The next hallway smelled of iron.
Not rust. Not stone.
Blood.
Max tightened the straps on his new chain-wrapped knuckleblades. Each step he took echoed like a heartbeat through the silent corridor. The torches here were dimmer. Redder. As if even the fire had bled into the shadows.
He passed the shattered lever from the last room and glanced once over his shoulder. The Trial of Bonds was behind him, but the ache in his body… that lingered.
He cracked his neck.
Two deaths down.
Ninety-eight to go.
"Maybe I should start a scrapbook," he muttered. "Page one: Crushed by steroid zombie. Page two: Suplexed by lava-eyed murder monk."
Still, something inside him had shifted.
The fear was still there—lurking in his gut like acid—but layered on top of it was something new.
Resolve.
[Skill Boost Triggered: Rage Memory – Attack speed temporarily increased after recent combat.]
Max's hands twitched.
He felt faster now. Like a live wire. As if dying unlocked something primal, something sleeping inside his blood.
The corridor ended in a sealed door. Unlike the crude stonework of the earlier chambers, this one was carved from black marble—smooth, cold, and covered in intricate symbols. Some of them… moved. Twisted when he wasn't looking directly at them.
A single line glowed across the center:
The Hall Demands Tribute.
Max stepped closer.
"What kind of tribute?" he asked aloud. "Gold? Blood? Cringe dance moves?"
There was no prompt.
He looked down. A small bowl jutted out from the door, embedded in a gargoyle's mouth. Its teeth were stained brown-red.
Max sighed. "Of course. It wants blood."
He pressed his palm into the bowl.
The gargoyle bit.
Not hard enough to sever, but sharp enough to cut.
He hissed through his teeth, pulling back as the bowl filled with a small stream of his blood. The runes flared.
The door creaked.
Then it opened.
Beyond was The Bleeding Hall.
The first thing that hit him wasn't a monster.
It was sound.
Screams. Metal clashing. Dozens of footsteps. It was a battlefield.
The chamber stretched wide—far wider than any he'd seen before. A towering cathedral of stone and madness. Dozens of players—real people—were fighting off hordes of twisted creatures. Some with swords, others with flame-like magic erupting from their hands. Blood painted the floors in sickening patterns.
[Zone: The Bleeding Hall]
Active Trial: Survive the Horde (Wave 3 of 10)]
Players Detected: 47
Warning: Friendly Fire is Enabled.
Max blinked.
"Wait—players? People?"
For a moment, he stood frozen, stunned by the sheer chaos. Then a shadow darted across his peripheral vision.
A man in black armor dashed past him, roaring. "OUTTA THE WAY, FRESH SPAWN!"
Max barely dodged as a curved axe flew past his head, embedding into a rotting behemoth three times his size. The creature groaned and toppled, its flesh dissolving on impact.
He scrambled behind a broken pillar and ducked down.
"Okay…" he panted. "Breathe. Breathe."
This was his first time seeing other players.
Real ones.
Some looked like hardened veterans—levelled up, armored, working in groups. Others looked like him—barely surviving, alone, panicking.
And some… were dying.
A girl with glowing daggers screamed as a grotesque spider-creature impaled her. She turned to dust mid-scream.
[Player Death Detected: Hannah | Lives Remaining: 91]
Max's jaw clenched.
These weren't just NPCs.
They were all like him—trapped in this nightmare. Some might have been here for days, others for hours. But they were dying.
And dying fast.
He looked down at his fists.
Knuckleblades still gleamed, chains still tight around his wrists.
"I've got 98 lives left," he whispered. "Time to make them count."
He stood—and ran into the fight.
The creatures weren't like Rotlings or Berserkers.
These were worse.
Twisted hulks of bone and sinew. Eyeless hounds with barbed tails. Mismatched arms fused into single, flailing limbs. They moved like broken things trying to remember how to walk—and when they screamed, it sounded wrong. Like a chorus of children crying in reverse.
Max leapt onto the back of one and drove his fist into its neck.
CRIT – 24 DAMAGE
The creature reeled.
Max rolled off its back and ducked under a sweeping claw. His body moved smoother now—trained by trauma. Death had taught his muscles urgency.
Another beast lunged. Max sidestepped. Slashed its legs.
A player nearby—a boy barely older than him—shouted, "Thanks, man!"
Max nodded. "Don't thank me yet!"
A new notification popped.
[Party Invite: Kaleb – Level 3]
Accept?
Max hesitated.
Then tapped yes.
[You are now in a temporary party with: Kaleb | Selene | Mott]
Shared EXP Enabled.
Kaleb jogged over, spear in hand. "You're new. You move like you've died a couple times already."
Max smirked. "Twice."
"Then you're learning fast."
A girl with electric-blue hair dropped beside them, blades humming with energy. "Less chat, more splat!"
Selene.
A speed-freak dual wielder. Her strikes blurred as she danced through two monsters at once.
Mott, a quiet, hulking tank with glowing tattoos, blocked a charge with his shield. "Wave four's almost here. Stick close."
Max had no idea who they were.
But for the first time since he arrived…
He wasn't alone.
Wave 4 hit like a landslide.
The lights in the hall turned blood-red. The ceiling cracked open, and monsters rained down like sludge.
Kaleb barked orders. "Selene—left flank! Max, on me!"
Max didn't hesitate.
He followed the spear fighter through the chaos, trading blows, dodging death by inches. His Tenacity skill saved him twice, letting him cling to life with 1 HP.
They fought back to back, blades flashing.
Max killed.
Dodged.
Got hurt.
Laughed once when he nearly tripped and ended up stabbing a monster in the eye by accident.
"Tell me that was on purpose!" Selene yelled mid-spin.
"Totally was!" Max called back.
[EXP Gained: 144]
[Level Up: Level 2 Reached]
Stat Points +5 | Mutation Point +1]
Max felt it the moment it happened—like electricity under his skin.
[New Skill Available: Choose One]
– Blood Rush – Temporarily boosts movement and attack speed at the cost of HP.
– Grave Sense – Sense nearby death auras and predict incoming fatal attacks.
– Fury Step – Blink to a nearby enemy within 5 meters and deliver a heavy strike.
Max didn't even hesitate.
He chose: Fury Step.
Wave four ended.
The monsters thinned.
Max collapsed against a fallen column, panting, bloodied—but grinning.
He was alive.
Still scared.
Still exhausted.
But alive.
Kaleb offered a water flask. "Nice moves. You're alright, newbie."
Max accepted it with a nod. "Thanks. Name's Max."
"Kaleb. That's Selene, and the mountain with arms is Mott. You survived your first Bleeding Hall. Congrats."
Max took a long sip.
Then smiled faintly.
"One room at a time," he whispered. "One death at a time."
(To be continued....)