Returning from my brief venture into the next layer of the cavern, I made my decision.

  I wasn’t ready.

  Not yet.

  The Crimson Blood Spawn had made that clear.

  I needed to refine my skills, level up, and grow stronger before I even dared to even think about descending again. So, for now, my focus would be on the upper level, hunting whatever I could find and testing the limits of my abilities.

  The first prey of the day revealed itself soon enough.

  [Iral Serpent - Lv. 7]

  [Iral Serpent - Lv. 5]

  [Iral Serpent - Lv. 7]

  Thin, black-scaled bodies slithered across the rocky ground, their tongues flicking out as they sensed me.

  I activated [Fear] for an easier hunt.

  A faint, ominous red glow flickered in my dead eyes. The atmosphere around me shifted—the very air thickened with malice.

  The serpents shuddered.

  Their movements became erratic and uncertain.

  I smirked.

  I lunged, my claws tearing through the first serpent, slicing clean through its fragile body in one precise motion. The second reared back, striking wildly, but I grabbed it mid-air, twisting, sinking my claws into its scaled neck. Its life withered in my grasp, the rot spreading instantly.

  [Target Defeated.]

  [Lesser Experience Gained For Defeating a Weaker Opponent.]

  [Target Defeated.]

  [Lesser Experience Gained For Defeating a Weaker Opponent.]

  [Target Defeated.]

  [Lesser Experience Gained For Defeating a Weaker Opponent.]

  I had some experience with utilizing multiple skills at once.

  Fear, the last new skill I had acquired, had shown noticeable growth. It was a skill that could turn battles in my favor by either paralyzing my opponent in terror or forcing hesitation into their movements. So far, I hadn’t met a single enemy that could fully shake off its effects.

  At Level 3, its range had increased, as had the oppressive weight of the aura I emanated. The sheer potency of the skill had caught me off guard when I first used it, and now, I understood just how valuable it was. An enemy that couldn’t move was an enemy that was soon to be dead.

  But not all skills were equal.

  I had been using Wither’s Claw since the beginning. My most lethal ability—razor-sharp claws that infected whatever they touched with rot, eating away at flesh and bone. It was my favorite skill, and for good reason. A well-placed claw to the throat ended most fights instantly.

  Yet… for all its power, Wither’s Claw was too simple. Direct application only.

  If my claws didn’t touch my enemy, it was useless. That was fine, but I knew other skills had more utility.

  When it came to Wither’s Claw, I hadn’t really noticed its growth. The potency of my rot had grown, sure, but that was all. Right now my rot was to the point I figured it might even be on par with the Feral Zombie that I had killed before.

  I had fought so many battles by now.

  But how much had I actually learned from them?

  That thought hit me harder than it should have.

  I had been blindly attacking, relying on Wither’s Claw and Unarmed Combat to carry me. Sure, they had leveled up, but had I actually gotten better? Had I even tried to understand what made them effective?

  That was the problem.

  Fear had grown. I had noticed that. The range had increased. The aura was heavier. But the other two? They felt the same. Or at least, I had been using them the same way without noticing anything different.

  I exhaled sharply.

  That wasn’t good enough.

  Leveling was one way to get stronger but not the only way, I needed to focus on developing my skills.

  It was decided

  For the next group of enemies, I wouldn’t use Fear or Wither’s Claw.

  Just raw, Unarmed Combat.

  Compared to my other skills, Unarmed Combat seemed to have the most utility.

  And I had the perfect test subjects to find out exactly how much.

  The Vampyric Flyers.

  I hated those screeching bastards. Their paralyzing cries were an annoyance, and their speed made them harder to hit, but that just meant they’d make for decent training dummies.

  There had been some in the area that I had been trying to avoid, but now I was determined to face them and went back to the closest group I could find.

  [Vampyric Flyer- Lv. 9]

  [Vampyric Flyer - Lv. 10]

  I found 2 not far from where I had been avoiding them earlier. Not anymore.

  One of them turned its ugly head the moment I stepped forward.

  It shrieked.

  My muscles locked up.

  Damn it.

  The first one dove at me. I barely managed to raise my arm in time to block. Claws raked against my forearm, leaving deep gashes. I could ignore the pain but not the paralysis. When i got free I swung a retaliatory strike, but the damn thing had already veered off.

  The second one came in from behind.

  I turned to face it, but my movements were slower than I thought they’d be.

  Its claws dug into my ribs, tearing into flesh. Dull pain shot through my side as I was waiting for the paralysis to wear off.

  The paralysis wasn't strong; it would only keep me immobilized at most for 10 seconds before I was free. But in those seconds, those bastards would just get ready to attack me again.

  When I got free, I sent out a heavy punch in retaliation, but the bat bastard twisted mid-air, easily dodging it before retreating again.

  These things weren’t supposed to be this difficult.

  I had fought two before. Killed them before.

  And I thought I had gotten stronger since then.

  So why were they handling me?

  Was I really this weak without my skills?

  Focus

  It was my turn.

  And if I needed my skills to turn the table, so be it.

  [Unarmed Combat]

  I need to see the potential of my skills.

  Unarmed Combat saved me in the past when I did not know how to fight, and even now, it is still invaluable. It had made me a warrior, and without it, I would have never survived.

  The moment it activated, I felt that I had more control over my body like the connection between the movements in my mind and the way my body moved was completely in sync. It was a feeling I knew all to well by now.

  The first Flyer dived again, screeching.

  This time, I reacted.

  Not perfectly. But much better.

  I leaned back—not far enough to dodge completely, but enough that its claws only grazed my tattered clothes instead of carving through me.

  I went for a counterattack, but the flyer used its scream to paralyze me as it retreated.

  If I had used fear, this battle would’ve been over easily, but that wasn’t my goal right now.

  The moment I got free, the second Flyer came at me.

  I turned faster this time.

  I saw a movement I happened to recognize.

  The way its wings tensed, the way its body adjusted right before it attacked.

  It was subtle but enough for me to pick up.

  I moved to dodge the attacks, but they missed me by a centimeter.

  These Vampyric Flyers were faster than the ones that I had fought previously. In fact, they were most likely as fast as the feral zombie, and I still wasn't as fast as it.

  But my movements were becoming sharper as the fight drew on.

  Another attack from the Flyers.

  Another dodge from me, Better than before.

  My observations and the movements of Unarmed Combat made a big difference in what I could and couldn’t dodge.

  And if I could dodge, I could counter.

  After dodging the next attack for the first Flyer, I followed through with an attack

  My fist swung out—slower than the FLyer but fast enough to land a hit.

  I was holding back a bit since I wanted to use the Flyers as training dummies, but my punch managed to knock the flyer into the cavern wall, leaving cracks in it.

  My strength was better than I thought. Even without a skill, my raw power would be enough to crush a monster of the same level as me outright.

  While that flyer was recovering the other dove in.

  I dodged.

  My footwork adjusted without me thinking, and my stance shifted instinctively.

  I felt it. I was getting used to them.

  The first bat, now recovered, shrieked, swooping in again.

  I weaved out of the way and countered with a high kick, catching it in the neck. The monster spun mid-air, its body jerking from the impact before crumpling to the ground, its windpipe crushed.

  It screeched, spiraling mid-air before slamming into the ground.

  The second Flyer lunged immediately, taking advantage of my focus on its partner.

  It was fast. Too fast.

  I wasn’t going to react in time—

  Then I moved.

  Not by choice. Not by thought.

  My body just… did it.

  I twisted, arm coming up to block, shifting my weight away from the attack before I even fully registered the danger.

  The Flyer missed.

  I blinked.

  That wasn’t me moving.

  That was my instinct.

  I took a deep breath. I needed to test something.

  Another attack came—this time, I didn’t look.

  I kept my body loose, my stance open—fully unguarded.

  And then—

  I reacted.

  Before my brain could even process the attack, my arm moved.

  Not perfectly. But automatically.

  I dodged without seeing it.

  I exhaled sharply.

  Was that a fluke?

  I needed to know.

  I closed my eyes.

  Five seconds.

  The bats screeched.

  I could hear them. Feel them.

  A rush of air. A shift in movement. A presence lunging toward me.

  I reacted.

  My body adjusted, shifting to the side—just enough.

  I countered. Not hard, just light. A test.

  My fist connected with flesh.

  My eyes snapped open.

  The bat staggered back, flapping its wings to stabilize itself.

  No way.

  That wasn’t luck.

  That wasn’t just me.

  That was Unarmed Combat.

  I had always thought of it as just a combat skill. A skill that let me fight better.

  But now—

  Now I understood.

  Unarmed.

  No weapons. No protection.

  It wasn’t just a combat skill.

  It was a survival skill.

  Despite being a monster my instincts covered basic survival like food and sensing dangerous presences.

  When it came to fighting, I wasn’t the best, and neither were my instincts. That was evident from the beginning of this battle where the Flyers were wiping the floor with me.

  But that was fine because I had Unarmed Combat

  A skill that made sure that even if I was exposed—even if I was open, unarmed, vulnerable—

  I would still move.

  Still react.

  A sixth sense for combat.

  My fingers twitched.

  I couldn’t even figure out when this change happened with Unarmed Combat or if it had always been there, but I guess it didn’t matter

  The thought giddied me a little. I had always fought using whatever instinct told me was best. But now I realized it was Unarmed Combat that was sharpening my reflexes, anticipating attacks before they even happened. I had never consciously trained this skill, yet it had developed on its own through battle.

  I finished up the Flyers easily as I decided to give myself a cheat and used Fear as a reward for figuring out Unarmed Combat.

  [Target Defeated.]

  [Experience Gained.]

  [Target Defeated.]

  [Experience Gained]

  [Skill: Night Vision Lv. 7 → Lv. 8]

  [Skill: Mana Perception Lv. 6 → Lv. 7]

  Is it just me, or is getting to Level 10 taking a while?

  I decided to spend the rest of the day fighting more enemies, limiting myself to only Fear and Unarmed Combat.

  It was… enlightening. Fear disrupted their coordination, making them hesitant, slower, and easier to predict. Unarmed Combat let me capitalize on that, my reactions sharper, my counters more precise.

  After a few more fights, I finally saw the notifications.

  [Skill: Unarmed Combat Lv. 5 → Unarmed Combat Lv. 6]

  [Skill: Fear Lv. 3 → Fear Lv. 4]

  I stared at the messages for a moment before glancing at my claws.

  My favorite skill, Wither’s Claw, was already at Level 8. Higher than the others. But despite that, I hadn’t noticed any deeper applications of it. Unlike Unarmed Combat or Fear, it was a single-purpose skill. Claw, rot, kill. That was all.

  Still, I was sure it had more to it.

  I just hadn’t figured it out yet.

  I usually used it for jugular rips—a quick, efficient way to dispatch enemies. But there had to be another use. As it leveled, my claws became more durable and shaper, and my rot grew in potency, But I still couldn’t figure out a better way to utilize it.

  Maybe something would happen when the skill reached a higher level; still, I needed something to test its current power.

  Conveniently, I ran into a group of Witherling Zombies.

  They would do.

  I selected the 3 I wanted who were all at the same level

  [Wither’s Claw]

  For a test this time, I struck vital points with Wither’s Claw.

  There were 3 zombies, so three test cases.

  [Witherling Zombie - Lv. 8]

  [Witherling Zombie - Lv. 8]

  [Witherling Zombie - Lv. 8]

  On one I used it on the throat, the other the head, And the last the chest.

  I was testing the power of my claw, so I only applied a scratch to my undead friends who wouldn’t fight back.

  The last time I used Wither’s claw was on the feral zombie back when it was just promoted to level 8, so I didn't know how it would affect a monster of my rank.

  I gave a simple scratch to the zombies in front of me as the area of the scratch turned a purple-ish black.

  Before I had time to even compose myself, the zombies crumbled faster than before, their bodies failing instantly.

  [Target Defeated.]

  [Experience Gained]

  [Target Defeated.]

  [Experience Gained]

  [Target Defeated.]

  [Experience Gained]

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Ok, that was…interesting. Claws are definitely very potent

  I probably should’ve done that one by one

  But still, I got my results.

  Monster skills were sure scary.

  And yet, despite the kills, I hadn’t leveled up again.

  But it was close. I could feel it.

  I was ready to head back.

  Back to the place where I had first woken up.

  I had dubbed it The Graveyard.

  A fitting name.

  It wasn’t just where I had clawed my way back into existence but also where most of the undead in the upper levels tended to gather—only to be slaughtered by my hand.

  Even now, after everything I had experienced, it remained a constant in this abyss. A place where the dead roamed, waiting to be culled.

  It was close. I could reach it in minutes if I moved quickly.

  Yet, as I started walking, I noticed something.

  Movement.

  A group of twelve zombies lurched through the cavern ahead, moving in a loose formation, their heads tilted downward as they shambled in my direction.

  Nothing unusual at first glance.

  Just more Witherling Zombies. More prey.

  But something was off.

  They moved a bit faster than normal and a bit too formal.

  They must’ve been a higher level than the ones I was used to.

  Only one way to find out

  [Inspect]

  [Witherling Zombie - Lv. 15]

  [Witherling Zombie - Lv. 13]

  [Witherling Zombie - Lv. 12]

  [Witherling Zombie - Lv. 13]

  [Witherling Zombie - Lv. 14]

  [Witherling Zombie - Lv. 11]...6 more

  I had never seen any witherling zombies of that level before. Maybe that was the cause of the weirdness of them.

  Their bodies moved in sync as if marching with intention, and they felt more alert.

  And even more, I swore they just stopped and stared at me for a moment.

  My intuition screamed at me. These weren’t normal undead. Hell, my common sense was screaming too. But there was a lot I didn’t know about these monsters, so who was I to judge?

  I watched, hidden in the shadows, as another witherling zombie stumbled into the group. It was just like the ones I was used to, just another wandering corpse.

  Then, without hesitation—

  One of the group struck it down.

  I tensed, my decayed fingers curling into fists.

  Witherling Zombies don’t attack other zombies.

  Well, unless they’re me.

  That shouldn’t be possible.

  Did leveling past level 10 give them that ability?.

  The only other zombie I knew that attacked other zombies was the Feral Zombie, and it was past level 10.

  I had too many questions and not even enough assumptions to calm myself.

  There was only one logical way to calm myself in this situation.

  I had to kill them.

  There’s only room for one Zombie killer here.

  And if they attacked other zombies, wouldn’t that mean they’d attack me sooner or later?

  No. I wouldn't let that happen.

  I lunged.

  My first target was the zombie at the back—the same one that had killed its own kind. It was only level 11, but I wanted to test the power of these anomaly zombies.

  It didn’t even have time to react before my claws tore through its throat.

  [Wither’s Claw.]

  The rot spread instantly.

  The zombie twitched, convulsed, then fell to its knees, rotting away into a decayed husk.

  [Target Defeated.]

  [Experience Gained]

  I grinned, standing over the corpse.

  Weak, and I get more experience. Then, I won't hold back and speed this along.

  The remaining zombies finally turned to face me.

  Weird Zombies.

  But I was going all out, so it wouldn’t matter.

  [Fear]

  [Unarmed Combat]

  I lunged at the next one, this time simply sinking my rotting teeth into its throat, causing the zombie's head to separate from its body. It died. Fast.

  [Target Defeated.]

  [More Experience Gained…]

  What the hell is going on?

  A shadow moved in front of me.

  I looked up.

  The leader stepped forward.

  A leader?

  A zombie leader?

  That was new

  Then…it spoke.

  …

  I COULDN’T EVEN SPEAK!

  Because of the fight, I hadn’t caught everything it said.

  But I processed one word.

  "Weak."

  My body stiffened.

  Was… was it talking about me?

  A sneer curled at my lips. Bloodlust surged through me like a slow-burning ember suddenly stoked into an inferno.

  Fine.

  If it wanted a fight, I’d give it one.

  [Inspect] was still running in the back of my mind. Level 18.

  A solid gap. But after tearing through its lackeys, fear didn’t even cross my mind.

  I had fought worse.

  And I had won.

  The moment lasted only a breath.

  Then—

  The leader moved.

  A blur of motion—unnatural, efficient.

  It lunged.

  I barely twisted in time, dodging by a fraction of a second.

  A clawed strike sliced through the air where my head had been.

  If I had been a second slower—

  No.

  There would be no if.

  The time for underestimation had passed.

  Underestimating this thing would be the first and last mistake I’d make.

  I wasn’t going to let that happen.

  This wasn’t just another fight.

  This was a battle.

  And it was time to get serious.

  [Fear]

  [Unarmed Combat]

  The moment I activated my skills, the atmosphere shifted.

  A wave of pressure rippled outward.

  The other zombies shuddered where they stood.

  None moved. None dared.

  Good. No interference.

  The leader wasted no time.

  It lunged again, its movement sharp, efficient.

  Another strike aimed at my head. A clean motion.

  He likes aiming for heads.

  I ducked, the tip of my claws slicing through empty air just above its scalp.

  I like aiming for throats.

  Maybe we were related.

  I didn’t waste the opening. My body reacted before my thoughts could fully form.

  Unarmed Combat activated in full force, adapting and reacting.

  At the last second, I twisted, using my momentum to drive my clawed fingers toward the exposed joints in its arms and legs.

  Fast and precise.

  My claws struck the area

  And stopped.

  They didn’t pierce.

  Its defense was too strong.

  I had expected flesh and bone to give way. Instead, it was like raking my claws against stone.

  Damn. I need to hit harder.

  The zombie barely flinched. It retaliated instantly.

  I was already moving.

  We clashed again. And again.

  Neither of us fully overcame the other.

  The zombie wasn’t that tough but finding another opening to exploit was proving challenging.

  After dodging its last attack I retreated to the shadows from where I first observed them.

  That's when I noticed the zombie looking around, seeming as if he'd lost me.

  This was my chance

  Then—the killing blow.

  I had vanished among the shadows, and thanks to night vision, moving in the dark was easy.

  I waited till the zombie turned its back before I made my move.

  A heartbeat passed.

  Then—

  I reappeared behind him.

  One of the zombies watching the battle screamed out for the other zombie, but it was too late.

  [Wither’s Claw]

  My claws raked across his exposed face.

  His scream never came.

  Only a wet, sickening rip of flesh.

  Its knees buckled.

  Blood.

  Black rot.

  His body trembled.

  He fell.

  The black sickness spread faster now. Coiling through his veins. Burrowing deep into his nerves.

  The eyes of the zombie looked at me in desperation

  He had fought well.

  But I had fought better.

  I raised my hand.

  One final attack.

  I didn’t hesitate.

  [Wither’s Claw]

  My claws pierced through his armor.

  Through flesh to the spine.

  Then there was silence.

  [Target Defeated.]

  [More Experience Gained For Defeating a Stronger Opponent.]

  I ignored the incoming notifications as I now turned my eyes to the rest of the zombies

  If I let them be they would be a bigger pain in the ass down the line, my best course of action would to be to cut them down know.

  I decided to be quick, I wasn't doing this for joy, I was doing this because these monsters trespassed on my home and if I were weaker I would be the one at their mercy.

  I started my pursuit, I had 9 targets left and I didn’t want to waste any time.

  I started with the zombie that was the closest.

  The first one barely had time to turn before my claws sank into its throat. A sharp tug followed by torn apart flesh. The head lolled to the side, the body collapsing in a heap before it even understood it was dead.

  [Target Defeated.]

  [Experience Gained]

  One down.

  The second let out a frightened groan, but I was already upon it. A strike to the leg, a quick snap of its knee. It buckled instantly. I drove my claws into its chest, fingers carving through muscle. My hand found something solid

  It was his spine.

  I clenched.

  A sickening crunch as I ripped it apart from the inside.

  [Target Defeated.]

  [More Experience Gained...]

  Two down.

  The third lunged. Its arms swung wildly, erratic and slow.

  Pathetic.

  I sidestepped, grabbed its skull, and twisted.

  The vertebrae cracked, the head spun too far, and the body followed its fallen brethren into the dirt.

  [Target Defeated.]

  [More Experience Gained...]

  Three.

  I was keeping a good pace.

  A fourth one tried to swipe at me. I let it. The blow landed, scraping against my arm.

  It was nothing.

  [Wither’s Claw]

  I backhanded it across the face, bones splintering beneath my claws. Its jaw detached, hanging loosely by a strip of rotted flesh.

  It staggered.

  I didn’t let it recover.

  I seized it by the throat, lifting it off the ground with one hand. Its legs kicked feebly, twitching like an insect caught in a web.

  I crushed its neck in my grip.

  [Target Defeated.]

  [Experience Gained]

  Four.

  The remaining four finally reacted. Slow. Hesitant. Maybe they realized their fate.

  Too late.

  I surged forward.

  The fifth fell as my foot caved in its kneecap, sending it sprawling onto its back. Before it could even process what had happened, my claws speared through its skull, piercing straight through to the cavern floor beneath it.

  [Target Defeated.]

  [More Experience Gained...]

  Five.

  The sixth tried to back away.

  Coward.

  I dashed forward and grabbed its arm. A quick yank. The socket popped. The limb tore away in my grip.

  The zombie’s head tilted as if confused.

  I shoved its own severed arm through its face.

  Okay. That was a bit much.

  But I was in a groove.

  [Target Defeated.]

  [Experience Gained]

  Six.

  The seventh made the mistake of trying to attack me from behind.

  Honestly, it was a good idea, but I still had Unarmed Combat and Fear active.

  It hesitated before attacking, but even so, my body reacted, moving out of the way and turning around to face the zombie. It froze mid-step. Its body stiffened, fear creeping into its body. I turned leisurely, watching it quiver.

  A slow death, then.

  I reached forward, gripping its skull with both hands.

  My thumbs dug into its eye sockets. With Wither’s claw still active, the rot started spreading from within.

  A gargled sound left its lips before I crushed his head.

  [Target Defeated.]

  [Experience Gained]

  Seven.

  The final one twitched.

  It saw.

  It understood.

  It tried to run.

  A mistake.

  I lunged. My claws tore through the back of its neck, severing the head in one smooth, effortless motion.

  [Target Defeated.]

  [More Experience Gained...]

  Eight.

  I exhaled.

  By the time it ended, I stood alone, drenched in blood.

  And there, at the very back, one remained.

  [Skill: Wither’s Claw - Lv. 8 → Lv. 10]

  [Skill: Fear - Lv. 4 → Lv. 7]

  [Skill: Unarmed Combat - Lv. 6 → Lv. 8]

  [Skill: Night Vision - Lv. 7 → Lv. 8]

  [Skill: Inspect - Lv. 7 → Lv. 8 ]

  [Skill: Mana Perception - Lv. 6 → Lv. 7]

  [Trait: Blood Nourishment - Lv. 2 → Lv. 3]

  [Trait: Undead Body - Lv. 8 → Lv. 10]

  [Species: Witherling Zombie Lv. 9 → Witherling Zombie Lv. 11]

  [9 Stat Points Available]

  [Species Evolution Available]

  The air was thick with the stench of blood and rot, the heavy silence stretching out over the battlefield I had created. My body still hummed with the aftereffects of combat, every muscle coiled, instincts still sharp and ready to strike again. My claws dripped with fresh crimson, the dark liquid seeping into the stone floor beneath me, pooling around the bodies I had torn apart.

  A good haul.

  That was my first thought.

  Not the carnage, not the fact that I had just slaughtered an entire group of enemies, not even the eerie quiet that followed. No—just the acknowledgment that I had gained strength and that my skills had improved.

  I had become stronger.

  That was all that mattered.

  I turned my gaze to the last zombie.

  I let my gaze sweep over the battlefield, over the bodies littered across the cavern floor. Corpses, limbs, mangled beyond recognition. Their blood pooled around me, seeping into the cracks of the stone, a thick, viscous red that gleamed under the dim mana crystal light.

  And yet, one still remained.

  A single zombie cowered at my feet.

  It was shaking. Trembling. Its hollow, gray eyes were wide with something that should have been impossible

  I narrowed my eyes.

  Undead didn’t really feel fear.

  Not like this, anyway.

  And yet, this one knew. It could sense it, the inevitability of its own demise hanging over its head like an executioner's blade. It knelt there, hunched over, its body stiff with terror, as if it understood that struggling would be pointless. That no matter what it did, no matter how hard it fought—it was already dead.

  Strange.

  I tilted my head, studying it.

  Even though my Fear skill was now deactivated, something almost innate kept this creature rooted in place, paralyzed. It was the natural hierarchy of all living… and undead thing. The strong lived. The weak died. And right now, this one knew it was dead.

  I had no reason to hesitate.

  No reason to think twice.

  I raised my claws, ready to end this last one and move on—

  And then—

  It moved.

  Not to run.

  Not to fight.

  Instead, with trembling fingers, it reached for something on its wrist.

  Something small, silver, and etched with runes.

  A… bracelet?

  I hadn’t noticed it before.

  The zombie’s fingers fumbled at the artifact, gripping it weakly—desperately—as if this one simple motion meant the difference between life and death.

  And then—

  It pulled it off.

  And before my very eyes—

  The illusion shattered.

  The rotting flesh faded, peeling away like mist in the morning sun.

  The dull, undead glow in its eyes vanished, replaced by something clearer, something sharper—something human.

  The figure before me was no longer a zombie.

  It was a man.

  A living, breathing, terrified human.

  My mind went silent.

  A terrible, unnatural stillness crept into my bones, a sickening, crawling sensation of realization slowly clawing its way through my consciousness.

  I didn’t move.

  He didn’t move.

  For a long, breathless second, neither of us even existed.

  Then, slowly—too slowly—my gaze drifted away from him, away from the one who was still breathing, and instead settled on the bodies around me.

  The corpses I had torn apart.

  Lifeless eyes stared blankly up at the cavern ceiling, frozen forever in expressions of shock and agony.

  Armor—not rotting flesh—clad their broken bodies.

  Swords—not clawed hands—lay in the pools of blood at their sides.

  I had killed them.

  Humans.

  Not monsters.

  Not undead.

  People.

  I stared at the bodies strewn around me, the carnage I had wrought, and for the first time since my awakening, I felt something other than my normal emotional numbness.

  I felt sick.

  My fingers twitched, still coated in their blood, the warmth of their lives now staining my undead flesh. My claws had ripped through them with the same efficiency I had used against mindless beasts. But they weren’t mindless, and they weren’t beasts.

  They were like me.

  I had been human. I knew this, but I still—

  And in my very first encounter with them, I had slaughtered them without hesitation. I had torn them apart like they were just another pack of monsters standing in my way.

  A deep nausea twisted inside me, a sickness that had nothing to do with my body and everything to do with my mind.

  I took a step back. Then another.

  The cavern reeked of iron and rot. Blood pooled at my feet, mingling with the filth of the Labyrinthine Tomb. Their faces—frozen in terror, in agony—stared up at me, vacant and unseeing.

  I had done this.

  I had butchered them.

  I swallowed, but the lump in my throat did not move.

  This wasn't the first time I had killed. I had been slaughtering since the moment I woke up in this fucking abyss. But I had told myself it was fine because they were monsters. They were obstacles.

  They were not like me.

  But these were.

  And I had killed them just the same.

  I clenched my fists, my claws digging into my own palm.

  No. I didn’t do anything wrong. They would’ve attacked me first. If I hadn’t killed them, they would have killed me. It was self-defense, right?

  I strung together an excuse so fast that it almost sounded believable

  But that was a lie.

  I had struck first. I had hunted them. I had enjoyed the battle.

  I was no different from any other predator lurking in these caverns.

  I was no different from a demonic beast.

  And now, in front of me, there was one lone human left.

  He stood frozen, trembling. His breath came in ragged, uneven bursts, eyes wide with terror, reflecting my bloodstained figure like a nightmare he couldn’t wake from.

  I tilted my head in shame at what I thought of next.

  What should I do with him?

  Should I kill him?

  Leave him?

  I hesitated.

  Why? Why hesitate now? I had already done it. I had already killed.

  Bodies lay scattered around me, limbs twisted, heads torn from shoulders, blood soaking into the cold, unfeeling stone beneath my feet.

  One more wouldn’t make a difference.

  Besides, he was a witness. He could alert others. If I let him go, there would be consequences for me.

  So why couldn't I do it?

  I took a step forward.

  He flinched. His grip on his sword tightened, but he didn’t lift it. He wasn’t going to fight. He had already accepted his fate.

  A single strike. A single claw to his throat, and this would be over.

  I raised my hand.

  My claws trembled.

  …

  I couldn’t.

  I lowered my arm.

  His eyes were shut tight, accepting his fate, frozen in place, too afraid to run, too scared to breathe.

  I turned away.

  If I killed him, it wouldn’t be for survival. It would be for convenience.

  And I refused to become that kind of monster.

  Let the consequences come. I would deal with them when they arrived.

  I took one last look at the bodies, my hollow chest aching with something I couldn't name.

  Then, without a word, I grabbed the body of the man who had led them.

  The one they had called Paxion.

  And I walked away.

  I didn’t know how far I had gone before my body stopped.

  The weight of the corpse slumped against my shoulder. I had carried it without thinking, without hesitation.

  Because it had been a while since I ate.

  My stomach twisted.

  The realization hit me harder than any blow I had ever taken.

  I barely made it a few more steps before my body rejected itself.

  I collapsed to my knees and vomited.

  A dry, painful heave that left me retching nothing but bile. An empty motion, a reaction I shouldn’t even have. My body didn’t need to purge anything, but my mind—my mind wanted to rid itself of what I had done.

  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

  No pity.

  No mercy.

  And no excuses.

  I was a killer.

  A monster.

  I looked at Paxion’s corpse. His face was twisted in a frozen grimace, a mixture of pain and disbelief.

  I hesitated only a moment.

  Then, I dug my claws into his chest.

  His flesh peeled apart beneath my fingers, and I tore a chunk from his body. The warmth had already faded. The blood had begun to congeal.

  I raised it to my lips.

  I forced myself to take a bite.

  [Blood Nourishment] Activated

  Tears pricked at the edges of my vision.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  Another bite.

  More tears.

  Another.

  Another.

  I kept eating.

  It tasted good.

  I hated that it tasted good.

  The rich, iron-heavy tang seeped into my tongue, coating my throat with the warmth of fresh blood. Each bite was firm, thick with muscle and marrow, filling in the gnawing emptiness I had learned to recognize as hunger. It settled in my stomach, dulling the ache before it could become unbearable.

  I knew this feeling well.

  I knew what would happen if I ignored it.

  That was why I was doing this.

  Not out of desire. Not out of some sick, depraved craving. But out of necessity.

  Because if I went too long without feeding, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself when the hunger finally struck. I had seen what happened when I lost control. I had felt it take hold before, that all-consuming, mind-numbing need that turned everything into prey.

  If I didn’t eat now—if I waited until the hunger grew too strong—then I wouldn’t choose what I fed on.

  This was logical. It was calculated. A precaution, a measure to prevent disaster.

  And yet—

  My fingers trembled as they tore through the flesh, my claws slicing effortlessly through sinew and bone.

  I wished I couldn’t taste it.

  I wished I wasn’t aware of how the fatty parts melted on my tongue, how the tendons gave just enough resistance before snapping between my teeth, and how the marrow was rich and full of nutrients.

  I wished I was a monster.

  Because if I were truly a mindless beast, none of this would matter. I wouldn’t feel this way. I wouldn’t have to wrestle with the weight of what I had done.

  The tears welled up before I even realized it.

  I swallowed another mouthful, feeling it settle in my gut like lead. My throat clenched, my body caught between revulsion and instinct, between disgust and survival.

  The blood of this man—this human—dripped from my lips.

  I had killed him.

  I had eaten him.

  And yet, in a twisted, cruel way—this was the most humane thing I had done since waking up in this cursed abyss.

  I wasn’t eating out of mindless hunger.

  I was eating so I wouldn’t become mindless.

  I was eating so I wouldn’t lose myself.

  So I wouldn’t kill uncontrollably.

  But no matter how much I tried to justify it, no matter how much I tried to convince myself that this was necessary—

  It didn’t change the truth.

  I was a murderer.

  "Forgive me," I whispered, my voice inaudible, shaking.

  Another tear fell.

  And I kept eating.

  Chapter End...

  Akashic Record

  Name: [][][][][][]

  Race: Demonic Beast

  Species: Witherling Zombie

  Rank: Spawn

  Class: None

  Level: 11

  Titles: Cannibal

  Strength: 23

  Intelligence: 18

  Endurance: 19

  Vitality: 17(+5)

  Agility: 25

  Stat Points Available: 9

  Skills:

  Night Vision - Lv. 8

  Wither’s Claw - Lv. 10

  Inspect - Lv. 8

  Unarmed Combat - Lv. 8

  Mana Perception - Lv. 7

  Fear - Lv. 7

  ######### of ###### - Lv. Locked (Remnant - Unusable)

  Traits:

  Undead Body - Lv. 10

  Blood Nourishment - Lv. 3