Chapter 9: Assault of the Corpse Diggers
"22... fuckin' percent...!!!"
His mind reeled, awareness snapping him back from the haze of unconsciousness. But the gigantic worms paid no heed to his disbelief. The ones nearest to him hurtled forward, their massive forms churning the graveyard soil.
The first worm's maw gaped wide, gnashing at his body—but it was slow, ponderous. With a decisive swing of his scythe, Arthur severed its head in a clean stump, dark ichor spraying across the tombstones. He had no time to savor the victory; another lunged at him from the side.
He repeated the motion—or tried to—when a third erupted from below, its jagged teeth tearing toward his legs. Arthur hurled himself upward, twisting mid-air into a vertical wheel-like rotation. His scythe blurred into a black arc, cleaving both monsters' heads in one fluid stroke. A spray of viscera followed, painting the night in shades of black and crimson.
His panting form landed on a weathered gravestone some distance away, the horde's attention now fully drawn to him. He muttered a quick prayer for mercy, apologizing to whoever's resting place he'd disturbed.
"Hey, damn bot... what the hell are those?" he panted, his scythe tracing a lethal arc that bisected another worm's gigantic body. He narrowly dodged its collapsing maw as it thudded to the ground. "I get they're scavengers and all... but why the hell are there so many?"
[Entity Identified: Corpse Digger.
Rank: Scavenger (Weak).
Stats:
Strength: 9
Speed: 3
Agility: 1
Stamina: 1
Intelligence: 2
Attribute: Intangibility (Low).]
Arthur's mouth dropped in a slack "huh," but his body didn't hesitate. His brain kicked into overdrive as a serpentine form—one of the system-labeled Corpse Diggers—lunged from the side. Instinct took over with the precision of a seasoned veteran. He traced a bladed line through its open circular mouth, splitting its cluster of eyes and its entire form into vertical halves. Black viscera coated his intangible frame, though it phased harmlessly through his ethereal state.
He ducked as another missed its dive, its body slamming into the earth where he'd stood moments before.
"Then I don't get it, bot," he growled, his scythe swinging in a frenzied whirlwind. "If they're that weak—even more than that cone-headed freak—why is my survivability so low?"
[Clarification: The Corpse Diggers are non-combatant scavenger worms. They exist in vast colonies; sighting one indicates the presence of potentially hundreds. They persist relentlessly, even after kills, until the target's physicality is drained. At that point, the victim becomes helpless and is devoured.
Alert: Host, entity approaching from behind.]
He tilted sideways, the circular maw grazing past him harmlessly. That damn bot calling him 'host' again.he thought it had promised not to...
[Apology acknowledged, Arthur. It was a minor glitch. Recurrence probability: 0%.]
Arthur rolled his eyes, even as he drove his fist into the worm's head. To his surprise, the flesh was soft and squishy, yielding without the resistance of bone. It exploded in a splash of dark viscera and a massive, frantically twitching pupil. He crushed the eye beneath his boot for good measure.
"Tell me, bot—how much physicality do I have left? And how many have I killed?" he gritted out, gripping his scythe tighter. He somersaulted forward, taking down two more in a graceful arc, the cold night wind whispering against his skin—or it would have, if he weren't intangible at that moment.
[Assimilation of points completed.
Updated stats:
Name: Arthur Lynch
Identity: Grim Reaper
Rank: Juvenile
Physicality: 27 (-5)
Strength: 6 (-2)
Speed: 14 (-1)
Agility: 6 (-1)
Stamina: 5 (-1)
Intelligence: 22
Attributes: Death, Soul, Illusion
Soul Collection: 2/1000
Weapons: Death Scythe (Grade: Mythic)
Title: Hope of the Fallen
Fate: Ascended
Threat: Corpse Digger Colony
Kill Count: 15.]
Damn it... lost five points for just fifteen kills.His gaze swept over the slain monsters' bodies, slumped in deathly repose and bathed in their own viscera. In the distance, more emerged from the trees, their eerie cries echoing like a dirge. At this rate, seventy-five more kills would drain him completely.
"System... tell me more about my attributes," he commanded, somersaulting into the air. Mid-flip, he whirled his scythe like a helicopter's rotor, cleaving five Corpse Diggers before they could close the distance. He landed on the neck of another, jabbing his blade into its thorax. Black ichor spilled as he vaulted to the next, this one bursting from the soil below.
He needed to maximize efficiency.
[Physicality drained: 1.
Kill Count:6.
Attributes query: Processing...]
Arthur cut the system off mid-response as a new idea struck. If I could absorb their essence like before, I'd regain physicality. Hell, their intelligence stat is even positive. Did this damn bot even consider that?
[Option evaluated. Essence absorption capability not registered in core functions. Apology for oversight. Incompetence noted and corrected.
Updated Potential Survival Rate: 85%.]
That was more reassuring. He glanced at one of the worm corpses, and the blue interface materialized.
[ Wish to Extract Essence?
Options: Yes // No.]
Before his hand could reach the "Yes," a Corpse Digger swung from below, its body whipping toward him. He cleaved its head in a dark arc across its thorax, but before the severed corpse hit the grass, more lunged from every direction. From above, blotting out the moonlight; from the sides, shrouding the gravestones; from below, upheaving the soil. A deadlock of gnashing maws formed an inescapable prison of death.
In that heartbeat, his life flashed before his widened eyes.
So it was true..,the stories,life flashing before your eyes when you're about to die
It was damn true..
He could see them.., memories
His parents' mangled bodies kissing the pavement. His sister's sobs at their burial—and later, when they were torn apart. Himself, cast into a worthless countryside orphanage. The traumatic days that followed, the endless therapy sessions with that bald psychiatrist.
And more... so many more. But they all shared one likeness: they were sad
In those milliseconds, the world compressed into a near-timeless stasis through his gaze. The worms tore through the air, their shrieks mere centimeters from his skin.
The system chimed urgently.
[Spatial Bypass Projection Initiated.
Trajectory Acquired.
Bypass Calculation: Complete.
Success Speculation: 100%.]
Arthur's form vanished into thin air, leaving the worms to crash into one another in a gigantic tangle. Gushes of viscera erupted as some perished on impact; others continued lunging blindly, devouring their own kin in a frenzy born of low intelligence.
All of it unfolded before his widened eyes, now safely distant from the chaos. His hands patted down his body in disbelief, then framed his face. The scythe had already dissolved into dark mist, fading with the night.
He was still alive!
His form crashed onto the field—actually crashed, the grass cushioning his fall. He was tangible now; he felt the damp earth against his palms, the chill seeping into his skin.
[I require acknowledgment of gratitude, Reaper Lynch. I have preserved your existence.]
He pushed himself up, though uncertainty lingered. In his intangible state, would he have truly died? Or would their attacks have phased through?
[Negative, Reaper Lynch. Corpse Diggers are soulless entities designed to devour emotions and souls—intangible concepts. Your Termination would have occurred.
Pending Gratitude Acknowledgement.
It facilitates human connection]
A shiver raced down his spine.
Oh...Perhaps he should have settled down, learned about this bizarre new world before rummaging through graves for horrors.
"Well, I would've said thanks—and maybe more, like..." He placed a hand on his chin, feigning thought.
[ A name,Grant me a designation,what conditions must be met? Specify parameters.]
Was it his imagination, or did the system sound... cheerier? Do these bots even have emotions?
[I am engineered to mirror human emotions precisely, optimizing companion functionality. Conditions for designation, Reaper Lynch?]
His eyes drifted to the worms, now ceasing their self-destructive frenzy. Their silhouettes reformed, huge forms drinking in the moonlight as they scanned the graveyard, emerging at multiple spots like hunters seeking lost prey.
"Tell me a way to win against those fiends—a real game-changer. Then I'm game for your terms." It was clear the monsters wouldn't give him time to extract essences leisurely.
[Confirmation required: You will adhere to the agreement?]
"Yes, I will. Just get on with it..." Why was this bot so bent on frustrating him?
[85% of human subjects demonstrate treachery in promise fulfillment. You exhibit no significant deviation, Arthur
But Anyways
Proceeding.
Game-changer analysis: Resides within your attributes.]
Oh.
"Carry on." A smile tugged at his lips—finally, a real edge. That alone kept him from snapping at the bot's veiled insult.
[Affirmative, Arthur. Initiating tutorial: Basic Mastery of Attributes.]