The roar echoed through the stone corridors, shaking dust loose from cracks in the ceiling. Mark pressed himself against the wall on instinct, holding his breath.
Think, think, think.
His only skill was "Wake Up." And based on the mental description that appeared when he focused on it:
[Wake Up - Level 1]
Type: Basic Necromancy
Effect: Partially revives a corpse, though the target does not regain consciousness or free will.
Cooldown: 1 hour.
Limit: 1 target.
"Great. I can make zombies. Dumb zombies that last an hour, and I can only have one at a time. So I'm basically useless."
Another roar followed. Closer this time. Mark weighed his options. Stay still and hope whatever it was passed by, or move and look for an exit. Neither sounded attractive.
That was when he noticed it. The smell.
It wasn't just damp and mold. There was something else. Something his new body—apparently used to death—recognized on instinct.
Corpses.
A lot of them.
Carefully, Mark started forward down the corridor, sticking to the shadows. His new eyes seemed to handle darkness better than his old ones. Let him make out shapes in the gloom.
The first body appeared after a bend. A man. Or what was left of him. Shredded leather armor, a rusted sword still clutched in his hand. Dead for… days, maybe.
The stench was strong but not unbearable.
An adventurer, Mark thought, noticing the metal tag hanging at his neck. Rank E.
He kept going. More bodies. Two, five, ten. All adventurers. All dead violently. Some frozen in expressions of terror. Others looking almost peaceful, like death had caught them by surprise.
"What the hell happened here?"
The corridor widened gradually into a broad chamber. And there, in the center, Mark found his answer.
It was… big. Very big. A mass of rotting flesh and fused bone that barely fit inside the room. Multiple arms, some human and others definitely not, jutting out at impossible angles. It had no distinct head. Only an opening at the top that might've been a mouth. It was asleep. Or at least it seemed that way. Its wet, bubbling breathing filled the chamber.
"Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope."
Mark started backing away. Slow. Deliberate. Calculating each step to avoid noise. But then he saw something that made him stop.
Among the corpses scattered across the chamber, one stood out.
A woman.
Her armor, unlike the rest, gleamed even in the darkness. Silver. Etched with intricate designs that screamed master craftsmanship. Her long, snow-white hair spread around her like a halo, framing her face.
She's beautiful, Mark thought, before immediately feeling guilty for thinking that about a corpse.
But there was more. Something his veteran-gamer instincts recognized instantly.
That armor wasn't Rank E. Or Rank D. Not even Rank A.
"That's legendary gear. What's someone with legendary gear doing dead in a trash dungeon like this?"
Curiosity beat common sense. With slow, careful movements, Mark approached the woman's body, keeping one eye on the sleeping monster.
Up close, he noticed more. Her armor lacked the breastplate section. The chest area was open and vulnerable, adorned instead with a vivid red collar-like ornament. Her sword—still in her hand—gave off a faint glow that suggested powerful enchantments. And around her neck—
[Adventurer Plate]
Name: Elyndra Ashford
Rank: SSS
Class: Holy Knight
Mark blinked. Read it again. Then a third time, just to be sure.
"Rank SSS. Triple S. How the hell does someone Rank SSS die?"
He inspected her body more closely, searching for the cause. No visible wounds on the armor. No blood. It was like she had simply… stopped.
Then he saw it. A small empty vial still clutched in her left hand. The label unreadable, but the symbol was unmistakable. A winged skull.
Poison. She poisoned herself. By accident? Mixed up the vials?
The irony was almost poetic. The most powerful adventurer in the dungeon hadn't been defeated by the monster. She'd been defeated by her own stupidity.
"Well, at least she died in a more pathetic way than me. That's… comforting, I guess."
Mark looked at her body. Then at the sleeping monster. Then back at her body again. An idea began to form. A terrible idea. Morally questionable and probably suicidal. But also the only one he had.
"Wake Up only works on corpses. They don't regain consciousness or free will, but… what if the corpse belonged to someone ridiculously powerful? Would it keep its stats? Its skills?"
It was a gamble. A huge one. Because if it worked, he'd have a Rank SSS warrior as his personal zombie. And if it didn't… well, he'd already died once.
How bad could dying again be?
"Here we go."
Mark extended his hand over Elyndra's body. Focused on his only skill. And whispered:
"Wake Up."