CHAPTER 1: THE FIRST OF MANY
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Kain Drakemoor’s eyes flickered open to the chill of a stone floor pressing against his cheek. The air was thick, metallic, and faintly tinged with something acidic, like a battery left to corrode in a forgotten drawer. Groaning, he pushed himself upright, scanning his surroundings. Gothic arches rose into darkness, lined with grotesque carvings that stared down like disappointed parents. The walls were ancient stone, veined with glowing green streaks that pulsed like a dying heartbeat.
"Terrific," Kain muttered. "Waking up in a nightmare cathedral. Not ominous at all."
A faint ding interrupted his self-pity. A translucent screen materialized before him, displaying text in harsh, clinical font:
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SYSTEM INITIALIZING...
User: Kain Drakemoor
Rank: Initiate
Level: 1
Vital Status: Stable
Objective: Survive.
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“Straight to the point,” Kain said dryly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Like a eulogy delivered by a tax accountant."
He focused on the details, willing the system to expand the entries. New panels appeared, lines of text scrolling in precise, machine-like detail.
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USER PROFILE
HP: 10/10
Strength: 3
Agility: 4
Intelligence: 7
Perception: 5
Willpower: 2
Luck: -1
ABILITIES:
* None.
EQUIPMENT:
* None.
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Kain frowned. "Luck: minus one? What did I do, kick a black cat into a mirror factory?"
Ignoring the indignity of his stats, he turned toward the corridor ahead. A faint squelching noise caught his attention, low and wet, like someone stepping on a bag of meat. Shadows shifted as a creature emerged—a pulsating blob of translucent blue, with veins running beneath its slimy surface.
The system projected its information with cold precision:
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[LESSER SLIME]
Level: 1
Vitality: 5/5
Attributes:
* Low durability.
* Passive ability: Split.
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Kain sighed, shaking his head. "Oh, good. A slime. The universal punching bag of every sadistic dungeon designer. And it splits, because of course it does."
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The slime jiggled as though offended by his critique, then launched itself toward him with surprising speed. Kain dove sideways, his shoulder colliding with the wall as the creature smashed into the ground where he’d been standing. It quivered violently before splitting in two smaller, faster versions. The acidic mist rising from their surfaces stung his nose.
He stumbled back, scanning the corridor for anything useful. His eyes landed on a jagged piece of rubble, sharp enough to serve as a makeshift blade. Grabbing it, he braced himself.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let’s see if physics applies to angry Jell-O."
One slime lunged. He stepped aside and swung the rock down with all his strength. The creature burst apart with a wet pop, its remains sizzling on the floor.
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SYSTEM ALERT:
[LESSER SLIME] Defeated.
+5 EXP.
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The second slime rushed him, faster than he expected. Its acidic surface burned as it slammed into his arm. Gritting his teeth, Kain slammed the rock down repeatedly until it, too, exploded into goo.
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SYSTEM ALERT:
[LESSER SLIME] Defeated.
+5 EXP.
LEVEL UP.
Level 2 Achieved.
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Breathing hard, Kain dropped the bloodied rock and inspected his arm. The acid burns weren’t deep, but they throbbed like hell. His HP bar now read 3/10.
“Great start,” he muttered. “One fight in, and I’m already bleeding like a prom queen in a slasher flick.”
The system projected another message, as serious and indifferent as a mortician filling out a form:
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NOTICE:
Stat points available: 2.
Allocate to proceed.
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Kain snorted. "No advice, no tutorials, just ‘figure it out.’ If I die, can I at least leave a bad review?”
He dumped both points into Agility, figuring speed was better than raw strength against things that multiplied. His stats adjusted, and the system quietly updated.
The faint grinding of metal against stone snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up, heart sinking as a hulking shadow filled the corridor ahead. Crimson eyes flared to life, glowing like hellfire. A massive figure emerged, its blackened armor covered in jagged spikes and rusted chains. Its cleaver, nearly the size of Kain himself, scraped the floor, sending sparks flying.
The system projected a new display:
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[ABYSSAL WARDEN]
Rank: Lesser Reaper
Level: 10
Vitality: 500/500
Attributes:
* Pain Engine: Increases strength and durability with each successful strike.
* Soul Cleave: Bypasses conventional defenses.
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Kain’s blood ran cold. He could feel the Warden’s gaze, an oppressive weight bearing down on him. The cleaver rose, catching the dim light as the creature took its first step forward.
“Ah,” Kain said, backing away. “You must be the welcoming committee. Nice cleaver. Love the whole doom-metal aesthetic. But I’m gonna need you to—”
The cleaver slammed into the floor, shattering stone and sending debris flying. Kain dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the impact.
"Right. Conversation’s off the table. Time to improvise."
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To be continued...