There was a solid, sickening crack or thunk.
"AAAAAAAAAAHHH!"
The scream came a full three seconds late.
Jenna hopped wildly on one foot, clutching the injured toe as tears sprang to her eyes.
"WHY—WHY—WHY IS IT SO HARD?!" she wailed, hopping in a miserable circle.
"IS THIS SOLID GOLD?!"
[ Material: Ebony hardwood. Density: high.]
"I DIDN'T ASK FOR A MATERIAL REPORT!" she shrieked.
She dropped onto the ground dramatically, rolling onto her side and hugging her foot like a tragic heroine in a low-budget drama.
"My toe is broken. It's definitely broken. I can feel my—"
[ Scanning host's skeleton….]
"Shut up!"
She glared up at it through teary eyes.
And it did shut up after that.
It seemed the system was feeling guilty and was giving in, Jenna thought.
But on second thought, she sneered. Why wouldn't it? After stealing four million from her… Wait!
She paused, then frowned slightly.
She was supposed to be owing the system extra four thousand for the blackout and malfunction. Did it forget to include it in her debt?
Jenna shook her head. With how greedy and detailed the system was, it wouldn't forget, unless it had forfeited it? Or maybe already included it in her debt?
Jenna couldn't find a convincing answer, and she dared not ask it, for fear of reminding it, if it truly forgot.
Instead, she sat there, nursing her injury. When the pain had considerably lessened, she wiped her tears and rose to her feet, careful not to aggravate the toe or bump into the small mountain of rejected antiques again.
Her eyes unfortunately caught the furniture again and scowled.
"Didn't you say it was low grade? How come it was made of high quality wood?"
[ It is less than 120 years old.]
"What does that mean?"
[Antique classification is based on age, rarity, preservation state, and material.]
The panel flickered with grades.
[100–149 years: Low Grade.]
[150–300 years: Medium Grade.]
[301–999 years: High Grade.]
[1000–9999 years: Supreme Grade.]
[10,000+ years: God-tier Grade.]
"Ah," she nodded slowly, staring down at the small mountain of items. Now she understood better.
But even so, whenever she recalled the debt she was blackmailed into owing, she felt aggrieved.
"What are we going to do with these?"
[Options available.]
"Oh good," she muttered, "Shoot."
[Option 1: Resell in the external market. Estimated profit margin: 58–82%.]
She blinked.
"…You can do that?"
[Host may liquidate items through auction houses.]
Her eyes sharpened, then it dimmed. She couldn't do that, considering she stole them.
"It's not doable. What else?"
[Option 2: Deconstruct for material conversion. Minimal energy yield.]
[Equivalent to 0.0003% upgrade progress.]
She stared at the items.
Although she wasn't sure how they could be converted to energy, she didn't like the sight of those numbers. Especially not with the knowledge that any help rendered by the System cost an arm and a leg.
"Next."
[Option 3: Retain for trade post-apocalypse era.]
Her eyes lit up.
True! She could do that!
After the apocalypse, survivors would appreciate whatever reminded them of what their lives used to be. It would also serve as history to those born during the apocalypse.
"Fine, I'll keep them. Help me stash them away properly, so no one trips over them again."
After that, Jenna looked around, impressed by how organized the supplies were.
There were shelves, aisles, tags hanging before every aisle with names of every item on each section.
It looked lovely.
Fine inspecting the place, she limped out into the open. She caught sight of the fountain and recalled her injuries.
Although she received first aid from a caring nurse at the hospital, she decided to try the effect of the fountain.
Jenna dipped her finger into the pond to feel the temperature, then brought it to her tongue and tasted the tiny drip resting on her fingertip.
It was cool.
Not cold like refrigerated water, nor room temperature.
It was just cool…like refrigerating water for a couple of minutes.
As for the taste, it was just water.
However, from nowhere, she suddenly felt thirsty.
Jenna scooped more water with her hands and drank like a crazed donkey.
The water rushed down her throat smoothly until she felt full and belged. For a few seconds, nothing happened, until something did.
Grrrmm.
Jenna froze at the sudden shift in her system.
At first, it felt like warmth.
It was gentle, comforting, like sunlight slipping under her skin, making her want to sleep.
But just as she was about to submit herself to the ease, the warmth turned sharp.
Her stomach clenched hard, contracting like a woman in labor.
Her expression stiffened.
"Wh–what is happening to—ah!"
A violent twist ripped through her abdomen. She doubled over instinctively, one hand flying to her stomach.
"Y–you poiso—"
Something surged up her throat like a vomit. She didn't dare to hold it in. She gagged, her pores prickled.
Then, it started leaking out.
A dark, sticky substance began seeping from her skin, pushing out from her pores like sweat, except this wasn't sweat. It was thicker, greasier. And the smell…
"Oh my god—WHAT IS THAT?!" she gagged again, puking the dark substance all over the place.
The stench hit her a second later. Rotten and metallic, like damp garbage left in summer heat.
"What is happening to me?!"
[ You're experiencing Impurity expulsion. ]
"YOU COULD HAVE WARNED M—!"
Another convulsion tore through her.
She dropped to her knees. Her knees buckled, trembling under her weight. The sticky black residue continued oozing out of her skin, coating her arms, neck, even her face.
Her breathing grew ragged. Her face paled, lips trembling.
Then, the next minute, her bones twitched, pulsing under her skin like a living being.
Jenna went completely still.
"…No."
Crack!
A sharp crack sounded from inside her own body.
Her eyes flew wide. And like a werewolf shifting, her bones began to expand, decrease, and reorganize.
Her spine shifted first, followed by a grinding, pulling sensation crawling along her ribs.
Her shoulder joints rotated subtly with a nauseating pop.
But despite how painful it looked, it didn't feel like something was breaking. It felt like rearrangement.
"Ah—!"
The scream nearly escaped her, but she bit down hard on her lip, teeth grinding, eyes blurred with tears and excruciating pain.
Her fingers clawed into the floor. Her legs trembled violently as her hips adjusted, bones pulling into new alignment.
It hurt.
It hurt like hell.
Like every inch of her skeleton was being corrected by an overzealous architect. Sweat mixed with the foul substance pouring from her skin.
Was she becoming a were creature?
Her vision blurred.
"How—long—?!" she forced out between clenched teeth.
[ Bone marrow purification and structural optimization in progress.]
That wasn't the question.
She wanted to strangle the godforsaken System.
I'm that state, Jenna finally understood why their hosts always died.
They were ambushed, blackmailed, and angered to death!
Another pulse ripped through her one last time before ease washed over her like the pain was never there.
Jenna collapsed forward onto her palms, breathing hard, body shivering.
Silence filled the space.
The sticky substance stopped flowing but it stuck to her skin and clothes. And the smell, it was already a miracle that Jenna hasn't died yet.
[ Congratulations, host, you have—]