SECOND ILLEGAL REND
The second illegal rend was nothing like the first.
The first had been desperation—people scrambling, shouting, overreacting to every shadow. This one was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that suggested experience… or a trap.
Brock joined the squad at dawn.
Six people this time. Three Awakeners. Two carriers. One guide who claimed he "knew the terrain." Brock didn't believe him, but he needed the credits.
The rend had opened inside what used to be a commercial storage district. Long rows of warehouses stretched into the fog, their metal shutters warped and rusted. The air felt heavier the moment they crossed the threshold—as if gravity itself had thickened.
Brock's Combat Sense reacted immediately.
Not with alarm.
With discomfort.
Something was wrong with this rend.
INITIAL CONTACT
The first zombies appeared between the warehouses, staggering out from behind stacked containers. Weak types. Civilian corpses. Slow.
The squad moved efficiently.
Too efficiently.
They let Brock take point—not intentionally, but by habit. Porters were expendable.
The first kill was his.
A crowbar through the temple.
[XP +10]
The second came seconds later—a zombie lunging from a blind corner, arms flailing. Brock ducked under the grab and drove his weapon upward.
[XP +10]
He didn't smile.
He didn't relax.
The pressure in his head didn't ease. It worsened.
THE REND SHIFTS
By the time they cleared the outer warehouses, Brock had killed five weak zombies.
[XP gained so far: 50]
[Level 1 ( sub-level 5): (220/320)]
That should have been it.
But the rend didn't collapse.
Instead, the environment changed.
The fog thickened. Sound warped. One of the warehouses twitched—metal walls flexing inward as if breathing.
"Mutated zone," one Awakener muttered. "We didn't sign up for this."
That's when it happened.
A scream—high-pitched, inhuman—cut through the air.
Something burst through a warehouse wall.
Not a weak zombie.
Not fully evolved.
A Rend-Stalker.
THE MUTANT ENGAGEMENT
The creature moved wrong.
Its limbs were elongated, joints bending backward. Its head lolled to one side, mouth split far too wide. It didn't rush—it stalked, circling, learning.
Brock's Combat Sense screamed.
Not run.
Survive.
The squad panicked.
One Awakener attacked too early and was thrown aside, ribs cracking against concrete. Another tried to flank and nearly lost his arm.
Brock didn't engage.
He couldn't.
He knew—instinctively—that he wouldn't land the killing blow.
And the system would reward nothing.
Still, he acted.
He lured the creature.
Threw debris.
Led it toward unstable ground near a collapsed loading ramp.
When the Rend-Stalker lunged, the weakened concrete gave way.
The mutant fell.
Crushed.
Dead.
Silence followed.
No system response.
No XP.
Brock's hands trembled.
He had helped kill something far stronger than himself—and gained nothing for it.
That was when he understood.
The system didn't care about effort.
Only finality.
CLEANUP AND EXIT
The rend began destabilizing after the mutant's death. Weak zombies surged from hidden corners—drawn by noise, confusion, blood.
This time, Brock didn't hesitate.
He killed three more weak zombies, fast and clean.
[XP +10]
[XP +10]
[XP +10]
Then the squad fled.
They didn't even look back.
[XP: (250/320)]
..............
The Third Illegal Rend
Brock had learned something crucial over his first two illegal runs: fear didn't kill you. Hesitation did.
This third run promised neither safety nor recognition. Only the raw gamble of life and death.
The entrance to the rend yawned beneath a collapsed drainage complex. Rusted rebar jutted like jagged teeth, and the narrow corridor barely allowed one person at a time. No official markings. No stabilization. No hub presence. Illegal in every sense.
The squad consisted of five people: two Awakeners, two non-awakened carriers, and Brock himself. No one acknowledged him beyond a glance; that was perfect. He didn't want attention.
Entering the Rend
The moment Brock stepped inside, the world shifted.
The air thickened. Sound dulled at the edges. The faint pressure at the back of his skull—an instinctual signal from Combat Sense—warned him of incoming danger.
Weak zombies emerged first. Bloated, waterlogged, some missing limbs. Their motions were jerky but relentless.
The squad surged forward. Brock stayed behind at first, quietly assessing. Then, when one of the carriers slipped on wet concrete, a zombie lunged for him.
Brock reacted instinctively. He twisted, avoiding the grasp, and drove his spear through its temple. The corpse collapsed.
[XP +10]
The system's satisfaction was subtle, but the alignment of his instincts felt sharper.
Combat Escalates
The tunnel widened into a junction chamber. Four channels branched out like veins. From two of them, zombies emerged in waves. Slow at first, then faster as more shuffled into the chamber.
Brock's Combat Sense guided his strikes.
A blow to a temple.
A kick to knock one off balance, then a stab through the chest.
A precise swing that shattered the skull of another.
[XP +10]
[XP +10]
[XP +10]
[XP +10]
He barely noticed the heat in his arms, the sweat dripping into his eyes.
Five more came at once. Brock dodged, twisted, and dispatched them one by one, strikes landing exactly on their weak points, each kill as clean as the last.
[XP +50] (5 weak zombies)
By the end of the first wave, he had killed nine weak zombies directly.
Total XP gained this rend: 90
The Rend Shifts
Brock's senses tightened. Something deeper moved in the shadows—unfinished, grotesque. The concrete trembled under some unseen force.
The Awakeners whispered, tense.
"Mutant," one muttered.
The squad retreated instinctively. Brock didn't argue. Survival was priority.
Another wave of weak zombies surged from hidden corners. Brock didn't hesitate. He cut through three more, each kill perfectly timed and placed.
[XP +30]
The squad finally exited the tunnel, soaked, bruised, and shaking. They hadn't lost anyone this time—but the air was heavy with near-death.
XP and Level Update
Starting XP: 250 / 320
XP gained this run: 120 (9 + 3 weak zombies)
[Total XP: 370 / 320]
[Automatic level-up triggered:]
[Level 6 achieved]
[XP : 50 / 640]
No dramatic surge. No world noticing. Only quiet, steady growth.
After this rend Brock decide to take a break and count his gains for the two months labour and the recent rends.
Two months ago, he had lived inside a dim, crumbling warehouse assigned by the hub as a Tier 1 mission. His task was simple: sort and organize supplies. Nothing flashy. Nothing heroic. Just work, day after day, counting boxes and stacking crates.
Every day, he earned 1 credit. Every third day, the hub quietly added 1 reputation point to his record.
Two months = 60 days
Credits earned from Tier 1 missions: 60 × 1 = 60 credits
Reputation gained: 60 ÷ 3 = 20 rep
It was slow. Painfully slow. He calculated that to reach Bronze rank, he would need 100 reputation—meaning almost five more months of grinding at this pace.
Spending the Earnings
He wasn't stingy. He had to survive.
Food and water cost roughly 0.5 credits per day: 60 × 0.5 = 30 credits
Room rent (shared warehouse space) roughly 0.2 credits per day: 60 × 0.2 = 12 credits
Total spent: 42 credits
Remaining credits: 60 − 42 = 18 credits
It wasn't much, but it kept him alive. He also saved small amounts for repairs to his makeshift weapons, but nothing extravagant—he had to ration.
After two months of toil, the chance finally came. A wanderer squad needed a porter for an illegal rend. They promised 200 credits for the job, no hub registration, no protections—but a real chance to gain XP.
Brock didn't hesitate.
He earned a total of 200 credits,
He spent 50 on supplies and weapon maintenance immediately, saving the rest: 18 + 150 = 168 credits
Reputation: 0 (illegal rends didn't count)
After the second illegal rend
Credits gained: 200
Spent 60 on food, ammo, and minor repairs
Remaining credits: 168 + 140 = 308
Reputation: 0
Then lastly the third rend
Credits gained: 200
Spent 70 on weapon upgrades, food, and room rent
Remaining credits: 308 + 130 = 438
Reputation: 0
Total credits: 438
Total reputation: 20
Neutral: 20/100
He needed eighty more reputation before achieving the next rank.