The golden eyes stared at me.

  They were not just eyes. They were molten coins burning inside a skull too large to be natural, glowing with a feral intelligence that understood violence and nothing else.

  Don’t freeze. Don’t fucking freeze.

  My fingers tightened around the hilt of my wooden sword until the rough grain bit into my skin. Sweat slid down my temple and into my eye, stinging, but I did not dare blink.

  I stepped forward first.

  I swung for its neck, aiming to cleave through muscle and spine in one desperate arc. Before the blade could even finish its path, the monster disappeared from where it stood. It crossed the distance in a blink, the wooden floorboards splintering beneath its hooves.

  Its arm came at me like a battering ram.

  I ducked by instinct alone, feeling the wind pressure of the swing skim over my head. The air itself screamed. Using that narrow opening, I lunged forward and drove my blade toward its abdomen with every ounce of strength I had.

  The tip struck.

  And rebounded.

  The vibration shot up my arm and into my shoulder, nearly making me drop the sword.

  What the hell is that skin made of? Steel?

  Before my brain could process failure, a massive fist came from below. It connected with my jaw in a brutal uppercut.

  The world tilted.

  My feet left the ground.

  For a split second I saw the shattered chandelier above, moonlight pouring through the broken ceiling like pale judgment. Then my back slammed into the counter with a crack that echoed through the bar. Wood shattered. Bottles exploded around me. Glass tore at my arms as I crashed through.

  [You have sustained heavy damage to your back!]

  No shit.

  Pain detonated across my spine. It felt like someone had shoved a heated iron rod straight through me. My lungs refused to work. I tried to breathe and nothing came out but a dry, broken gasp.

  I barely rolled to my side in time.

  The monster charged and drove its horned head straight into my stomach. The impact folded me in half. Everything I had drunk earlier surged up violently. Bitter alcohol and bile splashed across the ruined floor.

  Get up. If you stay down, you’re fucking dead.

  My fingers trembled as they searched for my sword. I found it, forced myself to my knees, then to my feet. My vision swam in and out of focus.

  Across the room, Do-jun rushed in without hesitation. He slammed his blade against the creature’s thigh, shouting to draw its attention.

  Idiot. You’re going to die.

  But he bought me seconds.

  Precious seconds.

  I inhaled sharply, ignoring the stabbing pain in my back, and sprinted forward. The monster turned toward Do-jun, muscles rippling beneath its thick hide. Using that rotation, I pivoted and swung with the full weight of my body behind the strike.

  The wooden blade carved across its forearm.

  This time it did not bounce completely.

  It sliced shallowly, breaking skin. Dark green blood oozed out, thick and viscous like swamp sludge.

  The creature snarled, a low guttural sound that vibrated in my chest. Its nostrils flared. Its golden eyes burned brighter.

  It charged again, this time with fury.

  Think. Think. It only goes straight. Just like a bull.

  The way its hooves dug into the floor. The way it lowered its head before accelerating. No adjustment. No feints. Just raw momentum.

  If I move too early, it will correct. If I move too late, I’m paste.

  It thundered toward me.

  Ten meters.

  Five.

  My heartbeat pounded louder than its footsteps.

  Three.

  Two.

  Now.

  I sidestepped at the last possible second.

  The monster tried to halt, but physics did not care about rage. Its massive frame smashed straight into the wall behind me. Stone cracked. Dust burst outward in a thick cloud. The entire structure trembled.

  When the dust cleared, its horned head was buried deep in the masonry, stuck.

  You’re finished.

  I raised my sword and brought it down again and again. Wood struck flesh. Cracked bone. Green blood splattered across my arms and face. I hacked at the back of its neck relentlessly, ignoring the way my shoulders screamed in protest.

  It was badly injured. Its struggles weakened.

  But it was not dead.

  Before I could deliver a final strike, a thunderous pounding shook the opposite wall.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  Chunks of plaster fell from the ceiling.

  The smaller monsters.

  Their snarls seeped through the cracks. Claws scraped against stone.

  The outlaws in black robes stood a few meters away, watching. Some leaned casually against overturned tables. One even laughed.

  They could wipe these creatures out in seconds.

  They chose not to.

  Bastards are enjoying this.

  I gritted my teeth and refocused on the brute. If this one broke free while the others entered, we were finished.

  Swing.

  The blade struck its skull.

  Woosh.

  Another strike.

  Just as I thought its movements had slowed enough to collapse, it roared and ripped its head free from the wall in a violent explosion of stone fragments. Blood streamed down its face. One horn was cracked. Its eyes locked onto me with pure killing intent.

  It raised a massive fist above its head.

  I saw the veins bulging along its arm. I saw the shadow of its knuckles descend toward my face.

  So this is how it ends.

  The fist came down.

  A sharp whistle cut through the air.

  An iron axe spun end over end and buried itself deep into the monster’s skull with a sickening wet crunch.

  For a heartbeat, everything froze.

  Then its head ruptured.

  Green matter exploded outward, splattering across my shirt and neck. The liquid hissed faintly against the fabric. A burning itch spread across my skin.

  Do not scratch. You don’t know what that shit does.

  The giant’s body swayed once, twice, then collapsed with a ground shaking thud that rattled every loose bottle in the bar.

  Silence followed.

  Heavy.

  Unreal.

  Then the familiar blue panel flickered into existence before my eyes.

  [Congratulations! You killed Rank A Minotaur Brute!]

  The blue panel burst into existence before my eyes, glowing brighter than the moonlight pouring through the broken ceiling.

  [Level 0 -> 1]

  [Level 1 -> 2]

  [Level 2 -> 3]

  [Level 3 -> 4]

  [Level 4 -> 5]

  [Level 5 -> 6]

  Each line appeared with a sharp chime that echoed inside my skull. Heat flooded through my veins. It was not painful. It was violent, electric, like something was forcefully rewriting the limits of my body.

  [Your stats will be increased automatically accordingly, based on your battle effort.]

  I exhaled shakily.

  At least the system isn’t blind. I nearly fucking died for that kill.

  Before I could even steady myself, another notification appeared.

  [Would you like to consume its soul?]

  I blinked.

  Consume?

  Soul?

  The words felt heavy. Unreal.

  [If you consume a soul, you will have a chance to reanimate it by using your skill, ‘Reanimate.’]

  My heart skipped.

  Reanimate?

  A memory flashed through my mind. This morning. Me swinging my sword like an idiot, muttering “Reanimate” under my breath and earning confused stares from anyone nearby.

  Wait… I actually have that skill?

  My grip tightened around the sword.

  Whatever this system was, it was real. The corpse of a Rank A monster lay bleeding at my feet. The bar was half destroyed. People were screaming. Nothing about this was imagination.

  I swallowed.

  “Yes.”

  [Consuming Rank A: Minotaur Brute’s soul.]

  The air around the corpse shimmered faintly. A thin wisp of pale green light began rising from its body, twisting upward like smoke.

  Please. Just give me something. Anything.

  [Failed to consume. Your level is too low!]

  The message hit harder than the monster’s fist.

  “Shit.”

  Too low?

  What level did it expect me to be? Twenty? Fifty?

  The panel shifted again.

  [Corvian Vale

  Level: 6

  Rank: ?

  Stats:

  Health: 3

  Power: 2

  Intelligence: 6

  Skills:

  Reanimate]

  I stared at the numbers.

  Health three.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Power two.

  Intelligence six.

  So I’m basically a fragile nerd with a stick.

  Still, Intelligence being the highest meant something. Maybe that was why I could process the system faster than anyone else. Or maybe it just meant I was good at thinking and bad at surviving.

  Not the most comforting thought in the middle of a dungeon break.

  I barely had time to reflect.

  BOOM.

  The entire wall to my right exploded inward. Stone and dust blasted across the room in a violent shockwave. The impact knocked me off balance.

  Through the debris cloud, silhouettes moved.

  Slender.

  Fast.

  Pointed ears.

  A dozen elves stormed in, their movements sharp and coordinated, eyes glowing faintly under the moonlight.

  [Survive… Remaining Time: 5:00]

  My stomach dropped.

  Five minutes?

  Survive?

  That word alone carried a brutal implication.

  So yeah. I can definitely die.

  An elf darted forward with unnatural speed. Steel flashed.

  Woosh.

  Do-jun grunted as a curved blade sliced clean across his arm. Blood sprayed across the shattered floor.

  “Do-jun!”

  I lunged toward him.

  Too slow.

  An arrow cut through the air with a sharp whistle and buried itself deep into his thigh. The force knocked him to the ground.

  “Fuck!”

  I changed direction mid-step and drove my sword straight into the abdomen of the elf closest to him. The wooden blade pierced through leather armor and sank into flesh with sickening resistance.

  Hot blood exploded outward, splattering across my hands.

  The elf’s eyes widened in shock.

  I did not hesitate.

  Don’t stop. If you stop, he dies.

  I dragged the blade upward in a brutal vertical tear. Fabric ripped. Bone cracked. The elf collapsed at my feet, lifeless.

  The blue panel flickered again.

  [Would you like to consume its soul?]

  “Yes.”

  No hesitation this time.

  [Processing soul…]

  A faint silver thread began rising from the corpse, thinner than the brute’s had been. It drifted toward me like mist being pulled by gravity.

  I scanned the battlefield. For the briefest second, no one was charging directly at us.

  Good. Move.

  I rushed to Do-jun’s side and dropped to my knees.

  He was pale.

  Too pale.

  His fingers clutched his thigh where the arrow was embedded, blood soaking through his pants and pooling beneath him.

  “I… I can’t feel anything,” he stammered, voice trembling. His hand shook violently.

  Shock.

  “It’s okay,” I said quickly, though my throat felt tight. “You’re fine. You’re not dying.”

  The words sounded hollow even to me. Fragile. Like whispering comfort across a battlefield drenched in blood and moonlight.

  Don’t you fucking die on me. Not here. Not like this.

  Around us, steel clashed. Screams echoed. The countdown ticked silently in the corner of my vision, an invisible blade hanging over our heads.

  My lies were definitely not helping much…

  [2:01]

  The timer glowed faintly in the corner of my vision, its pale blue light flickering between dust and smoke.

  Two minutes. Just survive two more fucking minutes.

  The bar no longer looked like a bar. It looked like a battlefield dragged straight out of a nightmare. Broken beams jutted out of shattered walls. Blood painted the wooden floor in dark streaks that reflected the moonlight. The air reeked of iron, sweat, alcohol, and something sharp and metallic that did not belong in any human place.

  “Do-jun, hold tight. It’s going to hurt,” I said, lowering my voice so it would not tremble.

  He was barely conscious. His skin had turned a sickly pale shade, lips drained of color. The arrow was lodged deep in his thigh, the fletching trembling every time he breathed.

  Here was the problem. These elves did not design their arrows to pass cleanly through flesh. The tips were barbed, angled backward so that once embedded, they hooked into muscle like claws. Pulling it out the wrong way would shred him from the inside.

  There’s no clean way to do this.

  The only option was to push it through.

  I grabbed the shaft and braced my other hand against his leg.

  “Don’t scream.”

  He screamed anyway.

  A raw, broken sound tore from his throat as I forced the arrow forward. I clamped my palm over his mouth to muffle it. The shaft tore through muscle and burst out the other side in a wet spray of blood.

  “Calm the fuck down,” I hissed, though my own heart was slamming violently in my chest.

  One of the black robed outlaws noticed our situation and stepped closer, cutting down an approaching elf before it could reach us. For once, I was grateful they were here.

  The arrowhead finally pushed free.

  But the damage was done.

  Blood poured out in a horrifying rush, far too fast.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  My shirt was useless, soaked in acidic minotaur blood that still tingled against my skin. I snatched a torn tablecloth from a broken table and pressed it hard against the wound. Warmth soaked through instantly.

  I wrapped the cloth tightly around his thigh, compressing the artery as carefully as I could without worsening the tear.

  “Stay with me,” I muttered.

  His eyes fluttered.

  [Successfully consumed Rank B Elf: Soldier Grade]

  I blinked.

  “Wait, what?”

  Rank B. Soldier Grade?

  The system responded immediately.

  [You currently know only one grade, the lowest out of all, the Soldier Grade.]

  Only one grade? So there are higher ones.

  That meant potential.

  That meant growth.

  “Well that’s fucking interesting,” I muttered under my breath. “What do I do with it?”

  [You can summon it.]

  “With what?”

  [Your skill, Reanimate.]

  I narrowed my eyes at the glowing panel.

  This whole thing still felt insane. I had nearly died. I was covered in blood. My coworker was bleeding out at my side. And now I was apparently collecting souls like trophies.

  Still.

  If this gave me an advantage, I would use it.

  “Reanimate.”

  The word left my mouth quietly, almost experimentally.

  No dramatic lightning.

  No screaming.

  No one around me reacted.

  Do-jun had passed out, head slumped to the side, but his breathing remained shallow and steady.

  Then I felt it.

  A shift in the air behind me.

  I looked up and nearly jumped out of my skin.

  An elf stood there, dagger in hand, posture rigid.

  My heart spiked.

  I scrambled for my sword.

  It was gone.

  I raised my arms instinctively to shield my face, expecting the blade to plunge down.

  It did not.

  The elf did not move.

  It stood still, eyes empty, waiting.

  Wait…

  Recognition dawned slowly.

  The armor was the same as the one I had killed earlier.

  The face was blank, devoid of emotion, like a puppet waiting for strings.

  This is mine.

  “This is my soldier,” I whispered.

  A strange thrill ran through me.

  Control.

  Power.

  “Hey,” I pointed toward an elf archer perched near the broken wall. “Kill that piece of shit.”

  The reanimated elf moved instantly.

  No hesitation.

  No fear.

  It closed the distance in a blur and slashed across the archer’s throat. Blood erupted in a crimson arc. The archer dropped her bow, clutching her neck as she choked on her own blood. She collapsed seconds later, twitching before going still.

  Holy shit.

  I hurried forward and placed my hand over the corpse.

  “Yes.”

  [Successfully consumed Rank C Elf Archer: Soldier Grade]

  “That’s amazing,” I breathed.

  The system pulsed again.

  [Remaining Time: 1:08]

  One minute and eight seconds.

  Enough time for one more.

  My eyes scanned the chaos. Most of the remaining elves were engaged with the outlaws or other fighters. Then I spotted him.

  A larger elf. Broad shoulders. Heavy armor. Thick muscles beneath leather and steel.

  That one.

  I pointed.

  “Target him.”

  The reanimated archer responded first, drawing her bow and firing. The arrow struck the brute in the thigh.

  He paused, confused, glancing at his own ranks.

  To him, it must have looked like betrayal.

  The soldier elf I controlled rushed in and stabbed him in the side. That confusion turned into rage instantly. The brute roared and charged at the nearest attacker.

  The archer kept firing. Arrow after arrow thudded into his torso.

  But the brute was relentless.

  He rammed into my soldier elf with brutal force, sending it crashing into a shattered beam.

  I stepped in, swinging my wooden sword with everything I had left.

  The blade cracked against his ribs.

  He turned.

  And locked onto me.

  Fuck.

  He charged.

  His footsteps thundered closer. The floor splintered beneath his boots.

  Just before he could reach me, my reanimated elf leapt between us.

  The brute’s blade came down.

  It cleaved straight through my soldier.

  There was no scream.

  No blood.

  The elf’s body shattered into glowing particles of pale mana, dissolving into the air like embers fading into darkness.

  I stood there, breathing hard, staring at the empty space where my summoned soldier had just sacrificed itself.

  So that’s the price.

  But, the brute was still coming.

  [Reanimated Elf has died! Recover using mana!]

  The notification flared violently in my vision, brighter than the moonlight, brighter than the burning pain in my ribs.

  “Shit, uhh… recover?” I muttered, half choking on dust and blood.

  [Not enough mana!]

  Of course. Of fucking course.

  Before I could even process what that meant, the brute’s massive frame slammed into me like a collapsing wall. My back hit stone. The impact rattled my skull and knocked the air straight out of my lungs.

  I slid down the cracked surface, ears ringing.

  The brute loomed over me, its shadow swallowing the moonlight. Its club rose slowly, deliberately, both hands gripping the handle. It wanted to crush me. It wanted to feel bone splinter.

  Move. Move. Why can’t I move?

  My body felt like it was packed with wet sand. My limbs were heavy, sluggish.

  The club came down.

  A sharp whistle split the air.

  An arrow pierced straight through the brute’s skull.

  The tip burst out the other side in a spray of blood and brain matter. The impact snapped its head backward violently. For a fraction of a second, it remained standing, eyes wide and empty.

  Then it collapsed.

  Greenish blood exploded across my face. Warm. Sticky. Some of it splashed into my mouth.

  I gagged.

  It tasted metallic and foul, like rusted iron soaked in bile.

  “Disgusting,” I muttered, spitting to the side.

  “Careful there.”

  I looked up.

  The shooter approached calmly, bow still in hand. Even under the chaos and moonlight, I recognized her immediately.

  The owner of the bar.

  Her expression was sharp, focused, but not panicked. She moved like someone who had seen worse.

  “Ah, hi boss,” I said quickly, forcing myself to stand straighter despite the pain. I bowed slightly. “Thank you for helping me.”

  “No worries,” she replied, scanning the battlefield. “Just try not to die next time. I have other people to protect.”

  She pointed toward the remaining customers and staff scrambling near the far wall. Then she moved, already drawing another arrow mid-step.

  Efficient. Cold. Reliable.

  The blue panel returned.

  [Do you want to consume Elf Brute’s soul?]

  “Yes.”

  No hesitation this time.

  [Consuming soul…]

  A faint green aura seeped out from the brute’s corpse, swirling toward me like smoke being sucked into a void.

  “Fucking piece of shit! How dare you kill my brother!”

  The scream tore through the battlefield.

  I turned.

  An elf charged at me from the left, eyes wild with grief and fury. His sword gleamed under the moonlight as he raised it high, ready to cleave me in half.

  I can’t block that.

  Time slowed.

  I saw the veins in his neck bulging. I saw spittle fly from his mouth. I saw the blade descending.

  Just before it could reach me, a familiar figure stepped between us.

  The reanimated archer.

  The blade struck her torso.

  She did not scream.

  She shattered.

  Her body disintegrated into pale mana particles that scattered into the air like dying stars.

  [Reanimated Elf Archer has died.]

  [Reanimated Elf Brute: Rank B & Soldier Grade has now been added to your skill team.]

  “Shit!”

  I grabbed the nearest object on instinct. A large jagged rock lay on the dirt and broken floorboards. I lifted it with both hands and barely managed to block the elf’s next swing. Steel scraped against stone, sparks flying into the night air.

  My arms trembled from the force.

  “Reanimate!” I shouted.

  The word tore from my throat with desperation.

  Mana surged outward from my chest like a pulse.

  A massive figure materialized in front of me.

  The reanimated brute.

  Its presence was overwhelming. Taller than the charging elf. Broader. Club already raised.

  With one brutal swing, it deflected the incoming sword effortlessly.

  “B… Brother?” the elf stammered, horror flooding his expression.

  There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

  A heartbeat of disbelief.

  Then the club came down.

  It crushed his skull completely.

  The sound was wet and final. Bone collapsed inward. Blood and fragments splattered across the muddy ground, mixing with the grime and previous corpses. The body dropped like a puppet with cut strings.

  [Rank D Elf has been killed.]

  I exhaled slowly, staring at the mess.

  “Shit… you could’ve killed him a little gentler,” I muttered, though I knew that was ridiculous. There was nothing gentle left in this place.

  I stepped forward and grabbed a dusty cloth from a nearby broken chair. I draped it over the elf’s destroyed face, covering the worst of it.

  Respect, even if minimal.

  Then I turned back toward the others. The customers. The staff. The wounded.

  The countdown ticked in the corner of my vision.

  Three seconds.

  Two.

  One.

  [Time is up! All enemies will be teleported to their original location!]

  A strange humming filled the air.

  One by one, the remaining elves froze mid-motion. Their bodies shimmered faintly before dissolving into light, vanishing as if erased from existence.

  Silence fell.

  Heavy. Suffocating.

  But the blood did not disappear.

  The bodies did not vanish.

  Corpses littered the floor. Broken tables. Cracked stone. Pools of red soaking into wood and dirt.

  The smell lingered thick and nauseating.

  In the distance, I heard the thunder of hooves.

  I looked up.

  A group of high ranking mages rode toward us, robes flowing behind them, staffs glowing faintly as they approached at full speed.

  Too late.

  Always too fucking late.

  They would investigate. They would question. They would pretend to restore order.

  These bastards are always paid to do nothing by the wardens. Then the wardens are gonna report nothing to the paragons. I need to somehow bring this important case to the community one day. Just wait, you bitches!

  But the disaster had already happened.

  And it happened because of a punishment.

  Because I failed a quest.

  My gaze drifted downward.

  My hands were stained with blood that was not fully mine.

  What the hell is this weapon?

  Infernus.

  The name burned in my thoughts like a brand.

  If failing to retrieve it caused this…

  Then what exactly was I being forced into?