Without hesitation, Longs drew his sword in a smooth, practiced motion. The blade sang through the air—
Shlick!
—and sliced clean through the Wispod.
The creature let out a faint, musical squeal before it popped like a bubble, vanishing into shimmering mist. In its place, something warm and fragrant dropped into Longs' waiting hands.
A steaming bowl of ramen.
Perfectly cooked noodles swam in a rich, golden broth, garnished with half a soft-boiled egg, seaweed, and a swirl of narutomaki. The scent wafted through the air, oddly out of place amidst the eerie silence.
He blinked.
"…Huh."
The screen lit up again.
[Loot Drop: Ramen Bowl — Restores stamina and warmth. Not suitable for cold corpses.]
The crowd cast their silent judgment, who shall get the bowl of ramen? and with one voice, chose Shaarmila. The steaming bowl of ramen found its way to her hands like a prize of mercy. She didn't hesitate—she knelt beside Longs and offered him the first sip. He needed it more. His wound was cruel, bleeding without pause, yet he stood like a ghost defying gravity. It was a wonder—no, a quiet miracle—that he hadn't fallen.
His wound was so deep, it raised the question—could it even be stitched? Would it ever heal?
But with a single sip of the miraculous ramen, warmth surged through him. In one gulp, the pain vanished. The wound? Gone, as if it had never existed.
Yet, as if the universe demanded a price for such a miracle, the scar remained—etched not just on his skin, but in his memory.
Longs didn't stop there. He stood on his feet, his sword kept slicing through the innocent, smiling Wispods. Loot dropped with every cut—potions, food, even medicine scattered across the ground. But he couldn't have known...
In just a moment, there would be no one left to eat any of it.
"Fascinating," Cydal said, his voice calm—too calm, unreadable. "This turned out a lot better than I expected."
A chill ran down Shari and Long's spines.
"What are you talking about?" Shari asked, her voice low.
"What went better?" Long added, already regretting the question.
"I intended for you to clear the stages. I deliberately let you solve every puzzle and allowed you to be the first to enter this world." Cydal turned his gaze toward the shattered landscape.
"You see, the game scales it's difficulty based on the strength of the first person who steps into a stage. I expected it to be easy if it scanned you."
A faint smirk played on his lips. "But I didn't expect it to be this easy.. I suppose Longs is just human after all."
Shari and Longs exchanged confused glances. They didn't understand—what was he talking about? Easy? Nearly everyone had died. What was easy about that?
But Cydal wasn't finished.
"I knew this quest was just a distraction—nothing more than the system's attempt to slow me down, to keep me from finding the Creator. But now…" He glanced at Longs.
"Thanks to him, it's going to be much easier for me to finish this in time and get out."
As if Cydal's betrayal wasn't already enough, a low howling began to rise in the distance—growing louder, closer, more savage.
Within seconds, a Grimhound leapt from the rooftops, its glowing eyes locked on a terrified student. Then another. And another. Until they came from every direction—hundreds of them, surrounding the area like a tidal wave of teeth and shadow.
The screen flickered to life in front of Longs, pulsing with a cold, mechanical glow.
[Tutorial complete. Initiating main challenge...]
A pause. Then another message blinked into existence.
[Warning: Difficulty level has increased.]
[All opponents are now Level 5 from level 1.]
[Bloodlust: Elevated.]
Cydal glanced at Shari and Longs with the cold indifference of someone who'd grown tired of his toys. Then, without a word, he turned and began walking down the empty street.
"You no longer offer me anything," he said flatly.
His voice echoed for a moment... and then he vanished.
Longs and shari didn't had time to worry about that, a Grimhound lunged at a student, but Shari intercepted without hesitation. Her shield flared to life, catching the beast mid-pounce. Each time its claws raked against the barrier, sparks flew like firework bursts in a storm.
The Grimhound faltered for just a moment—and that was all Longs needed. He dashed forward, blade slashing through its neck in a single clean arc.
But one Grimhound was nothing. Hundreds more surged from the shadows.
Screams erupted—no, ripped through the air, but they were drowned out by the wet sound of tearing flesh. With each swipe of those monstrous claws, students were torn apart. Their bodies exploded in a grotesque rain of innards, limbs, and shattered bone—falling from the sky like it was just another drizzle.
Soon, only Longs and Shari stood among the carnage. Everyone else was already inside a Grimhound's stomach, or in pieces, scattered all over the area.
Longs screamed out, voice cracking, "Cydal?! HELP US!!"
But Cydal was long gone.
And then... the tide swallowed them too. Longs and Shari vanished in the swarm of fangs and claws—lost like needles in an endless, black ocean.
After an hour or two.
Cydal moved through the ruins of a city far beyond his time. The architecture was foreign, the designs alien—buildings that once scraped the sky now lay crumbled, shattered by a cataclysm that felt like Judgment Day itself. Steel bones jutted from fractured towers. Glass, once proud and clear, now dust. Silence reigned, broken only by the crackle of unstable magic clinging to the air.
A growl shattered the stillness.
From beneath a slab of broken concrete, a Grimhound lunged—jaws wide, strings of saliva trailing like venomous chains. It aimed for his throat, eyes rabid with hunger.
But before the creature's fangs could sink into flesh, Cydal raised his left hand.
The bandages coiled around his arm unraveled, like a snake shedding its skin. Sickly green flesh pulsed beneath, marbled with veins of black mana that writhed like living decay. The air warped. Reality itself buckled around his clawed hand.
And with a single swipe, the Grimhound unraveled—its body dissolving into ash, into memory, until there was nothing left to prove it had ever existed.
Another Grimhound leapt at him from the ruins—but met the same fate. Gone in a blink. Undone. Forgotten.
Cydal's claw extended farther, impossibly so, stretching across the broken plain like a judgment made flesh. Every Grimhound that dared show itself was erased. Not slain. Not killed. Erased—as if the universe had changed its mind about their creation.
With each swing, a whisper crawled and faded
"Let me out..."
Cydal glanced up, drawn to the skyline—what little remained of it.
Five massive towers loomed in the distance. On each, an eerie clock was frozen in place. The nearest tower's hands pointed to one o'clock. The next to two. Then three. Four. Five.
The farther the tower, the higher the number. As if time itself had fractured across the land.
But his gaze snapped back to the ground ahead.
The building before him was reduced to rubble, yet its entrance remained. A yawning door, impossibly intact, hung open like a mouth waiting to swallow him whole. Darkness pooled within.
This was it. This is where all of the Grimhounds were spawning from.
Without hesitation, without fear, Cydal stepped forward—and vanished into the dead, dark hollow.
The building was more corpse than shelter—its skeletal frame collapsing under the weight of war and time. Dust hung in the air like ghosts refusing to leave, and rubble swallowed what was once furniture, walls, or purpose. Amid the ruin, his dark green claw tore through the silence.
With every slash, a Grimhound vanished—No screams. No blood. Just gone.
Each erasure made the screens around it to life.
[Congratulations. You have defeated a Grimhound.]
[Congratulations. You have defeated a Grimhound.]
[Congratulations. You have defeated a Grimhound.]
[Processing materials...]
Weapons shimmered into existence, descending like divine rain. Blades carved from Grimhound femurs, bows with sinew-strong strings, and jagged daggers still steaming with spiritual residue.
[You have obtained a Cursed Fang Dagger — Level 6]
[You have obtained a Bonehowler Crossbow — Level 8]
[You have obtained a Hexburst Mana Cannon — Level 7]
[You have obtained a Shield of the Wailing Spine — Level 5]
They clattered to the ground in a sacred offering, but Cydal didn't flinch. He walked through the pile like a man passing the same outfit he'd worn for years—familiar, dull, beneath notice.
Just beside him, the cracked, dust-laden stairs led to what once was a throne. Upon it slumped the twisted remains of a king—once a towering, formidable ogre with green skin and unmatched presence. But that time had long passed. Now, a monstrous black beast feasted on his rotting flesh.
It resembled a Grimhound, but was five times the size—its blood-soaked fangs longer than swords, claws like cleavers, and jagged bone spikes protruding down its spine. Draped in armor made from the bones of lesser Grimhounds, it was a walking war machine—feral, furious, and far beyond anything Cydal had faced before.
It sensed him.
The creature's head turned with an eerie slowness, neck cracking audibly as its glowing crimson eyes locked onto Cydal. They didn't just see him—they burned with rage, like they had been waiting for this very moment.
Then it howled.
A thunderous roar tore through the chamber, shaking what was left of the structure. Cracks spiderwebbed across the walls. Stones trembled. Dust fell like rain. The building groaned, and with a reluctant sigh, began to collapse piece by piece.
[WARNING – Alpha Grimhound Encounter Detected]
Level: 8 – Threat Level: Critical
Prepare for immediate combat. Escape is not recommended.
And then—
In the blink of an eye, it was gone.
No, not gone. There.
Right in front of him.
Towering.
Breathing.
Challenging.
Its breath was thick with rot. Its presence, suffocating. Cydal barely had time to brace before he found himself eye to eye with the beast—one second alone in the dark, the next face-to-face with death incarnate.
With a single swing, the beast struck.
Cydal's body launched across the ruined hall like a ragdoll, slamming into the far wall with a thunderous crack. The stone crumbled beneath him, shards raining to the ground as he crashed through, the breath stolen from his lungs. He hit the floor hard, dust curling around him like smoke.
Groaning, he pushed himself up, blood trickling from his mouth. But it wasn't the pain that disturbed him.
It was the voice.
No longer a whisper—it screamed now. A tortured tongue echoing inside his own body
"Let me out."
"Let me out."
Let me out!"
Each word cut through his skull like jagged glass.
Cydal's lips twisted into a grin.
He staggered to his feet, wiping blood from his chin with the back of his hand. His eye locked onto the beast, which was charging again—an unstoppable wall of rage and bone. But Cydal didn't move.
Instead, he spoke, voice low and calm—almost amused.
"Null, exchange!"
The moment the words passed his lips, something shifted.
His body jolted—twitched. His pupils dilated, then vanished entirely, swallowed by a pitch-black void. His grin stretched, far too wide for a human face, curling unnaturally toward his ears. His lips peeled back to reveal not a mouth—but a nightmare.
Rows upon rows of serrated, jagged teeth, as though an ancient predator had forced its way into a human shell.
And then… silence.
It wasn't Cydal anymore.
Something else stood in his place. Something older. Hungrier. The air grew heavy, as though the room itself held its breath. Even the beast slowed its charge, sensing the shift—uncertain for the first time.
The Alpha Grimhound froze.
It sensed it now—truly sensed it. The presence standing before it was no longer prey. No longer man. It was something else. Something wrong.
It threw its head back and howled—a deep, guttural roar that echoed through the cracked bones of the world. And like shadows crawling from a nightmare, they came.
Grimhounds.
Hundreds.
They poured in through every crevice—shattered windows, broken ceilings, the crumbled entrance. A flood of writhing, snarling, starving beasts. Their howls merged into a cacophony of death, a symphony composed by extinction itself. Claws scraped stone. Fangs snapped through the air.
But the thing wearing Cydal's body only smiled.
That smile—
It didn't belong on a human face.
Wrinkled. Wide. Unblinking.
And then—
Boom.
A sonic rupture shattered the air. Dust and debris were blown backward in a spiraling shockwave as the figure vanished from sight.
The first Grimhound lunged—
It never landed.
In less than a second, they were all gone.
The entire horde—gone.
A silent pulse rolled through the building, and then everything within reach of that possessed claw detonated. The explosion didn't burn—it erased. The shockwave carved through the world like divine wrath, turning monsters to ash and memory. Nothing remained. Not a limb. Not a scream.
Only the Alpha stood.
Alone.
Shaking.
Its massive frame trembled, instinctively backing away. Whatever logic existed in that monstrous mind told it to run.
But it didn't get the chance.
Before it could snarl, before it could even beg—if it knew how—it vanished in an instant. The figure reappeared before it, and with a swipe that cracked the very air, the Alpha Grimhound was erased from existence.
Not slain.
Erased.
[Congratulations. All enemies in this chamber have been defeated.]
[YOU LEVEL UP.]
[YOU LEVEL UP.]
[New items unlocked.]
[Phantom Cloak of Silence — Reduces detection radius by 70%]
[Shardmail Gauntlets — Reflects 20% spell damage]
[Grimhorn Catalyst — Amplifies nullification field by 2x duration]
[Select items?]
Yes
No <
[SYSTEM UPDATE – PLAYER DATA SYNCED]
[PLAYER: NULL]
LEVEL: 89 → 96 → 100 → 105 → 110 → 115!
RANK: Abyssal-Class Entity – Threat Level: Omega
[MASS KILL BONUS – +200,000 XP GAINED]
[BOSS DEFEAT BONUS – +125,000 XP GAINED]
[SKILL EXPERIENCE SYNCED]
[EXISTING SKILL ENHANCED: VOID NULLIFICATION (Lv. 5 → Lv. 9)]
Effect Radius: 350 meters
Type: Passive-Aggressive Aura
Details: All magic, divine, or cursed energies within radius are absorbed and nullified. Energy-based barriers, enchantments, or constructs disintegrate on contact. All active abilities from other players are forcibly canceled within the radius—casting, buffs, passives, and summons are rendered void. Resistance is futile against lower-ranked entities.
[STATS INCREASED!]
HP: 4,200 → 9,800
MP: 3,000 → 7,600
STR: 280 → 700
DEF: 250 → 660
AGI: 300 → 780
INT: 340 → 850
[WARNING – DUAL CORE DETECTED]
Two conscious entities detected within single vessel.
Current Dominant Soul: [NULL]
Suppressed Soul: [CYDAL]
Conflict Probability: 93%
Stability Level: CRITICAL
Note: All stat increases, skill enhancements, and experience gains are currently bound to [NULL]'s soul signature.
Warning: Switching control mid-combat may result in skill deactivation or stat fluctuation.
Line after line of data streamed by, numbers climbing with relentless speed—until finally, the screen flickered… and faded into silence.
The thing in Cydal's skin turned its head toward the entrance. Not its body—just the head—twisting in a way that defied anatomy, the motion sharp and unnatural.
It stared out at the ruined world with the glee of a bird tasting open air after a lifetime in a cage. Its mouth twitched upward again, that hideous grin aching to stretch further. Step by step, it began to move—slowly, deliberately—toward the freedom it had been denied for so long.
But freedom… was still out of reach.
It's gait faltered.
A tremor ran through its limbs.
It's own steps betrayed hesitation.
"No... Noooooo..." it screamed to itself, distorted, guttural, and layered like multiple mouths arguing in chorus. "I will get out! I will devour you! We share this body, but my soul is superior! I will win!"
It staggered, caught in the tug-of-war between wills.
And then—silence.
The grin faded.
Its posture straightened.
And slowly, inch by inch, the expressionless mask that was Cydal's face returned. Cold. Quiet. Unreadable.
But not untouched.
His nails remained blackened and razor-sharp. His irises, no longer round, had warped—horizontal slits like a goat's, glowing faintly with a sick hue. His smile was gone, but his teeth still bore the unnatural edge of something that wasn't quite human.
Dust clung to his clothes, and with a calmness unnatural after what had just occurred, he patted himself off. Then paused.
He noticed it.
His arms—both of them—no longer bore the pale skin he was used to.
Now they pulsed with veins beneath a sickly green tint, his flesh darker, twisted, as though his blood carried poison instead of life.
Without a word, he reached into his inventory and unwrapped fresh bandages. He wrapped them tightly around his arms, layer after layer, as though hiding a secret—no, a shame. Not for the world. But for himself.
He glanced at his clawed fingers once more.
The thing inside was still there.
He approached the lone chest in the corner of the ruined room. Gold curled around its edges, and faded royal engravings whispered of forgotten kingdoms. With a low creak, the lid opened to reveal a pile of glimmering golden nuggets. Coins, jewelry and rubies.
But above them all, resting in the center, was something far more precious.
A dungeon map—etched with shifting silver threads, pulsing with soft blue light. As he reached in, the map digitized at his touch, breaking into pixels that flickered and formed into a floating interface in his palm.
[Congratulations – Dungeon Map Obtained]
Cydal's screen blinked to life with a mechanical hum. He swiped through the interface, scrolling past shifting corridors and layered ruins like a digital GPS. Then, it appeared—a red dot pulsing deep within the map, almost as if it was calling to him.
Without hesitation, he marked the location as his destination. The map dimmed, shrinking into the corner of his screen. With one last glance at the crumbled remains of what was once a throne, he turned away—unmoved by the forgotten treasures scattered around him, their shine dulled by irrelevance.
His eyes locked on the path ahead: a towering monolith in the distance, its eerie, broken clock frozen at 1 o'clock—silent and watching.
Then, with a slow, gentle breath, he spoke:
"System?"
The air vibrated, and the voice hummed like a lullaby from a machine:
[Yes, Player No. 1. How may I assist you?]
"How many days do I have... before this body belongs to Null?"
There was a pause. Scanning. Processing.
[6 days.]
[In six days, your human physiology will mature to the age of 18. At that point, hybrid demons lose their remaining humanity. The Null will claim your soul.]
"I see..." His eyes narrowed. "Then I must finish my hunt before that. I won't let the Creator win."
His mind drifted—to a time long buried.
Back then, in a cozy treehouse steeped in the scent of soap and bathed in morning light struggling to pierce through the thickening cold clouds, a boy once laughed.
"Oh my, look at your little handsome face," a girl giggled, pinching the cheeks of the freshly bathed child beside her. She tickled his belly, making him squirm and laugh.
"Haha—no, big sis Beauty! It tickles!"
In that light-filled room, innocence bloomed like wildflowers. Beauty handed him a neatly embroidered tunic and polished shoes.
"This is a gift," she said gently. "There's a woman in town named Selphonie—a master tailor. She's always crafting bright, beautiful clothes for her little brother. He's about your age, but... he's very ill."
Cydal frowned, then mimed patting an invisible head. "There, there, little boy. You get all better, okay?"
Beauty laughed, her heart was full. 'This boy... he's too sweet for this world.'
"I had her make some clothes for you too," she continued, brushing his soft green hair. "You have to look fabulous and handsome—like the little devil you are—before we move to the town."
"But... Big Sis Beauty?" he asked, voice unsure. "Won't they be scared of me?"
"You said we're only moving because I lost my demon parts... that I look like a human now."
"I don't like scaring people."
She knelt, cupping his cheeks. "You're not a demon, silly. You're more human than anyone I've met."
She touched his smooth forehead. "Your horns are gone."
She took his hand and placed it on his chest. "Your skin isn't green anymore."
"And your little tail?" she teased. "Where does it hide?"
He smiled proudly. "Gone! It doesn't hide anymore!"
They laughed. They dressed. They left for town.
Then blood.
Beauty knelt beside a lifeless body. Her fiancé—his head barely attached—stared blankly into nothing.
Cydal stood there, the same embroidered tunic soaked in blood, eyes hollow. A small blade rested in his tiny hand.
Beauty's voice trembled. "Why...? Why did you do this...?"
Tears fell freely. "Do you know what you've done? Things will never be the same again. Even I... I don't know if I can protect you anymore."
Cydal walked to her, blade still gripped. "No, Big Sis Beauty... I did this for you."
He pointed behind him.
"The ghost said he'd kill you if I didn't... So I stopped him."
Then came footsteps.
Beauty's parents burst in, eyes locking onto the corpse—and the boy walking toward her with a bloody knife.
The scream was instant.
Before Cydal could even look back, a heavy fist collided with his face. Beauty's father had seen enough.
The memory shattered and returned to reality.
"I will kill the Creator," Cydal whispered.
"I will not let him control my life ever again."
With that, he turned and marched toward the looming tower.
To be continued.