Kill to evolve: A system that demands blood-Chapter 14: System Upgrade

Chapter 14

A sharp, searing pain tore through Ronan's chest. His breath hitched, hiis body locked up, and his mind refused to process what the hell he was seeing.

The person who he thought was his soon stood before him, one hand buried deep in his chest, fingers curled around his still-beating heart.

Ronan's brain screamed at him to move, to fight, to do something. But for that single, frozen moment, he couldn't. The sight alone—the too-familiar face, the empty, mocking eyes—held him in place, his pulse hammering against his ribs.

Then, something in him snapped....rage.

Not the kind that boiled over instantly. No, this was slower. Deeper. It started in his gut, tightening every muscle in his body, creeping into his limbs like fire through dry wood. His breathing grew sharp, his teeth grinding hard enough to make his jaw ache.

A low, guttural growl rumbled in his throat as blood dripped from the wound. He barely felt it anymore.

This bastard dared to wear his son's face.

The imposter smirked. "Tch. That was too easy. I expected more from you, Vale. Then again..."

His hand twisted inside Ronan's chest.

White-hot agony shot through every nerve in his body. His back arched. His muscles locked.

"You let your emotions blind you," the imposter continued, voice laced with amusement. "Did you really think we'd just hand over your son?"

A cold tremor ran through Ronan's fingers. Then—he exhaled, long and slow. The words flickered to life on the screen

[Ability: Regeneration Activated.]

His body reacted before his mind fully registered it. The pain, the tearing sensation—it didn't vanish, not immediately. It dulled first, like a flickering signal struggling to cut out. His ribs pushed back into place. Torn flesh stitched itself together, fibers reconnecting, knitting tight. The hand in his chest was still there, still violating his body, but the wound itself was rejecting it, sealing around the intrusion.

The imposter hesitated, his smirk faltering. "What the—?"

That second of hesitation was all Ronan needed to regain control.

His hand snapped up, clamping around the bastard's wrist with a strong hold as hard as steel.

And with a brutal twist, CRACK!

The satisfying crunch of bone filled the air.

The imposter's face twisted in shock, but Ronan wasn't done. With a low groan, he ripped the bastard's arm out of his chest. Blood spurted, hot and sticky, but it was already clotting, the wound closing itself off as if it had never existed.

Then—Ronan struck!

His forehead crashed into the imposter's nose.

A sickening crunch echoed.

The bastard reeled back, dazed, but Ronan's fist was already in motion. His knuckles slammed into the man's ribs with enough force to send him flying. The impact cracked the wall behind him, fractures spreading like veins through concrete.

The imposter gasped, clutching his chest., eyes wide with disbelief. "You... should be dead—"

Ronan took a step forward. Then another. His fingers twitched with the urge to keep going, to keep hitting until there was nothing left to stand back up.

"You used my son's face." His voice was low, dangerous, and filled with pure rage.

The imposter wiped the blood from his mouth, eyes burning with something unreadable. Then—his body flickered.

Not movement nor speed....but a shift.

His face warped, changing from face to face, one, then another, then another. He flickered through faces like flipping through pages in a book, every expression familiar, stolen.

Ronan's stomach twisted.

How many people had this bastard pretended to be? How many lives had he toyed with?

He should've felt sick.

Instead, he only felt colder.

The imposter lunged, but he'll! Ronan was faster, a lot faster than the last fight he had in the hallway.

His foot slammed into the bastard's stomach, the momentum sending him flying and slamming against the ground. As soon as he tried to stand back up, Ronan's fist clenched.

[Ability: Gravity Suppression Activated.]

BOOM.

The entire floor trembled. The imposter's body slammed into the ground like an insect pinned under a boot. A choked, strangled sound left his lips as the crushing force pinned him down.

He thrashed. Panicked.

"What... the... hell...?!" he rasped, limbs trembling against the invisible weight pressing down on him.

Ronan crouched beside him, tilting his head slightly. "What's wrong?" His tone was almost mocking. But devoid of emotion. "Can't handle your own weight?"

The imposter gasped for air, his face twisted in agony. "I— I can't... breathe—"

Something inside Ronan hesitated.

This man—this thing—was struggling like any other dying person would. Panicked. Terrified.

His grip should have loosened. He should have felt pity. But he didn't.

The thought barely even surfaced before something darker drowned it out. A relentless, pounding urge echoed in his mind—cold, unyielding.

They deserve this.

They threatened your son's life.

They shouldn't be spared.

He grabbed the imposter by the throat, lifting him effortlessly despite the gravity pressing down. The bastard's legs dangled, but all his efforts were futile against Ronan's iron grip.

"You made one mistake." Ronan's voice was deathly quiet. "You should've killed me when you had the chance."

The imposter thrashed, gasping, fingers clawing at Ronan's grip. His body morphed uncontrollably, flickering through faces like a broken machine.

Ronan's fingers tightened.

"Pick a face to die with."

And then, he snapped his neck....the crack echoing in the room.

The imposter's body went limp. The shifting stopped. His face settled—not as any of the other dozen faces he impersonated, but as himself. A nobody. Just another pawn.

Ronan let the corpse drop.

His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths. The rage was still there, simmering beneath his skin, but beneath it, something else lingered.

A cold emptiness.

[System Upgrade: Complete.]

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A sudden rush of heat flooded his veins. He stumbled, bracing himself against the nearest wall. His vision swam. A new kind of energy thrummed inside him, like wildfire spreading through his limbs.

[System can now be activated at will.]

[Status Window Unlocked.]

A new screen appeared in the air—clear, detailed.

[Name: Ronan Vale]

[Level: 6]

[Abilities: Regeneration, Gravity Suppression, speed]

[Strength: 16]

[Agility: 14]

[Endurance: 18]

[Experience: 1,230/10,000]

Ronan exhaled.

For the first time, he could see it—his growth, his power. The numbers didn't lie. Neither did the weight of what he had done to get here.

His fingers twitched. It should've felt satisfying.

But something about it made his stomach turn.

This system—it wasn't just changing his body.

It was changing him.

A slow, bitter laugh rumbled from his chest.

The fury had settled. But the cold detachment remained.

He stepped over the corpse without hesitation. Whoever the boss was here, they needed to have a serious talk.