A growl resonated from the alley's entrance, the wet rasp of something hungry and impatient. Jason stood tense, the sharpened wax gleaming faintly in the dying light. In a perverse reflection of his past triumphs, he was again on the precipice of death – yet everything felt so laughably fragile. This was less a confrontation, more akin to a predator playing with wounded prey.

Yet, the old instincts lingered. His heartbeat pulsed not with panic, but a battle-hardened focus. Even without intricate wax constructs, he had the foundation – he'd do with raw cunning what would normally take refined skill.

The creature lunged into view, larger than the goblin-faced wretch he'd faced earlier. More hound-like, built for relentless chase, and from the sheen of its saliva, laced with something acidic. This one was built to maim.

"Perfect," Jason hissed under his breath. A test.

The alley provided one crude advantage: limited space. One on one, brute force wouldn't overpower him – he was still more human than the warped flesh bounding his way. This fight was about calculated brutality, a lesson he'd learned the hard way in his first life.

The stench of ozone spiked, signalling the creature's charge. Leaping to one side, Jason slammed his reinforced forearm against the dumpster barricade. The resounding clang seemed to startle the monster. Good. Buying seconds mattered.

Another lunge, dripping fangs snapping mere inches from his face. His heartbeat was a primal rhythm, an old, familiar pattern thrumming under his skin. Ducking low, he kicked out, catching the creature's flank, and felt a ripple of surprise at the solid impact. It howled in rage and pain, and the alley echoed with the symphony of chaos.

The next charge became a game of deadly timing. Every dodge, every strike against the concrete or dumpsters, bought him information. The creature's speed was formidable, but predictable. Its lunge lacked nuance, all instinct, no technique. That was where the tide would shift, just as it had turned countless battles in his past life.

Another kick managed to graze its skull, its shriek morphing into a gurgle. Then Jason made his first true mistake. A misstep left his back exposed for a fraction of a second – just enough for the creature to latch on.

Pain ripped through his shoulder, an agony transcending any injury this weakened body had taken yet. This close, he could see the warped intelligence in its bloodshot eyes, the acidic drool eroding an old, tattered sports jersey clinging to its warped torso. His scream mingled with the creature's snarl.

It was brute force then, pure survival instinct against instinct. Each twist in its iron grip forced a ragged gasp. It began to drag him toward the alley mouth, where a fate far worse than a quick death awaited. His fingers grasped for purchase, nails tearing against the dumpster's metal skin. His other hand, a desperate weapon, slammed the sharpened wax construct repeatedly against the beast's side. Not vital hits – simply pain, distraction, anything to break the drag.

And then, in that maelstrom, his hand finally found a seam in the dumpster, twisted metal jutting like a crude blade. In that frenzied second, he recalled another, distant fight, clawing his way out of a pit...and knew a sliver of hope could exist, even here.

Pulling with desperation, he managed to wrench his shoulder free momentarily. In that gap, he shoved the entire weight of his body towards the jagged opening, slamming the creature against the sharp metal. Its howl warped into a choked shriek of confusion. It thrashed, trying to back away as the makeshift blade tore a new wound into its flank.

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This was his chance. In a desperate final move, he slammed his foot into the gash, shoving the creature further onto the jagged metal. A gurgling scream pierced the air. It struggled, a final act of rage, and then with a wet tearing sound, its body went limp.

He collapsed against the opposite wall, a tremor wracking his frame. It wasn't adrenaline – there was simply no strength left, his body one throbbing mass of agony. And in the echoing silence, a wave of nausea washed over him.

Eliminated Opponent. Level up. Two skill points awarded.

The System's chime grated against his nerves, a grotesque soundtrack to a horrific symphony. Had he grown used to this in his past life? To the System's chilling detachment in the midst of carnage? Now, his very soul seemed to recoil from it.

Note: Significant Injury detected. Regenerative cooldown period increased.

The warning pulsed in his vision, adding insult to injury. Even his basic bodily repair process would be hampered due to the creature's bite. With a snarl, he forced himself to focus. Harvest first, questions later.

This corpse yielded better results: several glowing motes seeped into his skin, a flicker of progress amidst the carnage. But still, worry bloomed. Was his experience gain somehow nerfed? Would survival even be possible as these creatures gained strength?

The burning acid from the bite intensified, an icy dread mirroring the agonising heat. Every second was a risk, but he also recognized the morbid opportunity the corpse provided. With shaking hands, he fumbled for a jagged splinter of broken glass, tearing a chunk from his filthy shirt to form a crude bandage. His movements were hesitant, a chilling flashback to another day, another bite... He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus. It wouldn't be a lethal strike this time, not yet. But left untreated, it could end him just as surely.

As he clumsily bound the wound, his mind buzzed. In the past, even basic healing skills came easier. Now, everything seemed to work against him. Has the regression gone deeper than simply a physical reset? Did the System itself now deny him a path to power? Or worse, did this injury hold a darker curse, the true harbinger of his future failures?

Then there was the nagging absence, the missing ability pulsating with each painful heartbeat. Had he become… ordinary? His eyes locked on the glowing motes still swirling around the monstrous corpse: proof that at least the core functions lingered. It gave him a sliver of hope, a twisted justification for the grim bargain he had to make.

Focus. Survive.

He turned from the grisly scene. Every part of him wanted to crumble, to give in to the agony and terror tearing at his sanity. Instead, he forced himself to take stock.

Three unused skill points - a precious buffer. Sharpened and hardened wax bindings – weapons, still crude, but better than nothing. Injuries - serious, but not immediately fatal. Beyond that, the alley remained empty, his respite unlikely to last long.

Jason looked back to where the warped dog beast lay. Another creature might find his scent soon. Yet, amidst the carnage, opportunity gleamed. The wound the makeshift blade caused in its gut still leaked an iridescent fluid. Not blood, something foul and otherworldly.

An echo of his past life flickered back – the way creatures spawned. Rifts tore wounds into reality itself, the System using them as doorways for their monstrous legions. Could the fluid inside these beasts be an echo of that raw power? In another time, the very idea would have disgusted him.

Now? That disgust warred with an icy pragmatism that had haunted him long before this second chance. To dominate, to control his fate, maybe his transformation needed to transcend just skill and tactics. The rules of his old life may not apply – a thought equally terrifying and exhilarating.

With gruesome purpose, he moved to kneel over the corpse, a morbid curiosity overriding the revulsion. Whatever darkness it unleashed...that might just be the edge he needed, the path to becoming something far more powerful, and terrifying, than his old self. It was, after all, what the System seemed to nurture: predators and parasites thriving in this monstrous new world. He resolved himself to eventually figure out just what this fluid was.

Here, at the brink of ruin, Jason would rebuild – forged not just in the fires of his past, but in the very essence of the apocalypse itself. This time, he wouldn't simply survive the System. He would bend it, break it, exploit every crack until it knelt before him.