The gray mist of the Parallel Dimension faded, replaced instantly by the warm, golden hue of Saturday morning sunlight streaming through the study window.
Zack blinked, his eyes adjusting to the sudden shift in reality. One second, he had been standing in a field of mud and broken bones, surrounded by the dust of a necromancer. The next, he was standing on the plush Persian rug of his father's office, the smell of old paper and leather filling his nose.
"System. Status."
[Host Status: Normal.]
[Fatigue: High.]
[Spirit: 100% (Restored upon exit).]
Zack let out a long, slow breath. The transition always left him feeling a bit disassociated, like a diver coming up too fast from deep water. He looked down at his hands. They were clean. No rot. No green blood. No bone dust. But he could still feel the phantom sensation of the Necromancer's skull cracking under his grip.
He checked the clock on the wall. 07:30 AM.
He had spent eight hours inside, but it felt like days. His body was heavy, a bone-deep weariness that even his high stats couldn't completely mask. The mental toll of slaughtering three hundred entities was real.
"Rest," he whispered to the empty house. "Today, I just rest."
He walked upstairs to his bedroom, stripping off his sweat-soaked clothes. He stood under the shower for thirty minutes, letting the scalding hot water beat against his skin. He scrubbed himself raw, trying to wash away the smell of the graveyard that wasn't really there.
When he finally stepped out, wrapped in a towel, he looked at himself in the mirror.
He had changed.
Six months ago, he had been skinny, pale, and constantly looking over his shoulder. Now, the man in the mirror was carved from granite. His muscles were dense and defined, coiled with the kind of functional power that didn't come from a gym—it came from survival. His eyes, usually soft and kind, now held a sharpness to them. A predator's stillness.
"E-Rank Healer," he muttered, practicing his harmless smile. It looked genuine. Perfect.
He dropped the smile. The predator returned.
"God-Eater."
The day passed in a blur of mundane recovery.
Zack spent most of the morning eating. His metabolism, fueled by his skyrocketing stats, was a furnace. He consumed a dozen eggs, a loaf of bread, and a massive steak for breakfast alone. He sat at the kitchen island, watching the news on his tablet while he chewed.
The news was a constant stream of panic.
"The Global Awakened Initiative..."
"Protests outside the Hunter Association..."
"Academy enrollment mandatory..."
He scrolled through the articles. The death toll from the "Anomalies" had risen to two hundred. Dungeons that were supposed to be safe were spawning variants. The world was getting harder, faster. The government's response was panic dressed up as order: draft everyone, train them, and throw them at the problem.
Zack tapped on a schematic of the Central Awakened Academy, Sector 1.
It was a massive campus, built like a fortress on the outskirts of the city. Dormitories, training halls, simulation domes, and a direct connection to a controlled "Training Dungeon."
Thousands of students. Scions of wealthy guilds. Legacy hunters. And now, the draftees like Emily and Ben.
"Monday," Zack whispered. "Two days."
He spent the afternoon in the garage, organizing his gear. He cleaned his "Healer" backpack, restocking the bandages and antiseptic sprays he never used. He checked his uniform—a standard-issue gray tracksuit that the Academy had couriered over an hour ago. It had a patch on the shoulder: SUPPORT CLASS.
He looked at the patch. It was a target. In the Academy hierarchy, Combat classes ruled. Support classes carried the bags.
Good, Zack thought, folding the uniform. Let them think I'm a pack mule. Mules are invisible.
He took a nap in the late afternoon, a deep, dreamless sleep that lasted until sunset. When he woke up, the house was dark. The silence was heavy.
He felt the itch.
The calm was nice. The rest was necessary. But his stats were stuck.
45.0 / 46.7 / 45.7 / 46.0 / 46.1
He was so close to the 50.0 benchmark. He couldn't afford to waste Saturday night. If the Academy was a war zone, he needed to walk in there as a D-Rank (Beginner).
He ate a quick dinner—another steak, raw vegetables, protein shakes—and headed back to the study.
He locked the door. He drew the blinds.
He stood in the center of the room, the darkness familiar and welcoming.
"System," he said, his voice cutting through the silence. "Enter Parallel Dimension."
The gray void swallowed him.
Zack didn't wait for the landscape to form. He activated [Shadow's Cloak Lv. 2] immediately.
Darkness wrapped around him like a second skin. He felt lighter, faster. The 10% Movement Speed buff hummed in his legs.
The world solidified.
It wasn't the graveyard this time. It was deeper.
He was standing in a stone corridor. The ceiling was low, oppressive, dripping with moisture. The walls were lined with alcoves, and in each alcove lay a stone sarcophagus. The air was freezing, a dry cold that burned the lungs.
The Crypts.
[Welcome, Host.]
[Location: The Royal Crypts (E-Rank High to D-Rank Beginner).]
[Objective: Reach the Inner Sanctum.]
Click. Scrape.
The sound of stone grinding on stone echoed down the hall.
Zack narrowed his eyes. The lids of the sarcophagi were sliding open.
"Wakey wakey," Zack whispered.
From the darkness, they emerged. Crypt Wardens.
They weren't the mindless zombies of the graveyard. These were armored skeletal warriors, wearing rusted chainmail and wielding heavy iron maces. Their eyes glowed with a disciplined blue light.
There were only ten of them in the hallway, blocking the path forward.
Quality over quantity.
The lead Warden saw him—or rather, sensed him despite the cloak—and pointed a mace.
"Trespasser..." a dusty, whispery voice echoed in Zack's mind.
They charged.
Zack didn't retreat. He blurred forward.
His 46.7 Agility, boosted by the cloak, made him almost invisible. He slipped past the first Warden's swing, the heavy mace smashing into the floor where he had been a split second ago.
Zack didn't punch. He wanted to test his new limits.
He weaved between two Wardens, appearing behind them.
He reached out with both hands, grabbing the backs of their skulls.
"[Energy Drain]!"
The Level 2 skill activated instantly.
Two thick tethers of purple light erupted from his palms. It felt different than before. Before, it was like sipping through a straw. Now, it was like opening a fire hose.
He felt the rush of energy from both monsters simultaneously. It was a chaotic, freezing torrent of power flooding his veins.
The Wardens jerked, their blue eyes flickering. They tried to turn, to swing at him, but their strength was evaporating.
"Mine," Zack hissed.
He squeezed.
CRACK-CRACK.
Both skulls shattered. The Wardens collapsed into dust.
[Stamina Restored.]
[Spirit Restored.]
Zack didn't stop. The other eight were on him.
He danced.
He was a ghost in the corridor. He didn't just block; he deflected. A mace swung at his head? He slapped the shaft aside with his 45.0 Strength, sending the skeleton spinning, then followed up with a knee to the spine.
He took a hit on purpose. A Warden clipped his shoulder with a mace.
CRUNCH.
Pain flared. His collarbone cracked.
Zack grit his teeth, ignoring the agony.
"[Heal]!"
The Level 2 Heal was instant. The green light barely had time to flash before the bone snapped back into place. The pain vanished as quickly as it had arrived.
Cost: 15 Spirit.
Peanuts.
He grabbed the Warden that hit him. [Energy Drain].
He sucked the Spirit right back out of it to pay for the heal, then crushed its ribcage.
"Too easy," Zack panted, standing over the pile of bones.
He moved deeper into the crypt.
The corridors twisted and turned. Traps triggered—poison darts, falling blocks, floor spikes. Zack's senses, sharpened by his high stats, picked them up before they triggered. He dodged, weaved, and smashed his way through.
He fought for hours. The enemies grew stronger.
Crypt Stalkers (Agile skeletons with dual daggers).
Rotting Hulks (Massive piles of flesh that exploded when killed).
Zack tore through them all. He was refining his style. He wasn't just a brawler anymore. He was learning to mix his [Shadow's Cloak] stealth with explosive bursts of violence, using [Energy Drain] to keep his tank full.
He reached a large antechamber.
Two massive figures stood guard before a heavy iron door.
Elite Crypt Guardians (D-Rank Beginner).
They were eight feet tall, encased in thick plate armor, wielding massive halberds.
They didn't speak. They just stepped forward, blocking the way.
"Finally," Zack grinned. "Some loot."
He didn't use stealth this time. He wanted to overpower them.
He charged.
The Guardians swung their halberds in a perfect cross-slash, creating a wall of steel.
Zack slid on his knees, going under the blades. Sparks showered over him.
He popped up inside their guard.
He punched the left Guardian in the knee joint.
CLANG-CRUNCH.
The armor bent. The bone shattered. The Guardian buckled.
Zack grabbed its helmet. [Energy Drain].
He drained it while using its massive body as a shield to block the second Guardian's attack.
The second Guardian's halberd slammed into its partner's back, stuck in the armor.
Zack dropped the drained, dead Guardian and leaped onto the second one.
He wrapped his legs around its helmet, blinding it.
He punched the helmet repeatedly. One. Two. Three.
CRACK.
The metal caved in. The skull beneath followed.
The Guardian fell.
Zack landed, breathing hard. That had been a brute force fight. Satisfying.
He looked at the dust piles. Two bright blue glows illuminated the dark room.
[You have killed Elite Crypt Guardian x2.]
[Blue Cube (Strength) x1 obtained.]
[Blue Cube (Stamina) x1 obtained.]
Zack grabbed them.
Strength (1.0).
Stamina (1.0).
He didn't hesitate.
'Absorb.'
The power hit him. His muscles tightened, becoming denser. His lungs expanded, capable of holding more air.
[Stats Updated.]
Strength: 45.0 -> 46.0
Stamina: 45.7 -> 46.7
He checked his totals.
46.0 / 46.7 / 46.7 / 46.0 / 46.1
He was incredibly balanced. He was a perfect machine.
He looked at the heavy iron door. The air seeping from underneath it was colder than the rest of the crypt. It smelled of old blood and frozen steel.
The Boss Room.
"One more," Zack whispered. "One more step closer to 50."
He placed his hands on the iron door. It was freezing to the touch, burning his skin with cold.
He pushed.
The hinges screamed, a sound like a dying animal, as the door swung open.
Zack stepped inside.
It was a circular chamber, lit by torches that burned with blue fire. The walls were lined with thousands of skulls. In the center of the room, on a raised dais of black stone, stood a throne.
And on the throne sat a figure.
It wasn't a skeleton. It wasn't a zombie.
It was a knight.
It wore full suits of black, spiked plate armor that seemed to absorb the torchlight. A tattered, blood-red cape hung from its shoulders. A massive greatsword, etched with glowing blue runes, rested against the throne.
The helmet was closed, a visor shaped like a screaming face.
Through the eye slits, two points of icy blue light burned.
[Boss Entity Detected.]
[D-Rank (Advanced) Boss: The Death Knight.]
Zack froze.
D-Rank Advanced.
This wasn't like the Brood Mother. The Brood Mother was a beast. She was instinct and rage.
This... this was a warrior.
The Death Knight slowly stood up. The sound of its armor shifting was heavy, solid. It grabbed the greatsword with one hand, lifting the massive weapon as if it weighed nothing.
It stepped off the dais.
The stone floor cracked under its boot.
"You..." a voice echoed, deep and metallic, vibrating in Zack's chest. "You reek... of the false sun."
Zack dropped into a fighting stance. His heart was hammering against his ribs.
"And you reek of mothballs," Zack quipped, trying to steady his nerves. "Let's dance, tin man."
The Death Knight didn't charge. It didn't scream.
It raised its sword, pointing the tip directly at Zack's heart.
The blue runes on the blade flared to life.
The temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees instantly. Frost began to creep across the floor, moving rapidly toward Zack.
[Skill Detected: Aura of Frost.]
[Warning: prolonged exposure will reduce Agility.]
Zack felt his limbs stiffen. The cold was biting through his clothes, through his skin, trying to freeze his muscles.
His biggest advantage—his speed—was being countered before the first punch was thrown.
"Okay," Zack breathed, watching his breath mist in the air. "Not good."
The Death Knight moved.
It didn't run. It blurred.
For a heavy armored unit, it was terrifyingly fast. It closed the distance in a single stride. The greatsword swept down in a horizontal arc, aiming to decapitate him.
Zack ducked, but he was a fraction of a second too slow. The cold had slowed him.
The blade missed his neck, but the wind of the swing hit him like a physical blow, knocking him off balance.
He rolled backward, coming up on his feet.
The Death Knight was already there.
It swung again. An overhead smash.
Zack couldn't dodge this one. He crossed his arms, channeling every ounce of his 46.1 Defense and 46.0 Strength into a block.
CLANG!
The sword hit his forearms.
Zack's knees buckled. The stone floor beneath him shattered into a crater.
Pain exploded in his arms. His bones held, but his muscles screamed.
The Death Knight leaned in, pressing the blade down, its blue eyes burning inches from Zack's face.
"Weak," the Knight growled.
Zack gritted his teeth, the weight of the sword crushing him into the ground. He couldn't push it back. He was overpowered.
He was trapped under the blade of a D-Rank Advanced boss, his speed nerfed, his strength matched.
He looked into the glowing blue eyes of the helmet.
"I'm not... done yet," Zack snarled.
[Reader's Note: Zack's Stats ]
Rank: E (Peak) / (System Rank: D (Beginner) - Unofficial)
Class: Healer / God-Eater (Mythical)
Strength: 46.0 (+1.0)
Agility: 46.7
Stamina: 46.7 (+1.0)
Spirit: 46.0
Defense: 46.1
(Current Status: Engaged in combat with D-Rank (Advanced) Boss: Death Knight. Under effect: Aura of Frost - Speed reduced.)