“Shit, that feels a lot better,” Jagger exhaled as he plopped down on the couch after taking a cold shower and having canned tuna and baked beans for dinner.

The room was a perfect bubble of quiet. On the second floor of the beauty salon, the staff lounge had remained untouched by the chaos outside. It was a small, comfortable space with faded wallpaper, a scarred coffee table, and a worn-out couch that welcomed Jagger’s weight like an old friend. The air was faintly scented with lemon cleaning wipes and stale perfume. Through the curtains, the city outside had settled into a deep, uneasy silence.

In front of him lay the Bone Rattlers, vambraces, and band, their surfaces reflecting the faint glow from a single battery-powered lantern. He had cleaned himself as best as he could, scrubbing blood and grime from his skin under the cold spray of the shower. The food had been basic, but it was fuel, and right now, fuel was everything.

For a little while, he just sat there, allowing the quiet to settle in around him. His body still ached, but the sharp edges of pain had dulled to a manageable throb. The exhaustion remained, yet it was the exhaustion of a survivor, not a victim. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. He was still alive, and for now, that was enough.

“Alright, let’s talk about what we know and what we need to do,” Jagger said, breaking the silence. He reached for the Scavenger Fang knife from the table, running his thumb along its serrated edge. The rough texture grounded him, serving as a tangible reminder of the fight and the stakes involved.

He didn’t need to say her name; her presence was already a quiet weight in the back of his mind.

“About two hours have passed since the new quest appeared. That leaves us with twenty-two more hours.” He activated the system panel, and the quest details appeared in front of him.

–

[Global Quest: The Great Filter]

Designate area: Singapore

[Objective: Eliminate all hostile creatures designated as ‘Heralds of Collapse’.]

[Time remaining: 21 hours, 59 minutes, 39 seconds]

[Targets Remaining: 43]

–

“43 targets,” Jagger muttered, his gaze fixed on the glowing numbers. “There are 43 more of those things out there. Not even 70 hunters above level 25 could take down that Troll. If it weren’t for Reika and Shin Lu, we would all be dead.” He paused, letting the words sink in.

Ophilia remained silent, but he could feel her listening.

“I am only level 9. I don’t stand a chance against them,” he said. “I need more power. I need to get stronger.”

He stood up, walked to the window, and pulled the curtain aside slightly. The street below was dark and empty. The mist had mostly dissipated, leaving the city looking like a ghost town. He could see the outlines of cars and the dark shapes of buildings, but there was no movement—no signs of life.

‘You need to hunt.’ Her voice whispered in his mind, a cold, logical statement devoid of emotion. ‘You need to kill. That is the only way.’

He let the curtain fall back into place, plunging the room into deeper shadow.

“I know,” he said, his voice low. “I know.”

He sat back down on the couch and grabbed the Scavenger Fang knife. “Alright, let’s find out.” He stood up and speed-walked to the bathroom, looked at himself in the mirror, and said, “You can do this.” He closed his eyes for a moment.

‘What are you doing?’ Ophilia’s voice was laced with something he couldn’t quite place. ‘Don’t be an idiot.’

When he opened his eyes, he stabbed the knife into the center of his palm. He clenched his teeth. “Motherfuckerrrrr!” A muffled scream escaped between gritted teeth as the serrated edge bit deep, tearing through flesh and muscle. He pulled the knife out and dropped it into the sink.

“1 miss sippy, 2 miss sippy,” he counted to himself, eyes on the gaping wound. “3 miss sippy, 4 miss sippy.”

He watched, both fascinated and horrified, as the wound began to close. The torn edges of flesh knitted themselves together; the bleeding slowed and then stopped altogether. “Fully healed in 15 seconds,” he remarked, examining the palm of his hand; the wound had vanished without a trace.

‘What was that for? A demonstration of your idiocy?’ Ophilia’s tone was strained, a mix of disbelief and simmering anger.

“I just wanted to test the limits of my regeneration,” Jagger replied, his breathing a little ragged, a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Good to know it’s not just for big injuries.”

He picked up the Scavenger Fang knife from the sink, wiping the blood off under running water. “So, regeneration is not affected by my mana. Then it is my stamina—” Suddenly, he felt lightheaded and slumped against the wall. His vision blurred.

‘Stamina, you imbecile.’ Her voice was sharp, cutting through the fog in his mind. ‘It accelerates your body’s natural healing process, but it still costs you energy. Just like running. Just like fighting. Did you think it was magic?’

Jagger smiled as he felt Ophilia’s anger wrap around him like a warm blanket. “Good thing I found that out early.” He chuckled as he pushed himself off the wall, his head still swimming slightly. “Imagine finding that out during a fight.”

‘Your idiocy is a weapon I have yet to understand,’ Ophilia replied, her words laced with a cold, simmering fury that Jagger found oddly comforting.

He washed the knife and himself, the warm water stinging the memory of the wound. After drying his hands with a rough towel that felt grounding, he looked at the knife in his hand as he made his way back to the living room.

“Alright,” he said as he returned to the couch. “Let’s see what I’m working with. Status.” The status window opened up, the glowing text hanging in the air in front of him.

–

Status:

Name: Jagger Ashton

Race: Human

Class: Splintered One

Rank: Newborn

Title: None

Level: 9

HP (%): 100

MP (%): 100

Corruption (%): 25

–

[Stats]

STRENGTH: 25 (+9)

AGILITY: 20 (+9)

STAMINA: 20 (+9)

DEXTERITY: 20 (+9)

INTELLIGENCE: 10 (+9)

(Stat distribution points: 0)

–

[Skills]

[Passive]

[Regeneration: (Passive)] [LVL: 3] Grants accelerated regeneration of the body.

Warning: Pain feedback increases depending on the severity of wounds.

[Pain resistance (Passive)] [LVL: 5] Increases resistance to all sources of trauma by 15%.

[Second Wind (Passive)] [LVL: 1] Once near the point of exhaustion or death, there is a 50% chance of receiving a temporary boost to stamina. [Can only trigger once per 12 hours.]

–

[Active Skills]

[Corrupted Surge] [LVL: 1] Temporarily amplifies physical parameters by 100% using corrupted essence. [Warning: Overuse increases corruption percentage and the risk of complete host body takeover.]

[Frenzy] [LVL: 1] Temporarily amplifies physical parameters by 50% using corrupted essence. Grants a stacking increase by 10% to attack speed for each target wounded within a short duration. Stack can be up to 100%] [Cost: 20% MP. Duration: 1 minute]

–

Jagger stared at the floating panel for a long moment, letting every number settle into place.

“Level 9. That is low. Way too low.”

His eyes shifted down, scanning through the stats again, this time more slowly.

Strength. Agility. Stamina. Dexterity. Intelligence.

“Ten points in Intelligence…” he muttered under his breath, almost amused. “That explains a lot.”

‘It explains nothing,’ Ophilia replied flatly. ‘You are alive. That is all the explanation required.’

Jagger leaned back into the couch, one arm resting over his eyes as he let out a quiet breath. “No… that’s not what I mean,” he said. “Every core attribute has a purpose.”

Silence followed.

Not empty.

Listening.

He lowered his arm slowly, his eyes locking back onto the stat window.

“Strength lets me hit harder. Agility lets me move faster. Dexterity… that’s about control and precision…” he explained. “Stamina…” He paused, flexing his hand slightly as he recalled the knife. “Stamina keeps me going. Keeps me healing.”

‘Correct.’

Her response came quicker this time.

A faint smirk tugged at Jagger’s lips. “So, what about Intelligence?” he asked.

A pause.

Longer this time.

‘Processing speed, perception and awareness, skill comprehension,’ she said finally. ‘It governs how quickly you learn… and how effectively you use what you already have.’

Jagger’s smirk deepened slightly.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

No response, but he felt it—a slight tightening in the back of his mind. It was not anger; it was annoyance.

His attention shifted back to the screen.

“Okay, so Intelligence is my dump stat for now. Alongside Stamina; as long as Regeneration keeps patching me up, I’ll be fine.” He continued, thinking out loud. “But I can’t just ignore the other three.”

He tapped a finger against the side of the couch, weighing his options.

“I am a close-quarters fighter,” he mused. “But do I have to be? I’m not restricted to a class, right? But being a damage dealer is the most direct and fastest way to kill. With Regeneration, I wouldn’t need to worry about taking some hits in return, so I don’t really need to invest points in Agility to dodge or Dexterity to block with my weapons.”

Ophilia’s presence sharpened.

‘That is a flawed strategy,’ she said.

Jagger raised his brows. “Why? I don’t see any flaws in this. In fact, it seems perfect.”

‘Regeneration is not immortality,’ she replied bluntly. ‘You can only heal so much, so fast. Enough damage and blood loss will still kill you. You cannot rely solely on tanking hits that you could have avoided.’

“Then all I have to do is evade the fatal blows,” he replied dismissively.

‘And what happens when you face more than one opponent? Or one that is too fast to track? Or a creature whose venom, acid, or necrotic touch bypasses simple flesh wounds?’ she pressed. ‘You are planning to be a stone in a river. The problem is, the river eventually erodes the stone.’

Jagger exhaled slowly. “A stone in a river.” The weight of her words settled deeper than he expected. “…Then what?” he asked quietly. Not defensive. Not dismissive. Thinking.

Silence answered him at first, but it wasn’t empty. It coiled, watching.

‘You adapt,’ Ophilia said. ‘Or you die.’

Jagger scoffed, throwing a tantrum as he flailed on the couch. “What is with you and being so cryptic?” He grunted in frustration. “I’m asking how? How do I adapt?!”

“Right now, you are thinking as if you were in an ordinary class, like an assassin or a warrior. But you are a Splintered One.” Her words sliced through his frustration, each one carrying weight.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep