The hallway of the respiratory wing was a cacophony of hysterical laughter and golden light. To anyone else, it would have looked like a revival tent, a place of sudden, impossible grace. To Ren, it looked like a fever dream viewed through a cracked lens.
He leaned against the doorframe of Ward 4, his good hand clutching the family photo in his pocket. He waited for the relief—the sudden ease of breath that usually followed a dose of Albuterol—but it never came. The [Status Permanence] was doing its work. The System had taken his struggle and turned it into a law of physics. He wasn't just sick; he was "coded" to be out of breath.
His vision flickered, and a persistent red icon blinked in the corner of his eye.
[STATUS EFFECT: LABOURED BREATHING (PERMANENT)]
Description: breathing capacity capped at 20%, every breath has 10% chance to reduce Health by 1.
“I can see! I can actually see!”
The shout came from Mr. Henderson, a man who had been blind from cataracts for a decade. He was sprinting down the hallway, his hospital gown flapping behind him, staring at his own hands with manic intensity. He didn't even glance at Ren.
Further down, a nurse who had spent years stooped over charts was standing perfectly straight, her body glowing with a soft, green aura. She was laughing, swiping through her golden boxes with the fervor of a gambler on a winning streak.
“I pulled a Great Heal! I’m gonna be rich! I’m gonna be rich!”
She brushed past Ren, her shoulder hitting his weakened frame. He stumbled, his 5 HP flickering dangerously, but she didn’t stop to check on him. She didn't even apologize. In her eyes, Ren was just part of the background—a remnant of the "Old World" that no longer mattered.
Ren watched them with a hollow feeling in his gut. The System had given them everything they ever wanted. It had cured their cancers, fixed their eyes, and given them the strength of titans. They were "Winners." And in their winning, Ren had become invisible.
They’re drunk on it, Ren thought, his internal monologue rasping as loudly as his lungs. They think the Game is a gift. They don’t see the conversion. They don't see how everything is changing for the worse.
He looked at his Mana bar: [10/10]. He needed to move, but every step cost a fraction of his remaining strength. He had to figure out the math of his survival. If he was going to walk twenty miles to Maya, he couldn't just walk—he had to feed.
The Siphon, he thought, looking at the glowing emergency lights above. It costs 1 Mana to activate. If I pull from the environment, I get a 1-to-1 return. It’s a net zero. It keeps me standing, but it doesn't move me forward.
He realized with a cold clarity that the environment was a snack, but a larger power source or something organic would be a meal. To stay alive, he couldn't just exist in the world; he had to consume the energy others were using to celebrate.
He began to shuffle toward the elevators, keeping his back to the wall. He passed the nurse station, which was now a wreck of flickering monitors. The staff were huddled together, comparing their pulls like children with trading cards. None of them looked at Ren. He was a Ghost, a shadow of the tragedy they thought they had escaped. He realized then that his invisibility was his only weapon. They were too busy looking at their own light to notice the boy breathing smoke in the shadows.
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This smoke, Ren thought, is this the world's way of coping with my sickness? Converting my very breath into smoke?
He reached the heavy fire doors that led to the main lobby and the exit. He could smell it now—not bleach, but the heavy, metallic scent of ozone and raw Flux. He pushed the door open an inch, and the sound hit him.
It wasn't laughter anymore. It was screaming.
The lobby was a grand, glass-fronted space that usually felt welcoming. Now, it was a slaughterhouse. In the center of the room stood a man Ren recognized—Dr. Aris, a high-ranking surgeon known for his arrogance. But Aris wasn't wearing a lab coat. He was encased in a shimmering, jagged suit of crystalline armor. In his hand, he held a glowing sword that vibrated with a low, hungry hum.
At his feet lay two security guards. Their chests had been charred black, not by fire, but by raw energy. Aris was laughing, but it was a jagged, broken sound.
“The Shop!” Aris screamed at a terrified receptionist hiding behind the desk. “Where is the food? I have five hundred Flux! I pulled a B-Rank class! Why won't the System sell me a goddamn sandwich?”
“I-I don't know, Doctor! The shop is empty! It’s just weapons and skills!”
Aris roared, swinging his blade and shattering a massive marble pillar. Five hundred Flux was a fortune for a man who hadn't even left the building yet, but it couldn't buy a single calorie. The realization was turning the elite surgeon into a starving animal.
Ren froze. This was the "Gacha Winner" the system had created—a man with the power of a god and the stomach of a mortal, unraveling in real-time. But Aris wasn't the only thing in the room. From the shadows of the ceiling, something shifted.
It looked like a massive, bloated tick, the size of a man, but its skin was translucent, showing the churning golden Flux inside its body. It had six spindly, needle-like legs and a head that was nothing but a pulsing, circular maw.
[LVL. 7 - CENTEPEDE LEECH]
The creature dropped. It didn't land on Aris; it landed on the nurse Ren had seen earlier—the "Paladin." She didn't even have time to scream. The Leech’s needle-legs pierced her glowing green aura like it was wet paper. Ren watched in horror as the creature began to pump. The green light of her skill was sucked out of her body. Within seconds, her "Great Heal" was gone. She shriveled in an instant, turning back into the tired, middle-aged woman she had been, and then further—until she was nothing but a husk.
The Leech let out a satisfied chirp, its body glowing a brilliant, toxic gold. It turned its pulsing head toward Aris, sensing the five hundred Flux and the shimmering armor.
“Stay back!” Aris screamed, raising his sword. He swung a wave of light at the creature, but the Leech skittered across the ceiling with a wet, clicking sound.
Ren stood behind the fire door, his heart hammering against his 5 HP limit. He looked at the exit—the glass doors were only fifty feet away. Beyond them lay the city, a dark skyline lit by the golden fires of a billion Gifts.
Aris has the energy, Ren whispered to himself, the grey mist swirling around his lips. The Leech wants the energy. Neither of them sees me.
A hero would have stepped out. A hero would have used his [Energy Siphon] to help the doctor kill the beast. But Ren wasn't a hero. He was a man with [Laboured Breathing] and a sister waiting on a blue porch twenty miles away. If he fought, he might die. If he stayed, he would starve.
He didn't head for the monster. He didn't head for the doctor. He moved like a shadow along the edge of the lobby, his feet making no sound on the blood-slicked marble.
Aris let out a primal yell as the Leech lunged again. The doctor’s crystalline armor sparked as the creature’s legs scraped against it, trying to find a gap to begin siphoning.
“Help me!” Aris glimpsed Ren’s figure in the periphery. “You! Patient! Use a skill! Do something!”
Ren didn't even look back. He reached the shattered floor outlet near the exit, the wires sparking with the raw, uncontrolled Flux of the building's conversion. He reached out a trembling hand.
“Siphon,” he wheezed.
[ACTIVATING ENERGY SIPHON (LVL. 1)]
[MANA -1 (9/10)]
[SIPHONING INORGANIC FLUX FROM POWER OUTLET]
[+10 FLUX ENERGY]
[CONVERTING 10 FLUX TO 10 MANA]
[MANA: 10/10 (MAX)]
The burst of energy didn't make him stronger, but it eased the fire in his lungs for a fleeting second. Behind him, the sound of tearing metal and Aris’s screams filled the lobby. The Leech had found a way through the armor.
Ren pushed through the heavy glass revolving doors. The cool night air hit him—not the sterilized, recycled air of the hospital, but the air of a dying world. It was thick with smoke, ozone, and the distant, rhythmic chime of the System.
He stepped onto the sidewalk. The hospital behind him was a tomb of golden light. Ahead of him lay the city, a labyrinth of monsters and "Winners" all starving for a meal he didn't have.
“I’m coming, Maya,” Ren rasped then coughed, his breath a grey ghost in the moonlight.
[STATUS EFFECT: LABOURED BREATHING (PERMANENT)]
[Health: -1 (4/10)]
He didn't look back at the hospital. He didn't look back at the man he had left to die. He simply turned toward the East, his 4 HP blinking, and began the long walk home.
