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Chapter one

Chapter one

Chapter 1

"There is still great debate on where monsters come from, but there is a consensus that they originate from another dimension and have a power far beyond that of a human. But the question is, what if something is even stronger on the other side we haven't seen yet?"

The world of monsters, Dr Jenney King

Year 2120

It always happened like this: Mort was in the back, watching his friends battle the horrors of this world. But it wasn’t always so bad. Mort helped where he could—setting bones, cooking dinner, and cleaning up the mobs the others didn’t want to deal with. Mostly, though, he just got in the way.

“MORT! MOVE!” came a bellow from behind Mort.

Mort threw himself to the ground out of well-trained instinct as a spear whistled past his head, ruffling his hair. It struck the air and hung there, quivering, until a large red beast with two heads faded back into reality and slumped to the ground, its lifeless eyes glazing over. The familiar weight of XP pressed into Mort, only to be rebuffed as usual.

“Fucking cap,” Mort muttered under his breath, just as a broad-shouldered man in full plate came running up.

“Damn it, Mort! Keep your head up, or those mind-suckers will get you!” the heavily armoured man admonished. “I told you to stay with the support.”

“I know, Tom, but I needed to do something!” Mort said, his voice tinged with embarrassment. He was always at the back. Once, he’d been the leader, fighting at the front. But that was before he hit the wall. Mort glanced at the glowing blue frame that constantly haunted his vision—a cruel reminder of his fate.

Name: Mort Icabod

Title: Left Behind

Level: 20 (Limit Reached)

Class: 4c

Everyone had quickly outpaced him after he hit that limit. Years of training in every martial art hadn’t helped him break through. He was stuck as the weakest hunter left alive, with no way to get stronger.

“I’m not helpless,” Mort whispered to himself.

“Look,” Tom said, his voice softening as his unnaturally sharp hearing picked up Mort’s words. “This is the last one for today. Why don’t you join us for old time's sake? Stretch that sword arm a bit?”

Tom’s words were always so full of encouragement. Those kind eyes of his always saw the best in Mort.

“Okay,” Mort said, a flicker of old confidence reigniting in his chest. “But I won’t hold you back.”

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Tom grinned, but his smile quickly faded as he turned to shout, “Come on, then! We haven’t got the whole apocalypse to waste.”

Mort hurried to catch up, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword, hope bubbling up for the first time in years.

By the time Mort reached the group, they were already discussing their plan while staring into the ominous red field ahead. Tom strode up and loudly interrupted.

“Are we doing this or what? Waiting is boring,” he complained.

A short woman with a bow strapped to her back glared at him. “We need to make sure there aren’t any surprises,” she said while fiddling with a locket around her neck. “Besides, the support team isn’t here yet.”

“He’s coming this time,” Tom said with a shrug. “It looks like just a pack of mobs anyway. I can keep an eye on his back.”

The woman, Steph, narrowed her slitted eyes at Mort. “Are you sure about this? It’s been five years since you were on the line.”

“Honestly?” Mort admitted. “I’m not sure. But I need to try.”

Steph sighed. “Fine. But listen to Tom, okay? He’s just a muscle-headed idiot, but at least he knows what he’s doing.”

“Fuck you, Steph!” Tom said with a laugh. “It’s just a pack of dire wolves. Nothing too hard.”

“Maybe,” Steph said, her voice uncertain. “But something feels... off. Still, if everyone’s ready...” She looked around at the rest of the group, her gaze finally landing on Mort. She nodded. “Let’s go.”

The team leapt into the field, leaving Mort behind. He sighed and began climbing down carefully. That jump would kill him before the wolves even got a chance. By the time his feet touched the ground, the others were already deep in battle. Steel and magic flashed through the air.

Mort unsheathed his midnight katana and whispered, “It’s been a while, old friend. Time to show them we’ve still got it.”

He rushed into the fray and swung at the nearest dire wolf. It sidestepped easily and lunged at him. Mort pivoted, shifting his weight to block with his blade. The wolf’s claws slammed against the sword, forcing him to one knee.

Gritting his teeth, Mort let the claws slide off and swung upward, slicing deep into the wolf’s neck. It howled and thrashed before slumping to the ground, lifeless.

XP washed over Mort, but as always, it was rebuffed. There was no time to dwell on it. He turned to the next wolf—only to realise the field had gone silent.

There were no wolves left. No teammates. Just him and the corpse at his feet.

“Where the fuck is everyone?” Mort whispered his blade at the ready. Then he saw it: a man in a black robe stepped out of the trees, darkness filling his hood. Around him, Mort’s friends hung from vines, slaughtered and displayed like trophies.

“No!” Mort screamed, charging forward with a roar. But before he could take a single step, the world spun.

The dark figure loomed closer, his voice rasping like sandpaper. “Another ant. How pathetic.”

Mort struggled to move, but his body refused. The figure reached down, picking up Mort’s fallen blade and plunging it into his chest.

“This was always your fate,” the figure said with a laugh.

Darkness enveloped Mort. Seconds or hours passed—he couldn’t tell.

He cursed his weakness, his fate. If only he’d been stronger, he could have saved them.

Then, in the void, a black-and-red screen appeared.

You have died.

Curse your fate and struggle. Shrug off the chains of destiny and defy order.

New Title Achieved: Gone but Not Out

You have died while cursing your fate. You are chosen to try again. Will you follow the same path or forge a new one?

Mort jolted awake, falling out of bed. He scrambled to his feet, looking around in confusion. This was his old university dorm—before the apocalypse.

He stared at his surroundings, realisation dawning.

“I have another chance,” he whispered. “This time, I won’t waste it.”

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