But they were too slow.
The Crawlers moved with terrifying speed—far beyond what these ordinary soldiers could track. Their rounds mostly missed vital spots, merely tearing into the creatures' tough flesh without stopping their advance.
From a rooftop across the courtyard, Miles reacted instantly. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger of his Foxhunter rifle, its high-velocity rounds propelled by his enhanced focus—1.8 times sharper than a normal human’s.
The first shot punched clean through a Crawler’s temple as it leapt toward a soldier. The second slammed into its cheekbone, and the third drilled into the base of its skull. The Crawler collapsed mid-pounce, crashing into a nearby soldier like a thrown sack of meat.
But the danger wasn’t over.
The second Crawler had already seized another soldier, claws digging into his armor, ready to tear him apart.
Miles squeezed the trigger again—three more shots, delivered with clinical precision. All three rounds slammed straight through the monster’s temple, exploding its skull into a fountain of gore that drenched the terrified soldier underneath.
A system prompt chimed in Miles’ mind:
[Congratulations. You have reached Level 10. You are no longer a Novice and are now officially a Demon Hunter. System will auto-allocate your current attribute points based on your initial distribution. From now on, you will receive 2 attribute points per level, to allocate manually.]
[Mission difficulties will now be ranked: Divine, SSS, SS, S, A, B, C, D, E, F, G. Special missions (T-rank) must be completed. Failure will result in penalties. Special mission difficulty will depend on player experience. All missions will now display experience rewards.]
The message faded as a surge of heat spread through his veins. Excited, Miles quickly opened his status panel:
Miles – Demon Hunter
Level: 10 | EXP: 1%
Strength: 5
Agility: 10
Constitution: 8
Spirit: 4
Unallocated Points: 2
Greedy Blade – Level 3 | EXP: 38%
Without hesitation, he added one point to Agility and one to Spirit. Quick reflexes and sharp perception could save his life more than brute strength. His eyes narrowed with a bloodthirsty gleam as he surveyed the chaos below.
More infected mutants were gathering:
Tongue Slasher
Strength: 6 | Agility: 3 | Constitution: 35 | Spirit: 0.5
Acid Spitter
Strength: 1.5 | Agility: 1 | Constitution: 20 | Spirit: 0.3
Special Ability: High-velocity acid spray
Knowing he needed mobility, Miles stowed the Foxhunter rifle and summoned the Greedy Blade, its cold steel glinting ominously in his hand.
Dozens of Crawlers were scaling the walls of the building, their clawed limbs digging into the concrete like monstrous insects.
Miles braced himself as the first few leapt over the edge.
The moment a Crawler lunged at him, Miles dashed forward. In a single fluid motion, he rammed the Greedy Blade upward through its jaw, the blade piercing its brain. The Crawler’s body shriveled instantly as the weapon drained its life force.
Miles seized the corpse by the spine and swung it like a grotesque shield, absorbing the impact of several incoming Crawlers. Flesh tore; limbs snapped. Amid the carnage, the Greedy Blade stabbed forward again, punching through the open maw of another monster and draining it dry.
Without pausing, Miles launched a grappling wire from his left wrist, embedding it into a nearby building. His body arced through the air just as a dozen Crawlers landed where he had stood a second earlier.
The beasts hesitated for a heartbeat—then charged toward his new position.
Too slow.
Miles fired another wire and swung back to the original rooftop. The Crawlers, mid-pounce, found themselves leaping into thin air. A few that hadn’t jumped yet snarled and rushed toward him.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
With 11 points in Agility, Miles moved like a shadow—twice as fast as the sluggish Crawlers.
He sprinted straight into the midst of the monsters, the Greedy Blade flashing. Each time he passed a Crawler, he casually sliced its throat, leaving a trail of collapsing bodies behind him.
In just thirteen seconds, six Crawlers lay dead, their blood soaking the cracked rooftop.
Miles didn’t stop.
More Crawlers scrambled up from below, but he stayed in constant motion, playing a deadly game of parkour across the crumbling rooftops. Every time an enemy got too close, he rewarded it with a blade to the skull.
At one point, he wall-ran up the side of a building, flipped backward over a lunging Crawler, and stabbed it through the brain in midair. The creature’s corpse slammed into the wall behind him, shriveling as the Greedy Blade feasted.
Five minutes later, nearly fifty Crawlers were dead—felled by a single man armed with nothing but a dagger.
The soldiers watching from the distance could hardly believe their eyes.
It took four or five of them just to bring down one of those things—and yet Miles was slaughtering them like cattle.
Down below, the mutant hordes began retreating into the quarantine building.
Miles felt a prickle on the back of his neck.
Someone—or something—was watching him.
A murderous aura flooded the rooftop like a tidal wave, locking his muscles, making even his fingers tremble.
Before he could react, a voice whispered chillingly in his ear:
"You... surprise me. I never expected to find a special here. I can't wait to see you grow stronger. Your genes... will be mine eventually. Now, sit back and enjoy the show..."
Miles turned his head—but there was nothing there.
The overwhelming pressure vanished, and he staggered, drenched in cold sweat. His instincts screamed at him to flee, but his rational mind quickly reasserted itself.
Calm down. It's just a fear response. You’ve fought worse than this in the game world.
Analyzing the encounter, Miles estimated that the entity’s Spirit attribute had to be over 300 points. As for its other stats—he couldn't even guess.
Miles wiped the sweat from his brow and chuckled darkly.
"You won't kill me now? Fine. That just gives me time to kill you later."
He glanced down at the Greedy Blade. During the chaos, the weapon had leveled up three times.
Greedy Blade – Level 6
Attack: 350
EXP: 0%
However, he noticed something else: killing Crawlers no longer earned him any experience.
"Looks like my blade’s got a picky appetite," he thought grimly. "Low-level kills aren’t enough anymore."
Just as he prepared to jump down and hunt the retreating mutants, a blur of red shot into the ranks of the soldiers below.
It was the creature from earlier—the Devourer.
In an instant, thin blood tendrils exploded from its body, stabbing into every nearby soldier. The threads moved faster than Miles’ eyes could follow.
The soldiers convulsed violently as their muscles and veins began to wriggle and mutate.
The Devourer retracted its tendrils with a wicked grin, then vanished into thin air.
Panic erupted.
The remaining soldiers—those lucky enough to be outside the blast zone—turned and fled for the hospital gates. The elite special forces fell back too, realizing staying meant certain death.
Without the defense at the gate, the mutant hordes surged forward—Crawlers, Tongue Slashers, and Acid Spitters among them.
The battlefield turned into a nightmare.
Miles knew he couldn’t afford to get careless. Real death wasn’t like dying in a video game.
Switching back to his Foxhunter rifle, he fired his grappling wire again, swinging across to a two-story building near the gate. From there, he took cover behind a crumbling wall and opened fire.
Thanks to his boosted Spirit, his accuracy had improved significantly. Even during rapid bursts, he could consistently nail headshots.
The surviving soldiers regrouped around the gate and walls, laying down a storm of suppressive fire. Without the risk of friendly fire, they unleashed grenades and rocket launchers indiscriminately, blasting the mutants to pieces.
Flames and craters tore up the hospital’s once-beautiful courtyard, reducing it to a scorched wasteland.
Paige, the special forces captain, crouched beside Miles, firing into the horde with grim precision.
"It is you," she said without looking at him. "Wherever chaos breaks out, you’re right in the middle of it, huh, hero?"
Miles grinned, popping a fresh magazine into his rifle.
"You got time for small talk, ma'am? 'Cause if those things get past us, Chicago turns into hell on Earth."
Paige chuckled grimly.
"Relax. I know you’re not the one who released the virus. That creature we saw? It’s responsible. Tell me—what’s its goal?"
Miles kept firing as he spoke.
"Short version? It’s farming. It wants the mutants to fight and evolve, so it can absorb the strongest and grow even more powerful."
Paige’s eyes widened, momentarily distracted.
Miles tackled her to the ground just as several acid globs splashed against the wall behind them, hissing and burning holes through solid stone.
"Focus," Miles said sharply. "You wanna die, be my guest."
Paige laughed breathlessly.
"That’s twice you’ve saved me now."
Miles shrugged.
"Don’t expect a thank-you. Just don’t arrest me for carrying illegal firearms and we’ll call it even."
She eyed his rifle curiously.
"Speaking of which... what model is that? I’ve never seen anything like it. Hand it over, and maybe I’ll forget your little weapons violation."
Miles rolled his eyes.
"Fat chance. This baby’s my livelihood."
He slammed another clip into his rifle and resumed firing.
With thousands of rounds stockpiled from the fallen army, they had no shortage of ammunition. Rockets and grenades rained down like confetti, tearing the mutants apart.
And in the midst of it all, Miles fought—not for glory, not for survival.
But for the bloody, glorious thrill of it.