Death was supposedly the final step in life, but after dying he found himself inhabiting the body of a young Denji in a world teeming with Curses. In a cruel mix of two dark stories, he was more than happy to use his Gamer System to get stronger so he could protect himself, but didn't he know that suffering built character?
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Cursed Second Life in a Hellish World
- Thread starter Krak-Quinn
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Krak-Quinn
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Drifting endlessly through a hollow void wasn't all that bad. If this was the afterlife, then maybe he shouldn't have struggled so hard simply trying to stay alive; it was pretty peaceful here. Maybe he should be thankful to his father. That old man had finally killed him in a fit of drunken rage.
Here —in nowhere— there was nothing troubling him.
But…
But, no, he couldn't accept this. Sure, his pain would end, but he would get nothing else in return. He had suffered for years; he had endured it all because he believed there would be something worth living for, yet he hadn't found it, and now he was dead, just like that, it was over.
'I… don't want to die.' An errant thought rose up from the depths of his mind. 'I want to live.' A single desire resonated within his soul.
The first thing that registered with him as his brain started interpreting signals again was the lingering pain his body was still experiencing. His memories weren't clear and his mind felt like it was trapped in a fog. It came back to him in flashes. His drunken father had come home late from work and had taken his anger out on him.
As he was crying from the pain, his father had told him to shut up because he was trying to get some sleep and then he threw a glass bottle directly at his head. Everything had gone black.
'That… didn't happen.' He didn't know why, but he had false memories. Last night, he had been arguing with his father about getting a job or to quit gambling. As a minor, he couldn't make enough money to pay rent, and the insurance they got from his mom's death was almost entirely gone. Of course, his memory was blurry from that point on, but still, that didn't explain anything.
"Fuck." His brain felt like it had been boiled into mush. "Fuck." Immediately after he opened his eyes, nauseatingly bright lights blinded him. "Uh-ahk!" Vomit spewed up from his stomach as he crawled to his knees. He was unbelievably dizzy, and even though he was on his knees and elbows, he fell over directly into his vomit. It had an acidic scent and taste to it, and it was also sticky, so even after he rolled away, it still clung to his face.
"F-fucking jackass." His father probably wasn't home since his job at the construction site started early —no, that wasn't true— his father didn't have a job. These two points contradicted themselves. However, no good would come from pointlessly correcting himself when he had a massive headache, so he dropped that matter. 'What's wrong with me?'
Even with his eyes squeezed shut, he saw those words with perfect clarity. He opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, but he could still read those floating words perfectly. 'What?' Suddenly, as if struck by divine inspiration, he remembered hearing his friends chat about this topic.
Instead of doing anything even remotely productive, his highschool friends would often drag him along and waste time not doing anything in particular. That period slowly shifted to hiding away somewhere so they could smoke weed and vape. After getting high or buzzed, they would ramble about whatever caught their interest. One such topic was the Gamer ability.
As the name implied, the ability allowed the user to treat life as a video game. He hadn't really paid the details much attention, but clearly he remembered enough to start hallucinating about it. 'Am I brain damaged?' That question went unanswered as his headache began to pound harder and pulse faster. Screw questioning anything. He needed some painkillers now.
More vomit fell from his mouth as he struggled to stand. Eventually, his hands found something to help him pull his body off the ground. His limbs felt weird, as if they were shorter than they should be. Through his blurry vision, and with seemingly zero balance, he tried blindly navigating his way to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Luckily, his father wasn't a junkie at least.
Time was hard to judge exactly, but he was certain that more than a few minutes had passed and yet he couldn't find the bathroom. The more he wandered, the more lost he got. He couldn't identify anything that should've been in his house. Eventually, he just gave up and slumped down against a wall. All the pointless movements only made him feel worse.
'Status.' With nothing else to do, he decided to indulge his delusion. At least he could read the words clearly.
He needed a moment to get his thoughts in order. 'I see. Hey, brain, why'd you mix JJK and CSM up?' He was aware that other people — his highschool friends — would compare the two series, but he thought the similarities were surface level at best. One was just about fighting, and the other was an actual story.
Of course, he wouldn't disparage someone from enjoying something, but JJK just didn't do anything for him. Then again, perhaps he just didn't have the right experiences required to fully enjoy it.
He was able to sympathize with Denji fairly quickly, because his own mother had also died and he was left with a worthless father. In fact, he didn't even blame Denji for killing his dad. There had been a few times where he also felt like that would solve his problems. However, life wasn't a manga. He would only create more problems for himself.
And furthermore, he knew —intellectually, at least— that his father was at his core: a human. Humans were a mess of life experiences, and his father was just dealt a bad hand. When he became an adult, he planned on getting his father some actual help.
That didn't mean he didn't hate his father, he definitely did, but his mother had loved that man. If heaven was real, he wanted to rejoin her someday, and hopefully, a redeemed version of his father would be there as well. "Agh!" It felt as if lightning was rampaging through his brain.
His vision was dilated harshly, the world was blindingly bright. His father's silhouette was the only thing breaking apart the light.
'You dumbass, now we can't go see Mom together.'
A classic argument, a pointless squabble, a few heated words, followed by threats of violence, and then it all ended with a shove.
Like a switch had been flicked, he couldn't think straight. All he knew was that his head took a bad hit. He didn't even know what that had been, nothing made sense anymore.
His brain couldn't process information.
He had died. His heart stopped beating and his lungs stopped breathing.
And as his brain lost power, his dead eyes took in the sight of his father sobbing incoherently as he tried to call for help.
Then the world of light went dark.
He was dead. His brain could not sustain consciousness.
"I'm sorry." And then he heard a whimper, and then a gunshot followed by a thud.
'Ah. That's right. I should be dead.' He definitely didn't feel dead. He was in way too much pain for that to be true. 'So, was I saved? Is this like a coma dream or something?' At least now he knew why his memories were jumbled. His real ones were clashing with the dream set.
Unfortunately, even though he was aware he was dreaming, he couldn't control or manipulate anything. The pain was probably a reflection of his actual condition. He might as well play along for now. He would wake up in the hospital sooner or later, or he might even succumb to his injuries and die for real this time. Either way, he should make the most of this.
He, Denji in this dream, stumbled back up to his feet and then he used the dream set of memories to navigate through the small rundown house. He managed to make it to the kitchen, with little difficulty, and then he used his entire body weight to pull open the door to the fridge. Through blurry eyes, he saw a light flickering before sputtering out.
The rancid smell made him gag, but he didn't have any stomach acid left to vomit out. 'Malnourished, is it?' The gamer thing did list that as one of his States, he probably didn't notice its effects because he was already weakened enough, or maybe this was the dream analog for his wounds. Since he couldn't eat, he'd probably always feel hungry even if his body was given nutrients.
Feeling around the open refrigerator revealed nothing. 'Duh, Dad doesn't ever buy anything to put in here.' Having used the dream memories, he began following along with the thought process of them.
Denji shuffled over to the front door, and then he knelt down and began rummaging about on the floor. After sorting through the trash, he eventually found what he was looking for: food. Although he couldn't see, the texture of the plastic container felt familiar. It was shiokara, at least that was what his dad had yelled about the last time he ate it. It was something like a bar snack.
He popped off the lid and scooped out a cold, congealed clump of whatever shiokara was. And it was… well, it was certainly something. It was some kind of salty and spicy meat paste thing, probably fermented fish. His brain was probably still scrambled. How else could he explain such a mishmash of flavors and textures?
All in all, definitely not something he enjoyed or thought even came close to tasting good, but what did taste matter? He needed food to survive. Now that he had eaten, in a dream anyway, he should have enough energy to do something a little more interesting than snacking. It was time to play around with Cursed Energy. He didn't remember all the details, but he knew the basics.
Or at least he remembered his gripes with the explanation given in the series. Cursed Energy was formed from negative emotions and so most humans had some. That was fine with him, but apparently it was rare for it to surpass a certain level in most people. And those that had more energy became Jujutsu Sorcerers or Curse Users, but he couldn't remember it being explained if anything made them that way.
He didn't know why more people didn't reach the starting line. He knew depression and stress weren't rare in Japan and yet only a handful of people could even see Cursed Spirits. He definitely would've preferred it being explained that ordinary humans had a low maximum capacity for cursed energy, and sorcerers were born with a high capacity.
'Geto definitely should've given some exposition for the difference between humans and sorcerers.' Denji walked over to his futon in the corner of the house, then he sat down in a meditation pose. 'Ah well, whatever, this is my dream. So hopefully, I didn't screw myself over.'
His mandated therapist had not been helpful in the slightest, except for lending him a book on meditation. However, that had been pretty pointless. He could be as calm as a clam, but that didn't affect the external world, only his internal perception of himself and his emotions.
Breathing was normally an automatic function, however, it was also one of the few that could also be done manually. As he focused inwards, he slowly became more aware of his body. He felt pain traveling up his nerves. He felt each pump of hot blood traveling through his veins. And he sensed a thin smoke-like thing drifting off of his body. The only question was how he would control it.
He could feel his nerves and blood vessels, but he couldn't control them. He could feel his muscles and bones, but he relied on his nerves to convey action. 'Where was the connection? The link?' The answer wouldn't just magically appear, not if he didn't force it to at least.
"Pepper! Come here, girl!" It was already ten past midnight. His mom would probably yell at him for being out so late. His parents already swore to him that they would search first thing in the morning. However, he couldn't sleep knowing his dog was all alone and lost.
"Pepper! Please come back!" He was probably interrupting the sleep of every house he walked by with his shouts, but those strangers didn't matter at the moment. Pepper had been his dog for as long as he could remember, and she would be giving birth soon. He just wanted everything to be okay.
Even though it was the middle of the night and he would've noticed headlights on either side of the road, he still looked both ways before crossing the street. It was clear on the left side, and on the right side… a lump barely illuminated by a distant street lamp. A lump with white fur spotted black and stained red.
The smoke flared up. It picked up speed and grew thicker, but just remembering the sight of his pregnant pet and her unborn puppies splattered on the street wasn't enough. This was just grief, it dragged him down, he needed to add something more intense to the mix.
The place where he and his middle school friends would hang out was underneath a stairwell in the abandoned wing of the school. Normally, he would come down the stairs, but today he took a scenic route, and now he was eavesdropping on the two people he considered his best friends.
"I'm honestly sick of him. I don't even understand his act. What's he got to be sad about? We've met her. His mom was a complete bitch. She was always nagging us whenever we hung out at his place."
"Yeah, same. I want to throw up whenever I see his 'sad' face. Boo-hoo, my mommy died, and got a boatload of money, and no, I can't lend you a few bucks. Greedy bastard. Oh, but if you ask me, her body was definitely worth the payout."
"Sure, she was kinda hot, but I definitely would rather have that cash… Ha! That's it! He definitely did it on purpose! Think about it, what would you do if there was a hot woman who you can't fuck, and you'll get a million dollars when she dies? Also, I knew his story was fishy. How does someone accidentally get someone else killed?"
His mind was a frozen fire and his heart was a flaming frost. Nothing made sense. This couldn't be happening.
"Ha! Maybe you're right. Oh, I just remembered, can you send me that photo again? I accidentally deleted it when I was cleaning some files."
"Sure, sure, I'm thinking of cropping out her face and sending it to him. It'd be hilarious if he jacks off on it."
"We wouldn't be able to reveal it, though. He'd know you took the photo."
"He's pretty gullible. I'd just need to play it up. And even if he did find out, what would he do? Cry some more? I'll just need to apologize a few times. I'm sorry I took a photo of your dead mom's naked boobs."
"Haha, I don't know dude, he might kill you too. HEY WH-GUKVKTCHS—"
The next few minutes were a blur to him. It had been like years of anger management and months of grief counseling had never existed. He hospitalized two kids and was sent to juvie for a bit, and meanwhile his father wasted most of the money they got for his mother's death benefit.
The betrayal and anger further fueled the thick smoke, or rather, it fueled the flames producing the smoke. With the increased intensity, he was able to trace the smoke back to its source, his heart. With each beat, the ball of fire surrounding his heart danced erratically. He was pretty sure this wasn't in the series.
It was there, primed and ready to go, but he didn't know what to do with it.
Just as his flames began dying down, an idea occurred to him. It was there, sitting in his chest. Now he just had to use it. How? The answer came rather quickly, and he realized why he had been dreaming that he was Denji.
In his mind, he gripped an imaginary ripcord and then he revved his heart. The flames exploded through his body, burning open a new network of pathways.
The Cursed Energy being generated was flowing directly into his body. He meditated some more to familiarize himself with the structure of his new networks. More than a few minutes after his pathways were forced open, the CE in his body had begun to turn very sluggish. He flipped the mental switch of a Circuit in his hand and the stagnant CE dripped from his palm like a viscous tar.
Although he didn't really understand what was happening, he didn't really feel the need to do an extensive investigation into what he was dreaming about. He could just have fun and play around until he either woke up or died.
While messing around with CE, he eventually found Circuits that were slightly different and directly linked to his eyeballs, so he flipped them on. The world, a blurry dark gray and brown mess, suddenly exploded with vibrantly colorful splotches. His vision still hadn't recovered, so he couldn't exactly see what he was looking at, but he could still read the floating words.
"Fuck!"
A shout broke through his meditation, but he was basically almost done anyway. His body was slowly becoming even more sore. He couldn't exactly tell, but it seemed like a lot of time had passed. The world was definitely less bright, and his father was home from his late shift.
"Denji, why the fuck haven't you cleaned this shit up? I don't work my ass off all day just so I could come home to blood and vomit everywhere!"
Something strange happened as soon as his brain picked up on the angry shouts. Everything slowed down. His thoughts and emotions became subdued. The dream set of memories were guiding the subconscious reactions. As Denji curled up in a ball, praying his father wouldn't barge into the room, he began analyzing the memories of this dream.
His father wasn't the best when it came to managing money or his liquor, and whenever his life became too much for him, he would take out his anger on Denji. From what he gathered out of the rants that his father would spew as he physically abused him, that man had been disowned by his family and dropped out of high-school after knocking up a middle schooler.
His mother was also disowned after refusing an abortion, however shortly after, her heart illness took a turn for the worse from all the stress and she miscarried. Since both of his parents were disowned teenagers, they struggled to make a living.
Eventually, his mother became pregnant again, and shortly after giving birth to Denji, she succumbed to her heart illness, leaving behind a massive debt in medical expenses.
His father turned to alcohol to cope with losing a wife and being forced to pay off her debt. Eventually, that man was tricked into getting a loan from the local yakuza. His father also got addicted to gambling. If he won big, then he would be able to have some extra cash even after paying off the monthly installment.
'Even in my dreams, my life sucked.' What was the point of dreaming if he wasn't at least enjoying it?
'Catharsis, was it?' After being placed into a coma by his real world father, it would make sense he would want to kill him. At least in this dream world, he knew he wouldn't feel even the slightest bit guilty about it.
After waiting for a while, Denji crept into the living room. The TV was loud, but it didn't conceal the snores his father was making. During his wait, he went over a few ways he could finish the job. He wasn't exactly the most physically able person at the moment, and he couldn't just find poison lying around. Then, he realized that he actually could do that.
He placed a palm against his father's sleeping face, and he flipped a switch, then every bit of stagnant Cursed Energy in his body was injected directly into his father's head. 'Die. Die. Die. Die, you fucking worthless piece of shit.' If this didn't work, then he'd find something sharp and hope for the best. His father grunted and groaned in his sleep, and then, following a choking whine, he went quiet.
All the exhaustion and pain, all the confusion and fog —everything that had been clouding his mind— it all vanished in an instant.
He looked down at the body laying down on the couch.
He stared at the corpse. Blood had leaked from every orifice on his father's head.
Small insect-like Cursed Spirits were suddenly visible, they were crawling on every surface in the room.
And they were also swarming the freshly dead corpse.
From the blood leaked off the corpse and into a small puddle, a small red slug-like centipede-thing emerged. "Die."
His words, but in his father's voice, echoed through the house. "Die. Die. Die." It started to emit a faint red glow, and flames danced down its form.
Near the creature, a newspaper —probably published years ago, and never thrown out— suddenly caught fire.
Even though his mind was clear, he still couldn't comprehend reality. This had to be a dream, but everything felt real.
It was a reflexive panic, born from Denji's mind, that he stomped out the fire before it could spread. His father had once screamed hysterically after accidentally dropping a lit cigarette onto the combustible trash littering the floor.
"Die." More flames danced.
He had to get rid of that thing.
He killed— he had to get rid of that thing right now, or else it would burn down this place.
His eyes shifted over to his father's dea— sleeping body. He continued to look around the room. He needed something to hurt the creature. He probably couldn't touch it with his bare hands or anything flammable. Eventually, a zippo lighter resting on the small drawer next to the couch caught his eye.
His father didn't have a nicotine addiction. He only smoked occasionally, and yet he treated that thing with care that he never showed his son. Even though Denji didn't know how this would help kill that creature, another part of his mind had already formed a plan. He picked the lighter up and then he gently placed it in front of the small spirit.
"Di…"
The flames died down as soon as he flicked open the lighter and ignited a different flame. The creature squirmed across the ground and latched onto the small metal device. He gathered what little Curse Energy he had flowing through his Coils and opened a few Circuits in his hands, then he clasped his hands over the spirit and the object.
It spasmed frantically. Red flames shot out from the gaps in his grip. His CE was rapidly burning away. Even as the flesh in his palms was being scorched, he didn't let up. 'Go inside. Go inside. Go inside.' He squeezed so hard it felt like his bones would shatter. 'Go inside. Go inside. Go inside.'
A single desire burned more intensely than the flames in his hands.
He didn't understand what was happening. Nothing made sense, so he ignored the impossibility of everything and focused on what could understand.
…
It was only when the sun rose over the horizon and light flooded the living room through a window that he realized a few hours had gone by. He hadn't even realized that his mind had gone blank. His Core could only sputter out wisps. His Coils were torn and couldn't hold, much less move, any CE. His Circuits were fried, they flashed on and off involuntarily.
His hands didn't hurt anymore, they didn't feel pain anymore, they didn't feel anything anymore.
Denji stared at the red and black mass of charred flesh and bones where his hands should be.
He had skimmed the words in front of his eyes. He had something more important to do. He stumbled to his feet, almost as dizzy as he had been yesterday, and then he shambled through the house, searching each room. He came to a stop in his parents' bedroom.
A lime green six armed rat-like Cursed Spirit —about the size of a large cat— was resting in the corner of the room, where the remains of a memorial altar laid shattered amongst the ground.
Denji walked up to the creature and reinforced his foot before stomping down on its skull. Then he squished it against the ground and forced it against the wall, pinning it in place as his other foot kicked it repeatedly. It squealed loudly and attempted to flee, but he didn't let up on his assault. He felt his toes crack and the spirit go limp, but he didn't stop until the creature faded away completely.
Nothing happened, so he limped through his small house and went about exterminating every pest he could find. After getting about most of them still left in his house, some having run away, he finally achieved his goal.
The lump at the end of his wrists bubbled up as new flesh and bones formed, separating his hands. Denji stared at the red lighter that contained his father. He didn't fully kill him. A part of him still existed, so everything was fine.
He was truly beginning to accept that he might not be dreaming, and so his brain began working to understand what was happening. 'That bastard really killed me, didn't he? And I think I heard him shooting himself afterwards. Fuck, I was dead. And now I'm… inside the body of a young Denji with Curse Energy.'
Denji, that's who he was now, began pacing around. With the fog gone from his mind, this world was indistinguishable from reality, because it was his reality now.
'Fuck, I killed a guy, my abusive father, sure, but it's still a crime. Oh, and now the Yakuza will pass the debt to me. Actually, what kind of world is this? I don't have any memories of Devils or Public Safety, oh, but I do have Cursed Energy. Am I just Denji, but in JJK?'
As his mind ran in circles, he eventually came to the conclusion of running. Perhaps he had entertained an idea as to how he would dispose of a body in his previous life, but now he decided that it just wasn't worth the risk.
He even disregarded the idea of burning this place down; the fewer government officials involved, the better. If he just left, then it would probably be the Yakuza that came to check on the guy. His father didn't exactly have many friends. If he was lucky, then no one would ever care enough to even report his body.
'Now I just need to find my way to Tokyo or something.' It might've been easier to just be a wandering Curse User, but he didn't want to tempt fate by not being on Gojo's side. Sure, he would try not to get too involved or stand out too much, but if he was railroaded into the plot anyway, then he at least knew a few of the enemies' secrets. 'I'll put a pin in planning things out until I confirm my situation.'
There weren't any Devils here, even though he was Denji, so even though there was Cursed Energy, there might not be any Sorcerers.
He didn't need to pack anything, he just washed his face clean of dried blood and vomit, changed his clothes and then left his home. Almost immediately after stepping outside, he realized just how much concentrated Cursed Energy had been infused in his home. It was like night and day. A true testament to just how miserable everyone living there had felt.
"Inventory? Storage? Uh, Pocket Space? Backpack?" Sadly, nothing answered his calls, so he just shoved his lighter/father into a pocket of his shorts and took off for the city.'Hopefully, I'll manage to find a train station or something.'
After a few minutes, he was still walking down a long dirt path.
'Oh, yeah, I had some unspent points.'
Well, he definitely wasn't going to be a hand-to-hand fighter, especially not at his young age. And although he had just brought up this idea, he quickly realized that he wasn't in a game. This was reality. There were plenty of ways he could raise his stats, so he better save his points until he met a wall during training or something.
Here —in nowhere— there was nothing troubling him.
But…
But, no, he couldn't accept this. Sure, his pain would end, but he would get nothing else in return. He had suffered for years; he had endured it all because he believed there would be something worth living for, yet he hadn't found it, and now he was dead, just like that, it was over.
'I… don't want to die.' An errant thought rose up from the depths of his mind. 'I want to live.' A single desire resonated within his soul.
The first thing that registered with him as his brain started interpreting signals again was the lingering pain his body was still experiencing. His memories weren't clear and his mind felt like it was trapped in a fog. It came back to him in flashes. His drunken father had come home late from work and had taken his anger out on him.
As he was crying from the pain, his father had told him to shut up because he was trying to get some sleep and then he threw a glass bottle directly at his head. Everything had gone black.
'That… didn't happen.' He didn't know why, but he had false memories. Last night, he had been arguing with his father about getting a job or to quit gambling. As a minor, he couldn't make enough money to pay rent, and the insurance they got from his mom's death was almost entirely gone. Of course, his memory was blurry from that point on, but still, that didn't explain anything.
"Fuck." His brain felt like it had been boiled into mush. "Fuck." Immediately after he opened his eyes, nauseatingly bright lights blinded him. "Uh-ahk!" Vomit spewed up from his stomach as he crawled to his knees. He was unbelievably dizzy, and even though he was on his knees and elbows, he fell over directly into his vomit. It had an acidic scent and taste to it, and it was also sticky, so even after he rolled away, it still clung to his face.
"F-fucking jackass." His father probably wasn't home since his job at the construction site started early —no, that wasn't true— his father didn't have a job. These two points contradicted themselves. However, no good would come from pointlessly correcting himself when he had a massive headache, so he dropped that matter. 'What's wrong with me?'
[State]
[Malnourished] - [Concussed] - [Cursed]
[Malnourished] - [Concussed] - [Cursed]
Even with his eyes squeezed shut, he saw those words with perfect clarity. He opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, but he could still read those floating words perfectly. 'What?' Suddenly, as if struck by divine inspiration, he remembered hearing his friends chat about this topic.
Instead of doing anything even remotely productive, his highschool friends would often drag him along and waste time not doing anything in particular. That period slowly shifted to hiding away somewhere so they could smoke weed and vape. After getting high or buzzed, they would ramble about whatever caught their interest. One such topic was the Gamer ability.
As the name implied, the ability allowed the user to treat life as a video game. He hadn't really paid the details much attention, but clearly he remembered enough to start hallucinating about it. 'Am I brain damaged?' That question went unanswered as his headache began to pound harder and pulse faster. Screw questioning anything. He needed some painkillers now.
More vomit fell from his mouth as he struggled to stand. Eventually, his hands found something to help him pull his body off the ground. His limbs felt weird, as if they were shorter than they should be. Through his blurry vision, and with seemingly zero balance, he tried blindly navigating his way to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Luckily, his father wasn't a junkie at least.
Time was hard to judge exactly, but he was certain that more than a few minutes had passed and yet he couldn't find the bathroom. The more he wandered, the more lost he got. He couldn't identify anything that should've been in his house. Eventually, he just gave up and slumped down against a wall. All the pointless movements only made him feel worse.
'Status.' With nothing else to do, he decided to indulge his delusion. At least he could read the words clearly.
[Status]
[Name: Denji] - [Level: 1] - [Age: 8] - [Title: (None)] - [Race: Human]
[Stats]
[HP: 5/16 (40)] - [CE: ?/?] - [STR: 2 (5)] - [END: 2 (5)] - [AGI: 1 (5)] - [INT: 2 (5)] - [WIS: 2 (5)]
[State]
[Malnourished] - [Concussed] - [Cursed]
[Cursed Techniques]
[Cursed Energy Perception (Level: 1): When near-death, grants the ability to sense the presence of Cursed Energy.
Cost: 0CE]
[Name: Denji] - [Level: 1] - [Age: 8] - [Title: (None)] - [Race: Human]
[Stats]
[HP: 5/16 (40)] - [CE: ?/?] - [STR: 2 (5)] - [END: 2 (5)] - [AGI: 1 (5)] - [INT: 2 (5)] - [WIS: 2 (5)]
[State]
[Malnourished] - [Concussed] - [Cursed]
[Cursed Techniques]
[Cursed Energy Perception (Level: 1): When near-death, grants the ability to sense the presence of Cursed Energy.
Cost: 0CE]
He needed a moment to get his thoughts in order. 'I see. Hey, brain, why'd you mix JJK and CSM up?' He was aware that other people — his highschool friends — would compare the two series, but he thought the similarities were surface level at best. One was just about fighting, and the other was an actual story.
Of course, he wouldn't disparage someone from enjoying something, but JJK just didn't do anything for him. Then again, perhaps he just didn't have the right experiences required to fully enjoy it.
He was able to sympathize with Denji fairly quickly, because his own mother had also died and he was left with a worthless father. In fact, he didn't even blame Denji for killing his dad. There had been a few times where he also felt like that would solve his problems. However, life wasn't a manga. He would only create more problems for himself.
And furthermore, he knew —intellectually, at least— that his father was at his core: a human. Humans were a mess of life experiences, and his father was just dealt a bad hand. When he became an adult, he planned on getting his father some actual help.
That didn't mean he didn't hate his father, he definitely did, but his mother had loved that man. If heaven was real, he wanted to rejoin her someday, and hopefully, a redeemed version of his father would be there as well. "Agh!" It felt as if lightning was rampaging through his brain.
His vision was dilated harshly, the world was blindingly bright. His father's silhouette was the only thing breaking apart the light.
'You dumbass, now we can't go see Mom together.'
A classic argument, a pointless squabble, a few heated words, followed by threats of violence, and then it all ended with a shove.
Like a switch had been flicked, he couldn't think straight. All he knew was that his head took a bad hit. He didn't even know what that had been, nothing made sense anymore.
His brain couldn't process information.
He had died. His heart stopped beating and his lungs stopped breathing.
And as his brain lost power, his dead eyes took in the sight of his father sobbing incoherently as he tried to call for help.
Then the world of light went dark.
He was dead. His brain could not sustain consciousness.
"I'm sorry." And then he heard a whimper, and then a gunshot followed by a thud.
'Ah. That's right. I should be dead.' He definitely didn't feel dead. He was in way too much pain for that to be true. 'So, was I saved? Is this like a coma dream or something?' At least now he knew why his memories were jumbled. His real ones were clashing with the dream set.
Unfortunately, even though he was aware he was dreaming, he couldn't control or manipulate anything. The pain was probably a reflection of his actual condition. He might as well play along for now. He would wake up in the hospital sooner or later, or he might even succumb to his injuries and die for real this time. Either way, he should make the most of this.
He, Denji in this dream, stumbled back up to his feet and then he used the dream set of memories to navigate through the small rundown house. He managed to make it to the kitchen, with little difficulty, and then he used his entire body weight to pull open the door to the fridge. Through blurry eyes, he saw a light flickering before sputtering out.
The rancid smell made him gag, but he didn't have any stomach acid left to vomit out. 'Malnourished, is it?' The gamer thing did list that as one of his States, he probably didn't notice its effects because he was already weakened enough, or maybe this was the dream analog for his wounds. Since he couldn't eat, he'd probably always feel hungry even if his body was given nutrients.
Feeling around the open refrigerator revealed nothing. 'Duh, Dad doesn't ever buy anything to put in here.' Having used the dream memories, he began following along with the thought process of them.
Denji shuffled over to the front door, and then he knelt down and began rummaging about on the floor. After sorting through the trash, he eventually found what he was looking for: food. Although he couldn't see, the texture of the plastic container felt familiar. It was shiokara, at least that was what his dad had yelled about the last time he ate it. It was something like a bar snack.
He popped off the lid and scooped out a cold, congealed clump of whatever shiokara was. And it was… well, it was certainly something. It was some kind of salty and spicy meat paste thing, probably fermented fish. His brain was probably still scrambled. How else could he explain such a mishmash of flavors and textures?
All in all, definitely not something he enjoyed or thought even came close to tasting good, but what did taste matter? He needed food to survive. Now that he had eaten, in a dream anyway, he should have enough energy to do something a little more interesting than snacking. It was time to play around with Cursed Energy. He didn't remember all the details, but he knew the basics.
Or at least he remembered his gripes with the explanation given in the series. Cursed Energy was formed from negative emotions and so most humans had some. That was fine with him, but apparently it was rare for it to surpass a certain level in most people. And those that had more energy became Jujutsu Sorcerers or Curse Users, but he couldn't remember it being explained if anything made them that way.
He didn't know why more people didn't reach the starting line. He knew depression and stress weren't rare in Japan and yet only a handful of people could even see Cursed Spirits. He definitely would've preferred it being explained that ordinary humans had a low maximum capacity for cursed energy, and sorcerers were born with a high capacity.
'Geto definitely should've given some exposition for the difference between humans and sorcerers.' Denji walked over to his futon in the corner of the house, then he sat down in a meditation pose. 'Ah well, whatever, this is my dream. So hopefully, I didn't screw myself over.'
His mandated therapist had not been helpful in the slightest, except for lending him a book on meditation. However, that had been pretty pointless. He could be as calm as a clam, but that didn't affect the external world, only his internal perception of himself and his emotions.
Breathing was normally an automatic function, however, it was also one of the few that could also be done manually. As he focused inwards, he slowly became more aware of his body. He felt pain traveling up his nerves. He felt each pump of hot blood traveling through his veins. And he sensed a thin smoke-like thing drifting off of his body. The only question was how he would control it.
He could feel his nerves and blood vessels, but he couldn't control them. He could feel his muscles and bones, but he relied on his nerves to convey action. 'Where was the connection? The link?' The answer wouldn't just magically appear, not if he didn't force it to at least.
"Pepper! Come here, girl!" It was already ten past midnight. His mom would probably yell at him for being out so late. His parents already swore to him that they would search first thing in the morning. However, he couldn't sleep knowing his dog was all alone and lost.
"Pepper! Please come back!" He was probably interrupting the sleep of every house he walked by with his shouts, but those strangers didn't matter at the moment. Pepper had been his dog for as long as he could remember, and she would be giving birth soon. He just wanted everything to be okay.
Even though it was the middle of the night and he would've noticed headlights on either side of the road, he still looked both ways before crossing the street. It was clear on the left side, and on the right side… a lump barely illuminated by a distant street lamp. A lump with white fur spotted black and stained red.
The smoke flared up. It picked up speed and grew thicker, but just remembering the sight of his pregnant pet and her unborn puppies splattered on the street wasn't enough. This was just grief, it dragged him down, he needed to add something more intense to the mix.
The place where he and his middle school friends would hang out was underneath a stairwell in the abandoned wing of the school. Normally, he would come down the stairs, but today he took a scenic route, and now he was eavesdropping on the two people he considered his best friends.
"I'm honestly sick of him. I don't even understand his act. What's he got to be sad about? We've met her. His mom was a complete bitch. She was always nagging us whenever we hung out at his place."
"Yeah, same. I want to throw up whenever I see his 'sad' face. Boo-hoo, my mommy died, and got a boatload of money, and no, I can't lend you a few bucks. Greedy bastard. Oh, but if you ask me, her body was definitely worth the payout."
"Sure, she was kinda hot, but I definitely would rather have that cash… Ha! That's it! He definitely did it on purpose! Think about it, what would you do if there was a hot woman who you can't fuck, and you'll get a million dollars when she dies? Also, I knew his story was fishy. How does someone accidentally get someone else killed?"
His mind was a frozen fire and his heart was a flaming frost. Nothing made sense. This couldn't be happening.
"Ha! Maybe you're right. Oh, I just remembered, can you send me that photo again? I accidentally deleted it when I was cleaning some files."
"Sure, sure, I'm thinking of cropping out her face and sending it to him. It'd be hilarious if he jacks off on it."
"We wouldn't be able to reveal it, though. He'd know you took the photo."
"He's pretty gullible. I'd just need to play it up. And even if he did find out, what would he do? Cry some more? I'll just need to apologize a few times. I'm sorry I took a photo of your dead mom's naked boobs."
"Haha, I don't know dude, he might kill you too. HEY WH-GUKVKTCHS—"
The next few minutes were a blur to him. It had been like years of anger management and months of grief counseling had never existed. He hospitalized two kids and was sent to juvie for a bit, and meanwhile his father wasted most of the money they got for his mother's death benefit.
The betrayal and anger further fueled the thick smoke, or rather, it fueled the flames producing the smoke. With the increased intensity, he was able to trace the smoke back to its source, his heart. With each beat, the ball of fire surrounding his heart danced erratically. He was pretty sure this wasn't in the series.
It was there, primed and ready to go, but he didn't know what to do with it.
Just as his flames began dying down, an idea occurred to him. It was there, sitting in his chest. Now he just had to use it. How? The answer came rather quickly, and he realized why he had been dreaming that he was Denji.
In his mind, he gripped an imaginary ripcord and then he revved his heart. The flames exploded through his body, burning open a new network of pathways.
[Traits]
[Cursed Core (Rank: 1 - Quality: 1): Transform negative emotions into Cursed Energy.
Max 4 (10) CE / 1s]
[Cursed Coils (Rank: 1 - Quality: 1): Store and Transfer Cursed Energy in the body.
Max CE Capacity: 6 (15)]
[Cursed Circuits (Rank: 1 - Quality: 1): Channel and Release Curse Energy from the Cursed Coils.
Max CE Release: 6 (15)]
[Cursed Core (Rank: 1 - Quality: 1): Transform negative emotions into Cursed Energy.
Max 4 (10) CE / 1s]
[Cursed Coils (Rank: 1 - Quality: 1): Store and Transfer Cursed Energy in the body.
Max CE Capacity: 6 (15)]
[Cursed Circuits (Rank: 1 - Quality: 1): Channel and Release Curse Energy from the Cursed Coils.
Max CE Release: 6 (15)]
The Cursed Energy being generated was flowing directly into his body. He meditated some more to familiarize himself with the structure of his new networks. More than a few minutes after his pathways were forced open, the CE in his body had begun to turn very sluggish. He flipped the mental switch of a Circuit in his hand and the stagnant CE dripped from his palm like a viscous tar.
Although he didn't really understand what was happening, he didn't really feel the need to do an extensive investigation into what he was dreaming about. He could just have fun and play around until he either woke up or died.
While messing around with CE, he eventually found Circuits that were slightly different and directly linked to his eyeballs, so he flipped them on. The world, a blurry dark gray and brown mess, suddenly exploded with vibrantly colorful splotches. His vision still hadn't recovered, so he couldn't exactly see what he was looking at, but he could still read the floating words.
[Cursed Technique: Cursed Energy Perception has leveled up!
(Level: 2): Grants the ability to see and sense the presence of Cursed Energy.
Cost: 1CE / 1s]
[Cursed Technique: Cursed Energy Manipulation has been learned!
(Level: 1): Grants the ability to manipulate your own Cursed Energy.]
(Level: 2): Grants the ability to see and sense the presence of Cursed Energy.
Cost: 1CE / 1s]
[Cursed Technique: Cursed Energy Manipulation has been learned!
(Level: 1): Grants the ability to manipulate your own Cursed Energy.]
"Fuck!"
A shout broke through his meditation, but he was basically almost done anyway. His body was slowly becoming even more sore. He couldn't exactly tell, but it seemed like a lot of time had passed. The world was definitely less bright, and his father was home from his late shift.
"Denji, why the fuck haven't you cleaned this shit up? I don't work my ass off all day just so I could come home to blood and vomit everywhere!"
Something strange happened as soon as his brain picked up on the angry shouts. Everything slowed down. His thoughts and emotions became subdued. The dream set of memories were guiding the subconscious reactions. As Denji curled up in a ball, praying his father wouldn't barge into the room, he began analyzing the memories of this dream.
His father wasn't the best when it came to managing money or his liquor, and whenever his life became too much for him, he would take out his anger on Denji. From what he gathered out of the rants that his father would spew as he physically abused him, that man had been disowned by his family and dropped out of high-school after knocking up a middle schooler.
His mother was also disowned after refusing an abortion, however shortly after, her heart illness took a turn for the worse from all the stress and she miscarried. Since both of his parents were disowned teenagers, they struggled to make a living.
Eventually, his mother became pregnant again, and shortly after giving birth to Denji, she succumbed to her heart illness, leaving behind a massive debt in medical expenses.
His father turned to alcohol to cope with losing a wife and being forced to pay off her debt. Eventually, that man was tricked into getting a loan from the local yakuza. His father also got addicted to gambling. If he won big, then he would be able to have some extra cash even after paying off the monthly installment.
'Even in my dreams, my life sucked.' What was the point of dreaming if he wasn't at least enjoying it?
[New Quest: Father's Fate!
Mandatory Goal: End the abuse you receive from your father! - Reward: ?
Optional Goal: Erase your father's debt! - Reward: ?
Optional Goal: Reconcile with your father! - Reward: ?
Optional Goal: Kill your father! - Reward: ?
Time Limit: ? - Difficulty: ? - Failure: Death!]
Mandatory Goal: End the abuse you receive from your father! - Reward: ?
Optional Goal: Erase your father's debt! - Reward: ?
Optional Goal: Reconcile with your father! - Reward: ?
Optional Goal: Kill your father! - Reward: ?
Time Limit: ? - Difficulty: ? - Failure: Death!]
'Catharsis, was it?' After being placed into a coma by his real world father, it would make sense he would want to kill him. At least in this dream world, he knew he wouldn't feel even the slightest bit guilty about it.
After waiting for a while, Denji crept into the living room. The TV was loud, but it didn't conceal the snores his father was making. During his wait, he went over a few ways he could finish the job. He wasn't exactly the most physically able person at the moment, and he couldn't just find poison lying around. Then, he realized that he actually could do that.
He placed a palm against his father's sleeping face, and he flipped a switch, then every bit of stagnant Cursed Energy in his body was injected directly into his father's head. 'Die. Die. Die. Die, you fucking worthless piece of shit.' If this didn't work, then he'd find something sharp and hope for the best. His father grunted and groaned in his sleep, and then, following a choking whine, he went quiet.
[Quest: Father's Fate!
Mandatory Goal: End the abuse you receive from your father!
Optional Goal: Kill your father!
Accomplished!]
[Rewards]
[Trait: Cursed Core - Twisted Soul (Rank: 1 - Quality: 1): Transform negative emotions into Cursed Energy.
Generates 5% of Max CE / 1s]
[Trait: Natural Monster (Rank: 1): Increase INT and WIS by 10%, Decrease STR and END by 10%]
[You have Leveled Up!
HP has been recovered.
5 Stats Points have yet to be allocated.
The States: Malnourished, Concussed, and Cursed, and their effects have all been cleared.]
Mandatory Goal: End the abuse you receive from your father!
Optional Goal: Kill your father!
Accomplished!]
[Rewards]
[Trait: Cursed Core - Twisted Soul (Rank: 1 - Quality: 1): Transform negative emotions into Cursed Energy.
Generates 5% of Max CE / 1s]
[Trait: Natural Monster (Rank: 1): Increase INT and WIS by 10%, Decrease STR and END by 10%]
[You have Leveled Up!
HP has been recovered.
5 Stats Points have yet to be allocated.
The States: Malnourished, Concussed, and Cursed, and their effects have all been cleared.]
All the exhaustion and pain, all the confusion and fog —everything that had been clouding his mind— it all vanished in an instant.
He looked down at the body laying down on the couch.
He stared at the corpse. Blood had leaked from every orifice on his father's head.
[Cursed Technique: Cursed Energy Perception has leveled up.
(Level: 3): Grants the ability to see and sense the presence of Cursed Energy and Spirits.
Cost: 1CE / 1s]
(Level: 3): Grants the ability to see and sense the presence of Cursed Energy and Spirits.
Cost: 1CE / 1s]
Small insect-like Cursed Spirits were suddenly visible, they were crawling on every surface in the room.
And they were also swarming the freshly dead corpse.
From the blood leaked off the corpse and into a small puddle, a small red slug-like centipede-thing emerged. "Die."
His words, but in his father's voice, echoed through the house. "Die. Die. Die." It started to emit a faint red glow, and flames danced down its form.
Near the creature, a newspaper —probably published years ago, and never thrown out— suddenly caught fire.
Even though his mind was clear, he still couldn't comprehend reality. This had to be a dream, but everything felt real.
It was a reflexive panic, born from Denji's mind, that he stomped out the fire before it could spread. His father had once screamed hysterically after accidentally dropping a lit cigarette onto the combustible trash littering the floor.
"Die." More flames danced.
He had to get rid of that thing.
He killed— he had to get rid of that thing right now, or else it would burn down this place.
His eyes shifted over to his father's dea— sleeping body. He continued to look around the room. He needed something to hurt the creature. He probably couldn't touch it with his bare hands or anything flammable. Eventually, a zippo lighter resting on the small drawer next to the couch caught his eye.
His father didn't have a nicotine addiction. He only smoked occasionally, and yet he treated that thing with care that he never showed his son. Even though Denji didn't know how this would help kill that creature, another part of his mind had already formed a plan. He picked the lighter up and then he gently placed it in front of the small spirit.
"Di…"
The flames died down as soon as he flicked open the lighter and ignited a different flame. The creature squirmed across the ground and latched onto the small metal device. He gathered what little Curse Energy he had flowing through his Coils and opened a few Circuits in his hands, then he clasped his hands over the spirit and the object.
It spasmed frantically. Red flames shot out from the gaps in his grip. His CE was rapidly burning away. Even as the flesh in his palms was being scorched, he didn't let up. 'Go inside. Go inside. Go inside.' He squeezed so hard it felt like his bones would shatter. 'Go inside. Go inside. Go inside.'
A single desire burned more intensely than the flames in his hands.
He didn't understand what was happening. Nothing made sense, so he ignored the impossibility of everything and focused on what could understand.
…
It was only when the sun rose over the horizon and light flooded the living room through a window that he realized a few hours had gone by. He hadn't even realized that his mind had gone blank. His Core could only sputter out wisps. His Coils were torn and couldn't hold, much less move, any CE. His Circuits were fried, they flashed on and off involuntarily.
His hands didn't hurt anymore, they didn't feel pain anymore, they didn't feel anything anymore.
Denji stared at the red and black mass of charred flesh and bones where his hands should be.
[Cursed Technique: Cursed Energy Manipulation has leveled up!
(Level: 3): Grants the ability to manipulate your own Cursed Energy.]
[Cursed Technique: Cursed Energy Reinforcement has been learned!
(Level: 1): Grants the ability to reinforce your body with Cursed Energy.
10 CE for 10% Boost.]
[Trait: Cursed Energy Attribute has been discovered!
(Rank 1): Venomous Fire.]
[Cursed Technique: Cursed Item Creation has been learned!
(Level: 1): Grants the ability to create Cursed Items.]
[Cursed Tool - Haunted Item: Igni has been created!
(Rank: 2 - Quality: 1): The flames it produces are formed and fueled by the Cursed Energy of the Cursed Vengeful Spirit trapped within.]
(Level: 3): Grants the ability to manipulate your own Cursed Energy.]
[Cursed Technique: Cursed Energy Reinforcement has been learned!
(Level: 1): Grants the ability to reinforce your body with Cursed Energy.
10 CE for 10% Boost.]
[Trait: Cursed Energy Attribute has been discovered!
(Rank 1): Venomous Fire.]
[Cursed Technique: Cursed Item Creation has been learned!
(Level: 1): Grants the ability to create Cursed Items.]
[Cursed Tool - Haunted Item: Igni has been created!
(Rank: 2 - Quality: 1): The flames it produces are formed and fueled by the Cursed Energy of the Cursed Vengeful Spirit trapped within.]
He had skimmed the words in front of his eyes. He had something more important to do. He stumbled to his feet, almost as dizzy as he had been yesterday, and then he shambled through the house, searching each room. He came to a stop in his parents' bedroom.
A lime green six armed rat-like Cursed Spirit —about the size of a large cat— was resting in the corner of the room, where the remains of a memorial altar laid shattered amongst the ground.
Denji walked up to the creature and reinforced his foot before stomping down on its skull. Then he squished it against the ground and forced it against the wall, pinning it in place as his other foot kicked it repeatedly. It squealed loudly and attempted to flee, but he didn't let up on his assault. He felt his toes crack and the spirit go limp, but he didn't stop until the creature faded away completely.
Nothing happened, so he limped through his small house and went about exterminating every pest he could find. After getting about most of them still left in his house, some having run away, he finally achieved his goal.
[You have Leveled Up!
HP has been recovered.
5 Stats Points have yet to be allocated.
The States: Immolated, Infected, and Cursed, and their effects have all been cleared.]
HP has been recovered.
5 Stats Points have yet to be allocated.
The States: Immolated, Infected, and Cursed, and their effects have all been cleared.]
The lump at the end of his wrists bubbled up as new flesh and bones formed, separating his hands. Denji stared at the red lighter that contained his father. He didn't fully kill him. A part of him still existed, so everything was fine.
[Cursed Core has been upgraded.
(Rank: 1 - Quality: 3): Transform negative emotions into Cursed Energy.
Max 20 CE / 1s]
[Sub Cursed Core - Twisted Soul has been upgraded.
(Rank: 1 - Quality: 3): Transform negative emotions into Cursed Energy.
Generates 15% of Max CE / 1s]
[Cursed Coils have been upgraded.
(Rank: 1 - Quality: 3): Store and Transfer Cursed Energy in the body.
Max CE Capacity: 40]
[Cursed Circuits have been upgraded.
(Rank: 1 - Quality: 3): Channel and Release Curse Energy from the Cursed Coils.
Max CE Release: 30]
(Rank: 1 - Quality: 3): Transform negative emotions into Cursed Energy.
Max 20 CE / 1s]
[Sub Cursed Core - Twisted Soul has been upgraded.
(Rank: 1 - Quality: 3): Transform negative emotions into Cursed Energy.
Generates 15% of Max CE / 1s]
[Cursed Coils have been upgraded.
(Rank: 1 - Quality: 3): Store and Transfer Cursed Energy in the body.
Max CE Capacity: 40]
[Cursed Circuits have been upgraded.
(Rank: 1 - Quality: 3): Channel and Release Curse Energy from the Cursed Coils.
Max CE Release: 30]
He was truly beginning to accept that he might not be dreaming, and so his brain began working to understand what was happening. 'That bastard really killed me, didn't he? And I think I heard him shooting himself afterwards. Fuck, I was dead. And now I'm… inside the body of a young Denji with Curse Energy.'
Denji, that's who he was now, began pacing around. With the fog gone from his mind, this world was indistinguishable from reality, because it was his reality now.
'Fuck, I killed a guy, my abusive father, sure, but it's still a crime. Oh, and now the Yakuza will pass the debt to me. Actually, what kind of world is this? I don't have any memories of Devils or Public Safety, oh, but I do have Cursed Energy. Am I just Denji, but in JJK?'
As his mind ran in circles, he eventually came to the conclusion of running. Perhaps he had entertained an idea as to how he would dispose of a body in his previous life, but now he decided that it just wasn't worth the risk.
He even disregarded the idea of burning this place down; the fewer government officials involved, the better. If he just left, then it would probably be the Yakuza that came to check on the guy. His father didn't exactly have many friends. If he was lucky, then no one would ever care enough to even report his body.
'Now I just need to find my way to Tokyo or something.' It might've been easier to just be a wandering Curse User, but he didn't want to tempt fate by not being on Gojo's side. Sure, he would try not to get too involved or stand out too much, but if he was railroaded into the plot anyway, then he at least knew a few of the enemies' secrets. 'I'll put a pin in planning things out until I confirm my situation.'
There weren't any Devils here, even though he was Denji, so even though there was Cursed Energy, there might not be any Sorcerers.
He didn't need to pack anything, he just washed his face clean of dried blood and vomit, changed his clothes and then left his home. Almost immediately after stepping outside, he realized just how much concentrated Cursed Energy had been infused in his home. It was like night and day. A true testament to just how miserable everyone living there had felt.
"Inventory? Storage? Uh, Pocket Space? Backpack?" Sadly, nothing answered his calls, so he just shoved his lighter/father into a pocket of his shorts and took off for the city.'Hopefully, I'll manage to find a train station or something.'
After a few minutes, he was still walking down a long dirt path.
'Oh, yeah, I had some unspent points.'
[HP: 108/108] - [CE: 50/50] - [STR: 4.5] - [END: 4.5] - [AGI: 5] - [INT: 5.5] - [WIS: 5.5]
[10 Unallocated Points]
[10 Unallocated Points]
Well, he definitely wasn't going to be a hand-to-hand fighter, especially not at his young age. And although he had just brought up this idea, he quickly realized that he wasn't in a game. This was reality. There were plenty of ways he could raise his stats, so he better save his points until he met a wall during training or something.