Arion stood stunned before the mountain’s beating heart.
Arion stood stunned before the mountain's beating heart.
He was stuck in the cellar of the world, at the center of an evil scheme he didn't yet understand. Fear still clung to him like a second skin — but he knew sitting and waiting for death was not an option.
"I have to move," he whispered to himself. "I have to find a way out. Or at least… a better place to hide."
He still relied on the faint blue system window for light, but it barely lit more than a few centimeters ahead. If a single ghoul wandered these dead halls, it would spot Arion from a mile away — ghouls had powerful night vision.
"I need a way to see in the dark. A way that doesn't make me glow like a torch in a hurricane."
And then, he remembered his most precious — and most frustrating — tool.
Ding~
> [Skill Creator – Creation Mode]
"Alright, you stupid system," he thought grimly. "Be kind for once. I need a night vision skill."
[Analyzing Requested Skill: Advanced Night Vision] Description: Allows the user to see perfectly in total darkness. Expected Rank: B
[Processing…]
[Request Denied. Requested skill exceeds current Skill Creator capacity.]
"Damn it!" Arion snarled. "I knew it would be too much. Fine — something simpler."
> [Analyzing Requested Skill: Dim Light] Description: Creates a faint glow around the user's eyes, enough to see a few meters ahead. [Processing…]
[Request Denied. Direct manipulation of light particles too complex.]
"You're kidding me! Even that's too much?" Frustration gnawed at him. After several failed tries, a sarcastic system note appeared — like a teacher scolding a hopeless student.
> Note: Any skill related to language comprehension or manipulating basic concepts like light requires Rank C minimum. Your current skill rank is F. Stop trying to build a rocket out of sticks and mud.
Arion exhaled shakily. "So brute force ideas won't work… Think like a player. If I can't 'see'… maybe I can 'sense.'"
He remembered [Vibration Sense]. Useful, but too crude to form a clear picture. What if he made something similar — but more active?
> [Analyzing Requested Skill: Echo Pulse] Proposed Description: The user emits a faint, inaudible mana pulse. When the pulse bounces off nearby surfaces, the user receives a 3D mental map of the immediate area. Expected Rank: F
[Processing…]
[Success!]
[You have acquired the skill: Echo Pulse (Rank F)] Description: Emits a silent mana pulse to map surroundings (Range: 15 meters). Mana Cost: 5 per pulse.
"Yes!" Arion breathed out. "It's like sonar. Better than nothing."
He closed the system window, sinking into darkness again. Then he activated his new skill.
---
Horrors Not Meant for a Screen
A silent pulse rippled outward. In his mind, a gray 3D image formed — walls, columns, pathways. It worked!
He began to explore the dwarven corpse-city, sending out a pulse every few seconds. No ghouls. No living creatures. Just the silence of tombs.
He slipped inside a large building that looked like it once belonged to a noble family. The massive stone furniture lay shattered and overturned.
Another pulse — and Arion froze.
The mental map showed shapes piled in a corner.
Hands trembling, he called up the blue window again, using its dim light to confirm.
He wished he hadn't.
They weren't just bodies. They were the remains of a massacre. Dwarf corpses — men, women — stacked like garbage. But it was worse than that.
The women… they were naked. Their bodies bore marks of violence and unspeakable violation that no sane mind could easily process.
Arion's stomach twisted violently.
In his old life, he'd seen violence in games and films — fake blood, scripted screams. But this… this was real. The faint reek of death in the air. The frozen look of terror on the face of a young dwarf woman.
This wasn't a cinematic scene. This was life, butchered.
He stumbled back, bracing against a wall, and vomited. Again. And again — until nothing remained but bitter acid.
He trembled. "This… this is real…"
The last thin layer separating him from this world's truth shattered. This was no game. There was no 'reload.' No 'exit.' This was a raw, brutal reality.
When his shuddering breaths calmed, he forced himself to move again — driven by a desperate need to find a way out. Every house told the same vile story. Men hung like slaughtered livestock. Women and children thrown aside like scraps.
He'd seen enough. He understood now what kind of enemy he faced. These were not just monsters — they were hatred and cruelty given flesh.
He reached a broken balcony overlooking the main square where the mountain's heart pulsed on.
He didn't feel only fear anymore. It still lingered, deep inside. But something new was born from that horror.
Hatred. Cold, pure hatred — as frigid as Selene's ice. Hatred for the Ghoul Emperor and every one of his spawn.
It was no longer just about survival. Or revenge for the old Arion. It had become personal.
"I'll kill you…" he whispered in the dark, voice stripped of fear and filled with icy resolve. "I'll kill you all."
This wasn't a survival game anymore. He'd entered a war.
---
Arion stood on the ruined balcony, hatred flowing through his veins, replacing the fear that had paralyzed him minutes before. He no longer trembled. He no longer thought of hiding. He'd seen enough.
"I'll kill you all."
These words were more than an empty threat — they were a vow. A promise he carved into his heart in the middle of this dwarven tomb.
But he knew the truth. Hatred alone wasn't enough. He was still weak — an insect compared to the emperor ruling this hell.
"Power…" he thought, eyes locked on the mountain's heart. "I need power. Not the fake power others give — real power of my own."
He checked his status window. Level 3. Laughable.
"I have to level up. I have to grow stronger. But how? There are no monsters here to kill… at least not in this area."
He slipped back into the corpse-city's maze — but this time, he wasn't running. He was hunting. Hunting for anything that could help. A lost dwarven weapon? A surviving scroll? Anything.
He used [Echo Pulse] methodically, sweeping every building, every alley. The skill drained mana, but he used it sparingly, only when needed.
And then, he felt it — a ghoul. The pulse caught a warped, shambling shadow moving among the broken pillars.
His heart skipped — but instead of freezing, he felt a sharp spark of new awareness. This wasn't a disaster. It was an opportunity.
He crouched behind a toppled stone wall, tracing the target's path with fresh pulses. The ghoul shuffled, dragging its claws along the stone, searching for scraps.
He checked his meager skills. Nothing useful in a fight. His eyes darted to the ruins. There — a rusted iron rod, maybe part of a broken weapon.
He crawled to it, gripping it with shaking hands. Lifted it to his face — chipped edge, but heavy enough to pierce flesh if used right.
A new pulse. Closer now — ten meters. Arion's heart thumped, not with fear — but something else: terror fused with hatred and a raw, cutting focus.
"Kill or be killed…" he reminded himself. No one would save him. No hero. No reload. If he wanted to see the sun again, he'd have to kill with his own hands.
When the ghoul shambled alongside the wall, Arion pounced like a terrified, rabid shadow — driving the rod with every ounce of his weight. The first strike was clumsy, glancing off its back with a dull crunch that made the beast roar.
It spun, sickly eyes locking onto him — for a heartbeat, Arion froze. But the broken mind that had been reforged in the tomb screamed: "Strike again!"
He swung again — this time for its head. Metal cracked through its thick hide, spraying foul blood that seared his nostrils but ignited something deeper: the taste of real combat.
The ghoul shrieked, claws slashing — a cut ripped his arm open, pain flaring white-hot in his mind — but he didn't back down. He struck again. And again. Each blow smashed the monster in front of him, but also broke something weaker inside him.
When the ghoul finally fell, Arion stood over it, panting, soaked in blood that wasn't all his. His hands shook from what he'd done.
A cold, indifferent notification flickered before him:
> [You have slain: Lesser Ghoul]
[XP gained: +56]
[Level Up: Level 4]
He dismissed it with a bloodied hand. Stared at the mangled corpse at his feet. He didn't feel triumph. He didn't feel guilt. He felt only one thing: "This is how I'll get out."
He lifted his gaze to the distant, pulsing heart of the mountain.
"You started this massacre… and me? I'll finish it. My way."
And in his eyes, for the first time, fear was no longer king — something deeper had taken its place. Something dark and calm that whispered: You are not the victim anymore.