Silence woke Kael.
It bore no resemblance to the silence of Settlement Seven. It wasn't the expensive, manufactured quiet of the inner districts, either—the kind the wealthy bought to pretend the world wasn't dying just outside their walls. The Settlement Seven was a living thing made of screams, machinery, and distant monster howls. And that monstrous cacophony ceased to exist.
Kael breathed heavily. The air was drowned in a crushing silence, one so heavy it made the hair on his arms stand on end.
Rubbing the grit from his eyes, he blinked hard waiting for the familiar gray smog of home to settle in. And it didn't.
The sky was extremely horrendous. Two suns—one amber, one pale blue—hung overhead, streaked with colors he didn't have names for. The air tasted crisp and clear. Cleaner, somehow, despite the ruins surrounding him.
'Ruins.' His heart lurched as he pushed himself upright, hands scraping against broken stone. The architecture was twisted metal and shattered concrete, but the designs were off. Too elegant. Too deliberate. Like someone had taken a city and twisted it through a nightmare.
"What the hell..." His voice was a raw croak, the noise deafening in the emptiness.
[WELCOME TO THE NEXUS REALM]
The words appeared directly in his vision, glowing with a sharp, electric blue light. They weren't floating in the air—they were carved into his perception itself.
Kael scrambled backward, his boot catching on rubble. He fell hard, pain lancing up his spine, but the words didn't stay behind. They moved with him.
[INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]
[HOST: KAEL MORRIGAN]
[ANALYZING PHYSICAL CONDITION...]
[ANALYSIS COMPLETE]
[UNIQUE ABILITY DETECTED]
A window materialized before him—translucent, shimmering like heat haze. It looked like the high-end holographic interfaces the Hunters used, the ones distinct porters like him were never allowed to touch.
He swiped a trembling hand through the air, trying to brush it away. His fingers passed right through the light. There was no projector, no device. It was inside his head.
***
[STATUS]
Name: Kael Morrigan
Level: 1
Class: None
HP: 60/60 (Regen: 1.5 HP/min)
--
Stats:
Vitality: 6
Strength: 5
Agility: 4
Intelligence: 3
Available Points: 0
--
UNIQUE ABILITY: [The Unbroken]
-Vitality Scaling: Growth (+2/Lvl) multiplied by Current Level (Note: Excludes Level 1).
-Bio-Conversion: Can consume organic matter to rapidly regenerate HP and Stamina. Grants certain immunity to ingested toxins.
Savage Assimilation: Can consume the Core of Elite monsters to assimilate a specific Trait.
Assimilation Slots: 0/1
-Last Stand: Fatal damage is negated. Invulnerable for 10 seconds. All debuffs will be purged. (Once per Level—nonstackable).
Restriction: Attribute points are auto-allocated.
[A body that refuses to break. A will that refuses to die.]
***
Kael blinked, waiting for the hallucination to fade. It didn't. He swiped his hand through the blue light again, but the text remained, searing itself into his vision. 'Concussion?' he thought. 'Did the blast scramble my brain?'
It remained, just as his nightmares did.
Kael stared at the display, his mind struggling to process. This was insane. This was impossible. Hunters didn't get status windows—they just were powerful, their bodies transformed by the Awakening Trial into something more than human. There were no numbers, no neat little boxes quantifying strength.
He focused on the Vitality stat, and information flooded his mind like someone had uploaded it directly into his brain. Vitality governed health, stamina, resistance to damage, and recovery speed. At 6, he was pathetically weak—a normal human averaged 10, and most hunters started at 20 or higher.
Strength: 5. Below average. Explained why hauling crates always left him gasping.
Agility: 4. Also below average. He'd never been fast.
'Intelligence: 3.' Kael stared. It was a profound insult, a blow that felt more crushing than the chaos he had just survived at the gate. All those hours spent reading by the dim light of the district neon, all his hope that smarts could win where strength had failed, had been quantified and dismissed. The system had officially labeled that hope a worthless delusion.
But that Unique Ability—[The Unbroken]. Vitality growth multiplied by the current level. At level 1, that meant nothing. But at level 10? At level 100?
The implications made his head spin.
A sound cut through his thoughts—a chittering, wet clicking that raised every hair on his body. Kael's head snapped toward the noise. Between two collapsed structures, something moved. Low to the ground. Skittering.
His breath caught.
The creature emerged into the light of the twin suns, and Kael's stomach turned. It was roughly the size of a large dog, but that's where any similarity to anything natural ended. Six legs, jointed at wrong angles. A carapace of mottled green and brown that looked like diseased flesh stretched over chitin. Its head—if it could be called that—was mostly mouth. Concentric rings of teeth that spiraled inward like a lamprey's maw.
[SCUTTLER - LEVEL 2]
-A bottom-feeder of the Nexus Realm. Weak individually but vicious when cornered.
Level 2. One level above him. And Kael had exactly zero combat experience beyond watching hunters fight from a safe distance while he cowered behind supply crates.
The Scuttler's eyeless head swiveled toward him, and Kael realized with mounting horror that he had no weapon. His extraction knife was gone. He had nothing but his porter's harness.
With a furious, metallic bellow that echoed against the ruin walls, the creature charged.
Kael threw himself sideways, his shoulder slamming into broken stone. The Scuttler's teeth snapped shut where his leg had been a heartbeat before, the sound like a bear trap closing. He scrambled backward on his hands and knees, boots slipping on loose rubble.
"Move, move, MOVE!"
His hand closed around something—a length of steel bar, rusted and bent but solid. He swung it wildly as the Scuttler lunged again. The metal connected with its carapace with a hollow thunk, and the creature recoiled, chittering in what might have been pain or anger.
[DAMAGE DEALT: 3]
The notification flashed in his vision, nearly making him miss the Scuttler's next attack. Its front legs lashed out, razor-sharp tips scoring across his forearm. Pain exploded through his nerves—bright, hot, immediate.
[HP: 60/60 → 52/60]
[SLASHING DAMAGE RECEIVED]
Eight points of damage. One hit had taken more than ten percent of his total health. Kael's mind raced even as terror threatened to swallow rational thought.
The Scuttler circled him, its movements jerky and predatory. Kael kept the steel bar between them, his arm burning where the creature had cut him. Blood soaked through his sleeve, warm and sticky.
The Scuttler feinted left, and Kael flinched right—exactly what it wanted. The creature's back legs launched it forward like a spring, and suddenly it was on him. Weight crashed into his chest, driving him backward. His head cracked against stone, stars exploding across his vision.
[HP: 52/60 → 45/60]
The Scuttler's mouth opened impossibly wide, those rings of teeth spiraling, reaching for his face. Kael shoved the steel bar between them, metal scraping against enamel. The creature bit down, and the steel bar bent under the pressure.
'I'm going to die.'
'No.'
Something primal ignited in Kael's chest. Not courage. Not strength. But desperation.
Kael planted his feet against the Scuttler's underside and pushed. His legs burned, muscles screaming. The creature lifted—just an inch. He twisted, throwing his whole body to the side.
The Scuttler's leg lashed out in a desperate strike.
Pain exploded across Kael's chest as the razor-sharp limb punched through cloth and skin.
[CRITICAL DAMAGE RECEIVED: 15]
[HP: 45/60 → 30/60]
[STATUS AFFLICTION: BLEEDING]
[CONTINUOUS DAMAGE: -4 HP/10 SEC]
[WARNING: SEEK IMMEDIATE TREATMENT]
Kael ignored the notifications as momentum was already on his side. The creature tumbled off him, blood dripping from its bloodied leg. Kael rolled away, came up on his knees, and swung the bent steel bar with everything he had left.
The metal caught the Scuttler across what passed for its face. The creature shrieked and stumbled backward.
"DIE!"
[DAMAGE DEALT: 5]
[CRITICAL HIT!]
Kael didn't give it time to recover. He lunged forward, bringing the steel bar down again. And again. The Scuttler's carapace cracked. Blood—thick and greenish-black—spurted from the wound.
[Bleeding damage]
[HP: 30/60 → 26/60]
"Die! Die! DIE!" Each word ripped from his throat between gasps, barely human anymore. The steel bar rose and fell, his arms screaming, his lungs burning. Warm spray hit his face with each impact, thick droplets spattering across his cheeks.
[DAMAGE DEALT: 4]
[DAMAGE DEALT: 6]
[HP Regen: 1.5 HP]
[HP 26/60 → 27.5/60]
The Scuttler collapsed, legs curling inward. Its mouth opened and closed weakly, teeth clicking together clicking together one final time before it went still.
[SCUTTLER HAS BEEN SLAIN]
[EXPERIENCE GAINED: 20]
[Level up...]
[HP 27.5/80 → 23.5/80]
The steel bar slipped from his numb fingers. Kael fell to his knees, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.
A sound clawed its way up from somewhere deep in his chest. Not quite a sob. Not quite a scream. Just—broken. His whole body shook, and he couldn't tell anymore where the adrenaline crash ended and the rest of it began.
He'd almost died. That thing had been on top of him, its teeth inches from his throat, and he'd almost—
His stomach lurched. He twisted to the side and retched, nothing coming up but bile and blood. His hands pressed against the rubble, smearing that wrong greenish-black blood and his across the stone. It was everywhere. On his hands. Soaking through his sleeves. He could feel it drying sticky on his face, taste something foul and metallic on his tongue.
He'd killed it. With his own hands. Felt every impact as the steel bar came down, heard the crack of chitin splitting, the wet sounds that came after.
"I'm sorry." The words tumbled out, barely more than a whisper. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm—"
[HP 23.5/80→ 19.5/80]
Who was he even talking to? The creature? God? His sisters, who were waiting for him in a world he couldn't reach?
His vision swam. Tears cut hot tracks through the blood on his cheeks, and he didn't bother wiping them away. What was the point? He was here. Trapped in some alien hell with two suns in the sky and monsters that wanted to eat him. Alice and Elise were back home, probably already wondering where he was, and he couldn't—he couldn't—
The shaking got worse. His teeth chattered. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the rational part that had kept him alive this long whispered that he needed to move, needed to find shelter, needed to stop falling apart.
But his body wouldn't listen.
The tears wouldn't stop either.
[HP 19.5/80 → 15.5/80]
The status window blinked into existence as if nothing had happened. Like he hadn't just killed something. Like he wasn't sitting here covered in gore and falling to pieces, physically and mentally. Just numbers. Just data.
***
[LEVEL UP!]
Level 1 → Level 2
Vitality: 6 → 8 (+2)
HP: 60 → HP 80
HP: Regen: 1.5 HP/min → 2 HP/min
Strength: 5 → 6 (+1)
Agility: 4 → 5 (+1)
Intelligence: 3 → 4 (+1)
- Vitality gains 2 base stats multiplied by the current level. Current multiplier - 1.
- Stat allocation: Automatic.
***
[Bleeding damage: 4]
[HP: 15.5/80 → 11.5/80 - CRITICAL]
[WARNING: CRITICAL HP THRESHOLD REACHED (HP < 20%). PASSIVE REGENERATION DISABLED]
The adrenaline crash faded, leaving something worse in its wake. Pain—raw and unbearable—crawled through every nerve ending. His arm was shredded meat hanging off bone. The hole in his chest wept red with each shallow breath. His skull throbbed where it had cracked against stone, a dull percussion that made his vision pulse.
He didn't have potions and a healer. He was going to die here, alone in the silence, level up or not.
'No.' The thought was a growl in his mind. 'Alice. Elise.'
His eyes fell on the Scuttler's torn carapace. Thick, green monster blood oozed from the wound he'd made. The same blood he had just apologized for spilling.
[ABILITY TRIGGERED: BIO-CONVERSION]
[CONSUME TO SURVIVE.]
His stomach cramped—not with hunger, but with a violent, instinctual demand. Kael hesitated, looking at the raw, insectoid meat. Then, with a shaking hand, he ripped a chunk of flesh from the monster's leg.
He shoved it into his mouth. The taste was vile—bitter bile and dirt—but he forced himself to swallow.
[BIO-CONVERSION ACTIVE]
Heat exploded in his gut. It wasn't gentle. It felt like he had swallowed a furnace. Steam began to rise from his skin. The gash on his arm knitted together, skin pulling tight with an audible wet snap.
[HP: 13.5/80… 18/80... 24/80...]
He wasn't just surviving–he was fueling and healing himself on a cellular level.
He dug deeper into the chest cavity, looking for more meat, when his fingers brushed something hard and warm. He pulled it out. A pulsating, dark-blue organ. The Scuttler's heart.
The System window flared red.
[GENETIC MATERIAL DETECTED]
[INITIATE SAVAGE ASSIMILATION?]
[WARNING: FAILURE RATE 40%]
A sub-menu flickered, detailing the cost of failure. It wasn't just a wasted item. 'Genetic meltdown. Cellular liquidation.'
Kael stared at the heart. It was warm, slimy, and pulsed with a faint, rhythmic throb against his palm. A 60% chance to gain power. A 40% chance of melting into a puddle of biological sludge on the ruin floor.
But there was another cost. One that the System didn't list.
Minutes ago, he had been crying. He had been apologizing to a dead bug, retching at the sight of gore, begging for forgiveness from a universe that didn't care. He was Kael the Porter. He was a brother. He was human.
Humans didn't eat raw hearts. Humans didn't tear into corpses with their bare hands.
If he did this, he wasn't just surviving. He was crossing a line he could never step back over. He was admitting that the rules of Settlement Seven—the rules of decency, of humanity—didn't apply here.
He looked at the ruins around him. The silence. The alien suns.
'Civilization is dead here,' he realized, the thought cold and heavy in his gut. 'And if I try to hold onto it, I'll die with it.'
He looked at his shaking hands. They were already stained greenish-black. He had already eaten the flesh to heal his arm. He was already halfway to being a monster. The only choice left was whether to be a weak monster that died in the dirt or a strong one that made it home.
He tightened his grip on the organ. He could be savage, or he could be dead.
"Sixty to forty," he muttered, wiping blood from his mouth. "Better odds than nothing."
Stopping the part of him that was still crying, he closed his eyes, and took a bite.