"To survive, one must adapt and overcome!"

- Hunter Gear Brylls (2037)

The explanation turned out to be longer than expected, but as the stigma kept talking, I could weirdly feel my mind going over the information, as if I was explaining something I already knew to myself. This stigma felt odd, not invasive, but certainly uncomfortable. At any rate, the explanation it gave me went as follows.

The Hunter system works as any RPG would. With levels being the determinative factor in one's overall strength, experience being the resource gained upon the destruction of a dungeon core, annihilation of the scorn, or the fulfilment of system specific tasks, also called "Quests" or "Missions". The whole thing reminded me of the time Roach tried to get me into one of his nerdy fantasy games, and I almost wished I could go back and tell myself to just go with it.

'I hope that summary was to your understanding, Raven.' The stigma finished, though not everything had been explained to me.

"What about skills and abilities, then?" I asked, looking at the two I already had listed.

'Skills would be the active effect of any given attack, technique or manoeuvre you wish to accomplish. Meanwhile Abilities are passive effects that are triggered through a reaction or any non-combat decision. In this case, (Stealth Lv.1) allows you to muffle your steps and make yourself harder to notice, while (Accelerated Processing Lv.1) allows you to overclock your brain. Secondary functions will be minimized and time will appear to move at a much slower rate than usual. You have used this ability a few times already, although subconsciously.'

"Wait, what do you-Oh...." Then it came to me. Those headaches, the lack of colour in my eyes and the sudden reaction time I would usually not have, I had already used it before, and I could feel the sense that I could use it again, willingly this time.

'It has its drawbacks however. It is followed by serious headaches, vertigo, temporary colour-blindness and confusion. You have pushed through these symptoms before, but I suggest you do not push your brain for the time being. As soon as the drugs I administered stop working, you will experience a mess of emotions. With that in mind, your first official Hunter Task is to find a refuge. An elevated position, inaccessible from ground level by normal means if possible.'

"Roger that." I didn't have much of a motive to keep going beyond knowing that neither Roach nor Bill's bodies were in the multitude down there in the undercity, so with a glimmer of hope, I took the steps up towards the surface, emerging into abandoned streets.

Broken cars, bodies of all kinds and no sound of anything nearby. Still, I had little to protect myself with, so I decided to follow the stigma's guide in order to secure my life first and foremost. Roach's apartment should do for now. As long as I could barricade the stairs it should be a somewhat safe refuge for the duration of my time inside this dungeon. Since no other Hunter was in sight, it was up to me to stay alive for as long as it is needed, even if it meant trying to defeat the core on my own, as crazy as that sounded.

As I laid low to the ground, the stigma's words proved to be true. A small window appeared:

[ (Stealth Lv.1) is now in use. ]

It seemed really weird to me how this was designed after an RPG system. What sick bastard would treat death and carnage as a game?...Well, wrong question. Why would they treat something this serious as a game and not professionally? So many questions flooded my mind that, by the time I snapped back to reality, I had already arrived at Roach's apartment complex.

No scorn pack in sight, I pressed the button and ran towards the emergency ladder to the side. I reached with my right hand and...Oh, right. I didn't have a right hand anymore. I shook my head as I heard the sound of clattering steel, I reached with my left and jumped off the ground. Somehow gaining purchase on the set of rusty stairs and slowly making my way up while using (Stealth) in order to avoid detection.

'I suggest you practice familiar movements with your left hand instead. We won't be able to afford a replacement until you start hunting scorn. Light-weight training and several hours of therapy should help.'

"Got it." I replied, whispering. I knew the thing could read my thoughts, but I was only just starting to get used to how everything worked, so voicing my responses was far more comfortable than speaking into my own mind to hear my own voice reply back to me.

Once I reached Roach's room and crawled inside through the window, I noticed the metallic latch was wrecked. The entire apartment had only two rooms, and since the thing was neither inside the little safe room or the main bedroom, then I figured it must've been hiding the bathroom. I was already inside the room, and with no doubt the scorn already heard me crawl through.

(Accelerated Processing activated. 3 Seconds remaining.)

A small window appeared as soon as I heard the sound of a metallic step. I had three seconds to react apparently. But it was enough. Roach might not have been much of a fighter, but he wasn't stupid enough to be unprepared to defend himself inside his room. We were living in the slums of Athenea after all, crime was as natural as the toxic air that covered our view of the buildings above.

One look was all it took, as if the stigma had guided me like it had done before with the location of food and supplies, I automatically focused on a practical-looking combat knife, sheathed. Taped to the underside of the guy's desk, like one of those guns hidden beneath a big shot's table in a really old movie. With two and a half seconds remaining, I reached for the knife and grasped it with my hand as tight as I could manage.

One second remaining. The colour around my eyes remained in shades of grey, but the rotting flesh that covered the scorn in front of me was a dark red, like some sort of blood-filled mosquito. With the knife in hand, and the scorn already trying to jump me, I aimed for its jaw and jammed the blade as deep as it could go. My body moved with desperation, and I managed to will enough strength to fully pierce through the scorn's maw, effectively stabbing it shut.

"Hah!" I exclaimed, celebrating the pathetic win I managed.

'Claw!' The voice echoed through my head.

Then things went red.

Out of pure reflex I leaned back, the clawed paw of the scorn barely scratched my face, leaving a long cut across my face. It hurt a lot, but not nearly as bad as getting my arm chewed until every bone in it broke. Clenching my teeth, I pulled on the knife and took it out of the scorn, angry as I was, taking a step forward and pushing against the scorn.

Crashing against its metallic body felt odd. It should've been hard, but the flesh that covered it softened the impact. From this position, I swung my arm around its extended shoulder and pushed the tip of the blade into the back of its head, I heard something crack, and then the scorn was no more.

It fell on its side, knife still stuck on its now bleeding head. The liquid was a gross blackened red, like a really old coagulated puddle of blood. The gash across my face still hurt, and it was bleeding quite a bit, but at the very least my nose hadn't been severed, so I could just clench my teeth and keep moving. With the scorn dead, a small window appeared in my HUD, a new one this time.

[ EXP Gained, new total: 2/10 ]

[ (Short-Blades Combat Lv1) Has been added to your Abilities window. ]

I smiled a little and then remembered something. Took off the backpack and opened it, to reveal the very same pocket knife I got back in the undercity. "....I should really keep this in my pocket...."

'I am uncertain if I should consider your survival abilities as decent or incredibly insufficient.'

"Yes." A small respite from the thrill of a near-death experience, greatly appreciated.

'Your humour is most definitely under-average, even for me. And I am you.'