Dual System: Ascension of A Nameless Nobody

[Notice: Conventional attacks are ineffective against [Defects]. Any creations of [Humankind] will be insufficient in harming [Defects]. If you wish to combat [Defects], refer to using [Equip], Player Jeong-Hui.]

"Ineffective…? Equip?" He muttered.

Guns, bombs–none of that will hurt these? Wait, the system is right–that guy earlier used "Equip" and blew that Defect away, he thought.

"Alright…" He spoke quietly.

Drawing in a breath through his lips, he inhaled and exhaled slowly as the bludgeoning Defect approached him with the buzzing growing louder.

It's do-or-die, and I really don't feel like biting it before I get laid. Hell, I haven't even kissed a girl yet! He thought.

Just as it came close enough to launch an attack of its own once again, he brought his emerald gaze up.

"Equip!" He shouted out.

With that singular command, a flash of light enveloped his body, superseding the old t-shirt he wore and his gray sweatpants, instead imposing an iridescent, all-white uniform with a snowy coat over his body.

Fingerless, white gloves placed themselves over his hands with the outfit finishing its materialization as blue stripes ran along the divine fabric.

This is weird. I feel…strong. Really strong, he thought.

A blue hood was attached to his coat, and a lengthy, azure scarf flowed behind him, wrapped around his shoulders and neck loosely.

It wasn't just his physiology that felt augmented by [Equip], but something about his mind felt shifted as well. Everything seemed to process just slightly faster, though his emotions were still running rampant, the shot of adrenaline from his first experience suppressed his desire to break down.

Right now…I have to win. If I won't win right here, I'll die, he thought.

Looking at his hands, he clenched them tightly before noticing an incoming attack from the Defect.

This time, he saw its movements clearly–the pathway of its fist seemed almost obvious to him now.

With a side-step, he moved himself out of the way of the fist with a surprised look on his face.

I'm fast, too, he thought.

After evading the flat-surfaced attack from the Defect, he finally recognized the existence of the sheath at his back, gripping the handle of the blade as he drew it. He ended up behind the pale-skinned entity, backstepping a bit to create some space.

"Urr, System," he called on the system, "do I have any skills or magic? Something like that?"

[Question Recognized.]

[Processing…]

Damn, does it always have to process? I don't have time for this, he thought.

He adjusted his glasses as the wind pressure from the Defect's fist shifted their position slightly ajar.

[Answer: currently available [Skills] as a [Level 1] [Beginner Assassin]: [Passive Skill] inherit to [Beginner Assassin]: [Super Reflexes] and [Special Skill]: [Light Slash]. For magic, [Spell]: [Flame Lance] is available.]

"Alright, I've got something to work with then…" He muttered in response.

Before he could activate any such abilities, the Defect swung around in a wild whirlwind, spinning its hammer fists rapidly, though he barely managed to evade their brutal reach.

I guess this is the "Super Reflexes" it mentioned, he thought.

"System, how do I use my skills?!" He asked out while in the process of evading slams of the Defect's hammerfist.

[Question Recognized.]

[Processing…]

[Answer: For a [Special Skill], simply call out its name. For a [Spell], it is required to preface the name of the desired spell with ["Cast"]. Usage of both [Special Skills] and [Spells] will cost in your [Spirit] reserves.]

[...]

[Notice: [Spirit] is the divine essence within players, allowing them to manifest [Special Abilities] and [Spells]. It replenishes naturally over time, and increases with [Level]. Use it wisely.]

It seemed the system quickly recognized the fact he didn't understand the term "Spirit" quite yet, answering before he could ask.

"So it's like "mana" then…thanks," he said as he jumped back to avoid another slam.

Waving his blue-handled longsword around, it came surprisingly natural to him despite it never being something he attempted previously.

Come to think of it—should I have a longsword? Don't assassins in RPGs usually use daggers or short swords? Did I get assigned the wrong equipment?! He thought.

Even still, directly blocking against the bludgeoning fist of the Defect caused him to be flung back before landing on his feet with a slight wince.

"It's still stronger, huh…? Guess it's time to try out these abilities of mine then," he muttered, raising his hand and pointing it towards the approaching enemy.

"Cast: Flame Lance!"

[Spirit: -100. Remaining Spirit: 1400/1500.]

Manifesting with embers gathering in front of his extended palms, a spear formed of orange, wild flames responded to his call.

Holy shit…! This is magic! Actual magic! I did it?! I did this—?! He thought.

Somehow seeing the flames manifest in accordance to his words, it began to sink in just what fantastical holds the world was gripped in.

The heat pelted against his skin, but it didn't burn him despite the flutters of the inferno grazing his hand and arm.

Radiance filled the clear lenses of his glasses as he stood there for a moment in complete awe of the magic he conjured, holding it as if unknowing of its true nature.

"...Ah! Go!"

As the Defect drew close, he released the flame-born spear as it flung forward with enough force to knock him back onto his rear as he witnessed its flaming trajectory.

Squelch.

The Defect froze with its hammer-shaped fist in the air; its torso had been pierced by the orange, wild spear as the buzzing became inconsistent, blaring out briefly.

"---"

An unintelligible array of buzzing sounds that met his ears in a painful screech resounding from the pale-skinned freak of nature before the spear engulfed the Defect's body completely in flames.

He sat there on his rear as he watched with hopeful, yet anxious eyes as the flames ate away at the heaven-fallen destroyer.

Within a few moments, the Defect finally conceded to the flames, falling down as a charred corpse.

"...I did it. I beat it," he said in almost disbelief, looking at his hands before squeezing them shut.

A system prompt filled his vision before he could properly celebrate.

["Flattener" defeated. Gained EXP: +15. Current EXP: 15/25.]

"Almost a full level up from one mob? Not bad," he mumbled.

After returning to his feet, he looked at the burnt corpse of the monstrous entity for a moment as another prompt appeared, accompanied by the system's monotone voice.

[Claim [Flattener] essence?]

"What good will that do me?" He asked, sliding his sword into its sheath.

[After defeating a foe, players may claim their [Essence], an abstraction of their soul that can be converted into [Special Skills] unique to the foe's [Essence] and used to forge [Special Items]. Claim?]

He thought about it for a moment before shrugging his shoulders, "Sure."

As he gave confirmation, he watched a light lift from the corpse of the Flattener as it brought itself to him, flowing into his body.

"Woah," he looked at his body.

This is what that guy earlier did, isn't it? He thought.

[Claimed. [Flattener Essence] x1 obtained. Collect [5] in total to unlock [Special Skill]: [Force Stomp]. 1/5.]

"Got it," he nodded, "I think I'm starting to get the hang of this."

Though it was only a temporary smile that came across his lips as his eyes laid back on the bloodbath that had occurred on the very same street.

Seeing those torn bodies, strewn across the once quiet, peaceful street, made him quickly cover his mouth again.

I'm going to be sick, he thought.

With the amount of Defects that fell from the sky, and the screams that filled now just the city, but the world–he retreated back into his apartment with his brief, singular victory in mind.

He didn't waste any time slumping down against the door after closing it.

"This is all real, isn't it?"

The words left his lips laced with tears as he could still feel the surreal disgust of it all swirling in his gut.

[Question Recognized.]

[Processing…]

[Answer: This is indeed reality.]

"Yeah, sometimes not every question needs to be answered…" He replied quietly.

It was painfully engraved into his memory now; the streets painted in crimson.

After bringing himself up, he went to his computer, beginning to search through the web—checking each social media page, and boards.

The main board he checked was Twotter, and the flood of posts didn't seem to end.

[Holy shit! This is crazy!]

[Those freaky things really shredded through tanks…Is the military going to be enough?]

[Checkmate, atheists…unfortunately.]

[Somebody tell me this is all just the drugs still in my system?]

[LOL…This shit is awesome! Anarchy! I'm going to do whatever I want.]

[I'm scared. I'm afraid. They're outside my house right now. My husband is still at work…]

The reactions online were as expected, but worse was seeing the live feed of various places around the globe.

It was total devastation.

The streets were caked in blood, and most people didn't seem to adjust to the system—leaving them helpless against the Defects.

"Shit…I almost forgot…" He snatched his phone, vigorously typing, "Please, please…be okay, Mom!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

His call couldn't be connected.

The silence on the other line sent him into a saddened rage as he slammed his phone down, putting his face down against his desk.

"Dammit…!"

Though there was no confirmation, he knew what was the most likely outcome considering his brief experience so far.

It was a system made to cull those unprepared, and those unadjusted to aspects of games.

And as such, he knew the likely fate of his singular parent.

"Shit…shit…" he muttered weekly through tears, resting against his desk.

And that was the first day of "Armageddon Game", the dreadful announcement from our so-called benevolent creator who plunged the world into this cruel game.

The world governments were quickly toppled, and over fifty-percent of mankind was wiped out on that first day.