The door to the Faculty Lounge remained locked from the inside. In the quiet room, which carried the faint scent of cold coffee and stale paper, Allisson brought up his visual interface. The translucent blue panel floated before his eyes, casting a soft glow across the granite counter.
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[STATUS PANEL]
Name: Allisson (Human)
Level: 4 (50 / 100 XP)
Class: None
[STATS]
Strength: 12.5
Dexterity: 9.5
Constitution: 7.5
Intelligence: 16.5
Perception: 17.5
Mana: 4
[AVAILABLE FREE POINTS: 3]
[LEARNED SKILLS]
[Infinite Evolution] (Level 1): First Milestone: Level 10.
[Structural Analysis] (Level 1): Biological and structural reading based on Perception.
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Allisson stared at his Constitution score: 7.5.
That number wasn't merely abstract; it represented a clear biological equation. Seven point five points reflected a twenty-five-year-old's sedentary lifestyle—built on endless hours hunched over grading desks and late-night routines.
In practical combat terms, it meant a shallow metabolic reserve, stamina that drained after brief bursts of exertion, and bone density ill-equipped for direct collisions.
If I take a frontal hit from a Level 3 mutant and attempt to block, the kinetic energy will shatter my ribs, he analyzed. 16.5 Intelligence and 17.5 Perception give me superior situational reading, but Constitution is the bottleneck throttling my combat execution. Still, burning all my points right now would be a mistake. Keeping a safety buffer for an immediate emergency is the logical play.
Allisson allocated 2 Free Points directly into Constitution, holding 1 Free Point in reserve on his interface as a wild card for instant mid-combat stat dumping.
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[ATTRIBUTE ALLOCATION CONFIRMED!]
Constitution: 7.5 ➔ 9.5
Remaining Free Points: 1 (In Reserve)
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A wave of warmth radiated from his sternum, spreading rapidly through his chest muscles, legs, and down his spine. Allisson's breathing deepened instantly, his resting heart rate dropped, and the dull ache in his lower back vanished.
Two full points in Constitution. His tissue density and oxygen efficiency had taken a significant leap, all while preserving the safety net of a reserve point.
Satisfied with his stat distribution, Allisson turned his attention to the twenty-liter water dispenser resting on the counter.
Paulo, who was finishing off a cold meal container found in the fridge, walked over and grabbed the plastic handle of the heavy jug.
"Mr. Allisson, if we carry the whole jug back to the computer lab, we'll have enough water for weeks without leaving," the boy suggested, bracing himself to lift it.
Allisson caught Paulo’s wrist, halting the motion before the plastic could make a sound.
"Put it down, Paulo. Think."
"But... it’s twenty liters, Mr. Allisson."
"Exactly. Twenty liters equals roughly forty-four pounds of dead weight," Allisson said, keeping his tone calm and instructional. "If you hug a forty-four-pound jug to your chest, your center of gravity is thrown forward. Both of your hands are occupied, your lower field of vision is completely blocked, and your mobility drops by over sixty percent."
Allisson motioned toward the locked door.
"If a Mana Hound rounds the corner right now, our reaction time will be zero. You won't be able to trigger [Synaptic Acceleration], and I won't be able to swing a five-foot spear."
Paulo blinked, slowly letting go of the handle.
"Load fractioning..." the boy murmured.
"Precisely." Allisson opened the upper cabinets. "We split the weight. Gather every thermos, the empty two-liter bottles in the recycling bin, and the water bottles in our backpacks."
In under five minutes, Allisson and Paulo filled four two-liter bottles and three 16-ounce thermal flasks, distributing the weight strategically between their two bags. The straps were pulled tight against their chests to eliminate load shift.
The primary jug remained on the dispenser—a forward supply depot for future incursions into the administrative wing.
As he zipped his backpack closed, Paulo stopped, staring down at the ceramic floor. The quiet of the room seemed to crash over him all at once. His brow furrowed, his eyes welled with tears, and his lips trembled.
"Mr. Allisson..." Paulo whispered, his voice cracking under stifled grief. "The other students in my class... Pedro, Sofia. They were on the ground floor when the blackout hit. What if they're trapped in the back building? Shouldn't we look for them? Or try the main gate to see if my family is okay? I'm... I'm really scared for them."
Allisson paused, stopping his adjustment of the spear's grip tape. He looked at the fifteen-year-old boy. For a fraction of a second, the cold survivor's gaze gave way to the teacher who knew these kids, their routines, and their fears.
Allisson took a step forward, dropped to one knee to meet Paulo at eye level, and placed both hands firmly on the boy's shoulders.
"Paulo... look at me," Allisson said softly, his voice gentle and warm. "I know how worried you are. I understand your pain, and I know how terrifying it is not knowing if your parents and friends are safe. You're a great kid, and you have a huge heart for thinking about them right now. There's nothing wrong with feeling afraid."
A tear slipped down Paulo's cheek, and he wiped it away quickly with his forearm, nodding.
"But listen closely to what I'm about to tell you," Allisson continued, squeezing his shoulders gently to offer reassurance. "If we rush out there right now without preparation and without knowing what's waiting for us, we will die. And if we're dead, we can't save your family, your friends, or ourselves. You have to trust me. To protect the people you love tomorrow, we have to stay alive today. Okay?"
"Okay, Mr. Allisson... okay," Paulo replied, wiping his nose and taking a deep breath. The teacher's comfort noticeably grounded him.
On the inside, however, Allisson’s mind was calculating an entirely different equation.
The old world is gone, Allisson thought, staring at the boy without letting a trace of his internal coldness show. Human morality, empathy, and blind heroism are luxury goods that cost lives now. This new ecosystem isn't governed by compassion; it's governed by natural selection. If I let Paulo's emotions dictate our route, we'll be torn apart. From here on, the only real currency is pure survival.
"Tighten your pack," Allisson said, standing up and reassuming his firm stance. "We're heading back to the lab."
The trek back down the administrative corridor was executed in strict tactical formation. With his Constitution now at 9.5, Allisson's posture was noticeably more stable, and handling the Twin-Blade Spear required far less muscular effort—all while his single floating stat point provided a hidden layer of security.
They reached the computer lab door without incident. Allisson unlocked the outer gate, turned the key in the iron door, and both slipped inside.
The steel door was locked, the solid wood bar fell into place, and the gate's double iron deadbolts clicked home.
CLACK. CLACK.
Allisson unloaded his pack onto the main desk. Their fractioned haul had secured nearly ten liters of clean drinking water, along with dense calories—a cold meal container and a carton of milk—ensuring enough provisions for the next four days of isolation.
He walked over to the high transom window, stepped onto the swivel chair, and looked out across the central courtyard.
The morning sun illuminated a dead landscape: a yard strewn with mangled car chassis and the shifting shadows of mutated beasts patrolling the brush.