In the lawless new world where the System has stripped away human morality along with the old laws, Malcolm's journey takes a darker, more visceral turn.
The scent of the apartment complex had changed. It no longer smelled of stale hallways and floor wax; it smelled of copper, intestinal bile, and the primal, musk-heavy scent of fear. For Malcolm Star, the smell didn't turn his stomach—it made his mouth water.
[HUNGER LEVEL: CRITICAL]
[WARNING: HOST IS ENTERING A 'PREDATORY FRENZY']
"Master," Beatrice whispered, her glasses catching the strobe-like flicker of the emergency lights. "The 'survivors' in Room 304 are no longer survivors. They have been claimed by the Red-Cap pack. Based on the vocal frequencies, the torture is… recreational."
Malcolm didn't respond with words. His dark skin seemed to absorb the very little light left in the hallway. The black mist leaking from his pores was thick now, clinging to his boots like tar. He kicked the door of 304. It didn't just open; it shattered under the weight of his boosted Strength stat.
The scene inside was a butcher shop. Three Red-Cap Goblins—larger, nastier cousins of the ones he'd eaten earlier—were hunched over what remained of a young couple. The air was thick with the metallic steam of fresh gore. The goblins turned, their serrated knives dripping, their faces smeared with red.
"Eat," Malcolm commanded. But he wasn't talking to his maids. He was talking to the void in his chest.
The goblins lunged, shrieking in a language of filth. Malcolm met the first one mid-air. He didn't punch it; he drove his hand into its open mouth and let the Dark Eater aura explode. The goblin's head didn't burst—it was inhaled. Its skull collapsed inward as the void vacuumed its brains, bone, and soul into Malcolm's palm.
[YOU HAVE CONSUMED: RED-CAP SCOUT (LVL 6)]
[STRENGTH +3 | PERCEPTION +2]
The second goblin tried to gut him, its blade scraping against Malcolm's stomach. But Malcolm's skin, hardened by the oak and concrete he'd consumed, didn't break. It sounded like metal on stone. Malcolm grabbed the creature by its throat, his fingers sinking into the leathery flesh.
"You like the taste of fear?" Malcolm's voice was a low, vibrating growl. "Taste mine."
He didn't kill it instantly. He let the shadow creep slowly up its legs, dissolving the creature's flesh inch by agonizing inch while it was still alive. The goblin's screams were wet and shrill until the shadow reached its heart.
[YOU HAVE CONSUMED: RED-CAP SCOUT (LVL 7)]
[AGILITY +4 | VITALITY +2]
The final goblin dropped its knife and scrambled toward the window, but a silver flash cut through the air. Seraphina's rapier pinned the creature's hand to the wall. It howled, thrashing.
"Master, this one is… intact," Seraphina said, her voice devoid of any emotion as she looked at the carnage. "Shall I prepare it for your consumption, or do you wish to play first?"
Malcolm walked over, his eyes glowing a predatory violet. The adrenaline was a drug, the power was an aphrodisiac. He felt more alive in this blood-soaked room than he ever had at his desk job. He placed a hand on the goblin's chest, feeling its frantic heartbeat through its ribs.
"No play," Malcolm said, his shadow tendrils wrapping around the creature's head like a suffocating mask. "Just hunger."
The room went silent as the last monster disappeared into the darkness of his skin.
[LEVEL UP!]
[LEVEL: 5]
[REWARD: 5,000 CREDITS, 1x GOLDEN LOOT BOX]
The silence was broken by a soft moan from the corner. A woman, barely alive and stripped of her dignity by the monsters, lay shivering under a broken table. Malcolm looked at her. In the old world, he would have felt pity. Now, he felt a cold, detached calculation.
"Beatrice," Malcolm said, not looking away from the survivor. "Does she have any value?"
Beatrice flipped a page in her leather-bound book. "She has awakened a 'Healer' class, Master. Rare, but her current mental state is fractured. She would be more useful as a Mana Battery… or as a servant for the household."
Malcolm walked over and knelt, his massive, shadow-scarred hand lifting her chin. She looked at him with eyes full of broken glass.
"I'm going to save you," Malcolm said, a dark, cruel smile pulling at his lips. "But you won't be free. You're going to work for me. You're going to keep my maids healed, and you're going to keep me satisfied. Understand?"
The woman couldn't speak, but she nodded frantically, clutching at his tactical vest as if he were a god.
[NEW FOLLOWER ACQUIRED: ELENA (HEALER - LVL 2)]
[STATUS: BROKEN/LOYAL]
Malcolm stood up and turned his attention to the Golden Loot Box floating in the center of the gore-stained room.
"Let's see what the premium tier looks like," he muttered. He tapped the gold-leafed chest. It exploded with the sound of a choir of angels being strangled.
[YOU HAVE RECEIVED: 10,000 CREDITS]
[YOU HAVE RECEIVED: 'BLACK KING'S OVERCOAT' (S-RANK)]
[SPECIAL REWARD GRANTED: CONTRACT ORB - THE TORTURE MAID]
From the orb, a woman with long, midnight-blue hair and eyes like cold steel emerged. She wore a maid outfit that was more leather than lace, with various surgical tools and barbed wires hanging from her belt.
"Unit 03: Vesper," she purred, her voice dripping with a dangerous, dark sensuality as she licked her lips. "Ready to peel back the layers of your enemies, Master. Who shall be the first to bleed for you?"
Malcolm looked at his three maids. An assassin, an archivist, and now a torturer. He felt the weight of the S-Rank coat settle onto his shoulders, the fabric shifting like living shadow.
"The subway station," Malcolm said, his voice echoing in the ruined apartment. "The 'King' of this sector is there. I want his throne. I want his power. And I want to hear him scream while Vesper works."
"As you wish, Master," the three women said in unison, bowing low.
Malcolm walked out of the room, leaving the blood and the broken world behind. He wasn't just surviving the apocalypse anymore. He was enjoying it