Back in his office, Matthew sank into the leather chair and let it take his weight. It was the kind of chair that felt like it had been designed specifically around the shape of a human being who had just had a very long day.
He pulled up the system panel.
680 points. After weeks of scraping together single digits at a time, seeing that number sitting there gave him a feeling he could only describe as dangerous confidence.
System. Optimize all remaining defects in the T-Virus sample.
Optimizing all defects in "T-Virus Sample" will cost 380 system points. Confirm?
"Yes."
A wash of blue light passed over the vial in the Lab slot, and when it faded, the liquid inside had changed. The deep, unsettling blue was gone. What remained was clear as water, perfectly still, not a single bubble.
It looked completely ordinary. Unremarkable. Almost boring.
"No more side effects," Matthew said quietly.
He took the vial out and read the updated description.
Optimized T-Virus Sample: When injected, restructures and enhances the host's DNA. Grants exceptional stamina and resilience. Minor improvements to strength and neural reflex speed. Host can continue functioning for a period even with severe organ damage.
Note: All original side effects have been removed.
He stared at it.
This was not what he'd had in mind. He'd been picturing something closer to a Tyrant in human form. What the system was describing sounded more like a very durable person. Technically impressive. Not exactly what he needed to survive in a universe full of gods and supersoldiers.
He put the vial back into the Lab slot and looked at what was left to upgrade.
Stamina LV1Upgrade to LV2: Biological functions exceed human limits. Capable of sustained high-intensity activity for 72 hours without rest or resupply. (Cost: 150 points)
Cellular Regeneration LV1Upgrade to LV2: Can maintain combat function for thirty seconds after fatal organ damage. Limb regeneration time reduced to thirty minutes. (Cost: 200 points)
Strength LV1Upgrade to LV2: Peak output sufficient to crush a human skull. Full sprint speed reaches 40 meters per second. (Cost: 300 points)
Neural Reflex Speed LV1Upgrade to LV2: Capable of detecting and responding to subsonic projectile trajectories at mid-to-long range. (Cost: 300 points)
He read through them carefully, then had a thought.
"System. If I inject the T-Virus now, can I still upgrade it afterward? Or does it lock in at whatever level it's at?"
User Manual, Article 109: After using a system item, the host may place themselves in the Lab slot for further optimization.
"Good." He didn't hesitate. "Upgrade Strength."
Upgrading "Strength" to LV2 will cost 300 system points. Confirm?
"Do it."
Another pulse of blue light. When it cleared, thin red threads had appeared in the liquid, suspended in the clear fluid like veins in glass.
Matthew took the vial out, pushed his sleeve up, and pressed the needle to his arm.
The injection was cold. Not sharp cold, not painful cold, just a steady coolness that moved outward from the injection site and spread through his entire body like he'd been slowly lowered into still water. It wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it was the opposite. He closed his eyes without meaning to.
He wasn't sure how long he sat there.
When the sensation faded and he opened his eyes, he felt lighter than he had in years. Clean, somehow, in a way that didn't have a precise description. No aches, no old injuries, nothing. Just a body that felt like it was working exactly the way it was supposed to.
He went downstairs to the Level 25 training floor.
The range had been cleaned since the last session: shell casings swept up, the air cleared out. HUNK had long since gone back to his quarters. The whole floor was empty, which was exactly what Matthew wanted. The last thing he needed was to accidentally put his fist through a wall in front of witnesses and spend an hour explaining himself.
He stopped in front of the damaged brick wall that had been getting slowly destroyed over weeks of training. He thought through HUNK's instruction on striking mechanics. Weight from the ground up, rotation through the hips, power delivered at the point of contact.
He threw a punch.
The sound it made was not the sound a fist hitting a wall should make. The crack of the impact hit the walls of the training floor like a gunshot, and the dust and debris that blew back made him take an involuntary step. When it cleared, there was a hole in the wall roughly the size of a cereal bowl. His knuckles were slightly red. The skin hadn't even broken.
He stood there for a moment, genuinely startled by his own output.
The tests that followed were methodical. Sprint speed came out at around forty-two meters per second at full effort. Vertical jump, from a standing start, cleared three meters without difficulty. Endurance he couldn't fully measure because he ran out of things to test it against before he found a limit. The training that had been grinding him into the floor two weeks ago now didn't register as effort at all.
He was satisfied.
Morning light cut through the curtain gap and landed directly on Eleanor's face.
In sleep, the composure she carried everywhere had completely relaxed. The gold-rimmed glasses were on the nightstand. The careful professional expression was gone. There was even a faint smile at the corner of her mouth, like whatever she was dreaming about had gone well for her.
Her phone buzzed.
She frowned without waking up.
It buzzed again.
The frown deepened. She'd been given a day off. Whoever this was had terrible timing and would be hearing about it.
Then the pattern of the vibration registered somewhere in the back of her mind, and Eleanor's eyes opened immediately.
That was the dedicated line. The one reserved exclusively for her employer.
She grabbed the phone.
Matthew Lawrence (Boss): Sorry to interrupt your day off, but something important came up and I need you to handle it.
I've had some files pulled together overnight using company resources. The people listed in these files need to be recruited into our department. Whatever it takes.
File: Leon S. Kennedy.
File: Chris Redfield.
File: Claire Redfield.
File: Jill Valentine.