___
[System Quest Received: RETRIEVAL]
—
[Beneath the calm surface lies an endless abyss.
Seek the firstborn of Zerathul, the Sea God of the Forgotten Abyss]
—
[Rewards: ???]
–––
"Hmmm, I was wondering when I was going to get one of these," Ozias smiled wistfully, noticing that what had triggered the Quest was probably what he was seeing ahead of him.
He stood on a bridge, and beneath it—a few inches into the water—was a circular rift in reality. Vast quantities of Flow spiralled around it; so thick was it that even without Awakened Eyes, anyone could see the Flow.
The bodies of Zombies were littered around him, their heads caved in, splattered, crushed, or severed from their bodies.
Ozias' fists were bloody, covered in rotten flesh and brain matter.
He was getting the hang of it. He finally gained a snippet of understanding of his Lineage.
His body was a weapon… No. It was THE weapon. He was the only Blade he needed. Weapons were just tools used to project and amplify the power of that Blade. They acted as conduit for their immense strength, and that was what Cole meant when he said the Dravens empowered their weapons with their bodies.
Unfortunately, Ozias didn't have a weapon at hand—at least he didn't have the kind of weapon he thought best suited his Lineage. What he did have though, was something quite useful.
He raised the guns in his hands to his face, scrutinising them.
From one of the Zombies he just defeated, he had found a pair of customised Staccato P4.
The magazines weren't full, but the bullets were manageable.
He didn't know much about guns, but he had had a fascination for them before the apocalypse, so he had done a little research on them.
He flipped a switch, making a red dot on the gun's side disappear.
Then he said, "Red is dead." Before beginning his walk towards the bridge's end.
He would have to carve a path towards the other side, descend the bridge, before he could enter the dungeon. All while his sight range being ten meters max, and his energy whittling down slowly.
Ozias sighed, gathering his momentum and slowly unraveling his eyes.
It was painful; he didn't know why. Awakened eyes let him see without his actual eyes, but his real eyes were now useless to him.
He didn't want it that way. He couldn't let some inanimate thing dictate what was and what wasn't.
Slowly, but surely, his eyes began to open. A bright blue light escaped from them, his pupils looking like they belonged to an angel's.
Blood poured out of the corners of his eyes, his bulging veins so prominent they resembled stigmas appearing around his eyes.
His hands never left his side, his fists silently clenching around the guns harder.
At this point, he was already crying tears of blood, but the blue glow in his eyes overshadowed it.
Ozias' eyes settled on an approaching Mutant Zombie in the distance. This one seems like a strength type, judging by its large physique and slow movements.
Suddenly it leaped into the air, falling towards Ozias with a fist raised.
"They're getting smarter," Ozias said through gritted teeth, raising one of the guns and aiming.
His eyes still bled, and he was in pain—scarring pains. However, that didn't stop him from aiming perfectly and pulling the trigger.
BANG!
THUD!
The Zombie's head whipped backwards as it crashed lifelessly before him, its body crumbling under its own weight.
It seemed that his new eyes were more powerful than he knew. He had just headshotted a moving target on his first use of a gun.
This feat was considered great, something that would wow any gunslinger. But Ozias didn't know this, believing that it was only luck.
He suppressed the thought and tried to adjust his sight.
He blinked once, then twice. There was a flash of pain each time he blinked, but he bore through it and continued blinking.
Studies had shown that constantly and consistently blinking could help with irritation in the eyes, and Ozias was putting what he had learnt to practice.
It was subtle at first, but in the next ten minutes of awkwardly blinking his eyes, while standing in the middle of a Zombie massacre with two guns in his hands, the pain began to recede slowly.
He moved forward, still blinking. His steps were measured, his gait straight.
One step at a time, he moved, until he began to walk faster.
His eyes were adjusting, and soon, they were open, partially narrowed, but open nonetheless.
He pulled the trigger, and a Zombie fell.
Ozias walked past a car, and looking inside he saw the mauled bodies of two children, a terrible stench coming off of them.
Ozias shook his head. As much as he had adapted, some things still made him rethink, thinking through on how many had lost their lives. Whether it was a lack of luck, or they were just weak, he couldn't tell.
He silently prayed for the departed souls in his heart as he moved on, and a change was made to his status.
___
[Apocalypse System]
—
>[PROFILE]
-[Name: Ozias Draven]
-[Race: Human]
-[Race Grade: F+]
-[Title(s): Skill Savant]
-[Lineage: ???]
—
>[STATS]
-[Physical: 3.9%]
-[Mental: 1.7%]
-[Spiritual: 1%]
-[Flow: 3]
-[Karma: 2]
-[Affinity: ???]
—
[Comprehension(s): Basic Spear Mastery: 0.9%]
—
[Skill(s): Vacuum, Instant Burst]
—
>[Inventory: Crowbar]
–––
However, this went unnoticed. Ozias was focused on the goal.
[Vacuum] had replenished his Flow before he made attempts to open his eyes, so he could say he was close to his peak—after killing the Mutant Zombie and revitalising his body—if not for the scratch mark on his arm slowly turning him.
The bridge was over a hundred metres in length, nearing two hundred metres.
The number of abandoned cars on it was much, and so were the Zombies. He had to save his bullets sometimes and go primitive, using his hands and legs.
Soon, he was nearing the end of the bridge, and his kill count had more than doubled.
Ozias stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing further into slits. Someone was sitting on railings, their feet dangling in the air as they stared at the Dungeon.
Nonchalantly, the person turned their heads, looking at Ozias through their blue tinted shades, then smiled.
"Hello, handsome…"