Chapter 37
Ronan slamd the door behind him and locked it as soon as he entered his house.
He didn’t head to Dean’s. The last thing he needed was Dean’s wide eyes and a dozen questions about why he had so much blood on him. He didn’t have the energy to lie, and he sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to explain how he caved a guy’s throat in tonight all because his system ordered him to.
He tossed his shirt straight into the trash. No point in washing that ss.
His hands were still shaking,not from fear, not even regret. Just... aftermath. The kind of wired, numb tremble that cos after doing sothing you can’t undo.
The bathroom light buzzed as he flicked it on. He stared at himself in the mirror for a second, then looked away. Not because he was ashad.
But because he didn’t want to start getting used to that look. His face all stained with blood, his eyes dead and emotionless. Everything about him scread a cold hearted killer.
The water was hot, but it didn’t sting. He stood there in silence, letting all the blood wash away and swirl down the drain.
The guy had begged to be spared.
He wasn’t crying, wasn’t putting on a show. He was just done. Mouth full of blood, body crushed, and he still begged Ronan to let him face the law. Swore he’d confess everything.
But Ronan had killed him anyway, because the system said so. What a pathetic excuse. But still, Ronan tried to make himself believe that Harlan deserved it, that he deserved to die after all the lives he had taken.
He rested his head against the wall, eyes shut, letting the water run. "Why save in the first place," he muttered, jaw tight, "if you’re gonna threaten with the sa damn life you gave ?"
Nothing.
No response, not that he expected one.
He stepped out of the shower monts later and toweled off, then he pulled on a fresh shirt, and dropped onto the couch. The apartnt was quiet, too quiet. He didn’t even turn the lights on.
His system had made it real clear that they were no second chances, no compromises. Either you kill, or it starts pulling the plug on you piece by piece.
The sick part?
He didn’t even feel remorse for killing Harlan, infact...he was relieved to have gotten rid of a serial killer. But that wasn’t all, he actually felt thrilled... during the kill.
He wasn’t just scared of the system.
He was scared of how fast he was adapting to it. The old him was long gone, he wasn’t even capable of hurting a fly back then not to talk of killing soone, but now....he could kill dozens without hesitation.
He leaned back, arm over his eyes, breathing through clenched teeth.
You did the right thing, the system finally spoke. That cold, sterile voice he was starting to hate more than the silence.
"Oh, now you wanna talk?" Ronan muttered. "So... are you ready to answer all my damn questions?"
Your hesitation was inefficient. But acceptable. You fulfilled the daily requirent. Progress has been noted.
"Progress," he scoffed. "You an degradation."
No response this ti.
Of course not.
He reached over, grabbed the remote, then threw it across the room. Didn’t even flinch when it cracked against the wall.
The silence crept back in, wrapping around his thoughts like barbed wire.
Ronan stood and walked toward the kitchen. He was hungry, but he didn’t have the appetite to eat. He just opened the fridge, stared into it like answers might be hiding behind the milk, then shut it again.
The world was still turning outside. People were sleeping. Dreaming. Living their average, forgettable lives. And here he was, thinking of a serial killer he just murdered cold blood.
He rubbed his eyes. The new ability had unlocked right after the kill, and he hadn’t even had the will to test it. Maybe he should. The system responded instantly to his thoughts and sent a notification.
Spatial Displacent: Level 55 skill acquired.
Range: 2.4 ters.
Activation delay: 0.6 seconds.
Current stability: 38%.
Whatever the hell that ant.
He walked over to the living room again and stared at the wall for a long second.
Then he extended a hand.
Nothing happened.
He narrowed his eyes, focused, not on the wall itself, but on the space in front of it.
And sothing... shifted. Just slightly. The air shimred like a heatwave.
Then...snap.
A small, clean slash appeared on the surface of the wall. No sound. No impact. Just a thin, perfectly horizontal slice through concrete and paint.
Ronan stepped back, heart racing, not from fear but from the strange, electric thrill that shot through him.
It felt good.
Too good.
He lowered his hand, breathing hard.
Ronan didn’t know the full extent of what the ability could do yet, but one thing was clear, it wasn’t just about cutting. That shimr, the way the air bent, it felt like he had just reached through space itself.
He flexed his fingers, staring at them like they belonged to soone else. What else can I do with this? he wondered. Could he step through it? Hide things in between the folds of reality? The possibilities were endless, but the danger was just as real.
"System," he said aloud, still facing the wall. "Show the stats. Show everything."
For the first ti in a while, the screen popped up.
System Log:
User: Ronan Vale
Level: 55
–Abilities Unlocked:
Adaptive Strength and speed Enhancent, regeneration, Gravity suppression, shield of the fallen, Telekinetics, skill extraction, Spacial displacent.[ All can be activated at will.]
Sensory Overclock [Passive]
ntal Stability: 72%
Corruption Rate: 4%
Daily Requirent Fulfilled: Yes
Next Trigger in: 23 Hours, 12 Minutes
Corruption rate.
That was new.
His eyes locked onto that one detail, a cold chill running down his spine. He hadn’t seen that term before, Corruption. And if it was only at 4% now, what happened when it hit 100?
"Define corruption rate," he said, voice tight.
Corruption Rate: A asurent of emotional detachnt and system integration. At 100%, the host will be permanently integrated. Emotional conscience and autonomy will be terminated.
Ronan stared at the air, numb.
Terminated.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
His thoughts. His guilt. His fear. His empathy. All of it.
Gone.
He wouldn’t just beco a killer.
He’d beco the system.
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