Jin Yeong stepped into the third-floor break room, the steel pipe gripped tightly in his hand. The hallway behind him was swallowed in darkness, the faint echo of his footsteps fading into silence. His pulse was steady, but his senses were razor-sharp, every creak of the building setting his nerves on edge. The break room, though, was a jarring contrast—a slice of normalcy in the chaos. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a stuttering glow over the room. A refrigerator hummed softly, its motor a low drone. A microwave sat untouched on the counter, and a coffee machine blinked lazily, still plugged in.
But the normalcy was fractured. Chairs lay toppled, a stack of disposable cups spilled across the counter, and a half-eaten sandwich sat abandoned by the sink, its edges curling. Someone had been here when the system awakened, when the world turned to blood and screams. Jin's eyes swept the room, landing on the fridge. Its handle was cold under his fingers, a small anchor in the madness.
He pulled it open. The light inside flickered, revealing a treasure trove: bottled water, energy drinks, leftover lunches in plastic containers, and snacks crammed into the door. Jin's breath caught, a rare spark of relief cutting through his exhaustion. This was more than he'd hoped for. He grabbed a water bottle, the plastic cool against his palm, and an energy drink, its weight grounding him.
Then he paused. Carrying all this back through the dark hallway, arms full, was a death wish if something decided to attack him. His eyes flicked to an empty duffel bag slumped on a chair nearby. He reached for it, but before his fingers touched the strap, a blue screen flickered into existence before him.
[ Skill Unlocked: Inventory ]
You have acquired stored items. Activating Inventory.
Jin froze, his breath hitching. A grid-like interface appeared in his vision, a single empty slot glowing faintly. He focused on the water bottle in his hand, and it vanished with a faint shimmer, reappearing in the grid. His hand was empty. He pulled up the interface again, and there it was—stored, safe, weightless. A sharp exhale escaped him. "This is… actually useful," he muttered, a rare edge of relief in his voice.
He moved quickly, storing everything he could—water, energy drinks, sandwiches, snacks. The fridge emptied in seconds, the inventory grid filling with icons. For the first time since the system's announcement, something had gone right. He slung the duffel bag over his shoulder for good measure, in case the skill failed, and turned toward the door.
Then he heard it—footsteps. Slow, uneven, echoing from the hallway outside. Not the wet scrape of a monster, not the skittering of claws, but deliberate, human. Jin's grip on the pipe tightened, his body coiling like a spring. The lights overhead flickered violently, buzzing as if struggling to stay on. His pulse quickened. Did they hear him? He edged toward the doorway, his steps silent, his eyes locked on the shadows beyond.
The footsteps stopped. The silence was heavy, pressing against his chest. The lights flickered again, dimming for a moment before surging back. Jin's breath slowed, his stance shifting instinctively, ready to move. Then the footsteps resumed, closer now, deliberate, searching. He pressed himself against the wall beside the door, the pipe raised, his muscles taut.
A shadow flickered in the doorway. A man stepped inside, and Jin's eyes narrowed. He knew him—Kang Joon-seok, a coworker from the second floor. Joon-seok, who always grumbled about deadlines but never missed one, who carried extra gum in his pocket and offered it to anyone nearby. Now, he was a ghost of that man. His dress shirt was soaked in blood, dark and crusted, his hands trembling violently. His hair was matted with sweat, his glasses cracked and hanging off one ear. But it was his eyes that stopped Jin—wide, unfocused, broken, like he'd seen too much and was waiting for the end.
The lights flickered again, a sharp buzz cutting through the air as they dimmed, casting Joon-seok's face in stark shadows. Jin's grip loosened slightly on the pipe. Joon-seok wasn't a monster, but he was dangerous in his own way, teetering on the edge of collapse.
Jin made a choice. He stepped forward, slow, deliberate, keeping the pipe low but ready. "Joon-seok," he said, his voice quiet, steady, not a threat but a lifeline.
Joon-seok flinched, his body jerking like he'd been struck. His breath hitched, his hands twitching upward, and a faint crackle of violet energy sparked around his fingertips. The lights overhead buzzed louder, flickering erratically as the energy pulsed. Jin's muscles tensed, his instincts screaming. Joon-seok's eyes locked onto him, wild and unseeing, and the violet light flared brighter.
An arc of unstable energy tore through the air, jagged and violent. Jin moved on instinct, pivoting sharply, his body twisting just enough to dodge. The blast slammed into the fridge behind him, the impact deafening. Metal crumpled, glass shattered, and sparks erupted as the fridge's door caved inward. The lights flickered wildly, plunging the room into near-darkness before stuttering back to life.
Jin didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, closing the distance in a heartbeat. His left hand hooked around Joon-seok's wrist, twisting it aside to redirect the crackling energy. His right arm slammed into Joon-seok's chest, driving him back. Joon-seok stumbled, off-balance, and Jin swept his legs out from under him. Joon-seok hit the floor with a thud, the air rushing from his lungs in a choked gasp.
Jin pinned him, his knee pressing into Joon-seok's chest, the pipe hovering inches from his throat. His pulse pounded, a sharp surge of adrenaline—Limitless Weapon Mastery humming in his veins, urging him to strike. For a split second, he felt it: the instinct to end the threat, to swing the pipe and be done with it. His muscles tensed, the pipe trembling in his grip.
Then—Joon-seok's voice, weak and confused. "Jin?"
The word snapped Jin out of it. He blinked, his breath slowing, the bloodlust fading. He exhaled sharply, easing his grip on the pipe and pulling back. Joon-seok coughed, struggling to sit up, his hands shaking as he wiped his face. "Shit," he rasped, his voice raw. "I thought… I thought you were one of those things."
Jin ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to breathe. "Yeah. Got that." The lights flickered again, buzzing faintly as Joon-seok's hands twitched, violet sparks dancing briefly before fading.
"Sorry," Joon-seok muttered, his voice barely audible. He looked away, his shoulders slumping.
Jin studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Me too." He stood, offering a hand. Joon-seok took it, pulling himself up with a wince, his balance unsteady. The lights buzzed again, dimming for a moment, and Jin's eyes flicked upward. "Your skill's messing with the power," he said, keeping his tone neutral.
Joon-seok grimaced, flexing his fingers. "Yeah. It… does that sometimes." He didn't elaborate, and Jin didn't push. They had bigger problems.
"Can you walk?" Jin asked, adjusting his grip on the pipe.
Joon-seok nodded, his movements slow but deliberate. "Yeah." He steadied himself, his eyes still haunted but clearer now. Jin gestured toward the hallway. "Come on. We're heading back."
They moved into the dark corridor, the lights flickering with every step Joon-seok took, the buzz of electricity a constant undercurrent. The hallway was silent, no growls or screams, just the distant hum of emergency systems struggling to stay online. Jin kept his pace steady, his senses sharp, the pipe ready in his hand. Joon-seok followed, his steps uneven, his breathing ragged.
As they walked, Joon-seok's voice broke the silence, low and strained. "They're all dead," he said, his words heavy with guilt. "Everyone on my floor."
Jin kept his eyes forward, letting him speak. He knew this weight, the kind that settled in your bones when you survived and others didn't.
Joon-seok's fingers twitched, sparks flickering briefly, dimming the lights again. "I was on the second floor when it started. Near my desk. We thought the system was a prank, some kind of hack." He let out a bitter laugh, empty and raw. "Then the sky… it split open. Like it was tearing itself apart."
Jin's jaw tightened, his mind flashing back to the first moments of chaos—the screams, the blood, the monsters. He didn't interrupt.
"One second, everyone was there," Joon-seok continued, his voice cracking. "The next… they were gone. Torn apart. I ran. Didn't think, didn't fight—just ran." He swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists. "I didn't try to save anyone."
Jin shot him a glance. "Could you have?"
Joon-seok went quiet, his gaze distant. The lights flickered again, buzzing faintly. After a moment, he shook his head. "No. I don't think so."
"Then you did what you could," Jin said, his voice low, not comforting but honest. "You're here."
Joon-seok snorted, the sound hollow. "Yeah. Hiding in a supply closet like a coward. Barricaded myself in and waited for it to end." He kicked a piece of debris, his voice bitter. "It didn't."
Jin nodded, his grip on the pipe steady. "How'd you survive?" he asked, his tone even. "Those things aren't exactly forgiving."
Joon-seok hesitated, then lifted his hand. A faint crackle of violet energy sparked around his fingers, and the lights overhead dimmed, buzzing loudly. "This," he said, his voice tight. "It's called Arc Discharge. Lets me fire off energy blasts. But it's… unstable. Goes off when I don't want it to." He flexed his fingers, frowning as the lights flickered again. "First time it triggered, I blasted a monster into a wall by accident. Pure panic. After that, I just hid."
Jin's eyes flicked to the sparking energy, then to the flickering lights. "That's why the power's acting up," he said, more to himself than to Joon-seok.
"Yeah," Joon-seok muttered, his shoulders slumping. "Can't control it. Not yet."
Jin didn't press. He thought back to the blast in the break room, the way it had torn through the fridge. Uncontrolled or not, it was powerful. "What made you come out?" he asked.
Joon-seok exhaled, his voice low. "The system's message. One hour survived, rankings, all that crap. Made me realize hiding wasn't gonna cut it." He glanced at Jin, his eyes shadowed. "Heard movement up here, thought maybe some coworkers were still alive."
Jin nodded. "You found me instead."
Joon-seok let out a weak laugh. "Yeah. And almost fried you. My bad."
Jin's lips twitched, the closest he'd come to a smile in hours. "Don't do it again."
They reached the barricaded door to the office. Jin knocked three times, sharp and deliberate. "It's me," he called, keeping his voice low.
A pause, then the scrape of furniture. The door cracked open, and the woman with heightened reflexes peered out, her eyes widening at Joon-seok. "Who's he?"
"Coworker," Jin said, pushing the door open. "Kang Joon-seok, second floor."
They stepped inside, the lights flickering as Joon-seok crossed the threshold, his skill sending a faint buzz through the air. The survivors looked up, their faces a mix of exhaustion and wary hope. The man with enhanced strength squinted, recognition dawning. "Joon-seok? You made it?"
Joon-seok's expression tightened, his voice flat. "Barely."
The woman with the injured ankle studied him, her gaze softening. "Anyone else from your floor?"
Joon-seok's hands clenched, his voice breaking as the lights flickered again. "No. They're all gone." He sank to the floor near a collapsed cubicle, his shoulders slumped. "I watched them die. Ran like a coward. Now they're just… gone."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over them. Jin glanced at Min, who was awake, propped against a desk, his face pale but alert. The healer sat beside him, her hands no longer glowing, her body slumped with exhaustion. The group was battered, but they were alive—and now, they had food and water.
Jin opened his inventory, the grid appearing in his vision. He selected the items, and bottles of water and snacks materialized in his hands. He passed them out, the group accepting them with quiet gratitude. Min took a water bottle, his hands trembling as he drank, his eyes meeting Jin's with a faint nod.
"Did anyone else make it?" the woman with heightened reflexes asked Joon-seok, her voice soft but urgent. "Other floors, maybe?"
Joon-seok shook his head, the lights buzzing faintly. "I don't know. I heard movement up here, but… I didn't see anyone else." His voice cracked. "I should've died with them."
Jin crouched beside him, his voice low, steady. "You didn't. That's enough for now." He handed Joon-seok a granola bar, his tone even. "Eat. Then we figure out what's next."
Joon-seok took the bar, his hands shaking. "Yeah," he muttered, his voice hollow. "What's next?"
Jin didn't answer. He didn't know. The system's ranking, the monsters, their coworkers' fates—it all hung over them, a storm waiting to break. The lights flickered again, Joon-seok's skill casting uneasy shadows, and Jin gripped his pipe, ready for whatever came next.