Jarek moved slower this time. Every step felt louder than it should’ve.
He couldn’t shake the weight in his chest—the memory of that blade, the moment it all went black.
He had died.
And then he hadn’t.
It felt like a game. But it wasn’t. The pain had been real. The blood had been real.
He stepped over a low ridge—and stopped.
Below him, nestled in a shallow valley, was what looked like a village.
Small, old. Maybe even ancient.
Straw-thatched roofs sagged under years of decay, some collapsed entirely. Cracked stone chimneys jutted up like broken fingers. Wooden fences leaned at impossible angles, held together more by moss than nails.
The whole place looked like it had been forgotten for decades… maybe centuries.
And yet—something about it held together. A few buildings still stood. There were narrow dirt paths winding between them. A well in the center. Even the faint outline of a shrine, half-swallowed by overgrowth.
For the first time since waking up, Jarek thought: Maybe there’s someone here.
Then he remembered the knight. The sword. The way his arm hit the ground like meat.
The last “people” he met weren’t exactly friendly.
He took a breath, slow and quiet.
Approaching this place wasn’t going to be easy.
But doing nothing wasn’t an option either.
He started down the hill.
As he neared the edge of the settlement—if you could even call it that—something caught his eye.
A sword.
Half-buried in the dirt, rusted to hell, but unmistakably a weapon.
“Yes,” Jarek muttered, already moving. “Finally.”
He crouched and picked it up. It was heavier than it looked—blade chipped, hilt wrapped in some kind of rotten cloth.
[ITEM ACQUIRED: Rust-Touched Shortsword]
Type: Melee – One-Handed
Durability: 18%
Attack Bonus: +4
Description: "Better than your fists. Just barely."
Huh. So weapons trigger the system.
He looked down at his tattered office clothes.
“I wonder what kind of stats this suit has,” he muttered. “Business Casual Defense +1?”
Still, the sword in his hand was something.
At least maybe I could take the rat now.
He stepped through the broken gate and into the village proper.
The dirt path was lined with rotting fences and sagging huts, most missing entire walls. Straw from collapsed roofs lay scattered like dried seaweed. An old cart sat overturned near a well, one of its wheels still spinning slightly, even though he hadn’t seen any movement.
He moved cautiously, sword raised in a grip he wasn’t sure was correct.
Then he heard it.
Low. Wet. A gurgling groan echoing between the buildings.
Guttural. Human, but… not.
Shit. Did I go the wrong way again?
This has to be worse than the rat.
He crept around the edge of a collapsed building, sticking to the shadows.
And then he saw it.
Lurking just ahead—
A hunched figure twitching near a crumbling stone wall.
Its skin was pale, stretched thin over sharp bones. Filthy rags hung off its frame. The way it moved—stiff, jerky, like a puppet on loose strings—made something in Jarek’s gut twist.
Its head snapped toward him, jaw hanging open far too wide. Its eyes were gone—just black pits sunk into a hollow face.
In one bony hand, it gripped a sword.
Nothing fancy. Old. Cracked. But still—
Bladed. Clean.
Definitely better than his.
“Seriously?” Jarek muttered. “Even the ghouls get weapons?”
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The thing twitched again and stepped forward.
Without warning, it lunged—a wide, arcing slash, fast for something that moved like a busted marionette.
Jarek barely dodged. He threw himself sideways, boots skidding over loose dirt. The blade hissed past, close enough to feel the air bend.
The ghoul stumbled at the end of its swing, posture sagging like it had to reset.
Jarek hovered just out of reach, sword raised, debating. Do I hit it now? Or is that just how I die again?
The pain from last time hadn’t faded. Neither had the memory.
The ghoul snapped upright. A sharp twitch.
And it moved again.
Faster.
It came in with a sudden flurry—slash, slash, slash.
Jarek raised his weapon too late, barely catching the first blow, then the second—
The third slipped past his guard and tore across his chest.
“Shit—damn it!”
Pain bloomed. His knees dipped, breath catching. But he stayed up. Just barely.
Fuck, how did I let a slow-ass ghoul hit me?
Well… it wasn’t actually that slow.
Screw that. I’m getting it back.
He surged forward, teeth clenched, sword raised high.
The blade came down in a heavy arc—ugly, untrained, but fast.
The ghoul tried to block, but it was off balance. The blow knocked it back a step, arms flailing.
It lunged again—the same sloppy strike as before.
This time, Jarek was ready.
He sidestepped, dragging his sword behind him, and slammed it down into the ghoul’s back.
The creature staggered, spine bowing unnaturally.
Jarek didn’t hesitate.
He raised his blade and brought it down again—hard, full of panic and weight and pain.
The ghoul hit the dirt with a sound like wet rope.
[Enemy Defeated: Hollow Villager]
XP Gained: 10
Jarek exhaled, shoulders still tense.
“Huh. I didn’t level up...” he muttered, eyes flicking to the floating screen as it dissolved.
“When I killed that damn rat, I leveled. So these things are weaker?”
That felt wrong somehow.
That rat had been a beast—sure. But this thing had a weapon. A face.
Almost a person.
Another sound broke the silence.
Wood creaked. Fabric tore.
Two more figures staggered out from one of the nearby huts—
One tall and broad-shouldered, dragging a warped farming scythe.
The other... smaller. Limping. Barely waist-high.
Jarek’s grip tightened around his sword.
The smaller one moved like the others—twitchy, mindless. But still. The size. The shape. The rags hanging from its shoulders.
He swallowed, hard.
"...Were these people?”
He took a step back. Didn’t even realize he had.
That hut they came out of—it wasn’t a lair. It was a home.
He readied himself, tightening his grip, trying to ignore the burn in his chest.
This couldn’t be worse than the presentation that killed him, right?
Both ghouls lunged.
The smaller one was faster. It reached him first, blade flashing in a sharp, low arc.
Jarek jumped back—the strike missed by inches. He felt the wind off it slice past his ribs.
The larger one followed, slower but heavier. Jarek barely got his sword up in time to block. Steel clanged, his arm jolting from the impact. He staggered back a step—
And the smaller ghoul was already on him again.
It unleashed a flurry—three quick, jittering strikes.
Jarek caught the first. The second clipped his shoulder. The third he ducked, barely.
His breath hitched. He needed space. Needed time.
He kicked the smaller one away and circled to his right, keeping both enemies in sight.
No more getting surrounded.
His chest throbbed. His grip was slipping.
But he wasn’t dead.
Not yet.
He needed to split them up. Make one lunge, bait it, and take the other out fast.
These things weren’t strong—he’d dropped the first one easily enough. But two at once? That was a different story.
He shifted closer to the bigger one, edging into its range. Just a little more.
It took the bait.
The ghoul lunged—same wide, telegraphed strike as before.
But this time, Jarek didn’t dodge backward—he dove forward, slipping beneath the swing and breaking toward the smaller one.
It raised its blade, slow. Predictable.
He was already moving.
His sword punched through its guard and sank deep into its skull. The body crumpled instantly, twitching once before going still.
[Enemy Defeated: Hollow Villager]
XP Gained: 10
Jarek turned—
Too late.
The bigger ghoul was already on him.
It lunged.
Jarek yanked at his sword—stuck.
“Shit—”
He dove, the ghoul’s blade slicing the air behind him.
He hit the dirt hard, skidding through dead grass, empty-handed and scrambling.
The ghoul paused. Just for a second. Watching.
Jarek met its eyes—dark, hollow, but locked on him.
Were these things really human once?
Was that smaller one… a kid?
Why did he feel bad?
He shouldn’t.
It tried to kill him.
Still—something about the way it dropped, limp and twitching, made his stomach twist.
Did he have to stab it in the head? Did it know what was happening?
The ghoul moved.
Jarek hesitated. Just for a second.
Too long.
The blade flashed.
Pain tore across his forearm.
“Fuck—!”
He stumbled back, clutching the wound.
Idiot.
Why are you doing this now? In the middle of a fight?
Think later. Survive now. Didn’t getting your arm cut off teach you anything?
He forced himself to focus—just the ghoul in front of him, its soulless eyes locked onto his.
He didn’t wait this time.
Jarek threw his full weight into the thing, slamming his shoulder into its chest like a linebacker. It wasn''t clean. It wasn’t even smart. But it worked.
The ghoul staggered back, arms flailing.
Jarek dropped to the ground, skidding to the smaller corpse, fumbling at its stiff fingers—there. A weapon. Dull, bent, but still sharp enough to kill.
The moment his hand closed around the hilt—
The bigger ghoul lunged.
It came down on him fast, flailing in that same brutal combo—slash, slash, slash.
Jarek surged up with the new blade. One. Two. Three. He caught them, barely, the force jarring through his arms like metal against bone.
The ghoul overextended.
That was all he needed.
He twisted past the final blow and rammed the blade up under its chin.
It shrieked—if that was still a thing it could do—then buckled.
Jarek didn’t stop. He drove the weapon deeper, all the way through, until the thing collapsed under its own weight.
[Enemy Defeated: Hollow Villager]
XP Gained: 10
[Level Up: 2]
Stat Points Gained: +5
Vitality Restored.
Minor Wounds Healed.
He stood there, shaking, breath ragged. Blood on his face. On his hands.
He didn’t say anything.
Just stepped over the smaller body—
Didn’t look at it.
Couldn’t.
He sucked in a sharp breath as warmth pulsed through his chest. The pain in his arm dulled, then vanished.
Even the gash on his side—the one from the first slash—was gone.
He flexed his fingers, testing his grip.
“I could get used to that,” he muttered.
Ahead, the hut stood quiet. Just a wooden door, cracked open, hanging slightly off its hinges.
Jarek approached slowly. Reached out.
And pushed it open.
The hinges groaned. Dust kicked up from the threshold.
He stepped inside.