The open cell behind him faded into shadow as Carl stepped into the hallway beyond.
The corridor was narrow, lined with rough-hewn stone and the remains of long-dead torch sconces. The only light came from flickering flames every dozen feet, just enough to cast uneasy shadows that shifted with every step he took.
The air was damp, metallic, and silent. Too silent. No wind. No footsteps. Not even rats.
He moved cautiously, boots echoing faintly against the stone. His instincts stayed sharp, ready to bolt or brawl if needed but nothing came.
As he walked, a faint chime sounded inside his head, soft but distinct like a thought not entirely his own.
Then, it appeared.
A translucent UI overlay blinked into view, hovering just outside his direct line of vision like a heads-up display. It looked minimalist, imperial in design smooth angles, deep crimson hues, black trim, and brass-accented highlights.
Four icons hovered in a subtle arc:
[Character]
Displays your attributes, traits, and titles
Carl opened it with a thought and a window flickered into existence beside him.
Name: CarlHealth: 500 / 500
Mana: 60 / 60
Level: 0
Experience: --/900
Rank:Citizen
Faction: Aurexian Empire
Job: None --
Sub-Job: --
Attributes: (-)
Strength – [4]
Intelligence – [3]
Charisma – [5]
Agility – [4]
Luck – [2]
Status: Stable (No injuries)
Titles: --
"Figures," he muttered. "Blank slate."
[Inventory]
Manage equipment, supplies, and items
A flick and the inventory appeared.
Equipped:
Common Tunic (Worn)
Boots (Scuffed)
Carried:
Nothing
Currency: 0 Aurexian Gold
Not surprising that it is empty.
[Quests]
Your current directives, tasks, and contracts.The quest tab opened, a single entry glowing faintly.
[Initiation – Empire's Mercy]You have been admitted into the ranks of the Aurexian Empire. Survive the dungeon and locate the exit. Further instructions will follow.
Objective: Exit the DungeonReward: ????
He raised an eyebrow. "So this is the tutorial," he muttered. But something about the wording 'survive' told him this wasn't going to be a hand-holding kind of experience.
[Map]
View discovered areas.
He opened the map only to see a black screen with a blinking white dot labeled You.
Everything else was fogged out.
Carl closed all the interfaces with a single thought. The glowing displays faded quietly, dissolving into the dim air of the corridor. Nothing around him had changed, the flickering torches still cast long shadows along the cold stone walls, the silence still lingered like a heavy curtain but his understanding had shifted.
The quest log had confirmed what he already suspected.
This was not a typical starting point. It was a trial, carefully designed for those who had chosen the Empire. There was no gentle welcome, no warm tutorial. The Empire did not offer guidance. It offered a challenge.
This was the first test.
Aurexia had no interest in coddling its citizens. Power here was not given. It was seized, earned through effort and endurance. If you failed, you will get tossed aside. That was the nature of the system he had willingly joined.
Carl began moving again, his footsteps slow but certain. There was no longer confusion or hesitation. The objective was simple now.
Survive.
Reach the exit.
Prove his place.
The silence in the dungeon no longer felt empty. It felt deliberate, almost watchful. He could not say whether the game itself was observing him, or something else that lived within it, but he could sense the weight of unseen eyes.
He did not care.
Let them watch.
He kept walking, one careful step after another, through the dark corridors. The darkness ahead stretched on, silent and patient, as if waiting to see who he would become.
As Carl moved deeper into the corridor, the passage began to widen. The air grew thicker, warmer, with a faint stench of rot and damp fur that hadn't been present before. Instinct slowed his pace. Something was nearby.
He came to a stop and crouched, his back pressing lightly against the damp stone wall. Quietly, he inched forward, keeping low, until he reached a broken section in the masonry that allowed him a narrow view ahead.
The corridor opened into a wide, circular chamber. Faded braziers lined the walls, their dull red flames flickering unnaturally without any fuel. The shadows they cast danced across the rough floor, broken only by the movement of figures within.
Carl held his breath and focused.
Three of them.
Their shapes were human at a glance, but the truth revealed itself in their broken posture and the stuttering way they moved. Pale, rotted skin stretched across skeletal frames. Their faces were hollow, their jaws slack. The sound of slow, wet breathing filled the space between their shuffling footsteps.
Each one carried a dagger. Rusted. Pitted. Crusted with old black blood. But they held them with familiarity, not clumsiness. These things were not mindless corpses. They had a purpose, even if it was long forgotten.
Above their heads, faint transparent icons hovered.
[Rotblade Thrall]
[Level 4, Undead-type]
Carl watched silently as the creatures wandered the room. One scraped its dagger along the stone floor, dragging it like a lazy predator. Another stood close to the brazier, twitching slightly with each flicker of light. The third lingered near the center of the chamber, head tilted to one side, as if listening for the slightest sound.
They were slow, but coordinated enough to be dangerous if provoked together. He had no armor, no weapons yet, just his wits and a sense of growing clarity.
He stop and think on how to decide on approach to deal with these zombies.
With the dagger now in his grip, Carl didn't hesitate.
He turned the momentum of his snatch into a full-body motion, stepped in close, and drove the blade upward with both hands, aiming straight for the base of the skull. The dagger plunged into the Rotblade Thrall's head with a sickening crunch. Bone cracked, and the rotting flesh gave way like soaked cloth. The creature spasmed violently in his grip.
Carl yanked the blade free in one swift pull, the dark blood spraying against his sleeve. He took a step back, eyes locked on the glowing health bar now visible above the thrall's head.
It hadn't dropped all the way.
Only about seventy-one percent of it was gone. Not a kill. Not yet.
The creature reeled but didn't fall. Its head jerked side to side, twitching from the blow, its ruined eye sockets glaring at him with something between confusion and rage. The other two were already beginning to move toward him.
No time to think.
Carl stepped forward again and buried the dagger into the same spot, twisting this time. The second strike went in smoother, and with a short, broken gasp, the thrall dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.
It didn't rise.
Above the body, a ripple of light shimmered briefly in the air, white numbers floating in clean, stylized text.
+350 Exp
The weight of what had just happened began to settle in. He could kill in this world. He could grow stronger from it.
Each fight, each enemy, wasn't just a threat it was a means to move forward. Every encounter was part of a larger system, and now he understood what kind of world he had entered.
There were no judges here, no elections, no voices telling him to wait his turn. Power was not granted by title or birthright. It was taken through action, claimed by force, and measured in numbers.
The glowing experience that had floated above the thrall's body was more than a reward. It was confirmation. Proof that in this place, strength was earned through blood and effort, and those willing to fight could rise.
For Carl, that meant one thing if he wanted power, all he had to do was reach out and take it.
While Carl was caught in his thoughts, the price of distraction made itself known.
A sharp, burning pain tore through his left arm.
He gasped and twisted instinctively, eyes snapping down to see a rusted dagger buried just above his elbow. One of the remaining Rotblade Thralls had closed the distance, its grotesque face now inches away, jaw slack and drooling.
A red number floated beside him.
−132 HP
Then another line of text blinked into view.
Bleeding: −2 HP per second
Carl gritted his teeth and staggered back, wrenching his arm away from the blade. Blood trickled down his forearm in steady streams. The numbers were still ticking, slowly draining him with every passing second.
"Damn it," he hissed.
There was no time to nurse the wound. The second thrall was already lurching forward again, dagger in hand and arms reaching.
Carl tightened his grip on his own weapon, pushed down the pain, and moved.
He lunged forward, aiming for the head once more, determined to end the fight before his health drained away completely.
The second Rotblade Thrall met him with a rasping hiss. Its dagger arced toward his chest, but Carl moved faster. Pain sharpened his focus. He slipped beneath the clumsy swing and drove his blade upward, aiming just below the creature's jaw.
The dagger sank into the rotting flesh, pierced through soft tissue, and jammed into the base of the skull. Carl grunted as he pushed the blade deeper, feeling resistance give way with a sickening crack. The thrall convulsed violently, and blackened blood spilled across Carl's wrist in thick, oily streams.
He yanked the blade free in one hard pull. The creature collapsed at his feet, its body twitching once before falling still.
+350 EXP
The glowing numbers appeared for an instant above the corpse before fading into the air like mist.
Carl stumbled back a step, breath ragged and sharp. Blood ran freely from his arm, and each movement made the wound throb with heat. His health bar continued to drain, dropping by two points every second. The bleeding would kill him if he waited too long.
But he had no time to rest.
The third and final Rotblade Thrall rushed toward him, shrieking with rage. Its dagger caught the dim brazier light as it charged, teeth bared in a mindless, hateful snarl.
Carl tightened his grip on the blade and clenched his jaw. He forced himself to meet the attack head-on.
He sidestepped at the last second, baiting the creature into overextending its lunge. As the thrall stumbled forward, Carl pivoted behind it. He moved with precision, driving the dagger into the side of its skull.
The blade sank in with a crunch of bone and decayed flesh. The creature gurgled, struggling to cry out, but Carl twisted the dagger and shoved the thrall back against the wall. The body jerked once, its claws scraping weakly against Carl's chest.
Then it went still.
Carl let the corpse slide to the floor.
+350 EXP
As the third kill registered, a soft chime echoed through his awareness. It did not come from the chamber, but from within — subtle, clear, and final. A golden pulse of light surrounded his body, and he instinctively knew what it meant.
Level Up: 1
Warmth surged through his body like a wave, soothing the pain that had gripped him moments before. He blinked in confusion and looked down at his arm.
The wound was gone.
There was no scab, no scar, not even a hint of the bleeding gash that had been there just seconds earlier. He flexed his fingers and pressed against the spot. His skin was whole, smooth beneath the blood-soaked fabric. The burning ache had vanished entirely.
He checked his health bar.
It was full.
Carl stood in stunned silence. The realization settled slowly, like a truth finally revealed. Gaining a level did not simply increase strength. It restored everything. Injuries were healed. Status effects disappeared. Health returned to maximum. It was not only progress.
It was survival.
Leveling up gave him a second chance, a complete renewal in the middle of battle. If he kept pushing forward, if he kept killing, he could endure.
He glanced down at the bodies that lay motionless on the stone floor. Pools of black blood spread outward beneath them, steaming faintly in the warm dungeon air. A few moments ago, this room had been filled with the sounds of snarling and struggle. Now, it was quiet.
Carl looked at his hands. They were steady, clean and whole.
He gave a slow, thoughtful nod.
This world was cruel, but it followed rules. And now, he was beginning to understand how to play by them.