LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 17: System
lliot was breathing hard, every gasp accompanied by the sharp pain in his arms. The dim light of the basement barely illuminated the space, but the holographic window before him was unmistakable, its vibrant blue glow cutting through the gloom.
He stared at the window in disbelief, blinking as if to dispel the hallucination haunting him. His mind was a storm of confusion. A damn system? Now? At the worst moment of his life, when he was about to die and turn into one of those monsters?
The flicker of the words in front of him anchored him to reality. The text floated, immovable yet undeniably present, and Elliot felt his focus pulled toward every detail.
[CURRENT STATUS: INFECTED] [SURVIVAL LEVEL: 1]
The word "infected" burned itself into his brain like a searing brand. Instinctively, his gaze dropped to his bandaged arms, where the bite wounds throbbed with a dull ache. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead as his thoughts raced. Was this real? How was this... system... going to change anything when he was already doomed?
But something in the next line made him pause:
[Progress to Level 2: 0/50]
A spark of curiosity. "Level 2? Progress?" His eyes quickly darted to the next section:
Kill infected to advance.
Runners: +1 Progress
Stalkers: +1 Progress
Clickers: +1 Progress
Bloaters: +5 Progress
Leveling up unlocks new abilities, resources, and upgrades for your survival.
Current Points: 4000
Runners: +100 points
Stalkers: +200 points
Clickers: +500 points
Bloaters: +5000 points
Use points to buy weapons, summon troops, upgrade abilities, or manage your bases.
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[AVAILABLE RESOURCES] LEVEL 1 (Current)
• [Weapons]
Basic Pistol: 150 points
Standard Rifle: 300 points
Tactical Shotgun: 800 points
Ammunition: starting at 100 points
• [Medicine]
Basic Kit: 200 points
Advanced Kit: 500 points
Zombrex: 4000 points
• [Food and Water]
Small Rations: 100 points
Large Rations: 300 points
• [Vehicles]
Basic Motorcycle: 2000 points
(Advanced items locked)
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[AVAILABLE TROOPS] LEVEL 1 (Current)
• Standard Soldier (Rifleman): 1000 points
Equipped with a basic rifle and tactical vest.
• Scout (Stealth): 1500 points
Reconnaissance and evasion specialist. Equipped with a silenced pistol and knife.
(Advanced units locked)
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[AVAILABLE SKILLS] LEVEL 1 (Current)
• Strength Boost (Level 1): 4000 points
Increases your carrying capacity and melee combat power.
• Enhanced Reflexes (Level 1): 5000 points
Speeds up your reaction times to attacks and nearby threats.
• Tactical Awareness (Level 1): 4500 points
Improves your ability to detect enemies and resources in the environment.
• Basic Survival Knowledge: 3000 points
Enhances your efficiency in building shelters and managing basic resources.
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The progression of the values echoed in his mind like an incomplete equation. Elliot tried to make sense of it. "Does this mean I can… trade them? Buy something?"
The answer came before he could even form the full question. Another window unfolded alongside the first, laying out more possibilities.
Resources, Troops, Skills, Bases
The floating text offered no explanation, but there was something about the way the options were arranged that felt intuitive. As if each word carried a purpose he could decipher without guidance.
Each category seemed locked behind higher levels and point thresholds, but the potential was overwhelming.
Elliot swallowed hard as he studied the options. His mind, still reeling with disbelief, began to consider the possibilities. This can't be real. But… if it is…
The irony wasn't lost on him. For weeks, he'd felt like he had no control over his life, trapped in FEDRA's unrelenting cycle of blind obedience. Now, this system offered him something he'd never had before: autonomy.
The pain in his arms snapped him back to the present. He glanced down at the blood-soaked bandages, feeling the heat of the fever spreading through him. There was no time for hesitation. If this system was real, he had to use it. Now.
His eyes locked onto the holographic window again, focusing on the word "Resources." Instinctively, he reached out and touched it.
The window flickered and expanded, revealing a list of available items. Most were locked, marked with a padlock icon and the label: Level 2 Required.
But at the bottom of the list, one item stood out.
Zombrex.
A chill ran down Elliot's spine as he read the name. How the hell had something like that shown up here? He recognized it instantly, an artifact from a video game he'd once loved: Dead Rising. He remembered it well, having completed every game, unlocked every achievement, and explored every corner of those apocalyptic stories. In the game, Zombrex was a serum that halted infection but didn't cure it. If you stopped taking it, the transformation into a zombie was inevitable.
Could it be real? Would it work here, in this merciless world?
His gaze lingered on the highlighted item in the list, and without a second thought, he selected it. A new window materialized before him:
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ZombrexThis serum halts the infection and prevents the user from turning into an infected for 7 days. If usage is discontinued, the user will turn into an infected within hours. It is highly recommended to keep multiple doses on hand to ensure continuity of treatment.
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Seven days. Each week, he would have to secure another dose just to stay alive. The pressure was brutal, but at this moment, it was his only chance.
Elliot swallowed hard and pressed the purchase command. Instantly, his points counter dropped to zero. A faint glow illuminated his hand, and a strange warmth spread from his palm to his fingertips.
Stunned, he watched as a small rectangular box began to materialize in his hand. First, a bluish light took shape, and then, as if the air itself solidified, the box fully appeared. Clear lettering on its surface read: Zombrex.
The box contained a single dose, a pre-filled syringe carefully packaged inside a rigid plastic medical case. The design was so familiar that, for a moment, he almost forgot where he was. The surrealness of it all struck him—something so fantastical existing outside of a video game felt impossible.
Elliot held it, his hands trembling slightly, unable to tear his eyes away. If this worked, he had a chance to fight. It wasn't a cure, but it gave him something he had been losing bit by bit: time.
Without hesitation, he opened the box, removed the syringe, and injected the dose into his thigh. A sharp sting pierced him, but it was brief. He closed his eyes, waiting for any kind of sign: relief, warmth, some perceptible change.
Nothing immediate happened, but a small timer appeared in his field of vision:
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Time until next dose: 6 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes.
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Elliot let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. This was real. And he had seven days to secure another dose.
"Alright," he muttered to himself, his jaw tightening.
He clenched his teeth, his body aching and drained, as he curled up against the basement wall.
His arms, covered in bite marks and clumsily bandaged, burned as if the venom of the infection was coursing through his veins.
"Will this even work… or am I just delaying the inevitable?" he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible above the faint sounds outside. He had no other choice. It was either this or succumb, becoming one of the monsters that now stalked him.
As the infected moved in the distance, Elliot forced himself to think of something else. He closed his eyes, letting his mind drift between echoes of the past and possibilities for the future. He had been abandoned. That much was clear. FEDRA had left him for dead, a convenient sacrifice in their brutal survival system.
And while the physical pain gnawed at him, the thought of not returning to that oppressive machine was a strange relief. He wouldn't have to see the hollow eyes of the civilians they terrorized, or the bodies hanging in public squares. He wouldn't hear the screams of those who resisted a regime that crushed them without mercy.
"If this works…" he thought, his fingers brushing the edge of the now-empty Zombrex case. An idea began to take shape, timid at first, then bolder. He no longer wanted to be a pawn in a corrupt game. If he survived, he would do something different. He would form his own faction, one that fought for something real. One that didn't need to justify its brutality with hollow excuses of order and control.
But the weight of exhaustion became unbearable. The adrenaline that had kept him alive finally abandoned him, and his eyelids fell shut as his thoughts spiraled.
Clinging to uncertainty and pain, Elliot drifted into sleep, holding tight to a hope he didn't yet know was possible.
End of Chapter 16.