The stairway groaned beneath Joel’s boots as he descended the final steps, the air growing heavier with each step. When he reached the bottom, the space opened to a corridor that seemed to pulse with unnatural life. The walls were lined with blackened, twisting veins, faintly luminescent in toxic green light and pulsating in a rhythm that made his stomach turn. The void corruption was alive—mocking, breathing, spreading.

  The floor beneath his feet was a mosaic of damage, a grim marriage of mechanical destruction and organic decay. Deep cracks ran like deposits across the surface, oozing a dark, viscous substance that clung to the soles of his boots. Joel fought the instinct to recoil at the squelching noise each step produced.

  Emergency lighting struggled to illuminate the corridor, casting a sickly red glow that threw uneven shadows against the walls. The faint hum of electricity vibrated through the air, mingling with the occasional flicker of sparks from exposed wiring. It was a sound Joel recognized—an old rig's death rattle, warning of failure.

  Scattered across the space were remnants of the chaos that had unfolded here: shattered tools, scorched consoles, and personal belongings abandoned in haste. A lone helmet sat upright, its visor cracked, a streak of something dark and dried smeared across the surface.

  Joel moved cautiously, scanning the corridor ahead. His eyes flicked to the veins on the walls, their faint glow pulsing erratically, as though they were aware of his presence. The thought sent a chill down his spine. He gripped his weapon tighter, the reassuring weight grounding him as his mind began to spiral.

  To his left, a console was half-buried beneath the rubble, its screen cracked and flickering weakly. Joel approached, wary of what he might find. The display showed nothing coherent—just a scramble of static and fragmented lines of text—but beneath the screen, an access terminal emitted a faint green light.

  “Still alive?” he muttered under his breath, crouching to examine it. His fingers hesitated above the panel before brushing away a thin layer of dust, oil and ash. The terminal hummed weakly, its energy barely enough to sustain life. It was a small reminder that not everything here had been consumed.

  A sudden crackle of noise echoed down the corridor, distant but sharp enough to make him freeze. Joel’s heart hammered as he strained to listen. The sound repeated—a faint, crackling whisper, like static interspersed with fragmented syllables. He turned toward the darkness at the far end of the hallway, where the light faltered, barely holding back the shadows.

  Something moved. Just a flicker, barely perceptible, but enough to make the hairs on the back of Joel’s neck stand on end. He swallowed hard, taking a step back, his boot scraping against the broken glass and rubble beneath him. The sound felt too loud, bouncing down the corridor and back to him like a challenge. The veins on the wall seemed to pulse faster now, the glow intensifying as though feeding off his unease. Joel forced himself to breathe, to push down the gnawing fear clawing at his chest.

  “This is the path,” he murmured to himself. “No turning back now.”

  He adjusted his grip on the weapon, every muscle in his body tense as he pressed forward, his steps deliberate and quiet. The corridor stretched on, the red emergency lights flickering above him, casting jagged shadows that seemed to reach for him with every step. The faint hum grew louder the deeper he ventured, joined by the rhythmic pulse of the veins as if was the heartbeat of the dungeon itself. Whatever waited at the end of this path, Joel knew it wasn’t going to be friendly. He tightened his jaw, steeling himself for what lay ahead, the silence heavy with anticipation.

  The corridor stretched endlessly, the hum of the void’s corruption filling Joel’s ears. His boots crunched over shattered glass and debris as he advanced, each step feeling heavier than the last. Then, a sound—faint at first but growing steadily louder. A rasping, guttural noise echoed down the corridor, accompanied by the unmistakable scrape of claws on metal. Joel froze, his breath catching in his throat.

  Shadows at the far end of the hallway seemed to ripple, breaking apart into dozens of jerking, unnatural forms. They moved with an erratic urgency, their limbs bent at grotesque angles, heads twisting unnaturally as they zeroed in on him.

  A notification flashed at the bottom of Joel’s HUD. He was thankful for the protection of his active armour. He wished he had a moment to activate stealth, but the power drain would have been too much for his descent to the subfloor, and now, it was too late. The notification flashed two words: Void Zombies.

  Their pale, gaunt bodies shimmered faintly under the sickly emergency lights, skin stretched taut over protruding bones, revealing patches of raw muscle beneath. Some were missing limbs entirely, the stumps twitching and oozing a foul, purplish liquid. Their hollow, black eyes, devoid of life, locked onto Joel, empty pits of endless hunger. Sharp, black claws, dripping with a viscous, dark fluid that pooled on the floor, scraped along the concrete as they lunged forward, their movements a terrifying mix of shambling and sprinting.

  "Shit," Joel hissed, raising his hammer.

  The horde charged, their distorted forms emitting wet, guttural snarls that reverberated down the corridor, a cacophony of death. Joel’s instincts screamed at him to run, but there was nowhere to go. He tightened his grip on the crowbar, forcing himself to stand his ground as the first wave closed in.

  The lead zombie flung itself forward, its body contorting mid-air in a grotesque parody of a dive. Joel sidestepped and swung the hammer with all his might. The heavy head connected with a sickening thud, cracking the creature's skull like an overripe melon. Bone fragments and grey matter erupted, spraying across the corridor. The zombie staggered back, but its momentum carried it forward, its limbs flailing wildly.

  Joel followed up with a vicious uppercut, the hammer striking the creature's jaw with bone-jarring force. Teeth shattered, spraying across the corridor. The zombie let out a high-pitched, gurgling scream, a sound that seemed to tear through Joel's very soul.

  It lurched towards him, its face a mask of agony and rage, one eye hanging loosely from its socket. Joel braced himself for the impact, his stomach churning. The creature crashed into him, its weight nearly knocking him off his feet. They tumbled to the ground, a grotesque, writhing mass of limbs and gore.

  Joel felt the creature's icy breath on his neck, its putrid stench filling his nostrils. He lashed out with the hammer, aiming for the creature's throat. The hammer sank deep into the flesh, meeting with a sickening squelch. The creature let out a strangled, gurgling scream and went limp.

  System Notification:

  You have slain a Level 2 Void Zombie.

  +75 Experience Points

  “You don’t go down easy,” Joel muttered through gritted teeth.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Joel rolled away, gasping for breath, his body covered in blood and viscera. He lay there for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest, the stench of death heavy in the air. He had survived, and it was easier than the snake woman. He didn’t flinch; instead, he picked himself up and rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck. A predatory glint entered his eyes.

  “You call this a horde?” he growled, his voice steady, a spark of defiance lighting his eyes. “Bring it on.”

  The shrill cries of the approaching Void Zombies echoed down the corridor, but Joel didn’t back down. Instead, he spun the hammer in his hand, the motion fluid and practiced, like a gunslinger preparing for a duel. The weight of it felt right, an extension of his resolve.

  He flexed his fingers around the grip, adrenaline surging through his veins. Bring it on, he thought, a savage grin splitting his face. With a primal roar that echoed through the corridor, Joel broke into a sprint, charging toward the writhing horde with unrelenting determination. The ground trembled beneath his feet as he unleashed his fury.

  The hammer arced upward in a blur, catching a Void Zombie square in the chest. Its pale, gaunt body crumpled under the blow, shards of corrupted flesh scattering across the floor. A notification flashed, but Joel ignored it. Another came at him, claws slashing, but Joel sidestepped with brutal precision, bringing the hammer around in a crushing downswing that shattered its twisted skull. The impact sent a jolt of raw power through his arm, a testament to the weapon's brutal efficiency.

  “You don’t scare me!” Joel bellowed, his voice echoing down the corridor. His strikes were relentless, each swing of his hammer a testament to his refusal to be consumed by fear or doubt.

  Even as the horde surged closer, their grotesque forms writhing in the flickering red light, Joel stood his ground. This wasn’t a desperate fight for survival anymore. This was a declaration. Joel was done running.

  But there were more—too many more.

  The horde surged forward, their shrill cries filling the corridor as Joel stumbled back, swinging wildly to keep them at bay. A sickening scrape echoed as a clawed hand raked across his armoured arm, the fabric tearing beneath. Joel jerked away, his heart pounding in his ears.

  A wave of nausea washed over Joel as his HUD, normally a source of tactical information, flashed a new warning: BIOHAZARD DETECTED. Beneath it, a scrolling list of noxious compounds filled the screen: methane, hydrogen sulphide, putrescine, cadaverine... the chemical signatures of rot and decay. He'd smelled death before, but this was different. This was the concentrated stench of a charnel house, amplified and dissected by his suit's sensors. It was the smell of corrupted flesh, of stagnant fluids, of gases bloating decaying organs. It was the smell of the void, made manifest in the rotting bodies of the undead. Joel gagged, fighting the urge to vomit inside his helmet.

  But then, a surge of adrenaline coursed through him, a jolt of icy resolve that seemed to originate from deep within his chest. His heart, augmented by magical enhancements, pounded a frantic rhythm against his ribs, each beat a hammer blow against the rising tide of fear. The fear was still there, a cold tendril wrapping around his mind, but Mack's heart card, Grit of the Forgotten, kicked in, overriding the panic with a single, unwavering directive: Survive. His senses sharpened, and his focus narrowed. The stench of decay receded, replaced by a single, overriding sensation: the thrill of the hunt. He grinned, a feral, wolfish smirk that reflected the cold, calculating fury burning within him.

  "Don't panic, Joel," he muttered to himself, his voice a low growl. "Fear is a weakness. Exploit it." He took a deep breath, the stench of decay momentarily forgotten. The words echoed in his mind, a mantra of defiance. Survive. “Survive for my baby girl.”

  Joel backed toward the wall, his eyes darting frantically for anything—anything—that could give him an edge. “Think, think.”

  His heart hammered in his chest, but his movements were deliberate, his mind razor-sharp. His gaze locked onto an exposed pipe running along the wall, faint sparks dancing along its length like tiny lightning bolts.

  A plan took shape, reckless and wild, but it was all he had. “This is going to be fun,” Joel said to himself. "Come on, you bastards.” He retreated toward the sparking pipe.

  That was when this half-naked zombie lunged at him, its claws slashing through the air. Joel ducked low, rolling to the side as the creature's momentum carried it forward. He reached out, gripping the pipe with his biometal-covered hand. The metal was scalding, the heat biting through his protections, but Joel didn't let go.

  The topless zombie was a horrifying sight. Its skin was a sickly gray-green, mottled with patches of dried blood and decaying flesh. Muscles bulged and contorted beneath the torn and ragged remains of what had once been clothing. Her chest was completely bare, revealing parts of breasts that barely covered a mass of exposed ribs and a wound that pulsed with a grotesque, unnatural rhythm. Two vacant, milky eyes stared out from deep within the sockets, devoid of any life or intelligence. Saliva dripped from its rotting lips, forming a viscous stream that snaked down its chin and onto the filthy ground.

  That was when Joel acted. With a guttural roar, he yanked the pipe downward with all his strength. Sparks erupted in a furious shower, the conduit breaking free with a deafening crack. A surge of raw energy raced along the exposed metal, lighting the corridor in a blinding flash of electric blue. The smell of ozone hit Joel like a slap, sharp and acrid, mingling with the ever-present stench of decay.

  He spun on his heels, wielding the sparking pipe like a weapon. The nearest zombie, who appeared to be a security guard, lumbered forward. His uniform was now a tattered mockery of authority. The once-crisp white shirt was stained a gruesome brown, and the trousers, once neatly pressed, were now dragged in the mud. His name tag, long since torn free, dangled precariously from a single thread. He lunged again, its grotesque face twisted in an unholy snarl. Joel swung the pipe with all his might, the crackling electricity arcing towards the creature.

  The pipe struck its chest with a sickening crunch, the impact sending a spray of bone and viscera across the corridor. The electricity surged through its body. The zombie convulsed violently, its limbs jerking and twisting as the energy tore through its decaying flesh. A distorted, high-pitched screech escaped its maw before it collapsed to the ground in a smoking heap, its charred remains twitching one last time before going still.

  Joel didn't stop to celebrate. He turned to face the rest of the horde, which now filled the corridor like an unstoppable tide. He swung the electrified pipe in wide arcs, sparks flying in all directions. Each strike sent another zombie convulsing to the floor, their bodies crumpling under the relentless assault. The corridor was a chaotic whirlwind of light and sound, the electrical surges casting grotesque shadows on the walls.

  More and more experience notifications flooded Joel’s HUD, but he ignored them all: while yelling and screaming. The air grew thick with the acrid scent of burnt flesh and the metallic tang of blood, making Joel’s eyes water. Sweat poured down his face, stinging as it mixed with the grime and blood caking his skin. His muscles screamed in protest, every swing of the pipe draining what little energy he had left.

  Still, he refused to falter. He roared with each strike, a primal sound that echoed down the corridor. The zombies were mindless and relentless, but Joel was the immovable object in their physics question. “I will not break,” he screamed as his HUD was covered in blood again. This was his fight, his survival, and he wasn’t about to let the void take him.

  Yet, for every creature that fell, more surged forward to replace them. The flickering emergency lights painted the scene in hellish hues of red and blue, the shadows playing tricks on Joel’s mind. His breath came in ragged gasps, his arms trembling from the effort of holding the pipe.

  That was when the level-up notifications started to replace the experience notifications. Joel felt a surge of energy takes hold of him.

  "This won't hold forever," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the crackle of electricity and the shrieks of the undead. But he gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the pipe, the sparks still dancing along its length.

  If he was going down, he was damn well taking as many of them with him as he could. “I will put these levels up to work,” he giggled in madness.