The dust in the supermarket didn't just settle; it hovered, thick and chalky, making every breath feel like swallowing sand. Through the haze, the world had gone deathly quiet, but it was the kind of silence that screamed.
Nuhel lay flat on the cold, linoleum floor. His heart was hammering against his ribs so hard he was sure it would make a sound, but he forced his body to remain as still as a statue. Just a few feet away, he could hear a wet, rhythmic clicking.
Click... click-click…
It was the Graveling.
Through the gaps in the fallen shelving, Nuhel could see the creature clearly now. It was a nightmare given flesh. Its skin was the color of a wet sidewalk, and its limbs were unnaturally long, ending in three-pointed claws that left deep gouges in the floor with every step. But the most terrifying part was its head. Where eyes should have been, there was nothing but smooth, pale skin. It had no nose, only a vertical slit for a mouth that twitched with every sound.
Nuhel realized the truth instantly: it was blind. It was hunting by sound.
A few meters away, Sarah was sprawled behind a fallen display of cereal boxes. Her eyes were wide, brimming with tears, but she was watching Nuhel. He gave the tiniest, almost invisible shake of his head. Don't move. Don't breathe. Sarah was smart. Even through her sheer terror, she understood. She pressed her face into the floor, turning herself into a shadow.
But they weren't the only ones left alive in the wreckage.
Behind the high marble counter of the reception desk, the young man who had just processed Nuhel's payment was still alive. But he wasn't lucky. A jagged piece of metal shrapnel from the gas tanker explosion was buried deep in his thigh. He was whimpering, a low, bubbling sound that cut through the silence like a knife.
"Please," Nuhel hissed in a voice so quiet it was barely a vibration of air. "Keep... quiet... please..."
He was praying the man would hear him, that he would realize the monster was right there. But the receptionist was in a state of pure, unthinking shock. All he knew was the white-hot pain in his leg. To the receptionist, the silence was an enemy, and his pain was the only thing that was real.
The Graveling's head snapped toward the counter. Its long, twitching ears—hidden beneath folds of skin—seemed to rotate. It let out a low hiss, its claws clicking faster against the floor as it began to stalk toward the source of the noise.
Nuhel watched in horror as the receptionist reached down, his hands shaking, and gripped the piece of shrapnel. He thought that if he pulled it out, the pain would stop. With a sudden, desperate heave, he ripped the metal from his flesh.
"AGHHH!" The scream was short, sharp, and fatal.
The Graveling didn't run; it blurred. It launched itself across the space, clearing the distance in a single, monstrous leap. It flew over the reception counter, and a second later, the screaming turned into a sickening, wet crunching sound.
Nuhel shut his eyes tight, but he couldn't shut out the sound. He could hear the tearing of fabric and the splat of liquid hitting the floor. Beneath the counter, a dark, crimson tide began to seep out, rolling across the tiles. Because the floor was slightly uneven, the blood flowed directly toward Nuhel.
He didn't move as the warm, metallic-smelling liquid soaked into his shirt and his pants. He was literally lying in a pool of the man's life force. His stomach churned, and he felt a hot prickle of bile in his throat, but he swallowed it down. He had to be a corpse. He had to be invisible.
Just leave, Nuhel thought, his mind a repetitive loop of prayer. Just eat and leave.
The clicking sounds slowed down. The creature was finished. Nuhel could hear it sniffing the air, its mouth making a disgusting smacking sound. It seemed satisfied. It began to turn away, its heavy tail dragging through the blood.
Then, the world betrayed him.
From the pocket of his jacket, a bright, cheery jingle rang out. It was a custom notification sound he had set months ago—a sharp, digital "Ding-Dong!" accompanied by a vibration that rattled against the hard floor.
[New Chapter Alert: I Only Summon Vi..!]
The timing was a cruel joke. His favorite manhwa had just updated. In the old world, this would have been the highlight of his day. In this world, it was his death sentence.
The Graveling didn't hesitate. It spun around, its eyeless face locked onto the exact coordinates of Nuhel's pocket.
It let out a piercing shriek and pounced.
Time seemed to slow down for Nuhel. He knew he couldn't run. He knew his legs wouldn't move. But the "Skill Siphon" and the "Hoarder" class had done something to his mind—it had cleared the fog of fear and replaced it with a cold, sharp instinct for survival.
As the creature flew through the air, claws extended, Nuhel didn't scramble away. Instead, he reached out and grabbed the one thing within his reach: his wheelchair.
The Graveling slammed into his chest, the weight of it knocking the wind out of him. Its claws tore through his jeans, shredding the skin of his thighs. In any other situation, Nuhel would have screamed in agony, but the ruined nerves in his legs were now a shield. He felt the pressure, the crushing weight, but he felt zero pain.
He roared—a primal, guttural sound—and rolled.
He used the momentum of the creature's pounce to heave it to the side. With a strength he didn't know he possessed, he scrambled on top of it. He grabbed the frame of his heavy, motorized wheelchair, which had been tipped over next to him, and shoved the metal axle directly across the creature's throat.
The Graveling thrashed wildly. Its claws raked across Nuhel's back and shoulders, tearing deep furrows into his muscles. This time, he did feel it. It felt like being branded with red-hot irons. But he didn't let go. He leaned all of his body weight onto the wheelchair, using the metal bar to crush the creature's windpipe.
"Die!" Nuhel hissed through gritted teeth, his face inches away from the monster's snapping, needle-filled mouth. "Just... die!"
The creature's strength was incredible. It nearly bucked him off, its tail slamming into his ribs, cracking at least two of them.
Nuhel felt blood bubbling up in his throat, but he didn't budge. He pressed harder. He could feel the bony structure of the creature's neck begin to give way.
Sarah watched from her hiding spot, her hands clamped over her mouth to stifle her sobs. She saw the blood—Nuhel's blood—spraying against the white shelves. She saw the way his face was contorted in a mask of pure, desperate rage. She wanted to help, but she was paralyzed by the sheer violence of the struggle.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Graveling's thrashing began to slow. Its movements became weak, twitchy. Its vertical mouth opened and closed one last time, a final puff of foul-smelling air escaping its lungs, and then it went limp.
Nuhel didn't stop. He kept pressing for another full minute, his muscles screaming and his vision blurring, until a familiar sound echoed in his head.
[DING!]
[Target Neutralized: Level 3 Graveling]
[Calculating Rewards...]
[Notice: You have achieved 'First Blood'.]
[Global Announcement: The first kill of the Great Filter has been recorded.]
[Reward Granted: Essence of Origin (Divine Item)]
The adrenaline that had been keeping Nuhel upright suddenly vanished, leaving behind a hollow, icy exhaustion. He looked down at his legs. They were a mess of shredded meat and fabric, soaked in a mixture of his own blood and the creature's black ichor. The wounds on his back were weeping, and the air in his lungs felt thin and cold.
"I did it..." he whispered, his voice cracking.
His eyes fluttered. The blue system screens in front of him began to spin. He saw the words [Essence of Origin] glowing with a soft, golden light, but he couldn't reach for it. His arms gave out, and his head hit the floor with a dull thud. As the world turned black, he heard the sound of footsteps rushing toward him.
"Nuhel! Nuhel, stay with me!"
Sarah was over him in seconds. She didn't look at the dead monster; she only saw the man who had just saved her life. She saw the amount of blood pooling around him and knew he wouldn't last five minutes.
"I won't let you die," she sobbed, pressing her hands against the deep gashes in his back. "You didn't stay alive just to die here!"
She closed her eyes, searching for that strange power she had felt earlier. The System had called her a 'Medic,' but her talent wasn't just about bandages and stitches. It was something deeper. Something more ancient.
[Skill: Borrowed Life - Activated]
Sarah felt a pull in her gut. Suddenly, she could "see" the life force around her. It looked like faint, glowing threads of emerald light. She saw the threads in the few remaining survivors hiding in the back of the store. She saw the threads in the decorative potted trees near the windows.
Without thinking about the cost, she reached out with her mind and pulled.
The potted trees withered instantly, their leaves turning brown and curling into dust. The few survivors in the back felt a sudden, sharp wave of fatigue, as if they had just run a marathon. All of that stolen energy flowed into Sarah, and she channeled it directly into Nuhel.
A soft, green glow erupted from her palms.
Where the light touched Nuhel's skin, the bleeding stopped. The jagged edges of the wounds on his back began to knit together, the flesh weaving itself back into place like a mending garment. The deep gouges on his legs, though the nerves remained silent, began to close.
It wasn't a perfect heal—he was still dangerously weak, and his broken ribs were only partially set—but the light was keeping him from crossing the threshold of death.
Sarah's face grew pale, sweat beading on her forehead as she strained to maintain the flow. She was siphoning the world to keep one heart beating.
As the glow faded, Nuhel's breathing stabilized. He was still unconscious, but the gray, deathly pallor of his skin had been replaced by a faint, healthy flush.
Sarah slumped back, gasping for air. She looked at her hands, then at the dead monster, and finally at the destroyed city outside the broken windows. The world they knew was gone. The grocery lists, the NFC payments, the jokes about manhwas—all of it had been burned away in an afternoon.
But as she looked at Nuhel, she felt a strange, flickering hope. He had fought a monster with a wheelchair and won.
In a world of monsters, a Hoarder had just taken the first prize. And Sarah knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning of what he was going to take.