Chapter 12: Interrogation

I stepped on her face, pressing her...it? Whatever gender it was. It's grotesque, mutated features into the splintering wooden floor. The sharp crunch of her brittle bones echoed through the ruined room. Her claws scraped weakly at my leg, but the fight had left her body. Black ichor oozed from her wounds, pooling beneath her.

The Revenant let out a guttural groan. "Disgusting… how long has it been since you bathed?" she sneered weakly, her voice dripping with venom despite her helplessness.

I rolled my eyes, tightening the pressure with my foot. The floor groaned under the weight. "Really? This is the time you pick to be a comedian?" I leveled my spear at her neck, its jagged edge glinting faintly in the dim light. "Keep talking, and I'll make sure you're permanently unfunny."

Her mocking grin vanished, replaced by a flicker of nervousness. Even a Revenant could sweat, it seemed, as black droplets formed on her pale, cracked skin.

"Alright, alright," she said, raising her hands—or what was left of them—in mock surrender. "Let's not be hasty."

I leaned in slightly, the spear grazing her throat. My voice dropped to a cold whisper. "Good. Because this isn't the time for jokes. Your life's hanging by a thread."

Her glowing eyes flickered, fear overcoming her earlier bravado. "Fine. Ask your questions. Just… back off a little with the spear."

The system chimed in with a cheerful tone:

[Threat Neutralized. Disabling Combat Mode.]

"Perfect timing, as always," I muttered under my breath.

I took a step back, though I kept the spear pointed at her. "First question. Your name isn't Lily, is it?"

She hesitated, her cracked lips tightening. But the sharp edge of my spear pressing closer to her throat seemed to speed up her decision-making. "Glathanya," she spat reluctantly.

"Glathanya," I repeated, testing the name on my tongue. "Sounds like a bad stage name. Next question: How are you… intelligent? Revenants aren't supposed to talk or think. They just devour anything in sight."

She sneered, though the fear in her glowing eyes hadn't vanished. "You think we're all mindless monsters? Typical Runner arrogance."

I pressed the spear harder, her ichor-stained neck splitting slightly. She flinched.

"Alright, alright!" she stammered. "There are… ranks among Revenants. What you've fought before? Just Lackeys. Bottom feeders. Pathetic, really. They swarm in numbers because they're too weak to survive alone. But me?" Her lips curled into a prideful smirk. "I'm a Shroud."

"A Shroud?"

"Yes. Only Revenants who survive over a century of devouring flesh gain the rank. We… evolve. Gain powers. My tendrils, my mutations—you saw them in action, didn't you?"

"Yeah, hard to forget," I said, spinning the spear lightly in my hand. "So, there are ranks above you, I take it?"

Her smirk widened. "Four, to be exact. Beyond Lackeys, there are Skinners, Shrouds like me, Harbingers, and then… The Dreadborn. Each rank stronger than the last. Pray you never meet a Harbinger, let alone a Dreadborn. They'll make what I can do look like child's play."

Great. Just what I needed—stronger, smarter monsters to deal with.

"So," I said, tilting my head, "if Revenants are this strong, there must be humans left for you to hunt. Otherwise, how would you keep evolving?"

Her laugh was sharp and cruel. "Oh, there are plenty. Enough for us to take over this world. Ethoria is ours by right. We've already conquered half of it, and soon the rest will fall. The humans? They'll be our livestock, our slaves. The only things holding us back are those damn Runners… and the pests."

"Pests?"

Her grin widened, revealing rows of jagged teeth. "The monsters of Ethoria. Goblins, man-eating insects the size of houses, and dragons. Dragons are the worst. But they're all just obstacles in our way."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "So, this world is basically some kind of nightmare fantasy novel. Great. Let me guess, there's hot elf women too?"

Not that I would mind...

Her confusion was almost amusing, but I quickly shook off the thought.

"Last question," I said, leveling the spear again. "Runners. Are there more like me? And if so, where do I find them?"

She hesitated, but the look in my eyes—and the spear at her throat—convinced her to answer.

"Yes," she said simply. "Where there are Revenants, there will always be Runners. You're cursed, after all. A plague wherever you go. If you want to find them, head west, through the forest. There's a village where your kind congregates."

Her smile returned, twisted and mocking. "But be careful. The world despises Runners. Even if you find normal souls on your way, they might not welcome you."

I took a moment to survey the room, my eyes scanning the clutter of weapons that covered the floor and walls. They were scattered haphazardly, as if abandoned in haste. The thought crossed my mind—were these the weapons of those the Revenant had killed and consumed? Each one seemed like a silent testimony to the lives it had claimed.

I couldn't hold back the anger in my voice. "How many humans have you killed? How many innocent lives have you taken?"

The Revenant didn't answer my question directly, but its voice, cold and detached, rang out in the silence. "And how many of my kind have you killed? Do you think you're any better? You have no right to pass judgment on us."

It paused for a moment, its words lingering in the air like a challenge. "We Revenants are doing what we were created to do. It's in our nature. We don't choose this. You, the Runners, are the reason we exist. Wherever you go, we follow. Our insatiable hunger for flesh and life is what drives us, what sustains us. It's not something we can stop. It's just how it is."

I didn't respond. I'd gotten what I needed.

I couldn't help but admit it—the Revenant's words, if true, painted us Runners as something far darker than I had ever considered. A curse. A plague that spreads wherever we go, leaving destruction in our wake. The system, with its promises of saving worlds, had led us to believe we were the heroes, but... are we really the monsters?

Like the Revenants, we had no choice. The system was thrust upon us, these supernatural abilities bestowed upon us as if we were meant to be something more. But none of us asked for this. I certainly didn't.

I'd been cursed by fate from the very beginning. Even now. Talk about being unlucky.

And yet, despite it all, I still long to survive, even if it means becoming the very thing I've fought against. Is that selfish? Does it make me evil?

Damn it. The more I try to understand, the more I feel myself sinking deeper into this endless pit. The system, the Runners, the purpose of it all—it's like trying to solve a puzzle with pieces that don't fit. What's the point of any of this?

"Now," it said, desperation creeping into her voice, "I've told you everything. Let me go."

I crouched down, locking eyes with her. "You think I'd let you go after everything you've done?"

Her fear turned to panic. "I swear, I won't—"

With a swift motion, I drove my foot down. The crunch of her skull echoed in the silence as black blood splattered across the ruined floor. Her twisted form shuddered once before going still.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the remains of Glathanya as her body turned into ashes, before the system chimed again.

[Hostile Entity Eliminated.]

[10000 Mastery Points gained]

[48,000/48,000]

[Spear Mastery has leveled up! LvL 48 > LvL 49]

[From your actions up until now, despite insurmountable odds and overwhelming challenges, the player continues to defy expectations and accomplish the impossible.]

[Gained Title: The Unyielding]

That Revenant gave a heck ton of Mastery Points. I evened leveled up and gained a title.

I exhaled sharply, wiping the blood off my boots. "What a mess."