Super Regeneration Awakens

I could hear the screams echoing through the shattered window. Three young men were brutally assaulting a middle-aged man, wielding baseball bats and iron pipes like weapons of war. This wasn’t just a fight—it was murder. Pure, calculated slaughter.

Other people outside the window were watching too, huddled in fear, but none of them dared to step in. They all knew the same thing: if they got involved, they could end up next. The middle-aged man’s body was already a bloody mess, and the attackers were stripping his wallet before making their getaway.

“What are you staring at, you fucking trash?!” one of them bellowed, his voice loud enough to echo across the alley. His friends burst out laughing, mocking the scene like it was the most hilarious thing they’d seen all day.

They pocketed the loot and melted into the shadows, vanishing around the corner as if they’d never been there. The world had truly gone insane. Robbery, assault, and now outright killing—none of it seemed to faze anyone. Even the police? Forget it. Who would risk their own life helping strangers?

A simple mugging might have drawn some sympathy, but these assholes were armed with lethal weapons, moving in a pack. Charging in without backup? That would be straight-up stupid. I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stayed back, watching the blood soak into the pavement, my stomach twisting with a hunger I couldn’t ignore.

Several people approached the fallen man, checking his pulse with cautious steps. They shook their heads in unison and left just as quickly. Dead. Or dying. Either way, calling 119 was pointless now—no one was coming for a corpse in this hellscape.

My stomach roared again. The way I was eating—rationing every scrap—wouldn’t last long. I should’ve grabbed more at the store yesterday. But what choice did I have? This wasn’t a game. It was survival.

The System called it “Super Regeneration,” yet in this world, it felt like the cruelest curse imaginable. I had to stretch every calorie, and here I was, still starving. Great.

Another day dragged by in silence, broken only by the occasional distant scream or the low hum of looters. I ate another can of beans, the taste metallic and bitter, and collapsed into uneasy sleep on the cold floor.

Then the doorbell rang.

Who the hell would be at my door in this nightmare? The whole world had gone to hell—no one was coming to visit. I crept to the entrance and peered through the peephole. A man stood there, holding a massive box, wearing an official-looking uniform.

“Who are you?” I called through the door.

“I’m a public servant from the district office! We’ve got emergency food distribution going on—wanted to share it with the locals.”

Still alive? Real officials walking the streets handing out aid? I cracked the door open a crack. Yeah, he was for real—his shirt and hat bore the clear logo of the city hall.

“Hold on a second.”

I let him in. The guy smiled politely as he set the box on the floor.

“Just need your signature here, sir.”

He handed me a small clipboard and pen. I signed without thinking, but something felt off—too hot, too sudden. A sharp stab in my gut. Blood. Everywhere.

The official’s smile twisted into something evil. “You stupid bastard…”

He yanked the knife free and plunged it back in, twisting for good measure. I grabbed the blade with my bare hand, slicing my fingers open as the blood poured down. Pain exploded, but I didn’t scream. Not yet.

“Useless, aren’t you?” He tried to pull the knife away, but I slammed my forehead into his face with every ounce of strength I had left. He staggered, blood gushing from his nose, and crashed into the wall.

“Kuh… kuack!”

Fuck. He was strong for a pretend cop. I climbed on top of the fallen man and rained down punch after punch—face, chest, head, no mercy. My hands were already shredded from gripping the knife, blood spraying everywhere, but I kept going. I’d never learned real martial arts, and my last real fight was back in elementary school. My movements were clumsy, arms flailing, but every hit landed with surprising force.

Maybe it was the change in my body—strength and speed surging like never before. I felt it in my bones, like my muscles had been rewired overnight.

The bastard tried to swing the knife wildly from the ground, but his power was gone. He just hacked and slashed uselessly, barely grazing me. No fatal wounds this time. I caught the blade mid-air with my other hand, blood dripping from both palms.

His face was the one that went to pulp first—nose crushed, eyes swelling shut. “Uuu… what… what kind of monster… what power do you have…?”

With his dying breath, he rasped out the words. “Your last words are in, you fuck.”

I ripped the knife from his chest and drove it straight in, burying it to the hilt. His body convulsed, legs kicking, but I pinned him down, keeping the blade buried deep. After a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠few agonizing seconds, his movements stopped. His eyes rolled back, staring blankly at nothing.

I collapsed beside him, breathing hard, my body aching from the deep stab wound in my gut and the slashes across my arms and torso. Like this… I’m actually dying? But the bleeding wasn’t as bad as I thought. Super Regeneration. That had to be why the pain wasn’t worse. Why I could still fight even after getting stabbed.

I stared at my ruined palm—bleeding had stopped, but the flesh wasn’t healed yet. I tore off my shirt and wrapped it tight around my gut like a makeshift bandage. It held. No guts spilling out. Miracle.

I shoved the body into the bathroom with my foot, the floor and entrance now slick with blood. I pulled the knife free from his chest—long, razor-sharp. A butcher’s blade. The kind you’d buy for raw meat… or so I’d heard.

I opened the box he’d brought. Just a few bricks. That made sense. Fake service, fake food, fake everything.

Hunger gnawed again, so I ate a couple more cans and passed out on the floor, the weight of the day finally crashing down.

One hour later, my hand wounds were mostly closed. I could move them normally now. The regeneration was insane. But my gut still throbbed with a deep, burning ache. If this had happened to a normal person, I’d have bled out for sure. But the System’s gift was clearly worth every calorie I saved.

The bastard had warned me this would happen. If he’d just told me to pick Qi Blast or Telekinesis instead, I would’ve taken it. No money, no looks—none of that mattered anymore.

Fuck. I should’ve picked the Red Pill the second I saw the System. At least I’d have died in the real world instead of this twisted simulation. Were the others real? Or just NPCs? The guilt never came. Killing for survival felt… normal now. The world’s rules had changed overnight.

Bleeding had stopped, but the pain in my gut was still intense. And my stomach was ridiculously bloated. Is there internal bleeding? This feels bad…

I clutched my belly and passed out on the floor, drifting into unconsciousness.

***

“Puha!”

I shot upright in the water.

Naked. A bathtub-like machine. And in front of me, the same floating oval pillar entity hovered.

“You motherfucker! You lied to me!”

“What are you talking about? I paid for it, checked the regeneration, and your looks were just fine!”

“The world ended! You knew and still—”

“I don’t want your bonus! Give me Qi Blast or Telekinesis—money and looks don’t matter anymore!”

“So you’re forcing me to kill people? What the hell!”

“Killing isn’t necessary anymore—the world has turned into a meat grinder where the weak die. You’ve already taken one life, haven’t you? Bonus: your physical stats will grow alongside Regeneration.”

“Physical stats? How strong can I get?”

“Explain it simply.”

“Like… gorilla strength and a horse’s speed? That’s the idea. That’s it. I’ll keep watching over you. Hoho.”

The oval pillar’s power slammed into my back and hurled me out of the tub.

I surfaced in the bathtub again, water rushing over my body. I gulped down a handful and stood up, water dripping everywhere.

“Hey! Hey!”

I was back in my tiny one-room apartment. Fuck…

Suddenly, information flooded my mind like it always did. I had killed once—absorbed a soul, and the level jumped to 2. No big change in feeling, but the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hunger in my gut was already easing.

I lay back down, the wound still throbbing but a little less swollen. Self-healing? Is the pain just wearing off? Exhaustion pulled me under again.

***

“Hey, how long until we’re done?”

“A few minutes at most.”

“Alright. Start moving. Everyone grab your weapons properly.”

Voices drifted down from somewhere—muffled, excited. I woke up in the dark. 5 a.m. on my watch. What the hell was that noise?

The date said two days had passed. Not just a few hours. I’d slept through the entire night and then another full day. The doorbell click echoed as a thief picked the lock. Thud. The front door opened and shut.

Then came the chaotic scramble, a short scream, a giggle, and the rustling of drawers being ransacked below.

Thieves on the lower floor again. I slipped out of bed, pain in my gut almost gone. The bandage was loose but still covered the worst of it. I grabbed the butcher knife from the floor.

I just wanted them to finish and leave my apartment alone. But if they came up here…