I was thoroughly washed clean. I personally helped myself to the house owners' body soap without questioning the morality of it.

What was it that guy said about a stats menu? Oh yeah, he didn't actually tell me how to open it. Should I just try thinking it open?

Open stats menu.

[User: Henry Miller]

[Race: CRITICAL ERROR!]

[Class: Spiteful Loser]

[Lv: 0]

[Xp: 0/100]

[Body: 6]

[Mental: 11]

[Senses: 9]

[Magic: 0]

[Skills: Racial ability (Uncanny Regeneration), Class ability (Fearless Resolve)]

[Traits: Racial trait (Starting attributes are unaffected by this race), Class trait (Attributes don't increase by leveling up), Class trait (Starting attributes are unaffected by this class)]

So, cliché.

Examining the information led me to conclude that I was either given something really overpowered and broken or something really crappy and broken. As far as my attributes were concerned, I assumed that they weren't going to be changed by the system after leveling up because my crappy class didn't level attributes.

So, in other words, this videogame fucked me over as far as my class goes. Though I suppose the inability to be scared could be pretty useful.

The last question that remained was what the hell was up with my race having an error.

My best guess is that it tried giving it to me while I was passed out, and so it bugged out the race quest leaving me with a default albino character template or something.

"Wow, this really is just a shitty RPG, isn't it?"

But there is that skill "Uncanny Regeneration".

"Peculiar."

Stepping out of the bath, I opened bathroom drawers and found a pair of trimming scissors that I immediately used cut off a chunk of flesh on the back of my finger.

"Damn… that hurt."

Blood poured out of the wound and down my hand but quickly clotted up, leaving a red scab, and over the span of a minute, it had crumbled away bit by bit, revealing a new chunk of unscarred skin tissue underneath.

"Yeah, that's OP"

So, I guess I really was paralyzed then, and the system saved me. Not only that but if it didn't give me that resolve ability, I would've probably been too afraid to climb out of the ravine.

I looked back to the man in the mirror.

"Maybe I won't be able to upgrade my attributes when I level up, but the system can't stop me from upgrading them the old-fashioned way."

I smiled into the mirror and declared, "From today onward, I will follow a strict work-out routine starting now."

***

Catching my breath, I looked up at the sky. It was midday, and I must've spent multiple hours full-speed sprinting around the same neighborhood block. I did it so many times I eventually lost count.

Every time I stopped a few seconds to catch my breath, I'd hit a second wind leaving me feeling like I did right when I first started. Another thing that really aided me was that my resolve ability kept me from feeling any urge to rest or slow down.

Perhaps this is how my character build was meant to be played.

I was wearing jogging clothes that I found in one of the houses and tennis shoes that I found in another. Perhaps it was theft, but I didn't really think of it that way with the current state of things.

For whatever reason, the neighborhood felt like a ghost town, which is probably an effect of the ravine blocking people from getting back from work or wherever.

Every once in and while I saw someone walking alone or peaking through their window. It was a creepy environment, to be sure, and many people were sure to be out looting houses.

Open stats

[User: Henry Miller]

[Race: CRITICAL ERROR!]

[Class: Spiteful Loser]

[Lv: 0]

[Xp: 0/100]

[Body: 8]

[Mental: 11]

[Senses: 9]

[Magic: 0]

[Skills: Racial ability (Uncanny Regeneration), Class ability (Fearless Resolve)]

[Traits: Racial trait (Starting attributes are unaffected by this race), Class trait (Attributes don't increase by leveling up), Class trait (Starting attributes are unaffected by this class)]

My body attribute already went up by two points. That is OP as hell—or at least I think it is.

I suppose it's about time that I head back to the encampment.

"Boy, am I starving. I feel like I could have a whole thanksgiving dinner all to myself."

Just as I had spoken those words, I had the significant realization of my ability's drawback. Like real cell regeneration, it had to come from something; replacement cells can't manifest out of nothing, after all.

"I guess I'm going to require a lot of sustenance if I'm going to take full advantage of my ability."

***

Making it back to the encampment, I began to feel an extreme sickness. I wobbled left to right as my stomach endlessly grumbled. It felt like I was a shambling drunk on the verge of going catatonic.

Luckily one of the people at the encampment saw me and hurried over to see if I was okay.

"Woah, are you okay?"

The voice was soft and sweet.

"Food," I whined.

"What?"

"Give me food, or I'll die."

"U-Uh okay… I will. Hold on."

My eyes were too unfocused for me to clearly see her, but I recognized that voice.

Falling to my hands and knees, I began to crawl forward in a state of painful agony. The nutrients in my cells had been all used up and were starting to shut down.

"No… Can't… Die… This… Way… Too… Wimpy."

Next, my arms gave in, and I face-planted the pavement. Lifting my head up, I realized I was completely blind, and my brain was becoming sluggish.

"Got… Too… Live."

Reaching my hands out, I pulled my self ever forward with my hands and finger. Though my pain receptors had begun to shut off, I could still feel the distinct sensation of my fingernails ripping off against the asphalt.

"Keep… Living… A little… Longer.