Level Up by Doing Good? I Choose to Slaughter the Villains!
godgoust · Completed · 6.6k Words
Introduction
It also told me to change the world through love.
I've always been the cooperative type. So I raised my blade, brought it down, and carved through the scum of this world—one slash at a time.
The System lost its mind, shrieking inside my head at a deafening pitch:
"AHHH! Host! Why are you killing people?! This counts as evil! Points will be deducted!"
I flicked the blood off my blade and looked up at the ground littered with zombies I'd decapitated.
Then at the man who had just shoved a living person into a horde of zombies as feed—the same man I'd put my blade straight through the throat of.
My fingertip traced the character carved into the hilt: Love.
"What's the problem?"
I shot back. "I'm using my love to send them exactly where they belong. A physical deliverance counts as a good deed."
Chapter 1
The system said that in the apocalypse, I should do good deeds.
It also said I should influence the world with love.
I've always been good at taking advice, so I raised my blade and struck—one slash, one piece of human trash eliminated.
The system went crazy, letting out a sharp, piercing alarm in my mind, [Host! Why are you killing people? This is evil! Points will be deducted!]
I flicked the blood off my blade and looked up at the headless zombies scattered across the ground.
And at the man who had just pushed a living person to feed the zombies—now lying there with my blade through his throat.
My fingertips traced the character carved on the handle—Love.
"What's the problem?"
I asked back. "I'm using my love to send them where they need to go. Physical salvation is also doing good."
1
When blood splattered on my face, the apocalypse had just begun three hours ago.
The stairwell was filled with the roars of zombies, the cries of humans, and the sticky sounds of flesh being devoured.
I started training with blades at seven, and it's been thirteen years since. This blade in my hand has been with me for eight years.
Right now, the blade was burning hot, blood still dripping from it.
Just three minutes ago, I had beheaded a zombie that lunged at a little girl next door. Then a mechanical voice exploded in my mind, and a bright yellow little ball popped up before my eyes.
[Congratulations, Host, on binding with the "Great Philanthropist System"! The apocalypse has arrived, and only doing good deeds can earn you a chance at survival! Good deeds earn points, which can be exchanged for abilities, supplies, and immunity to the zombie virus!]
[Hello, Host, I am System Jarvis! Our core mission is—influence the world with love, save the apocalypse with kindness!]
The little ball bounced enthusiastically, its mechanical voice full of pride, as if it had just handed me a get-out-of-death-free card for the apocalypse.
I wiped my blade and raised an eyebrow. "Can you make the zombies outside stop eating people?"
[...No.]
"Can you turn those animals who push people to feed zombies just to grab supplies back into humans?"
[...Also no.]
I glanced at it with the look you'd give trash. "You can't even do that, and you dare say you can save the world?"
The little ball instantly deflated, rolling into a corner with its back turned, looking like a wronged quail.
I gave it a squeeze—soft and squishy, actually felt pretty nice.
"By the way, what happens if I don't do good deeds?"
[Host already has the zombie virus in latent stage, and will completely mutate in three days! If you don't do good deeds and accumulate 1000 points to remove the infection, you'll die!]
It perked up again, shaking its body as it pulled up a system shop for me: delay infection for 1 day costs 10 points, 1 cubic meter of dimensional space costs 100 points, complete removal of infection costs 1000 points, and there were even ability awakenings and physical enhancements, all clearly priced.
I'll admit, I was tempted.
But I knew the rules of the apocalypse all too well.
People with bleeding hearts die the fastest. Those with misplaced kindness are the first to be gnawed down to nothing, not even bones left.
So-called "doing good" isn't about kneeling down to hand bread to someone starving and crazed, isn't about sharing your supplies with someone hiding a knife behind their back, and definitely isn't about using love to influence scum who are rotten to the core.
I put away my blade and smiled at Jarvis.
"Don't worry, I'll do good deeds properly."
The little ball was about to cheer when it heard me add the second half:
"With my blade."
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