This was supposed to be a break from fighting. A moment to focus on exploration, on understanding my limits, on something other than tearing through whatever crossed my path.
And yet, trouble always seemed to find me.
Over the past two days, I had encountered more enemies than I cared to count. Some I ignored, letting them pass without incident. Others, I culled without hesitation. A calculated approach—kill only when necessary, when the opportunity is too convenient to pass up, or when the experience is worth the effort. I had no grand philosophy behind it. The only certainty was that I needed to grow stronger. I needed the experience to protect my undead life. That was all there was to it.
That logic, however, was quickly thrown into question when I encountered something new.
[Vampyric Flyer - Lv. 9]
A bat-like creature with razor-sharp fangs and a preference for ambushing. Its screech induces paralysis. Swift and relentless, it preys upon the weak with calculated strikes.
The first thing I noticed was the sound.
A sharp, piercing screech split through the cavern, rattling through my skull like nails against stone. My limbs seized. A fraction of a second, nothing more, but long enough for the first strike to land. Clawed talons raked across my shoulder, not deep but precise. A second later, a second screech followed, layering over the first, compounding the paralysis just as another set of claws grazed my side.
Flying enemies.
I hated them.
This was my first encounter with an aerial opponent, and I already despised it.
It was fast. Unreasonably fast. Faster than me, faster than anything I had fought before. Their movements were erratic, near-impossible to track. Every time I thought I had a read on its pattern, it would twist mid-flight, feinting one way before striking from another. Worse, every hit embedded me deeper into their rhythm. The moment I was caught off-guard by one move, the next would already be closing in.
I had been allocating my stat points to Agility. I had been getting faster. And yet, here I was, struggling to keep up.
That pissed me off.
Still, there was one bright side. Their attacks weren’t particularly strong. Annoying? Absolutely. Dangerous? Not unless I let them pin me down. My Endurance and Vitality were more than enough to tank their glancing blows. I could take the damage. I could take the paralysis. But if I let them keep me locked down, I’d be as good as dead.
Which meant I needed a plan.
I tensed, waiting, analyzing. I needed one opening. Just one.
[Unarmed Combat - Lv. 4]
The next time one swooped low, I moved. A wide swipe, claws extended—[Wither’s Claw]—aimed directly for its wings.
I missed.
The moment my attack failed, another screech followed. My body seized again, another set of talons carving shallow lines across my back.
Fuck. I felt that. It didn’t hurt. Not really. But I felt it.
I needed time to recover, but they weren’t going to give it to me.
What could I do without moving?
…
Wait.
Didn’t I just receive a shiny new skill for this exact scenario?
Only one way to find out.
[Fear]
The effect was immediate.
The Vampyric Flyer that had been streaking toward me hesitated mid-air, its trajectory shifting, its flight path stuttering as a ripple of terror crawled through its instincts. It veered sharply, choosing avoidance over aggression.
Good.
The paralysis faded from my limbs. I moved the moment I regained control, lunging forward before the creature could correct itself.
Claws lashed out—one strike, then another. I aimed for the wings, tearing through the thin membrane and shredding the fragile limbs with surgical precision.
The moment the damage registered, its body twisted, plummeting. The bat-like monster tumbled through the air, unable to catch itself, unable to correct its descent. The next second, it hit the ground. Hard.
And now, it was mine.
I approached slowly, [Fear] still active. Its body twitched, its movements erratic, primal instinct warring with the paralysis of terror. It wanted to flee. It should have fled. But it couldn’t.
For the first time since I had woken up in this cursed place, I realized something.
Killing wasn’t something I enjoyed.
It wasn’t exhilarating. It wasn’t thrilling. It wasn’t some grand act that filled me with purpose. It was just something I did. Like breathing had been when I was alive. Necessary. Automatic. An instinctive response to my circumstances.
But now—
Now, this was different.
The Vampyric Flyer hadn't just been an enemy. It had tormented me. It had frustrated me. It had been faster, more agile, an opponent that forced me to struggle when I hadn’t struggled in a long time.
And that irritation, that moment of helplessness, had ignited something new.
Not rage. Not hatred. Something quieter.
Satisfaction.
This time, I wanted it to suffer.
This time, I wasn’t just killing to survive. I was going to enjoy this.
My mouth opened, teeth sinking deep into its jugular while it was still alive.
[Target Defeated.]
[Experience Gained.]
[Skill: Night Vision Lv. 6 → Lv. 7]
[Skill: Wither’s Claw Lv. 7 → Lv. 8]
[Skill: Mana Perception Lv. 5 → Lv. 6]
[Trait: Undead Body Lv. 6 → Lv. 7]
The taste was… unexpected.
Bitter, yet rich. It carried an odd metallic tang, stronger than that of the imps, almost like copper left to sit in stagnant water. The texture was different, too—thicker, denser, like the flesh had been compacted over time. Unlike the imps, whose meat had been tender and almost sweet, the Vampyric Flyer’s body felt like it had been hardened by something as if its very existence demanded resilience. There was an aftertaste, one that lingered unpleasantly at the back of my throat. Not entirely bad, just… unfamiliar.
I chewed slowly, considering.
Had the Imps really tasted that good? Or had my perception been skewed by starvation?
When I had eaten the imps, it had been my first real meal. At the time, I was too ravenous to think about flavor beyond how much I needed it. It was possible that anything would have tasted good in that moment. Now that I wasn’t as desperate, was I just noticing the flaws that my hunger had overlooked?
Something to investigate later.
For now, I turned my attention to my wounds.
They were closing.
Not healing, exactly—at least not in the way a human body would. Instead, the edges of my wounds seemed to knit together almost seamlessly, the damage fading as if it had never been there.
Blood Nourishment was working.
I flexed my fingers, rolling my shoulders as the last traces of stiffness left my body. Ordinarily, these cuts and wounds would have taken at least half an hour to fully mend. Now? Mere minutes. I had already suspected the ability accelerated my regeneration, but seeing it in action so clearly confirmed it beyond doubt. And that was only from this creature. A low-tier monster.
Higher-quality blood yields greater effects.
Just how far did this ability go?
My gaze flicked toward the remnant husk of the Vampyric Flyer. Whatever it had once been, it was nothing now. The only thing left were the wings I had ripped apart and a few bones.
For a moment, I considered the implications.
I was undead. That much was obvious. But the way I was feeding… this didn’t feel like mindless hunger. There was a system to it, a method. The more I consumed, the more I gained. Strength, recovery, endurance.
It almost felt vampiric.
I dismissed the thought.
I was not a vampire.
I was a zombie.
And if I had to be honest, I preferred being a zombie and sticking with what I knew.
----------------------------------------
I had been walking for what felt like hours, the jagged tunnels of the Labyrinthine Tomb stretching endlessly ahead, each twist and turn identical to the last. The only real indicator of my progress was the steady increase of the mana crystals lining the cavern walls. Their glow had been a constant presence, guiding me through the labyrinth, but now, their numbers were growing exponentially.
That meant I was going deeper.
The air changed as well. It was heavier, damp with something that clung to my senses like a warning. The scent of rot had always been present in this cursed place, but here, it was suffocating—thick and pungent, as if something old and decayed had long since claimed this territory. The ground beneath my feet grew uneven, worn down by something other than time.
Then, I felt it.
Something was here.
My instincts flared to life, urging me to stop, and for once, I listened.
A figure stood in the dim glow of the scattered crystals, its form hunched, its breath ragged.
I curled my fingers into a fist and activated Inspect.
----------------------------------------
[Inspect - Lv. 5] Activated.
[Feral Zombie - Lv. 13]
[Rank: Fiend]
[The cursed remnants of a Witherling Zombie that has lost even the last shreds of its reasoning, devolving into pure, instinctual aggression. Unlike its mindless kin, it does not recognize allies or pack hierarchy—only prey.]
----------------------------------------
My body tensed.
This was different.
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I had fought zombies before—mindless husks, slow and easy to dispatch. This one was neither of those things.
Its body had decayed far more than mine, patches of flesh rotted away to reveal jagged, yellowed bone beneath. Its remaining skin was stretched thin, gray, and leathery, barely clinging to a frame of necrotic muscle. Its fingers twitched with unnatural energy, claws clicking against the stone as it shifted erratically. And its eyes—hollow sockets filled with a dull, burning red—darted wildly, unfocused yet painfully aware.
A corpse should not move like that.
Then, its gaze locked onto me.
It screeched—a sound that scraped against my senses like rusted iron—and charged.
It was on me in an instant, faster than anything I had encountered before. I barely had time to react before its first strike came, a clawed hand whipping toward my head.
I ducked—
Too slow.
A blur of movement—its second strike slammed into my ribs.
Pain.
Real pain.
Not the dull impact of an undead body taking damage, but sharp, searing agony, something I hadn’t felt since I first woke in this abyss. The force sent me skidding backward, my feet barely catching purchase on the uneven ground. My ribs burned, a crack running through the bone.
I barely had time to steady myself before it was lunging again.
Too fast. Too strong. Too unpredictable.
I had fought instinct-driven monsters before, but this was different. The way it moved—it was erratic, unnatural, shifting between stillness and explosive speed like a rabid beast.
I dodged left, narrowly avoiding another swipe meant to tear through my chest. I retaliated, claws lashing out toward its exposed ribs—
Impact.
My attack landed. But it didn’t stop.
The rot spread from the wound instantly, eating away at its flesh, but it didn’t flinch. Didn’t slow. It twisted mid-motion, its knee slamming into my gut before I could pull away.
I flew.
The world blurred. I hit the ground hard, my back slamming into solid stone. The impact jarred my limbs and left me momentarily breathless, my body screaming in protest.
Shit.
This was bad.
I forced myself up, but it was already coming for me.
I wasn’t fast enough.
I had to change something—
I wasn’t fast enough.
Access Record
I yanked open my Akashic Record, dumping all three available stat points into Agility.
[+3 Agility]
The change was instant.
Not enough.
The Feral Zombie was still faster. Even with my increased agility, my movements were barely keeping up. The gap hadn’t been erased—just shortened enough that I wasn’t completely overwhelmed. But ‘not overwhelmed’ didn’t mean ‘winning.’
The thing lunged at me again, its body twitching unnaturally, red eyes locked onto me with an unsettling, rabid intensity. It moved in bursts, unpredictable and relentless. Every moment of stillness lasted only an instant before it jerked forward, snapping, clawing, tearing at the air between us.
I barely dodged, twisting my body to the side, feeling the wind of its strike as it passed inches from my face. My body reacted on instinct—I kicked at its leg, aiming to unbalance it.
It staggered.
But only for a second.
I lunged, driving my claws into its exposed torso. Flesh parted beneath my strike, decay spreading rapidly from the wounds. The blackened rot crawled across its body, sapping its strength. I should have felt triumphant.
I didn’t.
The damn thing barely reacted.
A snarl tore from its throat, guttural and animalistic. Its body twisted unnaturally as it lashed out mid-motion, claws raking across my shoulder.
Cold.
Not the absence of warmth, but something deeper—a deadening sensation spreading through my limb as the decay seeped into my undead flesh. My muscles locked, stiffening. My right arm was already starting to fail.
Not good.
It lunged again. This time, it went for my legs. Too fast. I couldn’t dodge in time.
Impact.
Its claws tore into my thigh, sending me staggering. I caught myself, twisting on instinct, forcing my body into motion despite the creeping paralysis. My left hand lashed out, slashing deep into its back. Then again—this time at the tendons of its leg.
Small wounds. Minor injuries. But it was something.
I needed more than ‘something.’
I needed an edge.
That was the only thing I had. This thing was stronger. Faster. If we kept exchanging blows like this, I would lose. I had to turn this fight into something else.
I had to make it fear me.
[Fear]
The air changed.
The Feral Zombie faltered. Its body hesitated, twitching violently between aggression and a deep, primal instinct screaming at it to back away. I could see it in its jerking movements—the split-second delay in its attacks, the wavering in its stance.
It wasn’t enough to stop it. But it was enough to slow it down.
I forced myself forward, pushing my speed to the limit, slipping through the gaps in its wild, frenzied attacks. My claws raked across its rotting flesh, spreading more of my corruption, weakening it further.
But my body wasn’t doing any better.
My right arm was useless now. My leg wasn’t far behind. The necrotic decay had locked my joints, seeping deep into my undead flesh. I was running out of time.
One last attack.
One shot.
I didn’t know what kind of person I had been when I was alive. But if I had to guess? I was a gambler.
Because I was about to bet everything.
I deactivated Fear.
The change was instant.
The moment the Feral Zombie sensed the absence of that unnatural terror, it lunged, throwing everything it had into one final attack. Its movements were wild, desperate—closing the distance in a blur of rotting flesh and snapping teeth.
I waited.
Just before it struck—
[Fear]
The Feral Zombie’s body locked.
Instinct. Deep, primal, overwhelming. The purest kind of terror surged through it, forcing it to recoil at the last second.
And that was my opening.
I lunged.
Claws extended. Aimed precisely.
[Wither’s Claw]
My attack struck true.
The decay spread instantly, racing up its throat, across its head, through the rotting flesh of its skull. Its eyes bulged, its body convulsing as the last remnants of undeath flickered, then collapsed.
It fell.
[Target Defeated.]
[More Experience Gained for Defeating a Stronger Opponent.]
[Species: Witherling Zombie Lv. 8 → Witherling Zombie Lv. 9]
[Skill: Inspect Lv. 5 → Inspect Lv. 7]
[Skill: Unarmed Combat Lv. 4 → Lv. 5]
[Skill: Fear Lv. 1 → Lv.3]
[Trait: Undead Body Lv. 7 → 8]
[You Have 3 Stat Points.]
I stood there for a long moment, breathing heavily despite not needing to breathe. My entire body screamed in protest. Pain—real pain—throbbed in my limbs, my side, my legs. My right arm remained limp at my side. I had taken more damage than I wanted to admit.
But I had won.
The corpse of the Feral Zombie lay before me, its grotesque form twisted in its final moments.
Its rotted flesh was torn open, the decay I had inflicted still eating away at what remained. Despite everything, it still twitched occasionally—muscle spasms, residual energy, nothing more. It was dead. Gone.
And now, it would serve its final purpose.
A fitting end.
I crouched beside the body, my gaze lingering on the deep wounds that had nearly brought me to the brink. This thing had pushed me farther than anything I had fought before, even those damned imps. It had wounded me in ways I wasn’t sure I could naturally recover from for a while.
And now, its corpse would fix what it had damaged.
How poetic
I dug in without hesitation.
The flesh was firmer than the Witherling Zombies I had eaten before, tougher, with less of that dry, leathery texture. The rot hadn’t fully softened it, leaving something closer to actual meat than the brittle, half-decomposed husks I had previously consumed. Not exactly pleasant, but the mouthfeel was better.
...Did it taste better than me?...
A ridiculous thought. Irritating, even.
[Trait: Blood Nourishment Lv. 1 → Lv. 2]
I pushed the annoyance aside and focused on the real reason I was doing this. The wounds along my shoulder and leg were already responding. The dull ache of locked muscles began to fade as the necrosis in my limbs receded.
Blood Nourishment was a god.
The injuries that would have taken hours—possibly longer—were now closing rapidly. The stolen life essence within the blood accelerated my regeneration, knitting together the torn undead flesh. It wasn’t instantaneous, but it was enough.
I forced myself to keep eating, consuming as much as I could before moving on. This wasn’t a meal—it was a necessary resource.
It took around 15 minutes for me to fully heal from the battle. By the time I finished, my body was good again.
I wiped the remnants of flesh from my lips, straightened, and turned toward the path ahead.
Time to move forward.
The deeper I went, the more the labyrinth changed. The oppressive weight of the tunnels, the jagged, uneven rock formations—everything felt different.
The narrow corridors of jagged rock gave way to a more open space, illuminated by more glowstones embedded into the cavern ceiling. The air was different here—thicker, heavier, almost humming with tension. Unlike the upper levels, which were littered with weak undead, the monsters here were… different.
There were fewer of them, but they were stronger.
I could feel it.
Every step I took forward, I felt it.
A shift.
Not in the ground beneath me or the air around me—but in the very atmosphere of the labyrinth itself.
It was subtle at first, a creeping sensation at the edges of my awareness, like something unseen pressing down on my shoulders. A weight. A presence. The deeper I ventured, the more pronounced it became, sinking into my bones and coiling around my instincts.
This place… no longer belonged to the weak.
The lesser creatures—the scavengers, the ones that relied on numbers, on picking off stragglers—had already been culled. What remained here were the survivors. The predators. The monsters that had lived long enough to carve out their own domains in the depths.
And then, I heard it.
A sharp, wet crunch.
I stopped moving.
Slowly, I turned my gaze toward the far end of the cavern, where something massive loomed in the dim glow of the mana crystals.
It was hunched over a corpse, its massive frame shifting with each deliberate, animalistic motion. Thick, sinewy muscles twisted beneath a hide that pulsed a deep, blood-red, almost as if its very flesh was saturated with fresh carnage. Its jagged, bony claws—so sharp they looked more like weapons than natural appendages—sank deep into the lifeless body beneath it.
I recognized what it had been.
A Feral Zombie.
Or what was left of one.
Its torso had been ripped open, its spine shattered with a single crushing blow. The monster tore into it without hesitation, without pause, without struggle.
It hadn’t just killed the Feral Zombie.
It had devoured it.
Thick tendrils of blackened blood coiled around its limbs, pulsing, seeping into its form as if drinking in the very essence of its fallen prey.
And then—it lifted its head.
Eyes glowing a dull, ominous crimson, locked onto nothing in particular, unfocused yet still… aware. Its maw gaped open, revealing jagged, gnarled teeth dripping with thick, congealed ichor.
Something inside me lurched.
My entire body went rigid, every muscle locking into place.
Instinct screamed at me to run.
Even without Inspect, I already knew.
This thing was beyond me.
But I still had to know. I needed to know.
[Inspect - Lv. 6] Activated.
A pause.
Then, the information appeared before my eyes.
----------------------------------------
[Crimson Blood Spawn - Lv. 19]
[Rank: Fiend]
[A predator that feasts upon its own kind and absorbs the strength of its victims. A monster that thrives in labyrinths, growing stronger with every kill. Caution is advised.]
----------------------------------------
I didn’t move.
Not a twitch. Not a thought. Nothing.
It took a full second for my mind to catch up with what I was seeing.
Level 19.
I wasn’t sure whether it had noticed me yet, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
Every part of its body moved in subtle, restless twitches, its muscles coiling and uncoiling, ready to explode into movement at any given moment. It never stopped moving. Even as it fed, it remained poised, taut, like a predator always prepared to strike.
This wasn’t just a mindless brute.
It was a killer.
And if it saw me, I was dead.
I forced my thoughts to be controlled. Even the smallest misstep could mean the difference between staying hidden and triggering the monster’s attention.
Slowly, carefully, I stepped back.
One foot.
Then another.
I kept to the shadows, retreating without sound, watching as the Blood Spawn continued its feast.
It hadn’t noticed me yet.
But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t.
Every instinct in my body told me to turn and run, to flee as fast as I could. But I didn’t. Running meant making noise. Running meant drawing attention. Running meant dying.
So I moved. Slowly. Deliberately. Silently.
As I put distance between us, a thought wormed its way into my mind.
I had a choice.
Keep pushing forward—and risk death at the hands of something I wasn’t ready to fight.
Or—
Turn back. Grow stronger. Return on my own terms.
The answer was obvious.
I wasn’t ready. Not yet.
I clenched my jaw, forcing my body to remain composed as I slipped away into the darkness, back toward the upper levels of the labyrinth.
This wasn’t the end.
Only a delay.
Next time, I wouldn’t have to run.
Next time, I would be the one hunting. Hopefully
Without another sound, I melted into the shadows, slipping back toward the upper levels.
Chapter End...
----------------------------------------
Akashic Record
----------------------------------------
Name: [][][][][][]
Race: Demonic Beast
Species: Witherling Zombie
Rank: Spawn
Class: None
Level: 9
Titles: Cannibal
----------------------------------------
Strength: 21
Intelligence: 16
Endurance: 17
Vitality: 15(+5)
Agility: 23
Stat Points Available: 3
----------------------------------------
Skills:
Night Vision - Lv. 7
Wither’s Claw - Lv. 8
Inspect - Lv. 7
Unarmed Combat - Lv. 5
Mana Perception - Lv. 6
Fear - Lv. 3
######### of ###### - Lv. Locked (Remnant - Unusable)
----------------------------------------
Traits:
Undead Body - Lv. 8
Blood Nourishment - Lv. 2