His mind raced at the horrifying nightmare.
A lumbering corpse stood in the dim torchlight, its skin sagging over exposed muscle and yellowed bone. Hollow, glowing eyes stared at him—vacant and hungry.
As it shambled closer, he could smell the air around it. It stank of thick decay and centuries of rot. It was wafting from its remains of what once had been alive.
Jace couldn't stop his hands from shaking. Their weight pulled his shoulders down as he stared in wide-eyed horror.
“That’s a fucking zombie,” he muttered, the words barely a whisper over the pounding of his pulse. He felt the blood drain from his face as he stared down death, face to face.
It shambled ever towards him, closing the distance, step by jerky step. Jace was frozen in terror, his fight or flight instinct choosing the third option: freeze.
He watched as it stepped closer and closer until, with a supernatural speed, it lunged. Jace could see the coiling of its muscles as it launched directly towards him.
Without thinking, Jace swung wildly, his fist connecting with a wet squelch against the cold, clammy skin of its face. There was no reaction, not even the head moved much. The thing just kept coming, jaws wide with jagged black teeth.
“Shit—!” He barely dodged the creature’s grasp, stumbling backward. He fumbled over his own feet. He felt himself falling as he went back first into the stone column. Pain exploded violently in his skull and back.
The zombie didn't falter as it targeted his new location and swiped again, this time connecting. Sharp, bonelike claws raked his right cheek as he slid down, gouging deep furrows into his soft skin.
This time, it was a sharp, stinging pain as he could feel the blood dripping down from the wound. His bottom finally hit the floor as his hands immediately went to cup his cheek.
He couldn’t think through the pain. He could hardly breathe from the fright. He sat there staring up at the zombie as it swung its claw-like hand back, readying for another swipe.
His mind flashed back to the car accident—another moment of helplessness. But this time, he had a choice.
‘MOVE, DAMMIT!’ He screamed internally.
He acted. His palms slammed onto the stone floor as he shoved off of it, using the upward momentum to tackle the rotting corpse as it was stuck in mid-swing. He thundered into its midsection. He hoped it would do something, knock the air from its lungs or throw it off balance. Instead, it was like pushing against a wall. Jace pushed with all his might when he finally thought of something. He planted one foot and with the other he swiped the leg out from the zombie, causing it to falter and fall, slamming backwards into the stone floor.
Without missing a beat, it hissed, clawing at him as they fell. The filthy, dead finger bones raked across his back this time, slicing through fabric and flesh with ease. He felt the burning sting as he gritted his teeth.
Quickly, he pulled himself up and off the corpse before it could take another swipe at him, barely missing another swipe with its other arm. He shoved himself back out of arm's reach while the zombie's dead eye followed him.
The zombie flailed, struggling to rise, until it rolled over and began crawling its way to him. That's when Jace noticed the leg and foot turned the opposite way. It must have happened when he swept out its leg.
Jace stared at the creature as it slowly crawled towards him. Maybe this won't be as hard as he thought it would be. Then his eyes locked onto its head.
Horror movies and games taught him to always go for the head with the undead. A small smirk spread onto his lips. He let the zombie crawl closer and closer until he was within range. With his foot raised, he stomped.
Bone cracked. Flesh slipped from bone. He stomped again. More cracking of bone, and even an eyeball popped out. He stomped again and again. Doing what little damage he felt he could do. It was exhausting, and this zombie was tough. It was still swinging its arms madly as it clawed at him.
Stomp after stomp after stomp, until finally, with a sickening, crunchy squelch, the skull gave way.
Jace staggered back, gasping, his body burning with exhaustion. As he took the next step backward, the brain simply and blood-slicked boot slid under his weight, and he crashed hard to the floor.
“Fucking dumb zombie.” He groaned as air was knocked from his lungs. He stared around and then noticed the cracked skull of the zombie, which was right next to him. The stench, coupled with the sight of oozing ichor and brain matter, made his stomach sour all over again.
He began to pull himself back up to his feet, as a notification blinked to life.
You have killed a Level 10 Undead Zombie.
Massive XP Earned!
ERROR…
Class unable to gain XP…
Massive XP forfeited…
Jace blinked. “Wait… what? What kind of bullshit is that?” He growled as he felt his anger well up. He felt his hands as they clenched tightly into fists.
He glared at the corpse again, rage slowly building within. Then he glanced back at the notification. A single thought filled his mind. All he could think about now was that Ralph meme with the school bus.
‘I’m in danger.’ He thought as he unfurled his fists. Rage slowly replaced by fear.
Before he could further his outburst, more text followed.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Boon Skill Acquired: [Reaper’s Touch] (Rank Max) – Harvest a small fragment of the soul of slain enemies, storing them within your core for future use. You can use Soul Fragments to empower abilities based on the number of Soul Fragments used.
A chill ran through him. He wasn't sure if it was reading about the skill itself or the cold, undead dungeon he found himself in. But there was something sinister. Something dark and ominous, behind the boards or around the corner.
It made him realize something. This wasn't just a game with the stat sheets, class, and race. His stats… they weren't just some arbitrary numbers the system assigned. Even if they were, it wouldn't matter. Most points were earned through leveling and, now, he couldn't even do that.
Whatever had been done to him—whoever had chosen his class, his race—it had really fucked him.
That was one. Level ten. And it nearly killed him.
What if the next room had two?
Jace flexed his fingers, the lingering sensation of something… foreign curling within him. Like he was pulling on something far away but light enough to pull without any effort.
Reaper’s Touch Skill activated.
+1 Soul Fragment Reaped.
You have gained +4 to Strength and +4 to Endurance due to level discrepancy.
Soulreaver Core Progression Activated.
Soulreaver Core: 1/100
No. Not pulling just some random thing. The skill had activated. It had taken the zombie's soul, or at least a piece of it.
Jace shuddered. He didn’t feel any different. Not at first.
Suddenly, a warmth started to spread throughout him, replacing the aching cold he was feeling. An undercurrent of… something else.
Power? Hunger? Both?
His mind thought of the voice again.
His eyes flicked back to the notification, ‘Soulreaver Core? That must be the Core boon.’
It was sitting at 1/100, an empty vessel waiting to be filled.
Was it a resource? A power source? Or just another part of this class he didn’t understand? Was this what made him a Soulreaver?
The more he stared at the notification, the more questions he had. What happened when it filled? What happened to the souls he took and spent? Were they just… fuel? Or was there something more to it?
Jace exhaled sharply in frustration, shaking his head.
"No answers, just more questions..." He didn’t have the luxury of overthinking it. Not right now.
Now, he was forced to ‘Survive’. He’d use every advantage at his disposal and worry about the ramifications later.
That brought his thoughts to the stat points he’d earned when he absorbed, stole, that soul fragment. He gained a +4 to Strength and Endurance. Then it clicked, if he couldn't level due to his class, maybe this was his saving grace. His way to gain power is outside of just leveling. He wondered what his stats looked like now.
As if responding to his thoughts, his stat sheet popped up.
Name: Jace Halloway
Race: Soulborne (Unique)
Class: Soulreaver (Unregistered)
Level: Error, the current class is unable to gain experience
Health: 99/164
Stamina: 50/83
Mana: 89/89
Strength: 14
Dexterity: 8
Endurance: 15
Intelligence: 9
Wisdom: 8
The moment he focused on the increases to his new stats, he could feel a faint pulse of energy stirring within him. It originated in his chest before spreading outward in a slow, tingling wave throughout his body. His muscles tightened ever so slightly, the shift subtle. His new strength... Next, he felt his skin harden and become more durable. That had to be his increase in Endurance. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to bring a small smile to his face.
If these zombies were anything like the ones he knew, pure force would be their undoing. "Well, that and Head shots." With the extra strength, it should be a little easier.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the next, and he could feel the sting from his still-open wounds. The fabric stuck fast to the blood. Every time he moved, even the slightest, it agitated them.
He groaned, looking down at his work shirt, thinking about the wound on his back and face. He quickly felt the wound on his face; the gash was deep, but the blood was already starting to dry. He reached back with his other hand and gently pulled the shirt from his wound. It stung as the fabric slowly tore away from the drying blood there, too.
He groaned and felt a tear sting his eye before it rolled down his cheek. He had to bandage his back. He gently pulled off his jacket and then removed his shirt. Ripping and tying it the best he could around the wound to help stem the flow of blood. Once he was finished, he put his jacket back on.
His wounds throbbed. No magic heal. No divine miracle. Just pain, blood, and duct-tape-level bandaging.
How was he going to survive if he couldn't heal the damage already done to him? Shaking off the thought, he turned his attention to the more immediate concern—his surroundings.
The dungeon.
The Hallows.
His gaze dropped to the motionless corpse at his feet, the foul stench of undeath still clinging to the air.
His eyes found the arch of bones ahead. Past it: shadows, silence... and the promise of more things trying to kill him.
“Right. No point standing around,” he muttered, though his voice carried more confidence than he felt.
If this was just the start…
A new problem hit him—he was unarmed. And judging by his last battle, just pushing and kicking wouldn't do shit to a tanky level 10 zombie.
His gaze swept the area, and he spotted it. A shimmer of light glinting green off of something metallic around underneath the zombies corpse. He bent down and searched around. He rifled through the corpses dried and rotted clothing until he landed at the corpse's hip, barely visible beneath the tattered remnants and decayed skin was a rusted sword.
Without hesitation, Jace pushed. The sickly corpse rolled, and the sword was free. He yanked the weapon free and inspected it.
It was a poor excuse for a blade he had ever seen, but honestly, it was better than nothing. Its rusted edges had almost turned the blade's edge serrated. He shrugged and tightened his grip around its corroded leather hilt.
Exhaling slowly, he looked at the path ahead. The dancing green light shadowed the room beyond the two torches. He stared through the bone archway and took his first step forward—into the unknown.
His pulse raced as he stepped through it, into the shadow beyond. A wild panic was on a constant simmer within him. Waiting, on edge, for anything to jump out at him, yet nothing did.
Each step forward, he slowly rounded a bend in the tunnel. That's when he heard it.
The green light from the torches barely lit any of the corridor, but the sound was unmistakable.
A slow sound of shuffling feet broke through the silence, and Jace’s head whipped toward the noise.
From the shadows at the far end of the tunnel, two figures emerged, dragging themselves forward in jerky, unnatural movements. Their skin was stretched tight over yellow bones, their skin mottled with rot. Empty, milky eyes glowed with hunger and a purplish hue. More zombies.
He had trouble fighting only one, now there were two. His mind scrambled for answer as the fear gripped him tightly.
The instinct to flee hit him hard, but the walls of the corridor provided no escape. Even behind him, there wasn't any way out, just the lifeless corpse of the undead.
He would just have to fight.
What do you think of Jace’s mysterious class so far?
