His heart was pounding wildly. Pain gnawed at his arm.
The Voice again… What does it want from me this time?
He lay back against a rock and closed his eyes for a second. A translucent panel appeared in front of him.
5 attribute points to allocate.
Status — Level I Physical Attributes:
Strength: 12
Agility: 5
Endurance: 12
Mental Attributes:
Intelligence: 8
Charisma: 8
Perception: 7
Energy:
Mana: 0
Spirit: 0
Divine: 0
What the hell is this…? Stats…? Mine?
He didn't have time to figure it out. He had to choose.
Three into Mana… one into Strength… one into Endurance.
The panel changed instantly.
Status — Level II
Strength: 13 (+1)
Agility: 5
Endurance: 13 (+1)
Intelligence: 8
Charisma: 8
Perception: 7
Mana: 30 (+3)
Spirit: 0
Divine: 0
A new energy coursed through his body dry, burning like his veins had been opened to an unknown source.
It wasn't just strength… something had ignited inside him. An invisible power. Mana.
He stayed still for a moment, facing the still-warm corpse of the beast. Silence closed in around him heavy, suffocating.
This world was exactly what it looked like. Lifeless. Lawless. Without honor. He inhaled slowly. A thought imposed itself.
This world leaves no room for the weak.
He lowered his gaze to his right hand, still marked with crimson residue from the [Demon Fist].
A raw, unsettling question surfaced.
Why me…?
He clenched his fist and pushed the thought away. It was useless. Not here. Not now. He raised his head slightly, eyes fixed on the fractured horizon of ruins and dust.
Whatever this place is, it's trying to kill me. So I'll keep it simple.
He tightened his grip on his wounded side and started walking again.
I need food. Shelter. And I need to understand this fucking tattoo… before it kills me too.
If others survived, I'll find them. Otherwise… I'll keep going alone.
No bravado. No promises. Just a cold truth etched into his mind: Move forward, or disappear.
He kept going. Not out of pride. Out of necessity. Because stopping meant death. The following days were a violent repetition of the same hell. Hunt. Hide. Survive. A week passed. Struggle. Dried blood on his skin. Nights stolen from the cold. A stomach twisted with hunger.
His tattoo had changed. The number II was now etched into it, accompanied by a thin glowing bar that pulsed slowly.
So I'm progressing… with every fight.
He had understood it empirically: the longer he survived, the more dangerous he became. And that tattoo… it wasn't decorative. It was a power counter. He could now use his abilities four times per day or recover them after eight hours of sleep.
In the days that followed, he came face to face with another mutant—larger than the previous ones, fangs dripping with black foam. He didn't hesitate this time. He activated his skill as he advanced, ready to strike.
"[Demon Fist]!"
He charged. So did the beast. CLASH!
His fist slammed into the creature's flank, but it still managed to slash him as it passed, raking its claws across his left arm.
"Tss…!"
The burn was sharp, deep. Blood flowed, but he ignored the pain and struck again at point-blank range. The mutant screamed before collapsing into the dust.
I need to stop getting hit… these things will finish me one day, he muttered.
He dropped to his knees, still panting after the fight. His heart was hammering too fast. The world vibrated around him. A voice echoed in his mind.
Activate the link.
His tattoo burned instantly, like a live ember pressed beneath his skin. Instinctively, he grabbed his wrist. A surge of energy shot up his arm and exploded behind his skull. His vision warped. The ground vanished beneath his feet. Then darkness.
A white light burst forth harsh, blinding and tore at his eyes. When his vision stabilized, he was no longer in the ruins. He stood on a smooth, reflective surface without texture. Ahead of him stretched a corridor without end, swallowed by infinity. No walls. No visible ceiling.
He looked up… and understood. Above him, a dome pulsed, threaded with luminous veins that beat like an organic breath. Each pulse sent a shiver through his body, as if the place itself were alive. This wasn't just a mental space.
It was… a brain. A giant brain.
He took a step forward… then stopped short. The corridor had changed. Doors had appeared along the sides as if they had always been there, hidden within the living matter of the passage. Hundreds. Thousands, perhaps. Carved from bone, forged from black metal, sculpted from rotted wood. No two were alike.
But they weren't the most disturbing part. The voices came from the corridor itself. They crawled through the air, slid across his skin, searching for an opening into his mind.
Take a door… Choose… Move forward… Listen to me… Take me… Me… not the others… me… You have no choice…
These whispers weren't a call. They were pressure.
What the hell is this place…?
He turned in a circle. Nothing made sense. An endless corridor, a living dome, a giant brain hanging above him… and now these doors.
I'm not dreaming… This is real. Fuck…
A vibration shook the ground. CLANG.
Behind him, a massive timer lit up, floating in the air.
The numbers activated brutally.
05:00
04:59
04:58
Each second struck his skull like a hammer blow. One voice drowned out all the others deep, authoritative:
Five minutes to choose a skill.
A countdown…?
He approached the first door. Massive. Covered in inscriptions he didn't recognize. A red glow pulsed at its center, like a heart trapped behind metal. An inscription appeared before him:
[Transcendent Heart] Requirements : Strength 12 / Mana 10 Description : An energy core lodged between mind and will. Allows internal circulation of skills. Unlocks potential even without a physical catalyst.
…Incomprehensible.
He frowned. He didn't understand everything. But he knew one thing: this door was not like the others. He scanned the corridor. More doors stretched for dozens of meters. Each bore a name. Each promised power. He stepped toward another.
[Elemental Force : Fire] Requirement : Mana 20 Effect : Allows manipulation and projection of fire.
Then the next.
[Stone Body] Requirement : Mana 20 Effect : Reinforces the skin with living stone. Reduces physical damage. Slows movement.
Then a third.
[Ethereal Vision] Requirements : Perception 20 / Mana 5 Effect : Allows vision through solid surfaces. Detects spiritual energy flows.
He swallowed. All these skills… all these possibilities… But he only had five minutes. He had to choose fast. The timer continued to tick behind him. 02:42 02:41 02:40
Cold sweat slid down the back of his neck. He clenched his teeth. Too many doors. Too many choices. And no explanation. Choosing at random… might be a death sentence. His left wrist pulsed faintly. The mark reacted to the pressure around him, as if the system itself were waiting for his decision.
He froze. He had to decide. Now. He took a deep breath, then turned back to the first door he had examined.
Transcendent Heart… or Stone Body.
His heart was racing, but his voice remained steady. Clear. Lucid.
I don't have a choice… I have to open one.
He placed his hand on the door. The instant his skin made contact, his breath was cut short. An invisible pressure crashed down on his chest, as if an immense weight were crushing his ribs from the inside. He grabbed his torso, choking. His lungs refused to fill. His heart was pounding too fast, too hard, like it was about to burst. He couldn't breathe.
Ghh…!!
It wasn't pain. It was domination. Something forced its way through his body, burrowing into him, devouring the air, crushing his life second by second. He collapsed to his knees.
This power… wasn't entering him. It was imposing itself.
His left arm suddenly locked up, coursed by an internal vibration. No pain. Nothing physical. Just a strange sensation hard to describe like something activating beneath his skin. He looked down.
A mark slowly appeared on his forearm, etched without burning, without blood, without injury. As if it had always been there, hidden beneath the skin, waiting for the right moment to surface. It traced itself on its own line after line, symbol after symbol alive, pulsing. Not a tattoo. A function.
When it was complete, it emitted a deep red glow. Calm. Steady. Like… a heartbeat. A mark that breathed. He closed his eyes. Instantly, a mental screen appeared, floating in the darkness of his mind.
Skill Acquired — [Transcendent Heart] Type: Body / Passive Effect: An energy core formed between mind and will. Allows internal circulation of skills. Unlocks potential even without a physical catalyst. Requirements: Strength 12, Mana 10 Status: Permanent (single activation)
A second display formed:
5 attribute points to allocate.
Status — Level III Strength: 13 Agility: 5 Endurance: 13 Intelligence: 8 Charisma: 8 Perception: 7 Mana: 30 Spirit: 0 Divine: 50 (+5)
He opened his eyes, fully aware of what that meant.
Divine… Multiplied by ten. But why…?
He swallowed, eyelids still heavy. When he opened his eyes again, he realized he was no longer in the corridor. His body lay once more on cracked earth, half-buried in dust. The air vibrated softly around him, charged with diffuse heat. A golden aura slowly dissipated, as if sinking back into his skin.
He inhaled. Something was beating in his chest. Not his heart something else. A deeper rhythm. Slower. Steadier. Each pulse echoed through his entire body, spreading new energy through his muscles and veins.
He took a step. Then another. His movements felt smoother. More precise. As if everything now answered to a single, invisible central will. The wind brushed against his skin differently. He perceived everything the vibration of sand, the creaking of ruins, even the breath of the desert.
The world around him had changed… or maybe it was him who was finally seeing differently.
This thing… [Transcendent Heart]… It's like my body synced with the world itself.
For a moment, he stood there, motionless, staring at his hands. His breathing was calm. His gaze clearer. He didn't yet know what this power truly meant, but one thing was certain: He would never be the same again.
He collected meat from the corpses of the mutants. He ate. Filled his stomach. Then he resumed his journey north. A slow march. Inflexible. Guided by nothing but survival.
Days passed, indistinguishable from one another. Hunt. Drink. Sleep with one eye open. Move on. The world was an open-air carcass. Endless ruins. Bones of creatures bleached by the sun. Gutted monster remains, gnawed by black insects. But no human corpses.
He searched. He combed through rubble, pits, bus carcasses, collapsed tunnels. Nothing. Even the man he had seen die with his own eyes was gone. No blood. No trace. Nothing. As if this world refused to leave proof of their existence.
The sky slowly turned dark red, swallowing daylight like an opening wound. A metallic mist spread heavy, thick leaving the air smelling of iron and burnt dust. The silence changed. It was no longer the silence of a dead world. It was a stretched, taut silence. A silence waiting for something. Something approaching.
And he felt it in the air, in the ground, along his spine. He was walking between two wrecked buses when his body froze on its own. No sound. No breath. Even the wind had died. A cold, animal shiver crawled up his spine.
Then he heard it. A deep sound. Low. A growl rising from the bowels of the earth. Not an alarm. Not a threat. A warning.
The sound still resonated in his ribcage, as if something were trying to break his bones from the inside. His heart accelerated beyond his control. A primal instinct awakened deep within him. Danger.
He turned slowly. Nothing. Nothing… except an old, torn black flag hanging from a rusted antenna, snapping in an irregular rhythm. He narrowed his eyes. It wasn't the wind. The wind had stopped.
So… what was moving that flag?
Between two collapsed columns, something shifted. A dark mass. Silent. Too large to be human. Too light to be a normal animal. It was there. Motionless. Lurking in the shadows. Watching him.
Then it vanished. No sound. No trace. As if it had never been there. But he knew what he had seen. And that thing… knew he had seen it. His breath caught. He listened. Another growl echoed. Then a second. Then a third.
They weren't alone. They hunted in packs.
He drew his improvised weapon: a tibia bone ripped from a mutant dog, sharpened against stone. Brutal. Primitive. Effective. His hands tightened around it. No shaking. No panic. Just pure tension.
His left wrist tingled. He looked down.
[Demon Fist] – 3 uses remaining.
He inhaled once. Slowly. There would be blood again.
Fuck… I thought all my charges had recovered…
Cold sweat slid down his temple. He looked up. The sky wasn't darkening. It was being extinguished. Not like night falling. Not like a storm approaching. No. Like something was slowly devouring the light.
The air grew heavier. The ground vibrated beneath his feet, barely perceptible. The horizon warped, swallowed by a massive shadow. It wasn't a storm. It wasn't a monster. It was something else.
And a freezing truth pierced his flesh: He had crossed the point where retreat was still possible.