I doing? ¡°Pushing forward the inevitable,¡± I said. I chuckled. Jesus Christ, Charon. This is where we¡¯re at, now. I couldn¡¯t stop. I didn¡¯t want to stop, really. Among all the things the system had told me, one thing was most important, by far. Things will be strange, but those who adapt will reap the greatest rewards. This was just adaptation.