The system flickered across my vision like a pulse that refused to let me forget where I was.
Status — James
Level: 19
Class: Riftborne Initiate
Title: Butcher of the First Floor
Health: 4,820 / 4,820
Mana: 3,910 / 3,910
Core Attributes
Strength: 182
Agility: 96
Vitality: 108
Intelligence: 92
Perception: 94
Stored Stat Points: 37
(Gained through combat and mana core refinement since entering Floor Two.)
Undead Slain — Floor Two (Confirmed)
41 Rotting Ghouls (Lv. 15–17)
23 Gravebound Stalkers (Lv. 16–18)
12 Corpse Hounds (Lv. 17–19)
9 Bone Harriers (Lv. 18–20)
6 Lantern Wraiths (Lv. 19–21)
3 Hollow Revenants (Lv. 20–22)
Mana Cores Consumed: 61
Mana Cores Stored: 14
The forest did not breathe.
It listened.
I learned that in the first week.
The trees on this floor were too tall, black-barked giants whose branches interlocked so tightly the sky existed only as a suggestion of grey light. Moss grew like diseased skin over everything.
The ground was sponge-soft and warm in places, as if something massive had rotted beneath it.
Even when there was no wind, the leaves moved.
And sometimes they whispered.
I hollowed the tree out three days ago.
It had taken nearly an hour to carve enough space with my blade, reinforcing the inner walls with hardened bark and weaving a crude barrier of bone fragments across the entrance. The smell inside was foul, but I'd grown used to worse.
I needed sleep.
The system didn't require it.
My body did.
I sat with my back to the inner curve of the trunk, knees drawn up, sword across my lap. Armor scraped softly when I shifted. The wolf-beast kin armor still fit like it remembered my shape. Dark plates, faintly veined with mana. It felt almost alive when I moved.
I closed my eyes.
Just for a minute.
The forest made no sound.
That was the first mistake.
The second was not noticing that the scent of rot had shifted.
A wet inhalation.
Close.
My eyes opened.
Darkness filled the hollow trunk.
Then something scraped across bark outside.
Slow.
Careful.
I didn't move.
Perception flared too late.
The bone barrier snapped inward.
Hands pushed through the gap.
Hands with no fingernails.
Hands with blackened meat hanging from them.
Then teeth.
They poured in like floodwater.
Ghouls.
Not one.
Not three.
A horde.
The first one latched onto my shoulder plate and bit down. Teeth screeched against enchanted steel. The second got my thigh where armor overlapped poorly.
Pain exploded.
I roared and kicked forward, crushing one skull against bark. Bone splintered, but more crawled over it.
The hollow trunk became a coffin.
Claws tore at my exposed neck seam. One hand shoved into my helmet gap. I felt cold fingers press against my eye.
I panicked.
Strength surged uncontrolled.
I activated Micro Rift Pull instinctively.
Space warped inside the tree.
A ghoul's chest imploded inward as a fist-sized tear in reality ripped through it. Black blood sprayed my face.
But there were too many.
They climbed over their dying.
Teeth sank into my calf.
Health dropped.
4,820 → 4,211 → 3,677
Their breath was putrid, sweet rot and old soil.
One bit into my side where armor had cracked days ago. Flesh tore.
I screamed and drove my sword upward blindly.
Mana coated the blade.
Blue fire flared.
I carved sideways.
Bodies split.
The hollow filled with twitching halves.
Still they crawled.
A ghoul with one arm clamped onto my throat and began squeezing.
It wasn't mindless.
Its eyes were aware.
Hungry.
Another forced its head into my chest wound and began eating.
My vision blurred.
Health plummeted.
2,904 → 2,111
I couldn't breathe.
The trunk was too small to swing properly.
So I stopped trying.
I dropped the sword.
The ghouls hesitated, confused.
I grabbed the one strangling me by the jaw and used pure Strength.
Bone cracked.
Then tore.
I ripped its head off.
Black fluid coated my hands.
I stood up.
Inside the hollow tree.
The bark split outward under my shoulders.
The trunk burst open from the pressure.
Wood exploded.
Moon-grey light spilled in.
The ghouls recoiled from sudden space.
I didn't give them time.
Mana surged into my fists.
I moved through them like something feral.
A punch shattered a ribcage.
A kick severed a spine.
I grabbed one by the ankle and used it as a flail.
Teeth snapped inches from my face.
Claws raked across my armor, finding gaps.
Health dropped again.
1,566 → 1,201
They were endless.
They came from the forest in dozens.
Drawn by the scent of living flesh.
My flesh.
The ground around the broken tree churned with pale bodies crawling over each other.
Their eyes reflected faint green fire.
They moved in coordination.
Flanking.
Driving me toward thicker undergrowth.
This wasn't a random attack.
This was organized.
I activated Rift Sense.
Mana currents pulsed between them.
A signal.
Somewhere in the forest something commanded them.
And it wanted me exhausted.
The realization chilled me more than the claws.
I was prey.
Not a hunter.
A ghoul leapt onto my back.
Another bit my forearm.
Pain spiked.
My grip weakened.
The world tilted.
I nearly fell.
Health:
842
Too low.
Too slow.
If I collapsed here they would eat me alive and wait for my mana to fade before finishing the bones.
I forced mana into my legs.
Agility surged.
Time stretched.
I ran.
Not away.
Through them.
I broke their line with raw force, sprinting between trees, crushing anything in reach. Branches tore at my armor. Claws raked my back.
They pursued.
Relentless.
Hundreds now.
Their footfalls were soft.
Too soft.
They didn't need sound to coordinate.
My lungs burned.
Stamina bled.
Health ticked downward from lingering wounds.
693
If this was a test…
It was working.
I reached a clearing of blackened ground where nothing grew.
The trees circled it but did not enter.
The ghouls halted at the edge.
They hissed.
They wanted me inside.
That was the trap.
Behind me more emerged.
Cutting off retreat.
I stood in the center of the clearing, chest heaving, blood dripping into dead soil.
The forest watched.
The ghouls waited.
Something deeper in the trees shifted.
Heavy.
Patient.
And intelligent.
My system notification flickered faintly:
Warning: High-Order Undead Presence Detected Nearby.
My health sat at:
611
I raised my blade.
The clearing felt like an altar.
The ghouls began circling slowly.
Tighter.
Closer.
And from the darkness between the trees,
Two eyes opened.
Not green.
Not feral.
Blue.
Aware.
Watching me struggle.
Waiting for me to break.
And I realized,
The horde wasn't the threat.
It was the test .