The zombie's right arm sprang forward, its rotting hand latching onto Enya's right shoulder with surprising force. She hit the wall with a thud, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. The zombie had moved far quicker than she expected, defying everything Pell had told her about them. He had mentioned that zombies moved slowly and were more disgusting than dangerous unless you got too close. The sharp numbing pain radiating from her shoulder as she began to slide down the wall confirmed she had indeed gotten far too close.

The zombie pressed down harder, its head leaning in with jaws open wide, the stench of decay overwhelming her senses. The sight of its peeling skin and hollow, bloodshot eyes filled her with a terror even greater than that of the zombie behind the bookcase. This one was just too close.

Enya let out a yelp, her voice raw with panic, as she realized how unprepared she was for this. She had believed she was safe, that she had kept a safe enough distance—but now she was trapped, the zombie’s arm gripping her shoulder, and the vile maw of the zombie’s face closing in.

In a last ditch attempt of self-preservation, Enya brought her arms up, shoving against the zombie’s chin with her palms, trying to push its head away from her. As she did this, she sent out a double simultaneous kick with both of her legs. She had already long since fallen onto the ground—now sitting flat against the wall as the zombie was slightly above her, and this gave her a chance to kick with all of her strength.

Her shove sent the zombie's head snapping back, while her double kick connected with its chest. The impact was strange, almost like kicking into a mud-filled sack. The zombie’s chest was solid on the outside, but beneath the surface, it felt like everything had rotted into a viscous sludge. Its internals had fully decayed.

However, despite the force she had put into the kick, the zombie only stumbled back half a meter, barely fazed. Enya’s heart sank. She had given everything she had in that kick, but the zombie was barely pushed away. She was still just a young girl and not nearly strong enough to fend off a monster like this.

Now that she had created some space between herself and the zombie, Enya turned onto her elbows and desperately tried to scurry forward. She crawled for only a brief moment before pushing herself up, lunging forward with any of her remaining strength and stamina. Her first foot kicked off the ground, propelling her a few centimeters forward. But just as she tried to push off with her second leg, something yanked her back down.

Her body painfully collided with the ground, her chest and shoulders taking the brunt of the fall. The sudden shock of pain sent a wave of agony through her, but she did not have the time to dwell on it. She glanced back, peering from underneath her right arm, her eyes in a slight blink as she winced from the pain. The zombie had her by the ankle, its rotting fingers gripping her tightly, refusing to let go.

Pushing through the pain, and being filled with adrenaline and fear, Enya began to kick rapidly and frantically at the zombie. With wild movements, she flailed the leg that had been seized by the zombie. Her other leg joined in, stomping down at the zombie’s head repeatedly. The zombie let out a painful groan as her shoes kept hitting its head, causing its arm that held her to weaken.

Enya’s kicks definitively had an effect, as indicated by the distorted expression on the monster’s face. Its nose caved in, pulling the flesh of its cheeks and eyes into a wet, bloodied pulp. The sight was horrifying, but Enya couldn’t look away—she was fighting for her life.

Pell’s warnings echoed in her mind. Zombies were supposed to be less dangerous than skeletons, but Pell had been clear: if you were going to die by one, always pick the skeleton. Zombies would devour you slowly, their rotting mouths tearing into your flesh bit by bit. They would eat until you bled out or, if you were fortunate, hit a vital area like your neck.

Skeletons, by contrast, killed quickly. They crushed throats, stabbed vital organs, or delivered bone-breaking blows. Rather than having a festering hunger, their preference was to immediately kill their targets. But zombies—they dragged out the process, leaving you conscious to suffer as your body slowly gave out. They were worse than wild animals, who at least ensured their prey was dead before feeding. Zombies lacked even that mercy, tearing into the living until there was nothing left.

"Ge-get away!" Enya screamed, her voice raw with terror as she continued to kick at the zombie with all the strength she could muster. Panic surged through her—she didn’t want to be eaten. Her kicks rained down on the decaying creature, desperate and unrelenting.

With a final burst of adrenaline, Enya pulled up her free leg and delivered a powerful stomp onto the zombie's skull, its face now a horrifying mess of exposed bone and rotted flesh. The impact sent a sickening crunch reverberating up her leg. Without wasting a moment, she flipped back onto her chest, clawing at the ground with her hands. Inch by inch, she dragged herself forward, gaining momentum as she went.

"Get! Off! Please!" she cried out, her voice breaking as tears began welling up in her eyes.

Determined, Enya planted her free foot firmly on the ground and pushed herself into a crouch. She gathered her strength that she had left and launched herself forward. For a split second, she felt the zombie's grip tighten in midair, but then it gave way. The resistance vanished, and she tumbled forward, stumbling as she tried to regain her balance.

She glanced back, her chest heaving, and saw the zombie’s right arm lying severed on the ground. The creature, now pitiful and broken, was crawling toward her with its mangled legs and smashed-in head. Its once-threatening presence had been reduced to a grotesque, shambling mess.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Enya's breathing was erratic, her lungs burning with each inhale. She was almost in a state of hyperventilation. With one last look at the crawling zombie, she turned her head back towards the darkness of the corridor and resumed her uneven sprint, wiping away the tears that began to blur her vision.

She ran, her legs heavy and uncoordinated, driven by sheer willpower. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest like the call of a war-drum. She didn’t stop until she reached the next intersection, where she finally collapsed against the wall, gasping for breath.

Suddenly, a loud, thundering noise echoed down the from the hall she had just come from. The walls of the dungeon shook, and a rush of air swept toward her. The ground trembled only slightly, but it was a vibration she could still feel, nevertheless.

Enya's heartbeat spiked, racing up another rung on the ladder of fear. Her eyes widened, hyper-focused on the darkness behind her as her body froze in tense anticipation. A few seconds passed, each one dragging on in eerie silence. Nothing followed. The dungeon returned to its deathly stillness, as though whatever had caused that pulse of energy—had simply vanished.

Even after several desperate but calm exhales, her heart continued to race. She strained to hear any additional sound that might signal danger. But there was nothing—the echo of footsteps and bones had faded. She couldn’t be sure if anyone, whether it be Pell or Mr.Rat, was still coming down the hall.

What... was that? Was that Pell? A dungeon quake? Did the zombie explode? A flurry of thoughts ran into Enya's mind as she tried to ponder what caused the vibration. However, without her skill active, there was no way for her to confirm her thoughts.

Enya's face creased as she tried to focus and concentrate. Her body tensed as she tried her best to make the skill work, but after 10 stress-filled seconds, she gave up with a deep exhale. The skill wouldn't work. She tried to activate Absolute Focus, but it refused to activate no matter how hard she tried. Was it because she couldn't concentrate right now? Her mind was in a mess, and she knew that. She was anxious and nervous. But she thought as long as she concentrated, the skill would activate. But perhaps she needed to be in a regular or calm state of mind.

Her breathing slowed down to a more steady pace. She needed to move back to the study, not worry about something way behind her. Especially since whatever that rumble was, had suddenly stopped. But now, there would be a nagging feeling of paranoia about not knowing where anyone or anything was.

Enya walked forward at a steady pace, still exhausted from all the running and panic. She had started walking instead of running in attempt to conserve energy. If she heard anything from down the hallway behind her or saw another monster, she would have to force herself back to a sprint, but whether or not she could was a different issue.

And with that, Enya began walking down the final side hall until she reached the main neutral-hallway. From there, she could make it back to the study, and have plenty of light to see, and more importantly, rest.

image [https://i.imgur.com/ZiLMGqb.png]

After about thirty seconds of walking, Enya picked up her pace, albeit slowly. She shifted to a brisk walk. Her breathing had returned to something resembling normal, though anyone looking at her could tell she was forcing it. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, and she doubted she could manage a sprint for more than a few seconds.

In a couple more minutes, she reached the brightly lit neutral-hall intersection. She glanced left, down the hallway where they had started running and where the demon rat had begun its chase. The corridor was empty, with nothing in sight. The intersection itself was well lit—four torches burning brightly at the corners. To her right, the hallway led back to the study, illuminated by torches placed at much closer intervals than elsewhere. Enya suspected Pell might have possibly lit them himself, though she couldn't be sure.

The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the occasional crackle of the purple flames above her. Enya felt alone. The solemn atmosphere of the dungeon crept into her mind, and she soon realized what it truly meant to be inside of one.

Standing at the center of the intersection, Enya allowed herself to relax slightly. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate once more. Her heartbeat, though still fast, had calmed significantly from the life-threatening encounter she’d just survived. It took longer than she expected—nearly twenty seconds of intense focus—but finally, she felt the familiar tingle.

Skill: Absolute Focus has been activated

Enya opened her eyes, now glowing a faint yellow—one much more muted in color than ever before.

With a systematic turn, she scanned the hallway she had just come from. A slight headache began to build, her mind throbbing in time with her heartbeat. She saw no signs of movement, not in the hall she had come from nor in any of the others. The headache quickly grew worse, and she canceled the skill before it became unbearable. Turning back, she resumed her path toward the study.

Her dress was disheveled, her hair a tangled mess—she looked as though she had truly been careened down a hill from the inside of a barrel. But appearances didn’t matter. She was safe. All she had to do now was make it back to the study and trust that Pell would do the same. He’ll make it. He will.

image [https://i.imgur.com/ZiLMGqb.png]

Pell was lagging behind Enya—quite drastically, in fact. He simply wasn't as nimble or agile as the little girl. That was one perk of having a functioning muscular system. Bones alone didn’t offer the same versatility as a body made of flesh. He was still faster than a zombie, of course, but the undead were not athletically talented.

It didn’t help that Pell was carrying an entire skeleton on his back, one that weighed about as much as he did, and was flailing around like a child being kidnapped. Technically, it was being kidnapped, but Pell was fairly certain the skeleton wasn’t a child. At least, its physical skeletal structure didn’t suggest it.

The skeleton strapped to Pell knew it shouldn’t be tied up and carted around by another skeleton while staring into the darkness, as a massive feral rat chased after them, but it could do nothing.

Pell was running as fast as he could, but his steps were not as steady as he would have liked. He couldn’t be sure exactly how far away the Rat was. Perhaps it was several hundred meters behind him, or perhaps it was already perched upon his back, making tea, eating cheese, and just waiting for him to notice. With all the chaos from the thrashing skeleton on his back, his senses were overwhelmed; he could barely see or hear anything.

But reality often answers to expectations. Whether that be in a positive manner, or a negative light.

He heard it.

“ScReEAAaaAAkK!”

The deep but high-pitched growl of the demonic rat—a sound he knew he would never forget—resounded down the hall from behind him. It was here, and it was close.