《Improvising the Apocalypse》 Prologue Humanity stands at the intersection of three pillars: religion, science, and myth¡ªa triangle shaped by the search for answers to life¡¯s great mysteries. Faced with the unknown, humans create simple explanations, giving rise to religion. These ¡°gods¡± become the solutions to questions we cannot yet answer. But over time, humanity learns. Slowly, painstakingly, knowledge grows, and from it emerges science¡ªthe pursuit of hard facts and indisputable truths about the world. With each discovery, the old ways of religion begin to fade, transforming into myth. But myth does not simply vanish. Instead, it transforms into legend, fable, and story¡ªhistories wrapped in lessons and morals. These tales serve to guide the young and remind us of the pitfalls of those who came before, urging humanity not to repeat their mistakes. Myths become vessels of wisdom, even as their divine origins fade, holding a mirror to human nature and the timeless struggles we face. Yet, history shows us that the easy answer¡ªthe comforting, convenient one¡ªis always the most alluring. Those who preach such simplicity often gain power, using it to obscure facts and suppress truth. Gradually, myth resurfaces as religion, and the cycle begins anew. Through it all, the one unwavering faith humanity holds is not in gods or science but in the belief that it cannot be wrong. That its understanding is absolute. That mankind is the apex of all things. And it is this unshakable conviction that will, in the end, be its downfall. -Alexander Salvos The last philosopherThis content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Prologue ¡°What¡¯s this planet called again, Gursaki¡¯l?¡± The speaker stood over seven feet tall, a towering humanoid with gray skin and an oversized head. His sleek metallic suit shimmered under the sterile bridge lights of his cruiser-class starship. ¡°Sir, this is planet 437 of sector 9B, also known as Earth,¡± responded another alien, this one covered in thick fur, its large round eyes blinking as it rattled off the information. Hawlythron sighed, exasperation dripping from every breath. ¡°Fantastic. Another backwater shithole in the ass-end of nowhere.¡± The translation into Earth English might not have been exact, but the sentiment was clear. His father had secured him this position¡ªGalaxy Onboarding Director for this dustball of a world. A title meant to sound impressive, far more so than the drudgery of a Galaxy Onboarding Data Supervisor or, even worse, one of the countless Global Onboarding Data Scientists. Hawlythron needed someone to do the grunt work of sifting through millions of lines of code, he sure wasn¡¯t going to do it.. The cruiser carried a small crew, just enough for this kind of mission. It wasn¡¯t a warship¡ªjust another cog in the endless bureaucracy of galactic expansion. Their task was simple: integrate another primitive world, strip it for useful resources, and, if they were lucky, find a few half-decent recruits to bolster the ever-draining ranks fighting on the Fringe. The war against the abyssal hordes never seemed to end. Not that Hawlythron had ever seen it. He hailed from the Core Worlds, a life of wealth and comfort far removed from the blood-soaked battlefields at the galaxy¡¯s edge. His job wasn¡¯t to fight¡ªit was to evaluate. To sift through the crude, unrefined muck of this world, aptly named after dirt, and see if there were any diamonds hidden within. After all, as a G.O.D., his role was to sift through the dregs of this planet and find warriors and workers to feed the war machine. That was his father¡¯s mandate¡ªhis so-called duty. And he would fulfill it. Or he wouldn¡¯t. Either way, it made little difference to him. Chapter 1 - An Average Man ¡°I¡¯m just an average man with an average life I work from 9 to 5, hey, hell I pay the price All I want is to be left alone in my average home But why do I always feel like I¡¯m in the Twilight Zone¡± -Rockwell Jim hunched over his terminal, frantically typing, trying to finish the work he had procrastinated on all day. He glanced at the clock¡ªalmost five. If he hadn¡¯t spent hours avoiding his responsibilities, he wouldn¡¯t be in this mess. ¡°Hey, Jim! You excited about the game tonight?¡± Bob leaned against the cubicle wall, towering over Jim at well over six feet. With his neatly trimmed beard and button-down, he gave off a bit of a bro vibe, but Jim didn¡¯t mind him too much. Not that it mattered¡ªJim barely looked up. He didn¡¯t care if the New Jersey Bills were playing the Boston Celtics. He hated baseball. Twenty minutes later, Jim sat on the bus, earbuds in, listening to a famous chef¡¯s autobiography. He admired fine cuisine¡ªthough his budget rarely allowed for more than takeout¡ªand had always wished he could cook. Unfortunately, his attempts in the kitchen usually ended in disaster. When his stop came, he trudged the five blocks to his apartment building, checked his empty mailbox, and climbed five flights of stairs. Technically, he had a one-bedroom, though calling it that was generous¡ªhis ¡°bedroom¡± barely fit his bed and dresser, and it had no closet. His kitchen wasn¡¯t much better. No oven. Just a hot plate¡ªenough for ramen. Not that he needed much. He owned exactly one knife, one fork, one spoon, one plate, one bowl, and one cup. Use them, wash them, repeat. What more did a person need? After dinner, he brushed his teeth and studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror. 5¡¯10, oval face, dirty blond hair forming a slight widow¡¯s peak, hazel eyes. Not exactly model material. He wasn¡¯t even attracted to himself¡ªwhy would anyone else be? He spent the rest of the night watching cooking shows, reading his latest non-fiction book, and then crashing in bed. That was Jim¡¯s Monday. That was his Tuesday. That was¡­ most days. But Wednesday would be different. It was a day like any other when the world ended. Mid-afternoon. Jim sat at his cubicle, counting the minutes until he could go home. He stared blankly at his monitor, sipping from his oversized coffee mug. He had worked at Stanley Staples for nearly seven years¡ªever since he graduated in the middle of his class in his middle-sized town. It wasn¡¯t like he had a hot date waiting for him after work. No, he just wanted to curl up in his chair and continue his latest non-fiction series on the fall of the Roman Empire. Of course, he had wasted half the day slacking off, so now he was scrambling to finish everything before quitting time. He told himself he¡¯d stop procrastinating tomorrow¡ªjust like he told himself every day before. Then, without warning, his vision flickered. A blue screen appeared in front of him. Jim blinked. Then, cautiously, he read the words. [Welcome iteration 437 of sector 9b! Your world has met the requirements to be integrated into the system. The tutorial will last until the system fully integrates into your world. Approx. 5.7 earth years. You have two choices on how to spend your time in this tutorial. Option 1: Class Holder. As a class holder, you will be given access to the PROFILE System. You will fight the abyssal horde and gain levels. You will become a pillar of your world, a contender on the system ladder. A bastion of strength for your world and others. Option 2: Civilian. As a civilian, you will not participate in the PROFILE system. You will not be the front line of defense. You will be the crafters, the servants, the minions. But you will gain protection in the fact that others will not gain experience from your death, and you cannot be attacked in a safe zone. Choose wisely future citizens of sector 9b. Few are allowed to become a Class Holder so easily, your future is in your hands! You have five Earth minutes to decide] Jim stared at the floating text, his mind struggling to process the sheer absurdity of it. Integration? Abyssal horde? System ladder? This sounded like something out of a bad sci-fi novel. Then Bob¡¯s voice cut through the office hum. ¡°Is anyone else seeing this?¡± A handful of affirmations came from neighboring cubicles. So it wasn¡¯t just him. Jim exhaled. He wasn¡¯t exactly the fighting type, so Option Two¡ªCivilian seemed like the obvious choice. But, out of morbid curiosity, he glanced at the other option. [Classes Available:] He frowned. He wasn¡¯t much of a gamer, but these looked like generic RPG classes. Oddly enough, he wasn¡¯t panicking. No one was. Jim slowly scanned the office. Why wasn¡¯t anyone freaking out? Across the room, Terry casually stood up, walked over to the copier, and¡ªwithout hesitation¡ªremoved the bolt from the paper cutter and pulled the blade free. Jim felt his stomach drop. Something was very, very wrong. Jim sat there confused as Terry walked toward the closest cubicle and stopped behind Rhonda. She was sitting there staring into space, probably still reading through the system message, when Terry took his blade and hacked into her neck. ¡°What the fuck Terry! Shit, shit, shit!¡± screamed Jim, several other screams joining his as Terry just started hacking into his co-workers. The screaming, the running, this was much more in line with what Jim had been expecting. Terry killed Chris as he charged him, Deena as she tried to stab him with a pen, and Chuck as he tried to run away. ¡°Fuck, fuck, fuck¡± Jim muttered as he scrambled around his desk looking for some form of protection. He picked up his red stapler and looked back at Terry as he was making his way towards him. Carey and Dennis lying dead behind him. He tossed his stapler to the side and just yanked his computer monitor up. It got caught in the cords behind his desk so he quickly and desperately unhooked the cables before throwing his monitor at Terry. He took the hit in the shoulder and grunted. He looked down at the five-pound monitor and back at Jim. ¡°Really Jim?¡± he asked. Right, Jim thought, it probably would have been better if it was one of those old heavy monitors, not these new flat screens. Jim saw some flashing notifications but didn¡¯t take the time to look. ¡°What the fuck Terry!¡± Terry just shrugged. ¡°It didn¡¯t take long to pick a class holder. While all you idiots decided to think it through I made a decision. A decision to not be weak. The end has come and I can be more than an office drone. I can have real fucking power.¡± He yelled. ¡°But I need to level, and well you seem to be the fastest way to do that.¡± Jim scrambled pulling the computer cords around his hand in a makeshift whip. ¡°I don¡¯t even have a fucking class you idiot most of us were probably going to choose civilian! You don''t even get experience for killing us!¡± Terry just shrugged. ¡°But I do get skills.¡± He smiled as he came forward, blade razed above his head.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Jim swung his makeshift cable whip causing Terry to flinch back. Jim used that moment to tackle Terry to the ground. Jim was average size at 5¡¯10¡± and slightly overweight at just over two hundred pounds, but Terry wasn¡¯t much bigger and he went down. They scuffled on the floor and Jim managed to get behind Terry with the cables wrapped around Terry¡¯s neck. So Jim just wrapped his legs around Terry and pulled back with all his strength. Terry''s struggles slowed down and eventually stopped. Jim saw a new flash on his screen and finally accessed it. [Skill Gained: Throw Something] [Error: You cannot acquire a skill until you have chosen a class] [1hp dmg to warrior ¡°Terry¡±] [Skill Gained: Hit Something] [Error: You cannot acquire a skill until you have chosen a class] [1hp dmg to warrior ¡°Terry¡±] [1hp dmg to warrior ¡°Terry¡±] [1hp dmg to warrior ¡°Terry¡±] [1hp dmg to warrior ¡°Terry¡±] [1hp dmg to warrior ¡°Terry¡±] [1hp dmg to warrior ¡°Terry¡±] [1hp dmg to warrior ¡°Terry¡±] [1hp dmg to warrior ¡°Terry¡±] [1hp dmg to warrior ¡°Terry¡±] [1hp dmg to warrior ¡°Terry¡±] [1hp dmg to warrior ¡°Terry¡±] [1hp dmg to warrior ¡°Terry¡±] [1hp dmg to warrior ¡°Terry¡±] [1hp dmg to warrior ¡°Terry¡±] [You have killed a Class Holder and stolen his title, EXP gained] [Title Gained: Murderer Murderer] [Error: You cannot acquire titles until you have chosen a class] [New Class available: Brik-a-Brawler] Jim kicked Terry¡¯s body away and he pulled himself to his feet. Bone-deep weariness settled into his bones. He began to look around when pain lanced across his lower back. He stumbled forward and looks behind him to see Dave standing there with a bloody pocket knife. [-7hp, Bleeding] ¡°This might be getting redundant but, WHAT THE FUCK DAVE!¡± Dave smiles. ¡°I think Terry had it right. Better to be the butcher than the butchered¡± Dave slashes again and catches Jim on his forearm. Jim grunts as he falls back over Terry¡¯s body. [-1hp] ¡°I hosted your office birthday party asshole!¡± Jim yells from the ground. Dave scowled, ¡°And you got me a chocolate cake, I fucking hate chocolate. DIE¡± Dave lunged forward with his knife when Jim''s hand closed over Terry¡¯s paper cutter blade and he swung hard with his right while thrusting his hand between him and Dave. Jim managed to catch the pocket knife in his left hand, literally in his left hand, but his right managed to sink the paper cutter deep into Dave''s ribs. Dave made a pained gasp but put both hands on his blade and used his body weight to shove the blade toward Jim''s face. The blood from his hand dripped onto his face but Jim managed to push it to the side as the blade sliced into his ear. [3dmg] [-2hp] Jim yanked the paper cutter out and smashed it back in over and over until the blood started to run out of Dave''s mouth. [3dmg] [3dmg] [3dmg] He managed to spit out a bloody ¡°Fuck chocolate.¡± before he gave his death rattle and collapsed. [You have killed a Class Holder, EXP gained] [Error: You cannot acquire EXP until you have chosen a class] [Perk Gained: Another Man¡¯s Trash] [Error: You cannot acquire titles until you have chosen a class] ¡°Jesus Christ,¡± Jim muttered to himself. [-1hp] ¡°What the shit?¡± Jim immediately got worried and pulled up his screen Name - Jim Trekkin Unclassed (37 seconds left) EXP - N/A HP - 1/10 Mana - N/A PROFILE - Restricted Status: Bleeding 1/dmg per minute] ¡°Shit, shit, shit.¡± Jim scrambled over to Terry¡¯s body and ripped the sleeve off his shirt before pulling his tie off. He wadded up the sleeve and pressed it against the stab wound in his back before tying the tie around his waist to hold it, before checking his status again. Name - Jim Trekkin Unclassed (7 seconds left) EXP - N/A HP - 1/10 Mana - N/A PROFILE - Restricted Status: Bleeding 1/dmg per minute] ¡°Accept class. Accept class¡± He shouted with nothing happening. He mentally went into his screen and smashed on the proverbial Class button. [You have taken the class of the Class Holder, Class [Brik-a-Brawler] accepted. Exp. had been gained! [Level Gained] [-1hp] Deferred skills and title acquired! Jim pulled up his status in his mind. Name - Jim Trekkin Brik-a-Brawler (Epic) Level 1 0/200 EXP until next level HP - 10/20 Mana - 10/10 PROFILE - +3 unplaced Power - 6 +1 Reason - 5 Odds - 7 +1 Finesse - 6 Insight - 5 Lure - 4 Endurance - 5 +1 Skills: Throw something, Swing something Perk: Another Man¡¯s Trash Titles: Legacy of Cain, Murderer Murderer Status: Bleeding 1/dmg per minute Jim let out a deep sigh of relief as he dropped his head back into the cubicle wall behind him. That had been close. Too close. And he still had the damn bleed effect. He had hoped the bandage would have stopped it but he might have to look into cauterizing it if it didn¡¯t stop. He would feel pretty stupid to live through two attempts on his life and die from loss of blood. Also. What the hell was wrong with him? He was sitting here thinking about how close he had been to dying like he was thinking about last week''s weather. [Bandages applied, Bleeding stopped] He exhaled deeply in relief¡ªbandages might not work instantly, but that made sense. ¡°Fuck it,¡± he thought. Rising to his feet, he scanned the room. Seeing no one, he cautiously grabbed his pocket knife and the paper cutter blade before calling out, ¡°Hello?¡± From behind a nearby cubicle, Tom peered out and whispered, ¡°Is it over?¡± ¡°I think so? Maybe? I sure fucking hope so,¡± he replied, glancing around warily. ¡°I don¡¯t know what got into Terry and Dave¡ªthey just went crazy.¡± Alice then appeared, her head poking above her cubicle. ¡°You killed them.¡± Jim grunted, ¡°I defended myself. Should we call the cops?¡± At that moment, the boss¡¯s office door swung open and Dick and Cindy stepped out. ¡°Alright, everyone, gather in my office,¡± Dick ordered. Jim, Alice, and Tom exchanged uneasy glances, but Jim shrugged and followed. It made sense to get everyone together¡ªthis office was only one of three on the seventh floor of a twelve-story building. If more people were losing it, banding together was their best chance of making it out. Tom and Alice quietly trailed behind as they entered the office. Once inside, Cindy closed the door behind them. Dick began, ¡°Alright, phones and internet are down. Whatever¡¯s affecting us is also crippling communications. We need to stick together and get out of this building. Does anyone have any weapons?¡± Tom and Alice looked at Jim. He shrugged and held up his paper cutter. ¡°Alright, if you want to set that on the desk?¡± he said, squinting at Dick. But the man pressed on, ¡°Has everyone taken a class? If you haven¡¯t, you should do it now. We need every advantage we can get.¡± Alice was the first to speak. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we choose civilian? It said we¡¯d be safer.¡± ¡°Safe in safe zones¡ªbut we have no idea where those are. It¡¯s better if we can defend ourselves until we reach one,¡± Dick replied. Alice and Tom nodded. ¡°Jim?¡± Dick called, gesturing toward his large blade. Although a bad feeling churned in Jim¡¯s gut, he stepped forward and placed the blade on the desk within reach. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ve chosen Mage¡ªlooks like I have some spell options,¡± Alice announced, and Tom added, ¡°I took Archer.¡± No sooner had those words left their mouths than Dick swept his arm and shouted, ¡°Firebolt!¡± Jim dodged aside, but the bolt whizzed past him and struck Alice dead center in the chest. She screamed as she collapsed. The maneuver had taken him further away from his blade, so Jim grabbed a heavy paperweight from the bookshelf. All he could do was watch in horror as Tom, jaw slack, had his throat slit from behind by Cindy. Seeing Dick pointing at him again, Jim hurled the paperweight, catching the startled caster right in the face. [8dmg, stunned] He dashed to the desk, snatched up his paper cutter, and hacked at a stunned Dick. [3dmg] [You have killed a Class Holder, EXP gained] ¡°No!¡± a scream erupted behind him¡ªand then he felt a dagger slide into his back¡­ again. He had suspected Dick and Cindy of playing hide the pet tiger, and now that suspicion was confirmed in the worst possible way. [-7hp, bleeding] He swung his blade, but Cindy leapt back. ¡°Fucking twice in one day,¡± Jim muttered. Cindy glared at him, her face twisted in a scowl. ¡°I¡¯m gonna make it hurt, Jim.¡± Jim wasn¡¯t feeling too good¡ªhe knew he was low on health. ¡°Magic Dart,¡± came a quiet voice. A burst of magical light struck Cindy in the back; she screamed and swiveled toward the badly burned Alice. Not taking any chances, Jim swung his trusty cutter, driving it into Cindy¡¯s neck. [3dmg] [You have killed a Class Holder, EXP gained] Cindy collapsed like a heap of rubble. Jim dropped his cutter and pressed his hand against his bleeding back. [-1hp] ¡°Damn, got me on the other side,¡± Jim groaned. ¡°You okay, Alice?¡± When he looked over, he saw that Alice¡¯s hair was burned away and her face contorted into a rictus snarl. As he noticed her hands moving, he dove behind Dick¡¯s desk at the sound of another ¡°Magic Dart.¡± A massive chunk of the desk exploded into kindling. Keeping low, Jim fumbled for a weapon. ¡°Alice, we don¡¯t have to do this,¡± he called out. He heard her footsteps drawing nearer. Clutching a bloodstained paperweight, he braced himself as Alice rounded the desk. She barely managed ¡°Magic¡ª¡± before the paperweight slammed into her chest. [4dmg] [You have killed a Class Holder, EXP gained] In a desperate bid, Jim tore off his shirt sleeve and balled it into a makeshift bandage. [-1hp] A quick mental calculation told him the bandages wouldn¡¯t hold for long. Scrambling to Dick¡¯s corpse, he rifled through the dead man¡¯s pockets until he found a Zippo lighter. With no time to lose, he lit it, clamped his tie between his teeth, and pressed the flame against his bloody back. Jim screamed through gritted teeth as the flame seared his flesh¡ªbut fortunately, the cauterization kicked in. [cauterization applied, bleeding stopped] [Title Gained: Edging] [Skill Gained: Stop the Bleed] Jim sagged in relief. He wondered what to do next. With no working phones and the possibility that other offices might be overrun by crazed killers, he quickly dismissed the idea of searching for help. Overcome with bone-deep weariness, he rose and shoved the bookshelf in front of the office door. Then, he dragged each of the bodies into a corner, took Dick¡¯s suit jacket, tucked it under his head, and finally passed out. Chapter 2 - Welcome Chapter 2 - Welcome Welcome to the dungeon, we take it day by day If you want you''re gonna bleed but it''s the price to pay -Axe L Jim woke slowly to a soft scraping, a rhythmic, almost deliberate sound. It wasn¡¯t natural, not like the rustling of wind through trees or the gentle creak of old furniture settling. His fingers brushed against damp leaves, some brittle, others fresh and green. He sat up, yawning, muscles aching from an awful night¡¯s sleep on bare concrete. His arms stretched high, joints popping, and for a brief moment, he thought he was in Dick¡¯s office, waking up after another late night of overtime. Then, he felt it¡ªthe air. It was too humid, too heavy. The lingering scent of mildew and wet paper filled his nostrils, mixed with something deeper¡ªearthy, almost metallic. As his mind caught up to his eyes, confusion sank in. His desk¡ªor what was left of it¡ªwas nothing but rotting wood, aged to the point of crumbling. Grass had forced its way through the carpet, breaking through concrete cracks, claiming the space like nature reclaiming a ruin. The only light in the room came from the window, a soft, eerie glow filtering through. Jim turned his head toward it, expecting to see the city skyline. It was gone. Instead, the world beyond was nothing but a dense, opaque fog, swirling in slow, hypnotic waves. The sunlight diffused through it, casting an unnatural brightness that gave no indication of time. A chill ran down his spine. This wasn¡¯t the city anymore. As he stood, his legs protesting the movement, his surroundings felt off. The entire room¡ªhell, the whole floor¡ªfelt different. This wasn¡¯t just an abandoned office building. It was a ruin. An ancient, hollowed-out husk of something long forgotten. Jim¡¯s fingers twitched at his sides, instincts telling him to move carefully, to listen. Then, his vision flickered. Not his eyes¡ªsomething else. A set of notifications forced their way into his mind, flashing rapidly. [Your one-hour tutorial has ended] [The significant death energy in this area has spawned a dungeon. You have three hours to vacate the area or you will automatically be transported to the dungeon starting zone.] [Danger! You are entering a suggested level 5-7 dungeon as a level 1 character with no party.] [Title Gained: BDE] [Perk Gained: Ruff Diver] [Welcome to the safe zone. You have one hour before the safe zone disappears.] [You have 30 minutes before the safe zone disappears.] 10¡­ 5¡­ 1¡­ [Good luck, adventurer.] Jim staggered slightly, pressing his fingers to his temple as the last notification faded from his mind. ¡°Dungeon?¡± His voice was hoarse. He barely had time to process it before he heard it again. The noise. A scraping. Closer this time. His blood ran cold. Something was moving. ¡°Hello?!¡± The word left his mouth before he could stop himself. The moment the sound echoed through the room, Jim slapped his forehead. Stupid. Instinct had betrayed him. The rustling grew louder, deliberate. Something was coming toward him.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Jim dropped low, ducking behind the remains of a mahogany desk, his breath steady but quick. Peering over the edge, his eyes locked onto a large, jagged hole in the wall, thick with vines and hanging roots. Then¡ªmovement. Fingers¡ªlong, blue, and clawed¡ªpushed through the tangled greenery. Jim¡¯s heart pounded. His fingers scrambled over the ground, searching for anything usable as a weapon. His old paper cutter blade? Rusted junk now. His hands closed around something heavy and familiar. A weighted stone paperweight. Not great. But better than nothing. Jim tightened his grip on the stone and peered over the desk again. The creature stepped through the vines. It was humanoid, but barely. Thin, sinewy limbs, sickly blue skin stretched tight over sharp bones. Its eyes were too large, bulging slightly from its skull, unblinking. Its mouth split into a grin¡ªyellowed teeth jagged and uneven. It was staring right at him. Jim¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°Fuck.¡± His eyes darted toward the door. Still barricaded. No escape. His throat tightened. The goblin-thing took a slow, deliberate step into the room. ¡°Looks like a fucking goblin,¡± Jim muttered, gripping the stone tighter. His vision flashed again. [Skill gained: Inspect] [Level 5 Gobloid Gatherer - HP 50] ¡°Umm¡­ System, can I pull up my stats.¡± He realized after saying it he just needed to think to bring it up. He was so nervous he felt almost fidgety. Name - Jim Trekkin Brik-a-Brawler (Epic) Level 1 150/200 EXP until next level HP - 10/20 Mana - 10/10 PROFILE - +3 unplaced Power - 7 Reason - 5 Odds - 8 Finesse - 6 Insight - 5 Lure - 4 Endurance - 6 Skills: Throw Something, Swing Something, Stop the Bleed, Inspect Perk: Another Man¡¯s Trash, Ruff Diver Titles: Legacy of Cain, Murderer Murderer, Edging, BDE Jim¡¯s stomach dropped. It had twice his health. This wasn¡¯t great. The goblin let out a low, guttural chuckle. ¡°Stupid human looks tasty.¡± Then, with a sickening grin, it drew a dagger. Jim kept the desk between them, raising his hands in mock surrender. ¡°Oh hey, you speak my language! Maybe we can talk this out?¡± The goblin tilted its head, considering. ¡°Sure, human. I have rope. I tie you up. Take you to goblin leader.¡± Its gleeful malice made Jim¡¯s skin crawl. Yeah. That wasn¡¯t happening. Jim forced a grin. ¡°I don¡¯t have anything. If I¡¯m in your home, I¡¯ll leave. Easy peasy.¡± The goblin just laughed and leapt onto the desk. CRACK. One of the rotting legs snapped. The desk tilted violently. The goblin stumbled, arms flailing. Jim saw his chance. Teeth gritted, he lifted the weighted paperweight and hurled it with everything he had. [1dmg] The stone smacked the goblin¡¯s knee. Not his target, but enough to knock its leg out from under it. The goblin collapsed hard, face-first, with a sickening squelch. [Critical Hit - 20dmg] Jim blinked. ¡°Wait, what?¡± The goblin groaned, reaching for its face. Then it pulled its own dagger from its eye socket. Jim gulped. The thing still had a shitload of HP left. And now it looked pissed. The goblin roared and flung the dagger at Jim. He barely had time to react¡ª He dove sideways. The blade thunked into the wall behind him. The goblin lunged. Jim¡¯s hands scrambled blindly. His fingers closed around something. An office chair. He yanked it up, holding it like a shield. The goblin slashed wildly, its claws scraping against the metal. ¡°Hazzar kill you now, human!¡± Jim staggered back, circling the desk as the goblin advanced. His heart hammered. He was going to trip, or slip, or¡ª Screw it. He roared and charged. With sheer dumb luck, he slammed the chair base into the goblin, pinning it against the window. The goblin snarled and thrashed, but its arms were just short of reaching him. [1dmg] Jim frowned. That¡­didn¡¯t seem like much. Then he noticed something¡ªthe goblin was still bleeding. From its eye. His lucky shot. Jim¡¯s breath caught. ¡°Holy lucky shitballs.¡± It took half an hour for the goblin to finally bleed out. Not the quickest way to kill a goblin. But it worked. And better yet¡ªhe hadn¡¯t even taken a single hit. [You have killed a Gobinoid Gather, EXP gained] [Level Gained] Jim shoved the desk against the hole in the wall, wedging it tightly to block any more unwanted visitors. It wouldn¡¯t hold forever, but it was better than nothing. With a cautious glance toward the lifeless goblin, he crouched down and started looting. Inside a small, tattered pouch, he found a handful of copper coins. Not much, but hey, money was money. A larger gathering bag held an odd mix of items¡ªa few random herbs, a small shovel, and a length of rope. Finally, he picked up the dagger the goblin had thrown at him. Up close, it was¡­disappointing. [Crude Iron Dagger] Damage: Low Durability: Questionable Quality: Absolute garbage Jim sighed. ¡°Not exactly a legendary weapon, huh?¡± Still, it was something. He leaned against the window frame, taking a deep breath. He needed to get the hell out of here. He had no idea how many monsters were lurking nearby, how strong they were, or if he¡¯d get lucky again. He glanced at the door. Six floors to go before reaching the lobby. This was going to be slow, dangerous, and require every ounce of luck and caution he had. Jim clenched his jaw. He couldn¡¯t afford to stay weak. It was time to level up. Chapter 3 - Whats Going on ¡°I wake up in the morning and I step outside, and I take a deep breath and I get real high¡­ and I scream from the top of my lungs, ¡®What¡¯s going on?!¡¯¡± - 4 Unblonded Jim glanced around for a pen and paper¡ªshould¡¯ve been easy enough to find in an office, right? Naturally, everything had rotted. With a sigh, he settled for making a mental to-do list instead. ¡°Alright,¡± he muttered. ¡°Need to get out. Normally a ten-minute deal, but since I have no idea how many monsters that can absolutely crush me are between me and the door, let¡¯s assume I¡¯ll need to take it slow.¡± Priority one: water. He could last three days without it, maybe longer without food, but dehydration would kill him fast. He thought about the vending machines on six. Twinkies and cola had the shelf life of plutonium, so maybe, just maybe, he¡¯d get lucky. ¡°Okay. Clear this floor first. Then form a new plan.¡± That¡¯s Jim for you. Productive as always. Now, back to leveling up. He pulled up his stats¡ªfinally. It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t want to go through them and get everything perfectly lined up¡ªit¡¯s just that he¡¯d been a little too busy, you know, fighting for his life. There in the blue light of his mind stood his gains. Name - Jim Trekkin Brik-a-Brawler (Epic) Level 2 25/400 EXP until next level HP - 30/30 Mana - 20/20 PROFILE - +6 unplaced Power - 8 Reason - 5 Odds - 9 Finesse - 6 Insight - 5 Lure - 4 Endurance - 7 Skills: Throw Something, Swing Something, Stop the Bleed, Inspect Perk: Another Man¡¯s Trash, Ruff Diver Titles: Legacy of Cain, Murderer Murderer, Edging, BDE Okey Dokey. Now what did all this mean? ¡°What do stats mean?¡± He tried out loud. Nothing happened. Right, this was all in his mind. Apparently he had to get better at thinking of his brain like an organic mouse and keyboard. With a bit of mental gymnastics, he started getting used to the interface. Stat Breakdown: Power ¨C Determines your strength and speed. Reason ¨C Governs your wisdom and intellect. Odds ¨C Influences your luck and critical hit chance. Finesse ¨C Controls your reaction speed and dexterity. Insight ¨C Tied to perception and kinesics. Lure ¨C Affects charisma and diplomacy. Endurance ¨C Defines your constitution and willpower. That mostly made sense to him. ¡°It looks like the average starting stat for humans is five,¡± he mumbled. [Average human starting stat - 7] That was pretty rude and felt like a slap in the face. Still, it seemed like he was making good progress. His class provided him with three flat stat points and three extra points, which wasn''t bad. ¡°Does everyone receive the same stats?¡± [Common Classes receive 2 fixed and 1 free stat point, Uncommon 2 and 2, Rare 2 and 3, Epic 3 and 3, Legendary 3 and 4, Mythic 4 and 4] Strange, Jim thought, the system started being a lot more responsive all of a sudden. Nice, this would make things much easier.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Can I turn off the notices? Very distracting in combat¡± Jim muttered. [Notifications minimized] Great. Now onto skills. Skill Breakdown: Throw Something Swing Something Stop the Bleed Inspect Okay, okay. But how does one raise skills, he thought? Nothing happened. ¡°How does one raise skills?¡± he asked aloud. [Class holders must use the skill enough to gain deeper insight into the skill] Was the system listening to him all of a sudden? Moving on. Perk Breakdown: Another Man¡¯s Trash - Stat: Power Ruff Diver - Stat: Odds Title Breakdown: Legacy of Cain Murderer Murderer Edging BDE ¡ª------------------------------------------------------------- Cah¡¯thok nearly choked on his Bazzo, the fizzy drink fizzing unpleasantly in his throat. He had been sifting through random code streams, a mindless task he barely paid attention to, when something unusual caught his eye. A human¡ªalready in a dungeon. That alone was strange; the tutorial phase had only just begun, and most humans were still bumbling their way through the basics. Curious, he pulled up the logs. That¡¯s when he noticed something even stranger. The human had just reached Level 1¡­ yet was deep inside a dungeon rather than at an entrance. A quick look at the backlog explained it¡ªthis idiot had remained inside the dungeon while it was still forming around him. That was not supposed to happen. Intrigued, Cah¡¯thok decided to observe. While the human fiddled with his PROFILE, he even answered a few of his questions, just to see how he¡¯d react. But then, he saw it, and for the first time in a long while, he froze. [Legacy of Cain] Cah¡¯thok¡¯s grip tightened around his drink. There was only ever one First Murderer title per iteration, and it could not be allowed to exist in the greater universe. This was a serious problem¡ªone that protocol dictated should be reported to the Director immediately. His hand hovered over his com button. If he reported this, the Director would take swift action, ensuring this human was erased before he ever became a threat. Problem solved. But¡­ If he didn¡¯t report it, if he let this human grow, if he let him become the monster he had the potential to be¡­ then when the time came to report that, the value of the information would be so much greater. A slow toothy grin spread across Cah¡¯thok¡¯s face. He moved his hand away from the com and began typing furiously. A few lines of code later, the First Murderer title was hidden¡ªstill there, still active, but buried beneath layers of data. No random Global Onboarding Data Scientist would notice it unless they dug deep¡ªand no one ever did. This was perfect. He had just bought himself time. Time to watch. Time to see. And in the meantime? Well. At least this would be entertaining. ¡ª------------------------------------------------------------- All the abilities looked decent¡ªnothing spectacular, but serviceable enough. It seemed his perk percentages were determined by his stats. With six free points to assign, he wasn¡¯t sure what would be most useful. Naturally, he¡¯d bolster his perk stats, yet he worried what would happen if he gained more or decided to balance his overall attributes. He needed to mull it over. Rising from his seat, he scanned the room once more and gathered everything he thought he might need for his sortie. He fastened his dagger to his belt, left behind a rope and some herbs he¡¯d pulled from his bag, but kept a small hand shovel. Finally, he grabbed his trusty paperweight and shoved it into his pocket. Not wanting to traverse the hidden shrub¡ªthe more one moved through the bushes, the more obvious the trail became¡ªhe headed for the ordinary door. Eyeing the precariously rotten bookcase that blocked his path, he heaved it aside. It shifted so easily that he almost doubted his own strength, recalling how heavy it had been when he¡¯d used it to block the door earlier. With the obstruction removed, he noted that the door still stood. Gently, he grasped the handle and pulled it open. Immediately, the door detached from its rusted hinges and tumbled into the giant hole in the floor before him. The clamor was immense, and he quickly ducked behind the office wall. In a silent moment of relief, he thanked whoever was watching that he hadn¡¯t tried to flee through this door when the goblinoid had burst in¡ªhe¡¯d have been toast. After a tense silence, he cautiously peered out. The space was dilapidated and overgrown, yet it also seemed larger than he remembered¡ªperhaps due to the missing drop ceiling or other structural decay. Although overgrowth, random trees, and crumbling walls obscured much of the view, the area appeared clear. Jim¡¯s gaze then fell upon a yawning hole just ahead¡ªroughly five feet across and plunging into darkness. In the dim light, he couldn¡¯t discern its bottom, but it appeared to extend all the way to the ground floor. ¡°I can do this,¡± he murmured. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back a few paces, then bounded forward in two long strides. He cleared the gap fairly easily, though he couldn¡¯t shake the sensation of sweating bullets as he landed with a stumble. He nearly crashed into a dilapidated cubicle but managed to regain his balance. Crouching low, he began to scout his surroundings, inching forward and straining his ears for any unusual sound. He hopped from cubicle to cubicle, finding little sign of danger¡ªuntil he ducked into one that was already occupied. A blue-skinned goblinoid, previously concealed in the dim light while rummaging through a desk, suddenly came into view. ¡°Hazzar back?¡± it asked, stopping in its tracks and staring at Jim. ¡°Oops,¡± it mumbled, then slowly backed out of the cubicle. Its initial surprise shifted into a wicked grin as it lifted its club from the ground. ¡°Lesson one: have your knife ready next time,¡± Jim muttered under his breath while drawing his crude dagger. With a howl, the goblinoid charged, club raised high. Jim leaped aside as it smashed into the next cubicle. Reacting faster than its foe, he plunged his dagger into the creature¡¯s back. The goblinoid twisted and swung its club as Jim jumped back, quickly performing a brief inspection. [Level 5 Gobloid Gatherer ¨C HP 45/50] ¡°Okay, only need to stab it nine more times¡ªI can do this,¡± he said confidently. Before he could prepare further, another goblinoid¡¯s head popped up from a few cubicles away. It blinked, raised a small rusty knife, and charged. ¡°Shit,¡± Jim cursed. Pivoting sharply, he sprinted back toward his office. With both goblinoids hot on his heels, he reached the edge of the hole and leaped. Landing deftly, he quickly glanced over his shoulder. The first goblinoid wore a look of surprise as it plummeted into its doom. The second, however, managed to land nimbly with its knife at the ready. Without hesitation, Jim stepped forward and delivered a swift, Spartan kick that sent the little asshole tumbling into the hole. [You have killed a Gobinoid Gather, EXP gained] [Skill Gained: Ad Lib Aikido] [You have killed a Gobinoid Gather, EXP gained] Exhausted, Jim trudged over to the wall and slumped down. ¡°Alright,¡± he muttered, ¡°time to revisit the plan.¡± Chapter 4 He¡¯d dragged the desk from the side entrance of his hideout and torn it apart piece by piece. Now, four jagged stakes fashioned from its legs lay ready, their splintered ends sharp enough to do real damage. From the leftover panels, he salvaged a makeshift cover, draping the desktop over the entrance. It wouldn¡¯t hold forever, but it would at least block the window light from slipping through the tangled brush outside. Anyone determined could push it aside, but for now, it would do. Next, he secured the stakes to a flat planter positioned directly in front of the door. He piled some excess rope on top, threading it through the stakes¡¯ rigging. The plan was crude but effective¡ªafter leaping over the planter, a hard yank on the rope would pull the stakes upward, skewering anything dumb enough to follow. He gave the rope a quick tug and tested it. It slipped. Jim cursed under his breath. He needed an anchor. Scanning the room, his options were limited. Then his eyes landed on the rusty paperweight¡ªhis ever-faithful companion. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but it would have to do. Grabbing a dagger from his supplies, he set it against the concrete floor behind the plank and used the paperweight to hammer it down. The blade quivered under the force, and for a moment, Jim thought it might snap in two. But it held. Good enough. He gave the rope another yank. This time, it held steady. The stakes snapped upward with a satisfying thunk. Jim grinned. The trap was ready. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it could double as a barricade in a pinch. He rolled his shoulders, pocketed his trusty paperweight, and slipped out into the corridor. The office was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made his skin crawl. Jim moved cautiously, his steps muffled against the carpeted floor. The nicer desks, the ones untouched by time and scavengers, lined the hallway like forgotten relics. If the goblinoids were rummaging through the area too, there was a chance they¡¯d missed something valuable. Desk by desk, Jim searched, keeping one ear tuned for any sounds beyond the oppressive stillness. After a handful of drawers and more dust than he cared for, his only prize was a pair of old iron scissors. They were heavy, solid¡ªthe kind they used before everything became cheap and disposable. Not exactly a weapon, but sharp enough to be dangerous in a pinch. As he pressed deeper into the office, Jim felt the space stretching unnaturally around him. The walls seemed to pull apart, the corridors expanding beyond what he remembered. The place had to be five times the size it once was. He spotted fresh tracks¡ªtoo fresh. He wasn¡¯t alone. Stanley¡¯s Staples had been the smallest office on the floor, squeezed between a law firm and a real estate agency. But if his office had grown this much, the entire floor must now be a labyrinth. The elevators were probably out of commission, and the stairwells¡ªif they still existed¡ªmight not be any safer. Still, he headed toward the suite¡¯s exit. Getting out was better than staying trapped in whatever this place had become. But before he could reach the door, a sound froze him mid-step. Voices. Jim dropped low, slipping behind the reception desk just as two goblinoids lumbered into view. He peered through a crack in the paneling, watching their every move. ¡°Hazzar, team not back¡ªwe check before go back,¡± one grunted in a harsh, guttural voice. Jim¡¯s heart thudded in his chest. The goblinoids strode past, their crude weapons hanging at their sides. Gatherers, from the look of them¡ªnot the heavily armored brutes, but still dangerous. He didn¡¯t need any more of their kind sniffing around. Crouched under a nearby desk, something caught his eye. An old, broken whiskey bottle lay in the shadows. It wasn¡¯t much, but glass could cut just as deep as steel when used right. He grabbed it, gripping the jagged edges like a dagger, and crept after the goblinoids as quietly as he could. They were calling out now, voices bouncing off the walls. ¡°Huzzar! Gakko! Lemmu!¡± Their steps led them straight toward his hideout. Jim¡¯s stomach tightened. Shit. Maybe hiding in the central office at the back hadn¡¯t been the best idea after all. He cursed himself for not thinking ahead. The goblinoids reached the hole he¡¯d carved into the side of the office and peered inside. Their bodies stiffened. They drew their knives, grunting in alarm. Then it hit him. The first goblinoid he¡¯d killed was still inside, slumped in the corner like discarded trash. The blood, the body¡ªit was all there, plain as day. They¡¯d know someone was here. Panic clawed at his chest, but Jim forced it down. He needed to act¡ªnow. Without another thought, he ripped the paperweight from his pocket and hurled it with all the strength he had. The rusty chunk of metal whistled through the air, aimed straight at the nearest goblinoid¡¯s skull. It struck one of the blue-skinned goblinoids with a dull thunk, eliciting a scream as the creature tumbled headfirst into the hole. Seizing the moment, Jim charged forward, bottle in hand, and tried to kick the other into the pit. But the goblinoid was quicker than he¡¯d anticipated¡ªit dodged to the side. Jim stumbled and felt a sharp pain in his side. ¡°Shit,¡± he muttered, leaping aside to avoid the pit¡¯s edge, and swung his glass bottle in a wide arc. The goblin bared its wicked fangs as it kept just out of range. ¡°You kill friends¡ªnow I kill you,¡± it growled. ¡°Your kind doesn¡¯t speak too well, huh?¡± Jim taunted. ¡°Kill well, though,¡± the creature snarled as it lunged, slashing with its knife. Jim managed to lean back and then swung forward, driving the bottle hard into its forehead. The goblinoid screamed in pain, wildly swinging its dagger as blood dripped into its eyes. Seizing the opportunity, Jim darted behind it and delivered a hefty shove that sent another goblinoid tumbling into the pit. ¡°Ayyeeee!¡± came its fading scream. [You have killed a Gobinoid Gather, EXP gained] [You have killed a Gobinoid Gather, EXP gained] [Level Gained.] Peering over the edge, Jim remarked dryly, ¡°The best weapon around is this damn hole.¡± He quickly searched for his paperweight but sighed in defeat when he realized it must have gone down with the goblinoid.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°One of these days, I really need to get a proper weapon,¡± he grumbled. He knew the goblinoids were dim but not mindless, and time was running out. With that, he leapt over the pit and disposed of his first kill into its depths. He was pretty sure he could do this again He snuck back to the reception desk and listened. With no sound, he poked his head out into the hallway. Nothing. He looked, he could see the emergency exit stairwell and debated making a run for it. He felt the admiral in the back of his mind screaming ¡°It¡¯s a trap!¡± Instead, he grabbed a handful of pebbles and started throwing some at the entrance to Sherlock Homes, the real estate office next door. It didn¡¯t take long for the noise to bring some nosey goblinoids forth. When the first one poked its face into the hall, Jim quickly ducked back into his office. He threw a few more rocks to make noise further into the room. ¡°Gacko?¡± The goblinoid walked past the desk again, and Jim went to follow but a slight scuff made him hesitate. Thankfully he waited as a moment later a second goblinoid walked past. He stayed low and followed behind them. [Skill Gained: Stealth?] He didn¡¯t have time to check the skill so he kept moving. These two, much like their precursors kept calling out for the others. As they approached the giant hole, Jim made his move. He swiftly charged and grabbed the backpack of one goblinoid while the other spun, he shoved it with his foot, unbalancing it and sending it plummeting. The other one drew its dagger and tried to spin but struggled with it while Jim was holding his pack. With a quick slash of his broken bottle, he cut the bag straps and then shoved, sending the goblin into the abyss. [Skill Gained: Impromptu trapmaking] [Perk Gained: Falling for you] He was now only two kills away from level three. What had started as sheer terror, stumbling through dark hallways with nothing but a rusty paperweight and blind luck, now felt¡­ manageable. Maybe even good. Alone or not, Jim was starting to believe he could actually survive this hellhole. Kneeling beside the goblinoid¡¯s corpse, he rifled through its ragged pack, his fingers quick but cautious. Inside, he found a gourd sloshing with cool water. The moment he unstoppered it, the sharp scent of fresh spring water hit his nostrils. His throat, raw from hours of breathing stale, dust-choked air, screamed for relief. He drank greedily, letting the water trickle down like liquid salvation. But even as it soothed his parched throat, his stomach growled in angry protest. No food, just more of those weird bundled herbs. He poked at them, half-tempted to chew one out of desperation, but decided against it. The last thing he needed was to hallucinate goblinoids in his sleep. Another length of rope sat tangled at the bottom of the bag. He snatched it up without hesitation. It¡¯s not about what you need it for¡ªit¡¯s just that you¡¯ll always need it. Rope had saved his life more than once, and in this place, you didn¡¯t leave something that useful behind. Deciding he¡¯d risked enough for the day, Jim told himself that tomorrow would be for the next set of ¡°hole murders.¡± But the day wasn¡¯t over yet. If he was going to keep surviving, scavenging was key. He turned his attention to the nearby desks, moving methodically from one to the next. Each drawer creaked in protest as he forced them open, revealing only scattered papers, old pens, and the occasional dead insect. But then¡ªjackpot. A little flask of whiskey, half-full and still sealed. He set it aside with a grin. Later, he thought. Treat yo¡¯ self. Digging deeper, he found several shards of broken glass. He wrapped them in cloth before carefully tucking them into his bag. Crude, sure¡ªbut in a pinch, they¡¯d serve as weapons or, better yet, traps for anything dumb enough to follow him. Outside, the light filtering through the grimy, opaque windows began to shift. The harsh glare softened, giving way to long, creeping shadows that clawed across the floor like silent specters. Jim¡¯s muscles ached, his adrenaline fading now that the immediate danger had passed. Fatigue hit him like a weight, dragging at his limbs. The thrill of survival was wearing off, leaving only exhaustion and the gnawing unease that came with nightfall in this twisted place. Realizing it was time to retreat, Jim made his way back to his office hideout. Once inside, he wasted no time. He reset the stake trap, pulling it taut and tying it off. Anyone making the mistake of following him over that jump would find themselves skewered like a shish kebab. Satisfied, he slumped against the wall, letting out a breath he didn¡¯t know he¡¯d been holding. Every small victory¡ªeach scavenged item, every skill and perk earned¡ªwas a reminder that survival wasn¡¯t just possible, it was his for the taking. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled up his skill menu, eyes scanning for any new bangers. Come on, he thought, give me something good. Stealth? Impromptu Trapmaking Falling for you - Stat: Lure The skills were so-so, he wasn¡¯t even entirely sure what proficiency was, and a four percent chance of instadeath? None of these goblinoids were surviving the hole anyway. ¡°Garbage¡±, he said as he got comfortable. He just had to keep hoping they would keep coming in weak small groups. A man can hope, right? With his bag of herbs as a pillow, he laid his head down and immediately fell asleep. ___ The Gilded Maw, as the warlord¡¯s office was called, was a fortress of steel and glass wedged into the heart of the sprawling Grotto-Tier Complex. Once, the towering structure had been a pristine corporate citadel, but now it was a fortress of industry and war, a brutalist maze of flickering overhead lights, rusted metal partitions, and thick steel doors reinforced with scavenged plating. The walls bore the scars of countless battles¡ªbullet holes, claw marks, and deep gashes from blades wielded by those too stubborn to die quickly. The air hummed with the distant whirr of malfunctioning ventilation systems, mingling with the sounds of the factory floors below. Goblins skittered through narrow corridors, carrying reports, weapons, and orders between the department lords who ruled over the various levels of the building-turned-dungeon. At the top of the Gilded Maw, behind a desk made from a repurposed vault door, sat Grakzhar the Unbroken, a hobgoblinoid warlord who had carved his empire out of the ruins of a failed world. He was massive even for his kind, his armor a mix of reinforced plating and stitched hide, his shoulders broad enough to make the massive chair creak beneath him. His hands, calloused and thick, worked a whetstone along the edge of a brutal-looking sword, its surface chipped from countless fights. The door to his office creaked open, and Yezgrik the Hexhob shuffled inside, his shadow flickering oddly in the dim light. Unlike the others, he had no armor, no weapons save for the unseen, whispering forces that coiled around him like smoke. His skin, gray and lined with thin, pulsing veins, twitched with every step. His eyes, black and sunken, darted toward the warlord, his long fingers wringing together in unease. Grakzhar didn¡¯t look up. ¡°Speak.¡± Yezgrik cleared his throat. ¡°Boss¡­ it¡¯s Floor Seven.¡± The sharpening stone stopped. The only sound left was the distant hum of old office lights and the occasional burst of static from a damaged intercom. Grakzhar¡¯s yellow eyes lifted. ¡°Gone?¡± Yezgrik swallowed. ¡°Aye, boss. Whole team. Not a trace left behind. No alarms tripped, no signs of a fight. ¡°They didn¡¯t activate the bloodsucker nest?¡± ¡°No boss, Kazzar ain¡¯t that stupid.¡± Grakzhar set the whetstone aside, rolling his neck with a slow pop. ¡°I¡¯ll send a team.¡± Yezgrik hesitated. ¡°Who?¡± The warlord smirked. ¡°Korrak.¡± Yezgrik stiffened. Korrak the Brute-Shield. A walking wall of muscle and iron, Korrak was the kind of problem you threw at other problems to make them disappear. He wasn¡¯t just tough¡ªhe was damn near indestructible. If something on Floor Seven had taken the last patrol, Korrak would make sure it didn¡¯t happen again. ¡°And two Tatterfangs,¡± Grakzhar continued. ¡°I want eyes in the dark and a blade that don¡¯t hesitate.¡± Tatterfangs weren¡¯t scouts. They were hunters¡ªferal, wiry killers who saw more in the dark than they did in the light. When they were let loose, things vanished. Yezgrik shifted uneasily. ¡°And if they don¡¯t come back?¡± Grakzhar stood, grabbing his war axe and testing its weight. His grin stretched wide, sharp and humorless. ¡°Then I go next.¡±