It was a terrible evening for the students of Ordo University, for they had an insect infestation as though all insectoid species did what humans typically do: gathering around a council table and diplomatically settling their differences in order to discuss a mutual goal: the systematic eradication of an outgroup. To achieve this, they underwent a twisted evolution where they grew multiple sizes, fattened here and there, widened here and there—here and there, they gnawed on white bones and raw tendons of young intellectuals, whose education amounted to mouthfuls over there, and there, and here too.

Sneaking barefoot, in an uncertain stealth, a young brunette crept along the grass, which wept blood as if to forget what transpired. But she couldn’t. Her foot knocked into a severed hand. A sickness tore into her stomach—she wanted to vomit—but she couldn’t. Insects were still out. Most were eating, but some were hunting, on the prowl. The girl stuck closely to the walls, hidden in shadows, and inched towards the end.

The Sun Hall. A light flashed in the windows there, a periodic light—dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot—she didn’t need to know morse code to know it: S.O.S. Survivors were there. She thought to join the juniors from the Combative Program but that was where most of the fight was. Here! Here was safest. The front entrance was blocked from the inside using whatever available furniture they found. Could be dangerous, but if not here, then where?

She must try. She must survive. She took careful steps, tiny steps, sliding her feet one after the other, rendering her movements minimal. From the corner of her eye, a large fly—where it could only be described as the avatar of Beelzebub—feasted, its thin wings flapping happily while slurping the visceral of a young man. Thankfully, she didn’t recognize him.

What a horrible thought that was.

She wasn’t a horrible person though, right? Yes, that man was dead, deader than dead, having his corpse be made a meal, but she couldn’t afford to care about him. She couldn’t. She needed to live, but the thought didn’t make her such a bad person. Or did it? What would other people think? Would they call her an evil, no good person just because she did something so practically reasonable but not socially acceptable?

What sort of world was that—?!

She stepped on a branch.

It crunched.

The fly heard her.

The woman screamed; if the fly hadn’t heard then, it did now. Her instincts took over, and she bolted to the Sun Hall with God-knows-how-many things chasing after her. She didn’t look back; she didn’t want to look back. Run, that was all she focused on. She was close to the hall now, just about ten more seconds of sprinting and she will knock and someone will save her.

Right? Maybe?!

As she ran, closing in onto the Sun Hall’s entrance, her foot caught the edge between grass and concrete. She tumbled forward, helpless and unable to recover, and fell. Her knees scraped the coarse path, and a shadow fell over her. It was the fly. It was the mantis behind her. It was the beetle and the cockroach and all the horrifying insects from her nightmares and every nightmare after.

If she survived.

The brunette screamed once more as the fly lunged.

—And silver severed the space. The fly’s head was split open, obliterated, and fell dead, its wings still fluttering from shock.

“Huh———?”

Another bolt of silver tore through the air. It struck the mantis’s center mass and tore it cleanly in half. Then the cockroach was decapitated, and the beetle was blown—one-by-one, the insects were killed.

The woman looked towards Sun Hall and traced the stature of its pillars; there, standing upon the roof was a silver-haired man wielding an angel-colored rifle. He smirked, waving to his damsel.

“Do you see me now, Mark?” he said to himself. “I can be as good of a shot as you are.”

Vernon Hugo, younger brother to the No.15 Slayer in Ordo, Fusil. From the doors of Sun Hall came similar students, many of them juniors from the Supportive Program, ready to fight no matter the danger.

Ordo University wouldn’t fall today. At this side at least. Vernon needed to hold out until the juniors got here.

He fired again. I hope you’re alright, Thea. Your big brother would go insane without you. I would too.

~~~

Alexander ensured that another wave of monsters wouldn’t hit so soon; however, seeing as he killed a D3 Hobgoblin—in other words, a captain—with his bare hands, everyone had a limited amount of time to prepare. Quickly, the survivors of the twenty-fifth floor gathered together—in total: ten were Pseudo-Slayers and five were regular civilians, watching the other nine undergoing the process.

“What are we going to do?” asked a rather short, feminine man, one of the five civilians. Milo, that was his name. He wasn’t apart of System Articles but one of the refugees from the outside, and he was alone, but he held his phone dearly, and when the screen illuminated (from facial recognition), there was another man.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” answered one of the company’s managers, Takenaka Ai; despite her average build, she was a fierce woman. Just a week ago, Alexander heard her chewing out one of the employees in front of her peers. The only time when she was docile—in other words, staying her tongue—was about her son who was studying abroad in Mexico.

Manager Takanaka glanced at Alexander, expecting him to say something. Alexander glanced back. “I haven’t thought that far yet,” he said. “Respectfully, Manager Takanaka.”

“How can you fight like that, Alex? I thought you were a normal guy,” commented Mattis, ignoring Manager Takanaka’s glare; he was a normal employee. He was a Pseudo-Slayer; however when checking his profile, he was at Rank F3. Really low.

Alexander shook his head, dismissing Mattis. “This isn’t the time for idle chatter. We need to talk about our next steps.” He turned, giving attention to the middle-aged man from earlier, who spoke to him during his fight with the Hobgoblin. “Isn’t that right, sir?”

The Head Security Manager of System Articles, Roswell Kirk. Kirk was well into his forties, but he was built like a military man; in fact, he was. He served for quite some time in the Otherguards, in the American Alliance.

Kirk stood, and introduced himself through posture alone. He was disciplined, his steps cracking the chaotic air as though to hammer order from turmoil. No one from the group could doubt his competence; though, anyone who did was welcomed to try, and they too will be hammered. “You’re correct, Shen. Tell me: How should we escape? Through the streets?”

“We have a better chance jumping out the window and pray we grow wings,” Alexander bluntly said. Then he nodded, realizing his disrespect. “Sir.”

“I agree.” From his jacket, he pulled out a red keycard with a black stripe running widthwise an inch from the top. “Ahn.”

Leona startled, straightening when her name was called. “Y-Yes?”

“You looked at our shipment schedules one time. What do you know about our process?”

“Uhm, almost nothing, sir. What items we receive, they’re stored somewhere secured on these premises; all large deposits and withdrawals are brought by armored vans.”

Kirk nodded. “The plan involves spilling company secrets, but I’m willing to lose a few million. It seems to be a good price for my life.” He waved the keycard, beginning to pace. “Whenever we receive a shipment of items, it’s brought through an armored vehicle. It goes through various checkpoints, locked gates, armed guards, countless measures to ensure our payload. And that payload is brought into a tunnel, which leads to a deep underground vault built like a bank from a Hollywood movie.

“And I have the keycard to allow us access to that exact tunnel through the security stairs.” Kirk pointed to the elevators. “We could use the elevators, but I’d rather not trust them. I’ve seen too many disaster movies. You’re free to try on my behalf, but this keycard is going downstairs. Any questions?”

Damien raised his hand. “Where does the tunnel lead out?”

“A few blocks down from Black Paladin Station,” Kirk answered. “It seems to be our best chance of finding life. Friendly life.”

“Great!” exclaimed an F4 Pseudo-Slayer, Jerald—just a random guy—enthusiastic about the plan. “Why aren’t we going there now? Not to rush, but you know, chop chop.”

“There’s one other problem we haven’t solved,” Alexander said, staring at the ceiling. There was nothing of note, but beyond the ceiling, that was a different matter altogether.

Kirk nodded. “There are hundreds of people still here. Potentially. We need volunteers to drag them down. Since there’s ten Pseudos here, six and four will be a good split. Six going up, four going down. And Shen.”

“Yes, sir?“

“You’re one of the four,” Kirk told him. Alexander nodded; he didn’t have any issues with it.

“I’m coming with Alex too then,” Leona said.

Damien chuckled, scratching his neck. “And this is the part where you tell me to be one of the six, Alex.”

“Well…” Damien isn’t wrong; I mean, he’s completely right. “We can’t rely on our phones to communicate, especially with the Barrier up. It’ll be best if you lead the six, and using the private party chat you can relay information to me.”

“Will it be safe for us?” Damien asked. “If I’m doing this, then I need to know about the dangers. Not just for us, but the civilians too.”

“There’s no guarantee that the bastards haven’t touched the other floors, but there are bound to be survivors,” said Kirk. “I’ll give you precise instructions later; as far as you need to know, my team will clear the stairwell from floor twenty-five to the ground floor. We’ll search the floors if we think any survivors are there, but our main priority is allowing access to the security stairs.”

Managar Takanaka cleared her throat.

Kirk sighed. “You non-Pseudos will stay here, block the doors, and wait. Both Fayer’s team and mine have floors to clear; we can’t afford distractions.”

“Hmph, fine.”

“Alright. Let’s pick teams. Afterwards, you have five minutes to prepare and set your profiles.”

***

Alexander stared at his status screen, reading the various tutorial pages to remind himself of its basic mechanics.

The emergence of the Slayer System facilitated humanity’s defense against otherworldly forces and provided the foundation for a great technological evolution; in other words, without the System, there would be no humanity. However, unlike in the standard game, where its system dictated the way of the world, the System here was an omnipotent reactionary force, though many discussions were had on the “omnipotent” characteristic. Meaning, the Slayer System was influenced by the world rather than the reverse.

The System’s greatest contribution was the capacity to use magick—that was by technical definition: Any ability or capacity that defies the natural world. During the emergence process, the System formed an additional organ located near the heart: the Krait and the mana nervous system. In terms of phenomena, there were various forms, typically called magick systems: channeling, conjuring, ESP abilities, summoners, spiritualists, and the rest of them. Each system utilized mana differently and came with their own nuances.

Upon emergence—the start of one’s journey as a Slayer—your genetic disposition and experiences determined what skills were available upon use through the [Culmination] mechanic. From there, it was up to you to experiment and decide your course.

A hierarchy existed within the System demonstrated by one’s Slayer Rank: F, E, D, C, B, A, S, SS, SSS, and EX. In the entire world, only Kosmos had achieved Rank SSS, and even he stated it would take “at least one hundred years” for him to reach EX.

Each rank had ten levels from one to ten; the only exception was Rank A which went from one to twenty. If everyone had a numerical value, then Alexander would be sixteen (being E6). Thus: F6 was six, D6 was twenty-six, C6 was thirty-six, and onto A, A6 was fifty-six and A16 was sixty-six.

Ranks were calculated through the average of your four stats: Power, Constitution, Agility, and Magick. Power was physical strength, Constitution was endurance and durability (whatever term one used), Agility was just that, and Magick was the capability of phenomena. They were measured using the same nomenclature. Excluding buffs, Alexander averaged to sixteen, thus an E6 Slayer. Traditional video games allowed you to increase these stats through killing enemies or quest completions. This was not the case.

There was only one method to increase your stats: refining. Refining improved every category through repetitive practice and training. Increase your physical strength for Power, harden your body for Constitution, pace yourself for Agility, and use magic for Magick. It was easier said than done however.

At the later ranks, you often had to partake in alternate methods.

There were three "echelons" that developmental scientists considered: low-rankers, Rank F to D; middle-rankers, C to B; and high-rankers, A and above. The power difference between low-rankers were oftentimes negligible due to how (relatively) fast a low-ranker could grow—so an E-Rank and a D-Rank were comparable. However, once you were a middle-ranker, the playing field changed and the power difference became more notable. A single C-Rank could defeat multiple D's by themselves, and a B-Rank could do the same to C's. Then, if you ascend to a high-ranker, you entered the "cage" known as Rank A: difficult to enter, difficult to leave, but you were stronger than most of the Slayer population. Becoming an S-Rank, though, required an [Honor] in order to complete the [Rank Ascension Quest]. Everyone who had done so were permanently engraved in Slayer history.

The progression curve steepened after you left the low-ranks, where the distance between individual levels gradually increased. As a result, middle and high-rankers often used special refinement techniques from the cultivation magick system to drop barriers and push themselves in conjunction with regular training; though that was another conversation for another day.

Kosmos, as stated earlier, was the only Rank SSS Slayer. Currently, about one-hundred-fifty Slayers achieved Rank SS. Rank S had around five thousand and Rank A reached eighty thousand not too long ago and was quickly rising. There was an estimated fifty-fifty split of combat-focused and support-focused Slayers. Though, the division was not completely accurate since many participated in both roles anyway.

While these may sound high, hundreds of thousands were in the lower ranks. Everyone was not destined for greatness no matter how much they tried. Genetics had a key role to play in determining your success. That was your Growth Potential.

The System could predict your ceiling with some variation. While Alexander’s potential put him at D6 (below the median), he could reach high-D if he applied himself; however, experts agreed on this: the System was absolute when predicting your rank. If it said you would be a D at best, then you would be a D at best (save for cases when your potential was at the higher end). The Growth Potential was applied to each and individual stats as well, but like one’s Slayer Rank, that held some variation.

There was one hidden mechanic to this feature: a Second Emergence, where a Slayer will awaken to newfound potential after a high-stress event. Kosmos and Hunter (Korea’s No.1 Slayer) were two notable examples. Only a handful of Slayers benefited from this mechanic, and its activation differed case-by-case; always though, you were guaranteed to at least be an S-Rank Slayer.

Speaking of, Alexander remembered Leona’s Growth Potential: S8. She could be an SS-Rank Slayer; that was how special she was, but she had a promise to keep. Even Althea, she was somewhere in A. High-A, maybe. Damien was also an S, same with Vernon, albeit a low-S in his case.

Sheesh, here I am being born below average. I wonder what I did to piss off God?

He moved onto skills.

Skills were the heart and soul of the Slayer System, ranked based on some metrics that scientists were still arguing about to this day. Some said it was meant to be compared to other skills while others concluded that it acted as a skill's 'level', increasing as it developed. Again, nobody knew. For the skills themselves, they were active abilities to passives, ranging from things like telekinesis to something as simple as an empowered stab. Some skills could be used without restrictions, some were restricted to hell and back, so on and so forth. As there were a nigh-infinite amount of skills, there were an infinite amount of ways to earn one: practicing, learning, watching, reading skill books, rewards, even creating them. And ways to develop them further, as for example with Alexander’s [Iron Knuckles], it used to be [Stone Knuckles] a couple of years ago, and a few years before that, [Hardened Knuckles].

Not all skills were combat-based, where Alexander’s [The Wolf of Ordo Street] dealt with item trading or [Master Chef] which dealt with cooking. All fighters were Slayers, but not all Slayers were fighters.

Regardless of one’s Slayer Rank, everyone had five skill slots for active use. Many theorized this limit was intended to encourage specialization and force commitment, and thus innovation as Slayers had an incentive to master, not survey. You see this in all top-rankers, having carved a niche that they and only they occupied.

Those who really excel, they manage to combine functions of several magick systems and condense them into a single skill… Alexander thought about Mark, Vernon’s older brother, who was a great example of this.

Alexander continued reading. Titles were an additional flair to a Slayer’s arsenal. They always provided some sort of boost alongside a conditional enhancement.

Speaking of enhancements, the System prevented endless buff-stacking. It was limited at +10 per stat; in order words, one entire rank above your current level. Though only low-rankers had to worry about this. Buffs were adjusted for middle and high-rankers where they received lower increments (like +1 or +2 at most), but the effects were more pronounced.

[Honors] were a permanent skill earned through great effort; these were considered the highest accolade any Slayer could get, immortalizing them. The most notable example was Seraph, the No.2 Slayer in Ordo. Her [Honor] was the [Wings of Seraphim], gifting her a toggleable mutation in the form of six wings.

Alexander hummed to himself, feeling caught up. He glanced at Damien and the others. Kirk was briefing them on instructions while they did their profiles. Leona had rummaged through the office earlier, finding medical supplies, so she busied herself with organizing everything.

He decided to investigate her profile.

[Leona "Child of Hwaseong Heavens" Ahn] STATISTICS Power D3 (+2) Constitution F9 (+1) Agility D3 (+1) Magick F7 (+1) E5 (E6) Pseudo-Slayer CHILD OF HWASEONG HEAVENS [A] - TITLE

You are the sole child of the late Hwaseong Heavens. They have taught you the ways of the blade from the moment your hands could grasp.

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

When wielding a sword, add one of your existing Hwaseong Heavens Arte skills to your active list. This skill does not take up a skill slot.

SKILLS: 6/5 Hwaseong First Arte - Red Banner [B]

Declare your intentions with a mighty crash, and imitate the sound of hammers upon war-drums.

Sagely Educated [A]

You are gifted with an incredible, academic intellect, putting most of your peers to shame. Complicated matters take a fraction of a time to learn.

Swordsman Return [B] A swordsman without his sword is like a man without his heart. Whenever your weapon is separated for you, you may automatically recall it back to your Inventory. Incomplete Fleeting Blade [C]

A second passes, a breath is taken, and a life lost. The speed of your next strike is increased equivalent to a +5 in Agility.

This skill has a five minute cooldown.

Due to your inexperience with this skill, there is a chance of catastrophic failure.

The Durable Self [A]

As long as steel touches not the ground, shall you stand ever durable and victorious. Whenever you endure a mortal wound, you may counter with a killing blow.

This skill can only be used once per month.

Weak Point Targeting [C]

You have practiced the art of measuring your opponents. Select an enemy and their weak points will be exposed with a red glow for the duration of combat.

This skill has a 60 second cooldown.

HONOR: N/A

Huh. Alexander stared, intrigued. She’s at E5? Plus some decently-ranked skills. Well, she came out of the womb with a sword; it’s not surprising that she’s highly ranked for a civilian. Guess that’s something else we have in common: learning how to fight from a young age.

He looked closer at her statistics. “Wait, why does she have a plus-one in everything?” Then, he remembered, hitting himself on the head. It was him. He did it.

[Skill]

Better Together [C]

Humanity was never meant to walk alone—that is what you believe. Together, the accumulation of all actions will reach the heavens. If you are in a party, increase all stats of your party members, including yourself, by 1.

Alexander replaced [Taunt] with [Better Together] earlier now that he had a party.

“Alex?” suddenly said Leona, and he quickly dismissed her profile page. She was a little red in the cheeks. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Uh.” He opened his [Inventory]. “I was looking at your profile.”

“Stalking me?” she teased.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Come here.”

Alexander took out the [Protector’s Shortsword] he obtained from Five Minutes. It provided virtually nothing other than being a sword, having the apt description of: You can never go wrong with steel as simple as this! Rank E too. Wasn’t the best, but a sword was a sword. “This. You needed a sword, right? I got it from a quest protecting you and Damien.”

He lent her the sword and she measured it, taking note of its weight, its muster and edge, seeing how it swung. It was like a hundred details were scanned at once—an enviable skill. She looked unsatisfied, reluctant. “I can’t, Alex. You need it more than I do. Do you even have a weapon?”

“Pretty much the same as yours. Look.” From the same [Inventory], he took out a second sword: the [Hobgoblin Steel].

It was not the same as hers (or soon-to-be hers). It was chipped in a few places, absolutely ugly, the leather-bindings on the hilt were peeling off, and it stank. Leona winced at the sight, turning away. “You’re calling this a sword?”

“No, it’s a long sharp metal thing—yes, this is my sword.”

“You should keep the Protector’s, Alex—”

“You need a good sword, don’t you? I’ll take this crappy one and switch out when I get a chance, alright?”

“Alex—”

“No arguing—!”

Eventually, he convinced her.

[Skill]

Hwaseong First Arte - Red Banner [B]

Declare your intentions with a mighty crash, and imitate the sound of hammers upon war-drums.

I don’t understand a single thing but I’m guessing that’s good.

Kirk clapped his hands, signaling the end of the preparation. “We’re moving out, people! Damien’s team, you know your duties. My team, you know yours. As we planned, my team will hold the bottom stairwell for Damien’s.”

Kirk looked at Alexander in particular.

Alexander was ready, nudging Leona if she was the same. “Ready, Leo?”

Leona was pouting to herself, holding her new sword. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Still grumpy, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Mhm. You’re staying behind me, Alex.” She gestured towards her obviously superior weapon.

“Alright alright.”

~

[PARTY NOTES]

Objectives:

me and leo: clear floor 25 and down with kirk and allow for a safe escort

damien: clear 25 to 44 with your team and be ready for us

dont die you two we need to find thea after this

maybe vernon too but im still deciding

last edited by Alexander Shen

In the [Party Chat]...

Damien:

You’re missing a lot of information Alex

Alexander:

i had a limited amount of time

Damien:

Enough time to reply to me?

Alexander:

wanna switch teams? its a funhouse here

Damien:

There’s a lot of yelling in mine

Leona:

Boys, we have a mission

Damien:

Yes ma’am

Alexander:

yes ma’am