Marvel and Beyond

The two resumed their search, cautiously exploring the decaying surroundings.

Max instinctively recoiled whenever he came across the grotesque, organ-like sludge smeared on the walls or doors. 

He made a point to keep his distance. When avoidance wasn't an option, he had a simple solution—kick the door open with force.

It wasn't that Max was unwilling to investigate; it was just disgusting and troublesome. But that wasn't the real problem.

'I hope it's not that one,' he thought nervously, narrowing his eyes.

He vividly remembered a particular level—activating a mechanism had summoned a massive centipede-like monstrosity. That had been bad enough in a game. Facing it in real life was a matter entirely different.

To be safe, Max avoided touching anything that even remotely resembled a trigger. Sure, killing such a monster might earn him bonus rewards—if the system recognized it as an achievement. 

But he figured completing the Resident Evil 0 storyline would be enough to satisfy a beginner-tier mission.

No need to take unnecessary risks.

But fate—or Murphy's Law—had other plans.

The pair entered a room lined with three crank handles on the walls. Max scanned every corner, every shadow, his senses sharp. Satisfied that nothing looked like a trap, he let out a breath of relief.

They turned to leave.

The floor suddenly trembled beneath them.

From below, something massive erupted. A monstrous, centipede-like creature burst into the room, slamming through the floor tiles with a screech that rattled their bones.

Over ten meters long and bristling with barbed limbs, the abomination dragged itself into view, claws clicking and jaws gnashing. It was a horror straight from a nightmare.

Max froze, paralyzed by the sheer size and terror of the thing.

A scream shattered his stupor.

"John, save me!"

He snapped back to reality—Rebecca was already in the creature's grasp, its claws binding her from head to toe. 

The monster raised her high, waving her around like a mockery of hope, using her as a living shield.

'No way... I avoided every trap. How did this still happen?!' Max cursed silently.

He reached behind him, pulling out the grenade launcher. He aimed. His hands steadied.

But then... he hesitated.

'This isn't a game.'

In a game, he could shoot with pixel-perfect accuracy. Here, a single wrong shot and Rebecca would be blown apart.

That split-second hesitation was all the creature needed.

It lashed out.

A bladed appendage hurtled toward him.

"John, be careful!" Rebecca's voice shrieked, raw with panic.

Max rolled to the side just in time. The claw missed his face by inches.

Still, Rebecca remained firmly gripped—right beneath the monster's head. A clean shot was impossible.

Max swore under his breath. With no other option, he raised his assault rifle and fired at the monster's exposed body.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The rounds tore into the creature's hide—but it didn't even flinch. Max emptied two magazines. 

The only result? It grew more violent. Its frenzied movements became erratic, wild. The pain only seemed to fuel its rage.

Spiked claws on its head and massive limbs flailed at him relentlessly.

Max was not a trained soldier. No special ops background. There is no protagonist halo. He was just an ordinary guy.

He panted, his lungs burning, sweat blurring his vision. Each breath grew heavier. Every second felt like he was skating on the edge of death.

One claw grazed past his neck, cutting through the air like a guillotine. A single reflexive duck had saved his life.

That was it.

That moment broke him.

Max stumbled back, horror creeping into his chest. This wasn't winnable. Not for someone like him.

But something struck him odd.

'Why hasn't it killed her yet?' he wondered. 'Is it because she's a main character? Or because it knows I won't shoot while she's close?'

He didn't have the answer.

But he did know one thing—if he kept fighting, he would die.

He was just a normal guy. No powers. No luck. Just a system that dumped him into this mess and called him a"mercenary."

He'd survived zombies, leeches, and unholy monsters—but this? This was too much.

'I should abandon this bonus task. Stay at the mansion. Wait it out.'

The thought of sticking to the main mission grew stronger.

'These kinds of fights... they're for people like Jill. Or Chris. Not me.'

His grip on the rifle loosened. Gradually, his will cracked.

"Damn it," he hissed.

Max turned. He ran toward the door.

"Sorry, Rebecca," he whispered—whether to her or his conscience, even he couldn't tell.

Halfway through the exit, he glanced back.

Rebecca's eyes met his.

Her eyes widened at realisation. She broke into tears.

"No, John, don't leave me!" she sobbed, her voice hoarse, full of disbelief and heartbreak.

She saw the guilt in his eyes. She saw him give up.

Her scream echoed through the room, loud and raw—so unlike the composed, resilient young woman she'd always been.

This eighteen-year-old girl had never cried—not when she faced the undead, not when Marcus sent leeches to devour her alive. She had always held strong. 

Held on to her skills and hope.

But now—she shattered.

Tears flowed uncontrollably. Her sobs wracked her body, still bound in the centipede's claws.

"John... don't... go..."

"Please... save me..."

Her cries grew faint. Weak. Like a candle flickering out in a storm.

She was young. However strong, ultimately she was also human. Still scared like everyone, not some fantasy warrior. Just a girl trying to survive.

Max stopped at the edge, hesitation flickered in his eyes.

His foot hovered over the threshold.

Something inside him clenched. His heart struck his conscious, repeatedly. Maybe it was him being delusional or just his heartbeat. But something was off.

His body screamed to run—but something deeper held him back.

He couldn't take that final step.

He couldn't walk away.

….

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