"Status."
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Name: Jagger Ashton
Race: Human
Class: Splintered One
Rank: Newborn
Title: None
Level: 3
HP (%): 100
MP (%): 100
Corruption (%): 30
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[Stats]
STRENGTH: 10 (+2)
AGILITY: 10 (+2)
STAMINA: 10 (+2)
DEXTERITY: 10 (+2)
INTELLIGENCE: 10 (+2)
(Stat distribution points: 15)
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[Skills]
[Passive]
[Regeneration: (Passive)] Grants accelerated regeneration of the body.
Warning: Pain feedback increases depending on the severity of wounds.
[Pain resistance (Passive)] [LVL: 2] Increases resistance to all sources of pain by 15%.
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[Active Skills]
Corrupted Surge: Level 1 [Temporarily amplifies physical parameters by 100% using corrupted essence.] [Cooldown: 30 minutes]
Warning: Overuse increases corruption percentage and the risk of complete host body takeover.
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[Corruption]
The state of being tainted by the entity Ophilia. This percentage represents the level of her influence and control over the host.
At certain thresholds, the entity may exert more influence or attempt to seize control.
---
Steam filled the bathroom, clinging to the ceiling and fogging the mirror until the world felt distant and muffled. Jagger remained seated beneath the shower spray, shoulders hunched, water beating steadily against his skin as the translucent screen hovered before him. The blue glow bled at the edges where steam touched it, but his eyes were locked onto a single line.
Corruption (%): 30
He stared at it for a long moment, chest rising and falling slowly. The hiss of water swallowed the sound as he finally exhaled, tension leaking from his lungs in a controlled breath.
"It's a double-edged sword," he muttered, voice low and rough. "The more corrupted I get, the stronger I become. And the easier it is for you take over."
The thought barely left him before she answered.
Ophilia's presence slid through his mind like silk over steel, smooth and intimate, carrying no heat and no mercy. 'Corruption is merely a measure of our symbiosis.'
His lips twisted into a humorless scoff. He shook his head once, droplets scattering from his hair as faint pink water spiraled toward the drain. "Symbiosis?" he echoed. "That's the last word I'd use for this."
'Call it what you wish,' she replied, unbothered. 'A deal. A pact. A curse. Words are meaningless. Results are what matter.'
He reached up and flicked the screen aside with a sharp motion of his hand. The interface dissolved instantly, leaving only steam, tile, and the steady roar of falling water. "And what results are those, exactly?" he asked. "So far, all you've done is try to break me, told me to give up all while trying to take over my body for your own personal use."
There was no hesitation in her answer.
'Because you were weak.'
The word carried weight, sharp and unyielding. 'Your body was shattered. Your will was unraveling. You were seconds from death. I merely showed you another path, in which you could take the backseat."
Jagger leaned back until his shoulders pressed against the tiled wall, heat soaking into his spine. He stared up at the ceiling, jaw tight. "You weren't offering just a backseat," he said quietly. "You were offering me a cage."
'I was offering you a throne within that cage,' she countered.
A humorless breath left him. "Figures," he said. "I don't know why I expected honesty from a demonic entity trapped inside my body... or head. Argh, I don't even know..." Jagger said, scratching his head.
Her amusement brushed against him.
'Oh? The toy has grown a spine.'
He relaxed. Instead, he focused on the sensation of the water, the heat loosening muscles that had been clenched since the street, since the blood, since the screaming. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was something close to calm.
It shattered instantly. Her next thought landed, casual and cold.
'I could take over right now and kill all of them before you had a chance to regain control.'
The words landed like ice in his gut.
Jagger straightened sharply, breath hitching. The ease with which she said it was worse than the threat itself. He reached out and twisted the knob, lowering the temperature until the water turned lukewarm, grounding himself in the shock.
"I have a question," he said aloud, voice steadying as the spray hit his chest. "When the system sealed you, you called yourself the Eclipsed Saint. What does that mean?"
Silence followed.
Only water filled the space between them. Seconds stretched. His pulse slowed just enough for doubt to creep in until her voice returned, stripped of its earlier amusement.
'Some things are not for a toy to know. Be content with the power I grant you. Do not pry into matters beyond your comprehension.'
The warning was unmistakable.
The water continued to pour over him, steady and relentless, the sound filling the small bathroom until it drowned out everything else. Jagger rested his forehead briefly against the cool tile, eyes half-lidded as his breathing evened out.
"You know," he said at last, tone casual, almost thoughtful, "for something that's supposed to be… efficient, regeneration sure isn't gentle."
There was no immediate reply.
He straightened slightly, fingers trailing idly along his ribs where pain had once been unbearable. "Every time it kicks in, it feels like my body's being punished for surviving," he continued. "Bones grinding. Nerves screaming. Like the system wants me to remember what it costs."
The pause stretched longer this time.
"And you," he added quietly, not looking at anything in particular, "you called yourself a Saint once. The Eclipsed Saint." His eyes opened, sharp now, reflecting faintly in the fogged mirror. "A saint with a demonic form?"
Steam curled thickly around him as he tilted his head back, letting the water run down his face. "So I started wondering," he said, voice low and measured, "whether the pain is really a system limitation… or if it's something you're carrying with you."
Still nothing.
He didn't push. He let the silence sit, let the thought settle.
"Maybe the pain isn't just feedback. Maybe it's a curse," he said at last. "A reminder of eternal life and eternal agony."
The answer was immediate.
His left arm slammed into the wall.
Tiles cracked under the impact, ceramic fracturing outward in sharp lines as pain flared violently up his arm. The movement hadn't been his. He gasped, teeth clenching as his right hand shot out and locked around his left wrist, muscles straining as he forced it down through sheer will.
'You test my patience,' Ophilia's presence snarled in his mind, hot and sharp like freshly drawn steel. 'You speak of curses while you stand healed, whole, because of me. You accuse me of weakness while you wear my strength like a second skin.'
His arm trembled, fighting against him. He gritted his teeth, "I... I apologize," he said through ragged breaths. "You're right. I was out of line."
The pressure in his mind eased incrementally.
The pressure eased.
He pushed himself to his feet, the momentary calm replaced by focus. He washed quickly, methodically, and efficiently, scrubbing away blood, sweat, and ash until the water at his feet finally ran clear. When he stepped out, the towel felt rough against his skin but grounding. He wrapped it around his waist and stood before the mirror once more.
The face staring back was still his.
But not entirely.
His eyes held a faint crimson glint, subtle but undeniable. Stronger. Sharper.
"Your past is yours," he said softly, mostly to himself. "We should focus on the present."
Ophilia scoffed.
'Let's do that. Let's talk about the fact that you are actively avoiding looking down. I hear every thought you think. Every emotion you suppress. There is no privacy between us. I am you, and you are me.'
Heat rushed to his face instantly.
"Pfft... What?" he sputtered, color blooming across his cheeks as he turned away from the mirror. "That's not... I don't know what you're talking about."