《Seven》 C1 Consciousness hit me like a brick, and I became cognisant in a sudden jolt rather than a lazy, comfortable rise in bed. Strobe lights blinded me while bassy music reverberated around my chest. Hazy cigarette smoke drifted into my nose alongside the stench of sweat and alcohol. Where am I? I felt the cushioning of a stiff sofa below me alongside an elegant silk suit on me. Was this some kind of club? I whipped my head around as my eyes adjusted to the lighting. Around me were other well-dressed men in black suits donning¡­ Porcelain doll masks? There was a similar mask on a nearby glass coffee table. Who am I? I picked up the mask and looked into its shiny eyes as if it would reveal something. In the reflection, I saw a young man with curly black hair and black (or more accurately, dark brown) eyes. It didn¡¯t feel like me. Patting down my pockets, I found myself to be devoid of any other possessions. Neither my surroundings nor my memories provided any further insight into my identity. I seemed to lack any personal memories at all - I didn¡¯t even know my name. As the thought entered my mind, a little white box invaded my vision.
? Rank 1 Henchman
Bustle 1
Brains 1
Brawn 1
Brass 1
Burl 1
Intuition could only carry me so far. Are these ¡®stats¡¯ reflective of my abilities, or are they additive? Is the ¡®?¡¯ section for my name and if so, why is there nothing? Although I lacked many memories, I still had a firm grasp of language, general history, and so on. But there was no memory of this. It was surreal, projecting out of my eyes and always being in perfect focus. Opening and closing it was as instinctive as moving a muscle. At least I know what my career path is, though I find it to be questionable, both morally and practically. Deducing that I was most likely surrounded by my coworkers, I mulled over my next course of action. I could ask for help from the authorities, but that might lead to me being detained and questioned, given my profession. In contrast, I can approach one of my comrades much faster, and even if they react negatively, it holds few consequences. Scanning the room, I picked out the least intimidating figure and got up to approach them. As I took my first step, a loud slam boomed from the other side of the room. Before I knew it, the rattling of gunfire barked over the garish club music, and my ears were ringing. Shocked but not frozen, I ran for cover by a thick-looking pillar as the bullet tracers blended in with the strobe lights. The glass table behind me shattered as a burst of bullets impacted it, but I barely felt the impact of the shards flinging into my body.
Experience gained.
Ignoring the notification, I withheld my urge to peek at the attacking party and instead searched for an escape route. My compatriots were returning fire, taking cover from pillars of their own or overturned wooden tables. Spotting a nearby door, I made a run for it and hopped over the corpses on the way. Crashing through the locked door, I managed to not immediately trip and fall over.
Experience gained.
Flicking the light switch on, I found myself in some kind of kitchen. There was nobody else present, and it was in a relatively clean state. I looked back into the other room and did not see any improvement in the situation, as the frequency of gunfire seemed to only increase. My colleagues wore doll masks and black suits, while their adversaries didn''t wear any headgear and had white suits. There was little time to linger around. Seeing no other option, I grabbed a large-looking kitchen knife and made my way out of the kitchen¡¯s fire exit. The cold air of the outside alleyway would¡¯ve been refreshing were it not for the sight of a white-suited man. Silenced pistol in one hand and phone in the other, his eyes opened in surprise, and he tried to raise his gun at me. Too slow. Without thinking, I slashed at his throat with the knife and the world seemed to move in slow motion as the blood gushed out.
Experience gained.
He dropped his pistol and instead brought his hands to his neck like it would stop the bleeding. With ease, I pushed him to the ground and tried to stab his throat, made difficult by his incessant thrashing. I threw the knife to the side and grabbed his skull, sinking my thumbs into his eyes for a better grip. Gurgling through the blood, he thrashed even more violently and made weak, suffocated attempts at screaming as I kept smashing his head into the concrete. After nearly a minute of laborious effort, he finally stopped moving.
First Blood! Rank up!
Finally, I sat and leaned against the wall, and took a breather. The sky was pitch black and devoid of stars. I don¡¯t know why I did that. My eyes rested on the pistol that I could¡¯ve used. I¡¯d say it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but at a certain point, it was more of a sunken cost fallacy thing. I didn¡¯t enjoy doing that. The white box returned without me opening it, and I glazed my eyes over it.
Allocate [1] Point.
Bustle 1
Brains 1
Brawn 1
Brass 1
Burl 1
Choose [1].
Enhanced Senses See more, hear more.
Fast Fingers Dextrous and nimble.
Knife Proficency Muscle memory injection.
General Weapon Proficiency Intuition injection.
Analyse Deduce enemy stats.
After a while of blank staring, the box shook as if it was demanding me to get on with it. I dismissed the box, not wanting to allocate any points until I got a better idea of what was going on. If this was a dream, I would¡¯ve woken up by now. Blood seeped well into the black of my suit and gave it a nice marbling. It was no longer dripping from my white shirt cuffs, which stuck to my skin.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Looks like the gunfire finally died down. Concluding it was not wise to just sit around, I got up and took the pistol. The phone was a modern touchscreen one, but was password locked. I pocketed it anyway, alongside the dropped knife. My supposed allies were all probably dead by now, so I should get as far away as I can from this place. Closing the kitchen¡¯s fire exit door behind me, I looked to the left, revealing a bricked-off dead end. To the right, then. I trudged along, feeling the pain of the glass in my torso. Another white-suited man turned around the corner, looking down as he tried to light his cigarette. Probably just wanted to check up on the other guy that was stationed here. I quickly raised my pistol. Just as I was about to pull the trigger, the box popped up again.
TIP: Allocating stat points can be helpful!
Even with the silencer, the gun was very loud. Surprise gripped him as the stray shot cracked past his ears. The cigarette fell out of his mouth, but didn¡¯t reach the floor before I let out my second shot.
Experience gained.
Looks like the boxes will keep sabotaging me if I don¡¯t comply with their little game. Tentatively, I assigned my stat point to ¡®Bustle¡¯, as I would like to get out of here as soon as possible. After a moment of thought, I picked the ¡®Enhanced Senses¡¯ ability, in hopes it¡¯ll help me evade both the immediate threat and the authorities. Confirming my choices, I immediately felt the difference. It was subtle, but very noticeable, as I could suddenly hear even more men coming around the corner. Shit. Quickly, but quietly, I dashed behind a dumpster and hid behind it. At least three men were walking down the alleyway. Even with the element of surprise on my side, I doubt I could take down all of them. They were trying to be quiet too it seems, their footsteps were very soft and deliberate. Sweat made it hard to grip the pistol comfortably. As they neared, I held my breath, hoping they would walk past me so I could shoot at their exposed backs. Stepping in, the front and centre gangster came into view. Unfortunately, he possessed basic situational awareness and was looking right at me with his pistol already aimed. I sprang up toward him and with my free hand, jerked his gun away as he started firing blindly. Lucky. His pistol slips out of his hand quickly, and I manage to wrangle him around my arm - with him facing towards his compatriots, and me behind his body. Thankfully, the four others avoided opening fire to avoid hurting my newly taken hostage. Only two seemed to have firearms. The hostage was strong. Stronger than me, and kept only in place by the pistol I had pressed into his head. One of them opened their mouth, but I didn¡¯t hear whatever they were about to say as I threw my hostage towards them and opened fire. Shots barked from both sides, and they continued shooting even as they fell to the ground from the impact.
Rank up!
Experience gained.
Experience gained.
Experience gained.
Things moved so quickly that I couldn¡¯t fully process what had just happened. Blood was pooling from five corpses, and I looked down at myself, surprised to see a distinct lack of bullet holes in me. I heard whining from one of the ¡®corpses¡¯. Injured, but not dead. Raising my pistol again, I ignored his non-verbal pleas and pulled the trigger. Instead of the usual deafening crack, there was just an unsatisfying ¡®click¡¯. Lowering my pistol, relief washed over the man¡¯s face. My pistol clacked as I dropped it to the ground. Taking out the still-bloodied knife, I neglected to look at the man as I drove the knife through the chin and upward into the brain.
Rank up!
Allocate [2] Points.
Bustle 2
Brains 1
Brawn 1
Brass 1
Burl 1
Choose [2].
Enhanced Senses II Specialize - opens tree.
Fast Fingers Dextrous and nimble.
Knife Proficency Muscle memory injection.
General Weapon Proficiency Intuition injection.
Analyse Deduce enemy stats.
Fine. Two points to ¡®Brawn¡¯ so that I can overpower overs without the threat of a gun, one ¡°General Weapon Proficiency¡± so I can rely on improvised weaponry and one for ''Fast Fingers''. Changes washed over me, but none were immediately obvious other than the slight temporary rush I felt in my muscles. No more men were coming, and it left me with just myself and my handiwork. I don¡¯t feel like I had to do this. My hand raised to my head, and I felt the matted hair encrusted with blood. Before I motioned to do anything else, a voice called out from behind me. ¡°Drop the knife,¡± she said. I¡¯m out of luck. I dropped the knife. ¡°Turn around.¡± I turned around and tried to make out as many details as I could in the dreary night. It was some woman in an ostentatious outfit - some kind of pure black tech-y suit with dashes of blood red. Her night-vision goggles looked eerie in the dark. She had a sci-fi-esque pistol pointed at me. Without asking, the box popped up again.
Unknown Rank 7 Duelist
Bustle 2
Brains 4
Brawn 3
Brass 1
Burl 2
Interesting. ¡°You¡¯ve made quite a mess.¡± I nodded. ¡°It has come to my understanding that you and these fine gentlemen were having a kind of territorial dispute.¡± She motioned towards the corpses. I shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m sure you could fill me in on the details?¡± She tilted her head. I shook my head. Even if I wanted to, I couldn¡¯t. ¡°Well, Mr... Wha? You don¡¯t have a name?¡± Huh. That seemed to break her composure for a bit. She quickly regained footing and assumed her brooding tone of voice again. I blinked. ¡°Hm.. Seven corpses, so I¡¯ll call you Seven. Alright, Seven, you¡¯re coming with me. There are some questions I would like to ask about you and your friends.¡± She said as she fidgeted around with the pistol. I stared. ¡°Right. Oh, and the name is Ratri, don¡¯t wear it out! Anyway, prepare for covert transportation. No hard feelings, okay?¡± None of this makes sense. This is stupid. She pulled the trigger, firing some kind of dart. I fell unconscious before I hit the ground.