‘I told you to take it slow, you fucking idiot.’ Ophilia’s voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and corrosive, as Jagger’s boots slammed against the concrete. Each step echoed far too loudly in the dead city, his presence practically announced with every stride.

“Oh, pipe down,” Jagger shot back between ragged breaths, though the strain in his voice betrayed him. His lungs burned, dragging in cold air that scraped his throat raw. His muscles ached, heavy and tightening with every push forward, but he forced himself to keep moving. He veered around a rusted garbage bin, his shoulder barely missing its edge as he cut the corner.

A split second later, the world behind him exploded with sound.

The garbage bin slammed into the wall with a deafening crash, metal crumpling inward like paper. The impact echoed violently down the empty street, shattering the fragile silence. Jagger didn’t slow. Didn’t hesitate. He just kept running.

“Fuck.”

He glanced back.

The bin had been crushed flat against the wall, twisted and mangled. And from the corner, something lunged.

A bipedal frog-like creature burst into view, its pale purple skin slick and glistening under the dim streetlight. It slammed into the wrecked bin with all four limbs, then coiled and launched itself upward with explosive force. Its body arced over him, shadow swallowing its shape for a heartbeat.

[Kill brute threat level Boomgut Toad.]

Its belly pulsed.

A sickly green glow flickered beneath its stretched, translucent skin.

Jagger’s instincts screamed.

He threw himself sideways.

His body hit the pavement hard, rolling across wet asphalt just as a glob of viscous green acid slammed into where he had been standing. The ground hissed violently. Smoke curled upward as the concrete bubbled and melted.

“Acid spit.”

He scrambled to his feet, boots slipping slightly on the damp surface as he turned to face it.

The creature landed with a wet, heavy thud.

Up close, it was worse.

Six feet tall. Hunched. Its limbs were thin but tightly wound with sinewy muscle, twitching with restless energy. Its belly bulged grotesquely, swelling and deflating in slow, rhythmic pulses like something alive inside it. Its eyes were massive, bulbous, and glassy, reflecting the dim light without a hint of intelligence. Only hunger. Only instinct.

Its tongue flicked out, long and slick, tasting the air between them.

‘And you told me to pipe down.’

“This bitch,” Jagger muttered, raising his hands slightly, forcing a loose grin onto his face. “Whoa, buddy. Let’s talk this out. Man to frog. No… frog to man? Yeah. Man to frogman sounds good.”

‘Idiot. You cannot reason with them.’

The creature responded with a guttural croak, low and wet, its body tensing.

Jagger’s eyes flicked over it again.

“…Oh damn.”

His grin shifted.

“I’m sorry,” he added, tilting his head slightly as realization hit, he was a her. “Didn’t realize~.”

The Boomgut Toad snapped.

Its head whipped back, and its tongue shot forward, a blur of wet muscle slicing through the air. It lashed toward him, aiming straight for his face.

Jagger dropped low.

At the same moment, his arm drove upward.

The Scavenger Fang punched into the underside of the tongue, its serrated edge tearing through flesh as the creature’s own momentum forced it deeper onto the blade.

A high-pitched, gurgling shriek erupted.

The tongue recoiled violently, snapping back into its mouth, blood trailing in thick strands.

[The Boomgut Toad has been inflicted with bleed!]

Jagger didn’t hesitate.

He surged forward.

He didn’t think. Didn’t aim. He just moved.

“Frenzy.”

His vision sharpened.

The world slowed.

The creature’s movements, frantic and erratic, suddenly felt sluggish. Predictable. His body reacted faster than his thoughts could form.

He ducked under a swipe of its webbed claws, feeling the rush of air as it missed him by inches. His blade came up in a clean diagonal slash, carving deep across its chest. Flesh split. Dark blood spilled.

The Boomgut Toad staggered, croaking in pain. Its belly swelled again, glowing brighter, preparing to fire.

Jagger was already moving.

He stepped in and drove his foot hard into its stomach.

The impact sank deep.

He shifted instantly to its side.

The creature stumbled backward, its balance thrown off. The acid shot wide, splashing uselessly against the wall with a violent hiss.

“WOAH!”

Jagger swept its legs.

The Boomgut Toad crashed to the ground, its limbs flailing awkwardly.

Before it could recover, he moved in.

Fast. Decisive.

‘NO! DON’T DO THAT!’

Too late. He drove the blade down.

It plunged straight into its swollen belly.

For half a second, everything froze.

Then it detonated.

BOOM.

The explosion hit like a hammer.

A violent burst of compressed gas and acid tore outward, blasting Jagger off his feet. The force slammed into his chest, launching him backward through the air.

He hit the ground hard.

The impact knocked the breath from his lungs. His body skidded across rough concrete, skin scraping, clothes tearing. The world spun wildly, lights streaking into a blur.

The stench hit next.

Rotting fish. Swampy decay. Acidic and foul, thick enough to choke on.

[Brute threat level Boomgut Toad has been slain.]

Jagger groaned, forcing himself onto his hands and knees. His body screamed in protest, every muscle tight, every nerve lit with pain. His vision wavered as he blinked rapidly, trying to steady it.

‘Frogmen explode when stabbed in the stomach. Their bellies are pressurized sacs of acid and gas.’

Her voice was calm. Flat. Completely unbothered.

Jagger let out a strained breath, dragging himself upright.

He looked down at himself.

His clothes were torn in several places, edges blackened and smoking faintly. Green residue sizzled against the fabric, eating through slowly. His skin beneath it burned, raw and irritated, but as he watched, it began to close.

The now-familiar tingling spread.

Pain dulled. Damage erased.

“…That was something that you should have told me before I engaged that amphibious freak,” he muttered, wiping a smear of green slime from his cheek with the back of his hand.

The residue hissed softly as it dripped to the ground.

[You have leveled up! 10↑]

[You have 5 stat points to distribute.]

‘You didn’t ask.’

Jagger let out a short, breathless snort, shaking his head as he staggered a step backward, his balance still not fully steady. His chest rose and fell unevenly, the aftermath of the explosion lingering in his muscles and lungs.

“Anyways,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair, “note to self. Frogmen have good hearing even though they don’t have ears.” His voice was half-directed at himself, half thrown into the empty street as if the city might care to listen.

[Congratulations! You have unlocked a class-specific skill: [Entity Resonance]]

Jagger froze.

The fatigue. The pain. The smell of acid and rot. All of it faded to the background.

“Entity Resonance?” he said, his voice sharpening instantly. His focus snapped fully onto the notification as it hovered in front of him.

A new screen unfolded, its faint glow cutting through the dimness of the street.

—

[Entity Resonance] (Passive) [LVL: 1]

Description: This skill grants the user the ability to perceive the faint echoes of other entities within the world and within.

Current effects:

– Chance to detect the presence of other entities in close proximity through an intuitive, non-visual sense.

– ??

– ??

– ??

– ??

—

Jagger’s eyes moved slowly across the panel, absorbing every line, every word. “Oh, look, Ophilia,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the lingering ache in his bones. “We can now find you a buddy.”

The reaction was instant.

His own hand shot up and slammed hard against his cheek.

The impact echoed sharply in the silence.

“Don’t piss me off.” The words came from his mouth, but the voice was not his.

Cold. Controlled. Possessive.

The smirk vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Jagger’s expression flattened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he lowered his hand.

“Don’t do that again,” he said, his tone dropping, the edge in it unmistakable.

‘Then do not provoke me.’

Silence followed.

Not empty. Tight.

It lingered between them, coiled and tense, stretching thin like a wire ready to snap.

Jagger exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing the moment to pass.

“This skill will be useful,” he said at last, his voice steadier now, deliberately pulling the conversation back to something grounded.

‘Indeed.’

Her response came quickly this time. No sarcasm. No bite. Just an agreement.

Jagger nodded faintly.

“Then let’s test it out.”

He planted his feet more firmly against the pavement, rolling his shoulders once as he steadied his breathing. Then he closed his eyes.

“Entity Resonance.”

At first, there was only darkness.

The inside of his eyelids. The faint echo of his own breathing was still uneven and rough. The distant drip of water somewhere down the street. The subtle hum of a city that felt like it had been hollowed out.

Jagger popped one eye open, trying to see if there was any notification or prompt. Nothing happened. No surge of power. No shift in the air. No pulse. No reaction.

“…That’s it?” Jagger muttered under his breath, a slight frown forming.

‘That means there is none around us then,’ Ophilia replied calmly.

Jagger opened his eyes, unimpressed.

“That was kind of anti-climactic.”

He let out a quiet sigh and rolled his shoulders again, tension easing slightly as he turned away from where he had stood.

His gaze shifted to the remains of the Boomgut Toad.

The body was no longer intact.

It was a mangled, steaming heap of purple flesh splattered across the pavement. Acid residue still hissed softly in places, eating away at the ground. The metallic stench of blood, mixed with the sharp, acrid tang of chemicals, filled the air with a thick, nauseating odor.

Jagger walked over, his boots crunching faintly against debris and scorched fragments.

He nudged the remains with the toe of his boot.

No reaction.

Dead.

He crouched down, ignoring the smell as it hit him harder at this distance. His nose wrinkled slightly, but he pushed through it. His hand moved, gripping the Scavenger Fang as he began to prod through the remains.

“Where is it…” he muttered, his focus narrowing.

He dug through torn flesh, pushing aside strands of muscle, shifting bone fragments, searching with practiced intent.

Then he saw it.

“There you are! HEHE!”

His voice lifted slightly, a small spark of satisfaction breaking through the exhaustion as he reached in deeper.

The core was lodged inside the creature’s throat, buried beneath torn tissue.

He forced the blade in carefully, prying it loose.

It came free with a wet pull.

The object sat in his hand, slick with blood and viscera. It pulsed faintly, a sickly green light beating from within like a slow, dying heartbeat. Its surface looked like fractured glass, yet something churned beneath it, energy twisting and coiling in unnatural patterns.

Jagger turned it slightly, watching the glow shift across its surface.

“Claim item.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep