The prehistoric wing stretched out before me, an eerie labyrinth of towering skeletons and shadowy corners. Dim emergency lights cast jagged silhouettes on the walls, making the hulking forms of ancient predators seem alive. The air carried a mix of dust and the faint metallic tang of blood—a scent I’d grown far too familiar with.
“You know,” Andrews started, his voice breaking the silence. “If a T-Rex starts moving, I’m not sticking around to find out if it’s friendly.”
I didn’t respond, focusing instead on the faint sounds ahead—muffled cries, scuffling footsteps. Andrews’ drone flitted silently into the shadows.
“Got eyes,” Andrews muttered, as the drone zoomed in, revealing a man clutching a spear, standing over another man who was bloodied and barely holding himself up. A woman and a child cowered behind the father, pressed against a shattered display.
“There’s four of them,” Andrews continued, his tone more serious now. “Spear guy’s the leader. The others are carrying clubs and… is that a shard of glass?”
I nodded, taking it in.
“They’re going to kill him,” Andrews said quietly.
“Not if we move fast.” The adrenaline in me begin to rise and I focused on the the war beat of my heart like a cadence. I exhaled slowly, letting the cadence settle into my limbs—steady, deliberate, controlled.
“Time to show me what you can do with this drone.”, “You said you could patch the feed into my hud?” I asked
My HUD instantly crackled to life, and a clear, real-time overlay of the drone’s feed appeared in the corner of my vision. It was like stepping into another layer of the world—markers lighting up over each of the attackers, their movements highlighted in faint red outlines. The man with the spear stood out, a bolder marker indicating his role as the leader.
“Feed’s patched,” Andrews confirmed, his voice steady but low. “I’ve got overwatch.”
I scanned the display, committing the positions to memory. The father was on his last legs—shoulders hunched, arms trembling as he shielded his family. The mother clutched the child tightly, her eyes darting between the attackers and me.
“Four hostiles. Spear guy’s fast,” Andrews said, tone clipped and professional. “Looks like he’s got some kind of movement buff—he’s gonna close the gap quick.”
Let’s see what this legendary ability can really do, I thought, activating Operative’s Aim.
The world shifted instantly. Time seemed to drag, every movement slowing to a crawl. Andrews and the others moved like ghosts caught in a viscous haze, their actions reduced to a fraction of their normal speed.
Then, my vision erupted into a stunning kaleidoscope of glowing blue lines, each trajectory precise and deliberate. They curved and arced through the air, converging on vulnerable points of the man holding the spear: the back of his head, his knee, his throat, his chest. Each line was a possibility, and carried with it the promise of an outcome—it was a verdict waiting to be delivered.
The power didn’t just show me his vulnerabilities. It was mapping his death.
I fired.
The drone buzzed above, its lens tracking Archibald’s every move.
Andrews swiped his tablet, locking the angle, and leaned closer, his voice low but charged with energy.
“Alright,” he muttered, slipping into his best streamer tone. “Welcome to the first episode of ‘Live From the Edge with Michael.’
Shit, is this thing working?”
The audio feed crackled faintly, and he winced.
“Mic check.”
“Mic check…”
Ok.. there we go.
Right, so… welcome again!
Title’s still in beta, but we’re rolling with it.
Starring today: Archibald Walker—crisis operative extraordinaire—doing what he does best.”
let’s focus on the carnage.”
The drone buzzed low, catching my face in frame as my first shot rang out, and Andrews instinctively leaned in, narrating the action.
My Glock rose in a smooth arc, the motion so deliberate it was almost slow, and then—
Crack Crack Crack. My Glock barked three times in quick succession sharp and deliberate.
The spear-wielding guy didn’t even have a chance to flinch. The first round punched clean through his chest, blood spraying the Triceratops display behind him. The second clipped his throat, and the third curved—actually curved—slamming into the back of his skull with a wet crunch. He dropped like a sack of bricks, twitching as blood frothed from his throat. Still breathing. Barely. But not for long.
“Holy shit!” Andrews hissed, adjusting the drone for a better angle. “Did you see that? That last shot curved like a damn heat-seeker, He leaned closer to the screen, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. “Three shots, three hits. Center mass, throat, head.
Seriously, is Archie even real chat?”
The feed zoomed in on Archibald, his expression unreadable. Calm, deliberate.
My Glock barked again. A woman with a stone axe screamed as my first shot shattered her shoulder, her stone axe slipped from her fingers, her shoulder exploding in a spray of red. She spun like a broken marionette, slamming sideways into the remains of a shattered display case.
I tilted my head, my eyes narrowing like a hawk tracking prey. The second shot followed before the axe even hit the floor. The bullet ricocheted off the corner of a steel frame with a shrill ping, curving impossibly to catch her in the ribs. She staggered, choking on her own breath, but I wasn’t done.
The third shot was immediate, the muzzle flashing once more. It struck her thigh dead-on, dropping her like a puppet with its strings cut. Blood spread fast beneath her as she writhed, one hand groping weakly toward the axe now lying just out of reach. The groaning started soon after, wet and labored.
Andrews exhaled sharply, leaning back. “Chat… I know you’re hyped, but Jesus. That’s a lot of blood. And he’s not even hesitating.”
I didn’t flinch. Moving like clockwork, my footsteps deliberate as I stepped over glass and blood. I pivoted sharply, sighting another shadow just beyond the collapsed mannequin of a woolly mammoth.
This time, I didn’t aim directly. My wrist twisted slightly, and I fired into the remains of the downed mammoth. The shot ricocheted, curving at a perfect angle to strike something unseen.
The bullet struck a wiry guy with a pipe that had been hiding near the exhibit. the bullet slammed into his ribs, driving the air from his lungs with a guttural wheeze.
He staggered into view, his weapon clanging to the floor as he clutched his side.
I followed the momentum. Glock barking twice more. The second shot struck the man’s knee, sending him sprawling to the ground with a scream. The third buried itself in his hand as he reached for his fallen pipe, the impact tearing through flesh and splintering bone.
Behind him, I caught movement—quick and desperate. The woman had seized her moment. Cradling her child with one arm, she half-dragged the wounded man out of the wing. They didn’t look back.
“That’s three down,” I thought.
The tank-sized man, who’d been lingering at the edge of the chaos, let out a guttural laugh. His broad shoulders shifted as he turned. His heavy club, with jagged, rusty nails sticking out, dragged behind him, nails scraping audibly across the floor.
“What’s the matter, soldier boy?” the tank bellowed, His voice was deep, resonating through the prehistoric wing with a mix of confidence and menace. “You think you’re some kind of hero?”
“That little pop gun isn’t gonna stop me!”
Without warning, the tank turned on his fallen comrades. His club came down with a sickening crunch on the stone axe woman’s chest, silencing her wet groans instantly. Blood spattered across his boots as he lifted the club again, bringing it down hard on the man with the pipe. “Thanks for the boost,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery.
The glow came next—a bright, golden light radiating from the tank’s body, illuminating the room in an almost ethereal haze.
“Chat, are you seeing this?” Andrews whispered, his voice equal parts awe and horror. “He’s leveling up. He’s killing his own team and stealing their XP.”
...
As the drone hummed away, I adjusted my stance, my Glock still trained on the glowing man that had to be part giant. I watched as the golden glow enveloped him, the light twisting around his massive frame like a predator savoring its kill.
The System wasn’t subtle about its rewards.
The tank rolled his shoulders, the glow fading to reveal a man somehow larger than before, his veins bulging under taut skin. His grin stretched wide as he stomped toward me, dragging his bloodied club like it was just another Tuesday.
“Thanks again, I needed that” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Now I’m ready to level up again.”
For a second, I just stood there. Glock in hand, eyes locked on his, and my mind processing what I’d just witnessed.
The System's rules were playing out in brutal clarity. Kill your own for XP.
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No loyalty.
No humanity.
I couldn’t afford to dwell on it now. The fight wasn’t over.
I tightened the grip on my Glock, exhaling slowly. The cadence of my heart matched the beat of my breath—steady and deliberate. Measured intervals, the cadence calm.
He wasn’t the first overconfident bastard I’d faced, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.
“You’re welcome.” I replied flatly. “You’re a real piece of work, but you just made one big mistake.”
He stopped, tilting his head like a predator sizing up its prey. “Oh? What’s that?”
“You should’ve leveled up your brain instead.”
I fired three rounds into the tank’s broad chest, each shot landing clean and precise, but the rounds flattened uselessly against the dense muscle.
The impacts barely slowed him. Some type of regeneration kicking in, and sealing the wounds almost as fast as they were made.
The tank let out a guttural roar, his massive frame lunging forward. The nails on his club gleamed under the dim light as he swung in a brutal, horizontal arc.
I ducked low, the rush of displaced air grazing the top of my head as it narrowly missed.
“Fast for a big guy.” I muttered, pivoting to his left and firing three quick shots aimed at his exposed knee.
The first shot struck with a dull thud, the impact absorbed by his thick flesh. The second nicked bone, staggering him briefly. The third found its mark—a weak spot just above the joint. I was ready to drop the mag and reload when it happened. The System flashed in my HUD:
Critical Hit Achieved – Tactical Reload Activated.
The Glock hummed in my hand, a faint vibration that pulsed once.
In the fraction of a second it took me to blink, the magazine filled itself, each round sliding into place with the precision of a well-oiled machine. The chambered round clicked audibly, a subtle confirmation that the weapon was ready before I even had time to think.
It wasn’t something I could have done myself, no matter how fast I moved. This wasn’t training. It wasn’t human. The System had reloaded for me.
The boost hit immediately after— my movements snapping into hyper-focus. My body surged forward faster than my mind could process, I sidestepped the tank’s next swing. His club smashing into the ground where I’d just been standing. Shards of tile erupted around him as I pivoted, the Glock already raised.
Three more shots—at his knee again. The first hit true, forcing him to shift his weight. The second followed instantly, hammering the joint again. The third? Perfect. The sound of tearing cartilage and cracking bone filled the air as the leg buckled, sending him crashing to one knee.
Notification: Target Staggered – Weak Point Exposed.
The tank’s hulking frame pitched forward, his balance thrown as his injured knee gave out. For a moment, he seemed almost vulnerable—a predator caught mid-collapse.
I didn’t hesitate.
Using the momentum from the boost, I closed the distance, sidestepping another desperate swing of his club. The weapon smashed into the remains of a fossilized raptor, shattering it into a spray of brittle bones and dust. His roar of frustration followed me as I shifted to his blind side.
I fired again, this time targeting is exposed back. The bullets slammed home, their impacts precise. His regeneration was working overtime now, the torn flesh trying to knit itself back together even as I kept firing.
The System wasn’t subtle about showing me the opportunities I could exploit, but his durability was infuriating.
His pained roar rattled through the prehistoric wing, but I wasn’t done. Operative’s Aim came off cooldown, and I activated it again. The kaleidoscope of glowing blue lines blooming across my vision like a deadly blueprint, every trajectory, every ricochet, every vulnerable point was laid bare.
I adjusted my aim. The Glock barked twice more, the bullets ricocheting off a steel support beam and arcing into his upper back. The shots landed with satisfying thuds, piercing through muscle and striking critical nerve clusters. He let out a bellow of pain, his massive body twisting violently in response.
But it wasn’t enough to stop him.
The tank turned, his regeneration still fighting to undo the damage as blood soaked through his shirt in heavy streams. His eyes locked on me, blazing with fury. "Is that all you’ve got?" he growled, the sound deep and guttural, like a challenge issued from the depths of hell.
He lunged again, faster than I expected, forcing me to dive into the shattered remains of a display. My heart pounded as I rolled to my feet, glass slicing into my palms. I didn’t have time to think about the pain—he was already closing the gap, his massive frame barreling toward me like a freight train.
The tank’s charge was relentless, his sheer size and speed forcing me to act fast. My boots scraped against the shattered floor as I pushed off, narrowly avoiding the hulking brute. His club came crashing down where I’d been a heartbeat earlier, splintering the remains of the display into jagged shards.
I skidded to a stop behind the shattered remains of a fossilized Stegosaurus, using it as temporary cover. My breathing was steady despite the adrenaline flooding my system, my Glock raised and ready. He turned to face me, his grin stretching wider, blood dripping from his split lip and the fresh wounds dotting his body.
"Running already, soldier boy?" His voice echoed across the wing, mocking and thunderous. "You’re just dragging this out. I’ll break you eventually."
I ignored him, calculating my next move. Operative’s Aim still overlaid glowing trajectories across my vision, lighting up weak points like neon bullseyes. His knees were regenerating faster than I could wear them down, but His regeneration was draining him, and I needed to capitalize on it.
He roared, gripping his club with both hands and charging again. His massive form bulldozed through the Stegosaurus remains, bone fragments scattering like debris from an explosion. I waited until the last possible second, then sidestepped, pivoting smoothly on my heel. I fired again, aiming for the faint glow radiating from his chest. The first round hit, a sharp thud against his flesh. The second shot struck true, the impact staggering him slightly as the System flared with another notification:
Critical Hit Achieved – Tactical Reload Activated. I darted around him, keeping just out of reach of his desperate swings. Each time his club slammed into the ground, the force sent tremors through the floor, but I was already repositioning. My shots rained down with surgical precision, hammering his weak points as I aimed for tendons, nerves, and the faint golden glow that marked his core.
"You’re just making me stronger!" he bellowed, staggering but refusing to fall. His chest heaved with labored breaths, and for the first time, doubt flickered in his eyes.
"Strong doesn’t mean invincible," I replied coldly, stepping in closer.
The final shot cracked through the air, a perfectly aimed round that curved mid-flight to strike the base of his skull. The tank’s eyes widened in shock, his body locking up as the momentum carried him forward. He collapsed face-first onto the floor with a thunderous crash, the club slipping from his grasp and skidding across the debris-littered floor.
The System chimed again, its notification stark and clear in my HUD:
You have killed an enemy combatant– XP Earned.
I exhaled slowly, lowering my Glock as the tension in my shoulders began to ease. Around me, the prehistoric wing was silent, save for the faint hum of Andrews’ drone overhead.
"You good, Andrews?" I called out, my voice steady despite the pounding in my chest. The silence that followed wasn’t reassuring.
The drone buzzed low, its camera lens swiveling to lock onto me as I scanned the area. I waved at it sharply, motioning for Andrews to come out now that the fight was over. "Andrews!" I called, my voice cutting through the eerie silence.
No answer. The drone hovered, its automated system tracking me with mechanical precision, but it didn’t react to my gesture.
My gut tightened. "Andrews," I barked again, louder this time, my voice bouncing off the prehistoric displays. Nothing. Just the faint hum of the drone and the distant sound of glass crunching under my boots.
I turned toward the drone, pointing directly at it. "If you’re hiding and trying to pull some dramatic reveal for your stream, this isn’t the time, man." Still no response.
Dread began to creep in. Andrews wasn’t the type to stay quiet—especially not after what we’d just faced. My eyes swept the room, searching the shadows, until I caught sight of a toppled T-Rex skull, where muffled sounds were coming from.
I moved quickly, my boots crunching over shattered glass and fractured bones as I closed the distance to the toppled T-Rex skull. The massive fossil loomed like a grotesque sentinel, its jagged teeth gleaming under the dim emergency lights.
“Andrews?” I called, my voice more urgent now. I rounded the edge of the skull, Glock still in hand, ready for anything.
What I saw hit me like a punch to the gut.
Andrews lay pinned beneath the colossal skull, one of the T-Rex’s serrated teeth driven clean through his thigh, anchoring him to the floor. His face was pale, sweat matting his hair to his forehead, but when his eyes met mine, he managed a weak, crooked grin. “Remember what I said about the T-Rex?”
“Turns out the T-Rex did come to life,” he rasped, his voice tinged with pain. “And it’s got one hell of a bite.”
I crouched beside him, eyeing the T-Rex tooth lodged firmly through his leg. The out of combat healing was already working, but he still looked pale and thoroughly miserable.
"Let me guess," I started dryly, grabbing a piece of broken display rod to use as leverage. "You thought hiding under a dinosaur skull was a great idea?"
Andrews groaned, shifting uncomfortably. "Oh sure, blame me. You’re the one ricocheting bullets like a damn action movie star. Next time, maybe aim at the guy and not the prehistoric décor? Some of us are sitting targets down here."
I snorted, wedging the rod under the skull’s edge and testing the weight. "Yeah, because your bright idea of crouching under two tons of ancient bone was foolproof."
"Hey," he shot back, grimacing as the tooth shifted slightly. "I didn’t think the T-Rex would try to eat me posthumously.
Snorting back another laugh and, pushing harder on the makeshift lever. The skull groaned as it lifted a fraction of an inch, enough to give Andrews some breathing room. "Hold still," I said. "Unless you want to add another hole to your leg."
Andrews grumbled but complied, his eyes darting to the drone hovering dutifully nearby. "For the record," he added through gritted teeth, "this is absolutely making the highlight reel. Title: ‘Walker’s Aim Brings Down More Than Enemies.’"
"Catchy," I said, deadpan, before giving the lever one final push. The skull shifted just enough to let Andrews pull his leg free. He winced as he sat up, prodding the wound gingerly.
I smirked, offering him a hand. Maybe next time, don’t hide under the world’s most unstable exhibit. Deal?"
The tension in the prehistoric wing eased as the silence settled over the shattered displays and broken bones. My smirk lingered as I watched Andrews gingerly test his weight on his injured leg, his face twisted in both pain and defiance.
"Deal," he muttered begrudgingly, brushing dust from his jacket as he grabbed my outstretched hand. "But you’re buying the drinks after this. Combat hazard pay, or whatever we’re calling it."
I pulled him to his feet, his weight briefly unsteady as he adjusted to the System’s slow but steady healing. Andrews gestured to the massive T-Rex skull looming behind us, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the pain.
I turned back to survey the wreckage. Blood and dust mingled on the cracked tiles, and the dim emergency lighting cast long shadows across the chaotic scene. The System’s notifications still lingered faintly in my HUD, but my focus had shifted. The fight was over—for now.
"Come on," I said, gesturing toward a set of benches by the exit. "We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, and I don’t think this place has seen the last of its monsters, but we should be safe enough for now"
Andrews hobbled beside me, the faint hum of the drone trailing us like an ever-watchful companion. "unless someone here's a necromancer?" he quipped, his tone dry but laced with a flicker of humor.
I didn’t answer immediately, my thoughts already turning to what lay ahead. The System was ruthless, its mechanics brutal, and its stakes higher than I’d ever anticipated. But as I glanced at Andrews—his defiance and wit still intact despite the ordeal—I felt the faintest spark of resolve.
I needed to get stronger. No, I would get stronger. This felt like the first day of basic training all over again—daunting, relentless, but not insurmountable. I’d survived that. I’d survived far worse since. This was just another hurdle, another day to grit my teeth and push through. But I couldn’t ignore the reality staring me down: if this was only the beginning, I had to adapt fast.
“Let’s deal with these notifications while your leg finishes healing,” I said, breaking the silence. My voice was calm, but my mind was already running scenarios. “Looks like you’re bouncing back pretty quick.”
Andrews grunted, shifting his weight. “Perks of being out of the fight, I guess. What’s the plan?”
“Send the drone ahead to scout. We still don’t know where that earlier gunfire came from. Stay sharp—we can’t afford to get caught off guard.”
With a faint whir, the drone zipped down the corridor, its lights casting shifting beams on the walls as it disappeared into the shadows. I turned my attention inward to the growing stack of notifications that had been blinking persistently in the corner of my HUD. Each one felt like a testament to the carnage I’d just survived, a reminder of how the System measured growth; through blood and struggle.
System Notification:Unopened Notifications (7):
Level Up Achieved!
Attribute Allocation Pending.
Skills enhanced because of usage.
No time like the present, I thought. But instead of diving straight into the glowing alerts, curiosity nudged me in another direction. For the first time since entering this twisted game, I decided to take a real look at my profile. The notifications could wait a little longer. First, I needed to see what the System thought of me.
