[SLAYER SYSTEM ALERT]

YOU ARE IN IMMEDIATE DANGER OF DEATH.

IT IS TOO LATE TO ESCAPE.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO BECOME A SLAYER?

YES NO

Alexander shakily pressed [No]. It wasn’t an option. There was an immediate drawback in becoming a Slayer. Barring the three-day grace period to confirm your decision (which would be removed in a time like this), it took time for the Slayer System to properly install. Three days to be exact. Normally, you’d be in a deep sleep; however, in this instance, you would experience three days of paralyzing pain.

Becoming a Slayer now meant becoming dead weight. He witnessed it before: the desperate will to survive, yet horribly impulsive, dooming anyone to the ground convulsing, experiencing the greatest pain known to man. Typically, their deaths followed soon after. It was ironic in a dark, twisted way.

If they had waited just for ten more minutes…

Screams were heard through the doors, echoing throughout the stairwell. He lurched to the sources. None of them were blood-curdling, so no one hastily took the plunge. Yet. They screamed out of fear. Good, wherever the danger was, it hadn’t reached System Articles.

For now.

Where was the danger? Where was the Cosmic Beast, the Cosmos Caller? Where were they attacking? Were they attacking the portal redirection sites? That means Ordo will be flooded with otherworldly monsters from E to S, perhaps worse. But there was a large population of Slayers here; within a few hours, they could at least secure a few areas. Alexander could bring Leona and Damien there—

His eyes widened. Althea. She was in school. Where was Julius High again? Right, mapping the shortest route, it would take two, three hours to walk there. Less if they took a car or the train, but during an emergency? Impossible. But all schools were intentionally placed the furthest distance away from portal sites in the event of outbreaks like Hangzhou. She’ll be safe for a little while.

She’ll be—

Something shook him by the shoulders. He startled back to reality, seeing Leona’s amber eyes staring into his. “Alex! We need to go now!”

“Right!” He rubbed his lips, swallowing his saliva. His throat was awfully dry. “Let’s go!”

Alexander followed Damien and Leona up the stairs. He didn’t know where he was going, but he couldn’t find the time to think rationally. The signs said sixteen, seventeen, then they blurred from there. His mind was deep in a fog. Thinking. He was thinking, calculating the routes, alternative routes, detours, which doors were heaven and led to hell.

Something vibrated in his hand.

He looked down and saw his phone—how long was he clutching onto it?—it was Althea. He answered.

“Alex?!” she screamed into his ear, clearing the fog but accelerating his heart. The background noise sounded like the stairwell at the moment: panic. “Are you okay?! I got the alert, is Leo with you—?!”

“Calm down, Thea!” Alexander exclaimed, though he didn’t sound exactly calm himself. So he inhaled, letting his mind take a step back. “Listen to your teachers, okay? There uh… Shit, what was it…” He took a precious second to think. “Right! Right, there should be a basement in your school. Tell your teachers that and stay there. Don’t go outside. The Slayers will get you somewhere safe, alright?”

“What about you?” Althea asked. “You’re in Dawns. You’re at the center of everything!”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, Thea. This will end in just a few days. It’ll be the worst few days of our life again, but it’ll be just that.”—Was he trying to convince himself that? Ignoring what happened before?—”and if you’re in trouble, I’ll come. You know how to take care of yourself. You’re a dumbass but you’re a smart dumbass. Stay safe, always.”

Alexander gave the phone to Leona, who hesitated a second before taking it. “Thea? It’s Leo. Are you doing okay, sweetheart?”

“I should be asking you that. How are you?” Althea sounded relieved hearing her voice.

“Not good. We have no idea what’s going on. Oh, we’re with Damien too.” (“I’m alright. Thank you for asking, Althea.”) “Listen to your brother. Under no circumstances are you to leave Julius High School; the Slayers will set up shelters across Ordo, but it’ll take some time.”

“What about—?”

“We’ll be fine, Thea. If System Articles is in danger, we can go to Black Paladin Station.” Leona glanced between Alexander and Damien—Alexander nodded, that was a great idea. “The trains will be powered down, and we’ll be safe in the tunnels. In fact, find the nearest metro station and map out multiple routes. If you need to leave before the Slayers arrive, take the safest and available route there. Do you understand?”

“I—”

“Do you understand, Thea?”

“Got it! I understand! Stay safe, Leo!” Althea sniffled. “And take care of Alex. And Alex?”

“Yeah, Thea?” he said.

“If you die, I’m killing you. Vernon too.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “You too. If you die, I’m bringing you back to life just to kill you. Stay smart. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll try to reach Vernon later. And…” She’s seventeen, almost eighteen. She’s old enough, but…

“I’ll do it,” Althea assured, knowing what he was going to say.

“Alright. See you whenever, Thea.”

Leona hung up and gave Alexander his phone back. “Here.”

“Thanks, Leo. Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we can be reasonably safe,” she answered determinedly, and they walked. A few moments later, Leona asked, “What did Thea mean by that? Doing ‘it’?”

“Becoming a Pseudo-Slayer,” Alexander replied, rubbing his knuckles. Pseudos were exempt from the Drafting Clause, a protocol that required all Slayers to participate in “world defenses” or be punished by death for cowardice. “In disasters like these, you can temporarily become a Slayer to defend yourself. You need it. Becoming one though, you’ll experience the worst five minutes of your life but it’s preferable to, you know, dying.”

In place of a response, Leona and Damien nodded. No one said anything afterwards, letting their footsteps cascade with the increasing sounds of chaos rattling the walls. The voices echoed throughout the stairwell with such intensity that the metal of the signs and railings seemed to vibrate—or alternatively, that may be because Alexander was gripping them strongly, shaking them restless.

When they reached the twenty-fifth floor, they intended to pass it until hard, frantic knocks banged on the metal—bang, bang bang, bangbangbang, bangbang—and the sound of a man begging for someone to open it. Leona and Damien hesitated, but Alexander knew there was no harm: if there was danger on the other side, there’ll be more than one person begging.

Before he could approach the door, a man in his thirties busted through, shoved Alexander out of the way, stumbling out. The man didn’t address them. His eyes were blood red and looked to be manic, sprinting downstairs babbling something about a woman. He was heading towards the ground floor most likely—a fatal mistake. As much as Alexander wanted to stop him, he was gone as soon as the door was open.

Alexander wished him luck. Since the door was open, they might as well go inside. “Let me prop the door open; you two go in first,” he said.

Leona and Damien went aside with no arguments. Alexander found the hold open device and flicked the lever. Good, this will give us easy access to the emergency stairs in case bad gets worse.

He went inside and the sight overtook him. The world outside painted a picture for the coming horrors. Through the plexiglass windows, a barrier only a few inches thick, was what separated them from the creeping darkness of the skies above. It was only five in the afternoon, but it became seven, and it became darker, eight, and as the unnatural night flourished, it was midnight. Stars fizzled. Dots of ruby and jade and sapphire bloomed—impossible, there was so much light pollution in Ordo that one or two stars were out. But there was a sea of them stretching from the horizon and back.

And between the stars were the dim, moving lines of a complex blue color. They entangled themselves around and through the diamonds of the cosmos. It was hauntingly beautiful. It was as though a seamstress was sewing the stars together in a mighty loom, and thus came the infinite blanket of the universe.

Yet there was darkness in the fabric.

“That’s…” Alexander knew what it was.

That was the Cosmic Beast.

A distant explosion was heard, and a ball of fire peeked over the heads of buildings. Many people on the floor flinched, inching away from the windows. And there was another distant explosion; they couldn’t see where. There was another, and another; screams tore through the streets and sirens roared, the red and blue lights absorbing into the black smoke.

I know where that is: a portal site, Alexander thought, focusing on the first explosion he saw, the explosion was in its general area. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

It was not the last. Just a few blocks ahead, amidst the unnatural twilight, there was a lonesome, slender entity standing unaffected in the crowds of chaos. It donned a robe of shadows and occult violet, and in its hands were a long branching scepter with a globular ruby as its prize. In place of its head was obscurity; it had arms so thin and willow that they could snap. It waved its scepter high—and behold. The emerging crimson light pierced wherever it reached. All who witnessed fled, terror-stricken, illuminated by the red. At the impetus, the entity shot a globular bolt into the space behind it.

And a portal opened, rimmed with the color of scarlet. It grew wider, and wider, and wider, until it matched the width of the street.

The harbinger summoned a miasma of monsters: goblins and hobgoblins, blood red orcs and their superiors, snarling hounds and large vulture-like beasts, and others Alexander couldn’t describe. Endlessly, the legion marched. Growing, growing, growing. They wore skulls of their conquests, wore skins of their kills. Growing, growing, growing. They saw the denizens of Ordo and looked to one murderer to the next, teeth rattling in a language no one else spoke—chanting a single word in tandem: meat.

They slaughtered.

Wails broke from the twenty-fifth floor of System Articles. It came through waves. Seeing the curtness of death, the callousness and the gore, their peace was broken through blood. Alexander stepped back from the window.

Soon, they’ll be next.

Just after the hunt began, Alexander heard a ding, a ding he was waiting for.

[SLAYER SYSTEM ALERT]

You have qualified to become a Pseudo-Slayer.

Your profile will be created based on your Culmination.

You will receive quests and rewards similarly to a Slayer.

You will be able to perform magical abilities similarly to a Slayer.

Everything will be removed when the expedition ends and will be added to your Culmination.

Do you want to become a Pseudo-Slayer?

YES NO

Alexander didn’t hesitate to press [Yes]. Another notification came.

[SLAYER SYSTEM ALERT]

The procedure will take thirty seconds as you previously were a Pseudo-Slayer.

You will be in moderate pain.

Do you wish to continue?

YES NO

Even better.

“Leo,” Alexander called her, “watch over me for thirty seconds.”

“What do you—?”

He pressed [Yes].

[SLAYER SYSTEM ALERT]

Once again, you have gained the animosity of the cosmos.

How will you conquer this threat, Alexander Shen?

“Ah———!” It was a horrible pain. Not the worst he felt. That fact alone made him want to laugh, but when he opened his mouth, a croaking groan came instead. It was as though lava was poured into his veins and mixed in with his blood. His hand tensed against the window, fingers stiffly curling into a fist, as tense as his teeth, grinding together to turn the ends into dust.

Alexander glared at the carnage a few streets away. The pain was a reminder.

Then, suddenly as if it never happened, the pain was gone, but the carnage remained.

[SLAYER SYSTEM ALERT]

Welcome back, Alexander Shen.

Please establish your profile.

Various screens and interfaces popped up—[Inventory], [Profile], [Map], and more—he didn’t have time to look through them. Not right now. They had mere minutes before the brigade arrived. In less than a minute, the emergency stairwell will be filled with people.

He tried to move, but found Leona holding onto him. Like sunlight through clouds, her voice came through: “Alex? Talk to me, Alex! Alex?!”

“Sorry for worrying you,” he said with an awkward smile, “I’m a Pseudo again.”

“Already?!” exclaimed Damien. “You said it was five minutes—!

Screaming echoed throughout the stairwell.

Alexander swore under his breath. The horrors were coming already. “There’s no time to explain! It’s your turn now! Five minutes, got it?!”

Leona said worriedly, “Alex—!”

“Leo!” he pleaded, begging her. “Trust me, please.”

Leona gulped. Although she was brave, perhaps the bravest woman Alexander knew, her eyes sank in fear, knowing it was either horrendous pain or a horrendous death. She nodded, accepting her options. “I trust you,” she told him, and pressed her screen.

Immediately, Leona crumpled and Alexander caught her, lowering her to the floor as she convulsed, shouting in torment. He hated the sight. Hated how she screamed. He held her hands, no more than a shallow comfort, but he squeezed them, promising to keep her safe. Alexander looked up at Damien, and he understood what had to be done.

Damien sighed. Anxious, probably the first time something had visibly rattled him. “Our lives are in your hands, Alex. If I die, I’ll be very upset with you.”

“Likewise. See you in five.”

Damien nodded, inhaled, said his prayers, and pressed his screen. Like Leona, he broke into the new world gritting his teeth. Alexander caught him from falling over.

"I'm fine...!" he said, sweating bullets. "This is nothing, really! Just a little pain!"

His pain tolerance was impressive but it still didn't meant he could fight. Especially not when the System was implanting a new organ and altering his entire body.

Five minutes. Alexander had five minutes to protect them.

Alexander jumped on a desk and looked around. He estimated that for every five people, only one decided to become a Pseudo-Slayer. It wasn’t an awful ratio; it was a lot better than three after all.

“Alright,” he muttered to himself, “let’s do this.”

He opened his [Inventory], a subspace dimension where he could store and retrieve anything inside, and found five empty slots. Alexander snatched every pen he could find; for small items, they could stack up to ninety-nine regardless of Slayer Rank. By the time the first scrambling survivors shambled onto the floor, he had fifty-four pens.

Alexander watched them trickle in. Because he propped the emergency door open, it had the unintentional consequence of being the first choice any fleeing person would pick. He felt a rope tightening around his heart; it told him he was losing time.

There wouldn’t be any weapons here. This was an office building after all; unless he could construct an office supply crossbow within the minute, pens were all he had. Thus, he didn’t waste time searching for anything else.

So he prepared himself.

By the time the last survivors came, crashing themselves against the floors, the desks, any form of safe comfort they found, Alexander was ready. He glanced at Leona and Damien; nobody paid them any mind. They were too busy on their phones, too busy panicking, too busy watching the doors, or the sight outside, or the elevators wondering if these beasts were smart enough. It was a cramped, chaotic mess of screaming.

It was time. Alexander walked to the emergency door, walking past bloodied people, who tried to wipe the red off like this was a silly, dramatic prank. And some sobbed, overwhelmed by what they had seen. He thought about Althea, and Leona, and that idiot Vernon and Damien too. When was the last time he felt this fear? This oozing poison seeping into his veins?

So what? Fear was the passion for courage.

At the door, a man was about to flick the lever to shut it, but Alexander grabbed his arm. “Don’t,” he said.

“What?!” the man exclaimed. “Are you trying to get us killed?!”

Alexander shook his head. “Just me. I’ll hold the first wave off.”

“You can’t—!”

There was an inhuman sound snarling a few floors below.

The man threw his arms up. “Alright, fine! I guess we’ll all die then!” Then he retreated inside with the others.

Alexander took out a few pens from his [Inventory] and waited.

“Ha———ha!” laughed the unknown monster. “Ha—ha—ha! Pah-ahaha!”

It clanged its weapon, a club most likely, against the railing, sending shivering echoes against the wall. Alexander heard multiple people lambasting him from behind. “Close the door!” they said. “Are you fucking insane?!” said one of them.

Probably, but they’ll break in either way. I’d rather warm up now. Refamiliarize myself.

Clang. The beast approached. Clang. It was coming. Clang. It was laughing. Clang clang clang. It appeared.

It was just an average disgusting, revolting green goblin. Alexander didn’t need an appraisal to know it was a low E-Rank. He killed plenty of these things before.

“Pah-pah-pah!” The goblin waved its club at him. It was probably asking if he had a deathwish.

Alexander stood, unanswering. He was afraid, but confident.

Deciding enough was enough, the goblin charged. It scaled the first few steps before jumping the rest, a leap several times its height, raising its club to crack Alexander’s head open.

But he was faster. With his free hand, Alexander caught the goblin by its thin neck and threw it against the wall to his right. The goblin shrieked, sliding down until its ass met the cold concrete floor.

Alexander reeled back a hand and felt the mana coursing through his veins. It was an odd feeling as if warm oil was surging throughout his right arm. In a single, smooth motion, a pen impaled the goblin’s left eye. It went limp, eyes glazed over and dead, complaining no longer.

[Certain Shot], it works just as I remembered. He looked down the stairs. Here I am again, fighting for my life. Not even Ordo’s safe, huh?

Alexander picked up the goblin’s club. He saw the flickering of torches several stories below, casting shadows of what was coming.

Monsters, as many said.

To him, those who raised weapons against his loved ones, they were corpses.

And so the System sung.

[Pseudo-Slayer Alexander Shen “Survivor of Hangzhou” has entered combat]

“You,” Alexander promised, “cannot have them.”

[Quest Notification - New Subquest]

Five Minutes

You have vowed to shield Leona Ahn and Damien Fayer from harm. Protect them for five minutes.

Difficulty F~D Time Limit 300 seconds Victory Condition

Survive for 45/300 seconds

Defeat Condition

Leona Ahn is killed

Damien Fayer is killed

Rewards

5000 standards

Item - Protector’s Shortsword

~

[Alexander "Survivor of Hangzhou" Shen] STATISTICS Power E9 (+2) Constitution E9 (+3) Agility E6 (+2) Magick E1 (+2) E6 (E8) Pseudo-Slayer SURVIVOR OF HANGZHOU [A] - TITLE

Although a life of the ordinary was your lot, fate was not the kindest to your wishes. Through perilous odds, you have survived the Hangzhou Disaster.

While this title is active, increase your Constitution by 1 level.

If a similar disaster to Hangzhou occurs, increase all stats by 2 levels further until the event ends.

SKILLS: 5/5 Certain Shot [B] I have you in my sights. Hit any visible target with a projectile with pinpoint accuracy within logical bounds. This skill has a ten second cooldown. Inexhaustible Flurry [B]

Let your fists fly like machine gun fire. Dramatically increase your punching speed for three seconds equivalent to a 5 level increase in Agility.

You can use this skill as long as you have the stamina to execute it.

Iron Knuckles [B] You conditioned your knuckles similarly to a good steel in a hot forge. Your knuckles are just as hard as iron. Still-Standing Bastion [S]

Your father passed this promise to you: As long as you still stand, all tragedy shall be vanquished. After receiving a near-death experience, increase your Power by three ranks for seven minutes and forty-three seconds.

When this skill activates, your death is probable.

Taunt [E]

Your presence is enraging! Taunt all nearby enemies with a lower Power level than you for one minute

This skill has a ten minute cooldown.

HONOR: N/A