'Status.'

---

Status:

Name: Jagger Ashton

Race: Human

Class: Splintered One

Rank: Newborn

Title: Herald Slayer

Level: 17

HP (%): 100

MP (%): 100

Corruption (%): XX (corruption keeps fluctuating, so there is no specific number)

Stats:

STRENGTH: 25 (+17)

AGILITY: 20 (+17)

STAMINA: 30 (+17)

DEXTERITY: 20 (+17)

INTELLIGENCE: 10 (+17)

(Stat distribution points: 30)

---

Jagger closed the screen.

The engine of the Humvee rumbled beneath him, vibrating through the floor and seat in a steady, mechanical rhythm. Every turn of the tires sent a faint shudder through the armored frame, the sound of broken asphalt, broken glass, and debris crunching beneath them as they pushed through the ruined streets of Singapore.

The interior was tighter than it looked from the outside.

Jagger sat in the back on a narrow steel bench bolted to the left side of the Humvee, his shoulders brushing cold metal whenever the vehicle swayed too hard. Directly across from him, on the opposite bench, sat Ulna. Her posture was rigid, one foot over the other, gloved hands resting on her knees, as she watched him with the same cold, authoritative stare she had ever since they first met.

At the front, Chase sat in the passenger seat with all the casual ease of someone on a midnight drive rather than inside an armored convoy cutting through a city full of monsters. One arm rested against the window, cigar balanced lazily between his fingers, green eyes flicking between the shattered streets outside and the rearview mirror. Jace was behind the wheel. She drove one-handed, the other resting near the console, her face lit in fragments by passing firelight and the cold glow of the dashboard. Her expression remained perfectly composed, as though the chaos outside existed at a polite distance from her.

For a while, no one spoke.

The silence inside the vehicle had weight. It was not empty. It pressed.

Jagger leaned his head back against the metal wall and let out a slow breath as he closed his eyes. 'Ophilia.'

'Yes?' she murmured at once, her tone smooth, attentive, waiting.

'Don't yes me! What the hell happened back there?' Jagger shot back. 'You and Zumthor nearly tore my skull apart.'

'You better be grateful for what I did,' Ophilia said with a faint, dangerous sweetness. 'I kept the animal from ripping everyone in that vehicle apart. Including you.'

Jagger didn't respond, and she didn't continue.

He let the silence stretch, gathering himself. "You know I can feel you staring at me," he said, opening his eyes.

Ulna's gaze didn't shift. "I know you can."

"Then say what you're thinking."

"The blood on the clothes is not of monsters. They are human blood. The way you yelled out in pain, clutching your temple so hard as if you were being attacked from the inside. And last, the way you threw your life on the line without hesitation," Ulna said. "It is as if you enjoy being on the brink of death."

Jagger's face hardened. "What's your point?"

"None. Just an observation."

Chase turned in his seat to flash a grin, cigar wobbling between his teeth. "She does that. Observes. It's very annoying, but extremely useful. The way a true sniper should be."

Ulna's jaw tightened. "You talk too much."

"Only when the scenery is dull, honey," Chase replied cheerfully.

The Humvee hit a chunk of collapsed concrete and lurched hard.

The interior lights flickered for half a second.

Jace didn't flinch. She kept her eyes on the road, one hand steady on the wheel. "What's your class and your level for getting the herald's rewards?" she asked.

The question was sudden. Sharp.

Ulna shifted slightly, but kept her silence.

Jagger looked directly at Jace. Her eyes were fixed on the rearview mirror, watching him. "Level 13, assassin class."

Chase's head tilted back as he let out a laugh. "Assassin? That's a lie. The way you fight is not that of an assassin. No finesse. No grace. All brute force and blood."

Jace's eyes narrowed, but she didn't look away from the road. "More of a front line."

"More like a berserker," Chase said, grinning.

Jagger met Jace's gaze in the mirror. "Why do you care?"

"A Volatile Gutbomb can only be acquired by killing a Boomgut Toad." The smile in Chase's voice was sharp and knowing. "Those monsters are on the higher end of a brute threat level. So, how exactly did a mere level 13 or less, with a common class of an Assassin, manage to take one of those down without getting beaten close to death? Or being turned into paste."

Jagger didn't know how to answer; he just kept silent.

'Lie,' Ophilia murmured. 'We are far too weak compared to them. Just keep your guard up.'

"It was luck," Jagger said. "Pure luck."

Chase looked over at Jace. "It is always luck."

Jagger held Chase's stare for a second, then looked away first, his expression flattening into something unreadable. "Believe what you want."

Chase let out a soft, amused hum and leaned back into his seat. The ember at the tip of his cigar pulsed faintly in the dim cabin. "That usually means I'm supposed to believe the opposite."

Ulna's voice cut in before Jagger could answer. "His injuries were too extensive when we found him. If he really did kill a Boomgut Toad alone, then either his luck borders on absurdity…" She paused, her cold eyes never leaving Jagger. "Or there is something fundamentally wrong with the information he is giving us."

Jagger's jaw tightened. "You keep staring at me like I'm some puzzle. It's getting irritating."

"You are a puzzle," Ulna said simply.

Chase smirked. "See? That's her version of flirting."

Ulna didn't even blink. "And that was your version of proving you're expendable."

Jace finally spoke, her tone calm, but with a hard edge beneath it. "You said assassin. Fine. You said luck. Fine. But you moved in front of an elite threat-level, feral-ranked Herald with a brute-grade explosive in your hand while half-dead. That's not luck. That's either stupidity or confidence built on something you don't want us to know."

Jagger shifted slightly on the steel bench, the metal groaning faintly beneath him. He could feel Ophilia listening. Feel the pressure of Zumthor somewhere deeper, quieter, but present.

"Maybe I just didn't want to die," he said.

Chase barked a short laugh. "That's funny, because from where I was standing, it looked like you were making a hobby out of it."

Jagger's eyes narrowed. "And from where I was standing, your squad was getting torn apart."

For the first time, Chase's grin thinned.

The Humvee rumbled through another broken stretch of road. Outside, the ruined city flashed by in fragments through the armored windows. Flickers of firelight. Crushed vehicles. Hollow towers standing in smoke like the bones of something long dead.

Ulna studied him for another long moment. "You're deflecting."

"So are you," Jagger shot back. "You want answers, but you haven't told me a damn thing I actually need to know."

Jace's fingers tapped the steering wheel once. "Enough."

The word was quiet, but it cut cleanly through the cabin.

Chase tilted his head toward her. "What, already? I was just getting somewhere."

"No, you weren't," Jace said. "Neither are they." Her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. "This conversation is going in circles."

Silence settled again, tighter this time.

Then Jace said, "Chase. Make the call."

His smirk returned, smaller now, more professional than playful. "Copy that."

He straightened in the passenger seat and reached for the radio clipped beside the dash. Static crackled as he keyed it on, the sound harsh and brittle in the enclosed space.

"Bunker Control, this is Recovery Convoy Two. The package is secured. Valkyrie squad accounted for. Requesting gate access."

A burst of static answered first.

Then a clipped voice came through. "Recovery Convoy Two, identity confirmed. Stand by for descent clearance."

The convoy slowed.

Jagger frowned slightly and looked toward the windshield. Ahead, the ruined road stretched into darkness between dead buildings and flickering emergency lights. There was nothing there. No gates. No checkpoint. No visible entrance at all.

Then the ground began to shake.

It started low, almost beneath feeling, then built into a deep mechanical tremor that rolled up through the Humvee's frame. Somewhere ahead, massive hydraulic locks released with a thunderous series of metallic clanks. The street itself split apart.

Concrete cracked down the centerline.

A huge section of asphalt began to descend, folding inward in layers as hidden seams peeled back with surgical precision. Steam vented from below in great white plumes. Floodlights ignited one by one from the depths beneath the city, casting towering shafts of sterile white up through smoke and mist. The shattered street transformed into a descending platform, revealing an enormous underground passage wide enough to swallow the convoy whole.

Jagger stared.

The Humvees rolled forward without hesitation, engines growling as they angled down into the opening. Overhead, the broken city remained cloaked in ash, flame, and darkness. Below, a different world waited. Steel. Light. Order carved into the bones of the earth.

The last thing Jagger saw before the convoy disappeared underground was the street above beginning to close behind them, massive slabs of reinforced concrete sliding back into place with a final, echoing boom.

Then the city vanished.

And they descended into the depths of Singapore.