It was dark. Extremely dark, in fact. So dark, that Clea could've sworn that no light had touched this place for years.

And yet, she could see perfectly well. Even from her position, sitting on the unforgivingly cold floor in her birthday suit, she could see literally everything. That was odd since as far as she could remember, her vision had always been a bit bad.

Of course, the fact that she could remember anything at all was also quite odd, since as far as she knew, the fire that had consumed her apartment building had roasted her alive.

She could still remember the feeling of her flesh melting from her bones, her eyeballs dripping down her face as her face sloughed off from the incandescent heat of the roaring flames.

It was with a trembling hand that Clea pulled herself up from the floor, hesitantly reaching to her face with a finger. She traced the outline of her eyes, her nose, her cheeks. They felt cold, so cold.

It should have been uncomfortable, the feeling of her own skin the temperature of ice, and yet, all Clea could feel was a monstrous amount of relief.

Her skin was smooth. Intact. Not a trace of the charring and pain that had consumed her last living moments.

Clea took a deep breath, ignoring the quiet realization that she hadn't been breathing for the last three minutes that she'd spent in a trance, and took a look at her surroundings.

The room closely resembled a personal office, if said office had been one that Clea envisioned a medieval official would possess. There was a desk, its surface brimming with dust, with several large books stacked on top. There were around six or seven bookshelves as well, all of them filled to the brim with large, encyclopedia-like books. Additionally, there was a single, rusty door leading out to the unknown. 

Clea also spotted some rather ancient-looking chairs stacked around randomly as well, and although they didn't look like it now, she was fairly sure the grayed-out and rotting frames attached to the walls were supposed to be paintings.

She wondered for a moment about exactly how the paintings had decayed while the books did not before she pushed the thought away, suppressing the shivers of horror and confusion that wanted to rise up.

She briefly debated whether she'd gone into shock before deciding that, yes, she most probably had. She ignored it nonetheless, determined to understand just where exactly she was.

She tried to call out before realizing that no air filled her lungs. Forcing herself to take a breath, she shouted. "Hello? Is anyone here?"

Her only answer was a dead, ominous silence. She cautiously moved around until she was right in front of the room's door. Slowly, she twisted the knob and tentatively pulled, wincing slightly when she heard a far too loud creaking come from the door.

She peeked out of the room, her long hair almost touching the floor. She quickly pushed away the memories of her hair fusing to her scalp, although she was unable to fully suppress the shivers this time.

The area outside was a long hallway. There were numerous other doors lining the corridor, and Clea was only slightly surprised when she noticed that, despite the hallway going on for what she estimated to be over a hundred meters, she could nonetheless spot each tile on the wall where the hallway curved regardless of the distance.

She was, however, much more concerned with the strange armored knight-like figures that dotted some of the spots between each door. There wasn't any rhythm to how they were distributed, and despite it being highly improbable, Clea could've sworn she saw the strange armored mannequins staring at her.

She hesitated slightly, debating whether to go out and explore or hide and try to get some answers.

The question was answered for her when she heard a low, distant groan. Her eyes widened, and without thinking too much about it, she eagerly crept out of the door, leaving it open as she half-ran, half-walked towards the sound, her desire for other people overriding whatever little caution and reason was left in her still unstable mind.

She ran down the hallways, her surprisingly sharp hearing allowing her to navigate the twisting corridors and towards her target. She felt her hopes rising when the moans got louder, her body feeling as light as paper and her stamina never decreasing.

Finally, she reached her destination. She screeched to a halt as she turned a corner, staring at the... thing that had given her so much hope.

A shambling, two-headed abomination with seven arms, three legs, and hands that sprouted seemingly at random on its body. A giant maw was stuck where its belly should have been, half of it sewed shut with what looked to be strings of bone.

Its flesh was half-rotten, several bones exposed to the point that parts of it looked more akin to a skeleton than a zombified abomination

Clea slowly backed away, her heart somehow remaining still in her chest. The abomination failed to respond, it's nonsensical and oh-so-slow shambling continuing on.

Swallowing deeply, Clea tip-toed away from the... thing... until she felt like she was far away enough, and then ran.

If she'd felt fast before, Clea thought that she was as fast as the damned wind now. She crossed hundreds of meters in a scant few seconds, turning corners so fast that part of her almost wondered how she didn't get any sort of whiplash. Finally, when she spotted the door she'd left open before, she practically dived in and slammed it shut, recklessly grabbing various expensive-looking chairs and shoving them against the door, angrily wiping at the tears that had started falling from her eyes.

She collapsed against the impromptu barricade, silent sobs escaping from her throat and shakes wracking her body as the reality of the situation finally set in. She had no idea where she was, but she could guess that it was nowhere good. She pounded away at the ground next to her, dull thumps erupting from it as her fists angrily smashed the mockingly innocent stone.

She had died. She'd always known that she'd die, everyone does after all, but... She hadn't expected it to be like that. Just like everyone, the few times that she'd thought about her life ending she'd expected it to be in a hospital bed, surrounded by loved ones.

She was only 19. She'd never kissed a boy. She'd never gone to eat at that Korean restaurant her mom always spoke so highly of. She'd never skydived. She'd never... She'd never...

She'd never feel her heart beat in her chest again. She didn't know how she knew this, but she did. Deep down, something that she'd suspected ever since she'd realized breathing wasn't necessary for her anymore came to the surface.

Was she just like that shambling abomination? A cursed soul, stuck in this strange limbo, dead and yet alive? She didn't know, and she feared the answer.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

At that moment, she wished for her mom to be there more than anything else. To be held and reassured, to be whispered soft nothings, her face buried in her mom's nape.

And yet, Clea doubted that would ever be possible. She was in hell now, or at least, her own version of it. Trapped in twisted hallways where, apparently, shambling, undead horrors roamed.

She abruptly fell silent as a low, distant groan reached her ears. She scrambled away from the door before quickly throwing herself behind the desk in the room's corner, desperately thankful for her new breathlessness.

She closed her eyes tightly as the groans slowly, painfully, came closer. They felt different from the ones before, somehow. Not that Clea particularly cared which horror decided to eat her for breakfast, honestly.

Her panic flared to new heights as the moans came closer and closer. After an eternity, she knew that the monster was outside her door. To her unspeakable relief, it continued on, not even pausing in front of her room.

When the horror had left for a sufficient distance, Clea collapsed bonelessly against the desk, finally releasing the stranglehold on her body that she'd kept so far. Shivers once more tore through her, and she cried.

She wished she had the courage to scream, to yell and roar and wail. And yet, like the coward she was, she didn't dare to risk attracting the attention of the undead abominations when she'd already lucked out twice.

She didn't know how much time she spent there, simply lying on the floor with her back to the metaphorical wall. It might have been five minutes, or it might have been five hours. There was simply no way to tell.

It didn't matter. With a resolve born of desperation and fear, Clea rose up, face set in a grim line.

She'd never been a particularly courageous person in life. However, she refused to allow herself to become monster chow, eaten up as she lay there defenselessly. She'd faced such a fate once already, and she refused to do so again.

She paced back and forth in the room, biting her lip as she thought over what to do. Her eyes landed on the book, eyeing them indecisively.

She was curious about whatever secrets this cursed place held, there was no doubt about that, but such a thing would take a long time to learn. Time she didn't know if she had.

On the other hand, her strange new speed and whatever other abilities she now possessed were far easier to learn about, and would likely be much more useful if she was faced with the prospect of combat.

In the end, she decided to do a mixture of both. With a prayer on her lips, she grabbed one of the books off of the desk and carefully opened it.

To her immense relief, it was written in Latin. She had never before been as thankful as she was then about her decision in middle school to pursue literacy in it.

She skimmed the page, understanding basically nothing of it. With a sigh, she shut the book close and turned it over, staring at the dusted cover. Her mouth tightened in slight annoyance before she carefully patted it, removing as much of the dust as she could until the title of the book finally came to light.

'Necromantic Lore, Volume 1 by the Archnecromancer Kleston' Clea read. She stared at it disbelievingly for a second before her eyes flicked over to the door.

Yeah, alright, maybe her disbelief was misplaced.

She set the book down in one of the corners and got to work looking at all the various other books in the room. It took her a while, but in the end, she was left with quite the collection.

'Fell creatures, advantages and disadvantages along with tips&tricks', 'Deals with Demons, things to watch out for', 'How to best use dragon corpses', 'A list of reasons why Witch Hunters should be killed on sight'.

Clea had actually taken a peek at the last one, and true to its name, it was literally a list of ten thousand reasons why the author believed the so-called witch hunters should all die.

It actually made Clea doubt the validity and trustworthiness of the books, but she had little choice. In the end, she organized the books into six sections, one for each bookshelf, plus one miscellaneous category.

The first section consisted of the books that she believed would be the best to start off with, as they sounded like the simplest ones. If nothing else, the people who wrote all these books were nothing if not sarcastic, because really, who named their book 'A step-by-step guide to how to use your mana, for complete idiots'.

She'd actually smiled when she read that. It was a small comfort, but it was enough to break her out of her depressed spell. With newfound determination, she settled on one of the comfier-looking chairs and opened said book on the so-called mana.

It was... she didn't know if it was all fake or not, but a lot of it sounded outright nonsensical to her. A 'magic core'? Elemental affinities? Mana pathways? Clea silently wondered if she'd suddenly been transported to some fantasy realm or whatever.

The moment the thought took root, however, she paused. It made a twisted sort of sense, she thought, especially considering her luck so far.

She hadn't been a particularly avid fantasy reader, but she'd read a number of stories here and there. She wasn't sure of the validity of them, but so far, a disturbing amount of things made sense.

She absentmindedly released the book from her tight grip, careful to mark the page she was on so she didn't lose track of it. She had to know if her idea was right or not, especially since it could mean life or death for her.

Carefully, she reached into her mouth, tracing teeth that suddenly seemed far sharper than they should have been. When she reached her canines, her horrible suspicions suddenly became alarm bells.

They were far too long and a hell of a lot sharper than she remembered them being, and when she accidentally pricked her fingers on them, the smell of blood invading her senses so suddenly made her dizzy.

She carefully licked the blood on her finger. The moment the sweet, delicious blood touched her tongue, a brief sense of pure bliss struck her, only to disappear the moment after.

Clea shivered slightly at the feeling, whether in worry or in delight, even she did not know. Her eyes closed as she sent a quick prayer to a god that had clearly forsaken her before picking up the book, her newfound fear only feeding her determination.

She was now officially a ticking time bomb. She was a vampire, and while that was better than being a baseline human in this place, since it meant she wouldn't need food or water, what she did need was blood.

And, unfortunately for her, the only place she could think of to get it would be from the undead horrors.

Cursing softly under her breath for the umpteenth time, Clea closed the introductory text, a grimace on her face. Although the book was clearly meant for beginners, it nonetheless contained a lot of terms Clea could only guess at. For example, she had no idea what the 'Mana gate' was, and that was only one of the terms!

Still, Clea was satisfied for now with her magical studies. Her more immediate priorities would be getting access to a weapon, checking out her physical abilities, and then securing herself a source of blood.

She wasn't hungry, not yet, but she doubted that would remain the case forever, and she'd rather go out hunting on a clear mind than descend into a blood rage, or worse, get weaker, if she waited too long. Besides, the book had warned several times that learning magic was not a fast process, warning potential readers several times that patience was key to a successful mage.

Feeling a fitful sort of nervousness, the kind that made one wish to do whatever they needed to do now, and yet also feel paralyzed, Clea cleared away all the chairs stacked against the door, putting them in the farthest corners of her little domain. 

Then, after straining her ear for several minutes, trying desperately to hear anything, she cautiously made her way out into the gloomy corridors outside. She paused for a moment then, feeling an idea spring to her mind, and quickly grabbed a chair at random from her room and set it right next to the door outside.

This way, she'd be able to tell which room was which, since otherwise, she wasn't likely to be able to tell the difference between it and all the other doors.

She debated briefly over how to go about this before resigning herself to the possibility of attracting enemies. She started out a basic yoga regiment, along with push-ups, sit-ups, and whatever other exercises she could think of.

She quickly came to the conclusion that, yes, her body had suddenly become quite amazing. She was untiring for one, which was amazingly helpful, and she could lift her entire body on a single finger. Considering that her balance and grace had also improved to an unthinkable level, that was actually fairly low-key.

With that taken care of, she quickly set her sights on one of the wicked-looking blades held by the armored mannequins stationed through the halls. After some deliberation, she chose a rather slender and somewhat short sword, knowing that anything bigger would need more training than she had, which was none at all.

"Thank you for your gift." She spoke to the mannequin, her voice not quite as steady as she would've liked, but she made do. She wasn't sure if the mannequins were alive or not, whether that be as a spirit, undead, or whatever, but she'd rather look the fool rather than risk her safety due to ignorance.

She knew far too little of how this world worked, and it stung. Still, as she scurried away back into her room, she decided that she wouldn't remain so for long.