Zombies.
They didn't just destroy buildings.
They destroyed him.
They stole his past.
They stole his identity.
And now… now they were stealing his future.
He was becoming one of them.
The very thing he despised. The thing he had sworn to hunt. To wipe from the earth.
And the irony was a knife twisting in his chest—deeper than any wound.
But—
No.
His mind, fogged with pain and drowning, refused to break.
I've survived this long. I've walked through fire. I've fought monsters with nothing but a stick and desperation. I've carried the weight of not knowing who I am—and still kept moving.
I won't let them take what's left of me.
NO!
He screamed it in silence. Voiceless. Breathless. But loud in his soul.
NO! NO! NO!
He fought—not with strength, not with weapons—but with will. He rejected the change. He clawed back against the rot, against the decay, against the slow death of his humanity. He didn't know how, but he resisted. His body was breaking, but his spirit wasn't done.
Not yet.
But as the river dragged him deeper, the cold seeped into more than his skin.
It seeped into his heart.
…No one's coming.
No one even knows I exist.
No one remembers me. No one's looking for me.
He was alone.
Not just in the water.
But in everything.
No past. No name. No savior.
Just a dying boy in a broken world, turning into the monster he hated most.
And then—
Flash. Flash.
Two faint orbs of light drifted through the black water—soft, slow, like embers rising from drowned ashes.
They were the final essence of the first two zombies he'd ever killed—creatures he'd left for dead, but which had clung to existence until this moment. Only now, as his soul power surged, did they finally release their energy.
And then—
[You have killed a normal zombie.]
[You have killed a normal zombie.]
[Congratulations. You have gained enough Soul Power. Level Up: Lv. 1 Achieved.]
[Reward: 2 Undistributed Stat Points]
For the first time since the fall, something flickered behind his eyes.
Not just light.
Hope.
Faint. Fragile. But real.
…This… this is it…
…With this… I can fight back…
…I can survive…
I WILL!
His mind, drowning in pain and decay, sharpened like a blade.
He forced his consciousness inward—into the glowing interface only he could see.
[Bittu Sah – Lv. 1]
[Race: Human (Changing)]
[Class: Jocker]
[Bloodline: None]
[Strength: E]
[Agility: F]
[Stamina: E]
[Constitution: F]
[Perception: G]
[Spirit: G]
[Unassigned Stat Points: 2]
His thoughts raced.
Strength? No. Won't stop decay.
Agility? Useless. I'm underwater. I'm rotting.
Stamina? Already decent. Not enough to save me.
Perception? Too low… but can it help?
Spirit? G… what even is this?
His gaze locked on Constitution
It's changing. My body's breaking. If I boost Constitution… maybe I can slow the rot. Hold on long enough to reach the surface. To fight. To live.
Without hesitation, he poured the first stat point into it.
[Constitution: F → E]
A surge pulsed through him. His heartbeat steadied. The rot in his shoulder slowed—just slightly. Not healed. But contained.
It's working…
He reached for the second point.
But then—
It hit him.
That sensation.
The one he'd felt once before—right before the zombie dog attacked.
Death.
Not a sound. Not a sight.
A feeling—deep in his bones. A primal alarm screaming from some hidden part of his mind.
His blood turned to ice. His nerves lit up. Goosebumps erupted across his skin.
It's happening again…
That feeling had saved him once. He'd ignored it once—almost died. He'd listened the second time—lived.
And now, it screamed at him: Don't do it.
Don't put the point into Constitution.
His hand—metaphorical, in his mind—froze.
Why now? Why this moment?
The first three stats wouldn't help. He knew that.
But the last two—Perception and Spirit—were unknowns.
And the death sense had only triggered now, at this exact moment.
That means… one of them is the key.
One choice saves me. The other… ends me.
No hints. No signs. Just a whisper from the edge of death.
He closed his eyes in the dark water.
Imagined air.
Imagined light.
Imagined remembering.
And with the last shreds of his will, his trembling thought cut through the void:
…Spirit.
[You have used one of your undistributed stat points.]
The moment the notification flickered across his vision, a strange, eerie silence fell within him.
The pain—relentless, all-consuming—stopped.
Just for a breath.
Just for a heartbeat.
In that fragile instant, Bittu felt something he hadn't known in years.
Hope.
His lips, cracked and bleeding, almost curled. His drowning mind, fogged with agony, dared to believe.
Maybe… maybe it worked…
But the universe laughed in silence.
...
A second later—the pain returned.
No.
Not returned.
Exploded.
It ripped through his body like a storm of knives forged in hellfire. Every nerve screamed. Every cell burned. His muscles seized, his bones groaned, and the slow, creeping corruption that had been gnawing at his left side suddenly surged—like a starving beast finally given meat.
His shoulder, already half-rotted, blackened further—flesh withering, veins turning to tar. The decay leapt like wildfire, devouring his upper arm, racing down to his hand. Two-thirds of his left hand turned to dead, gray flesh—cracked, lifeless, twitching with unnatural spasms.
It didn't stop.
It crawled across his chest, down his stomach—consuming everything on the left side. Skin peeled. Tissue died. Organs pulsed in protest.
Only his heart—still beating, still his—remained untouched. A lone fortress in a kingdom fallen to plague.
"... Argh...!"
A groan tore from his throat—weak, choked.
Water flooded in.
He hadn't meant to breathe. But pain had stolen his control. His body betrayed him.
Now he was drowning and dying.
The water filled his lungs. His chest convulsed. His vision blurred, then darkened at the edges.
No… not like this…
He roared inside his skull—AHHHHHHHHHH!—a scream with no voice, no air, only pure, raw defiance.
But the river didn't care.
The world didn't care.
His body was failing.
His mind was slipping.
Consciousness frayed like a rope burned at both ends.
So what? he thought, even as the darkness closed in.
So what if I was wrong? So what if I chose wrong?
I won't let go.
I won't surrender.
I'll fight—till my last breath. Till my last thought. Till the very idea of "Bittu" is erased.
Even then… I'll resist.
And in that final moment—when his soul was already drifting, when his body had given up, when the last flicker of awareness was about to vanish into the void—
Something happened.
Not from the river.
Not from the sky.
From beyond.
A thread of light—thin, silver, almost invisible—slid through the water like a whisper from the cosmos itself. It didn't shine. It pulsed, as if alive, as if it had been waiting.
And then—
It entered him.
Not through his mouth. Not through his wounds.
Through his soul.
A cold warmth. A silence louder than thunder. A presence that had watched, waited, known.
And then—
Buzz.
[You have met the prerequisite.]
Buzz.
[You are resonating with your class.]
Buzz.
[Congratulations. The Jocker has deemed you worthy.]
[You have unlocked your second skill.]
[Congratulations—you have inherited your class's true gift.]
The words didn't just appear.
They echoed.
As if spoken by a thousand forgotten voices.
Then, the screen stabilized.
[Class: Jocker (Unique)]
[Skill 1 : Danger Intuition (passive)]
[Skill 2: Unknown (Need further analysis) (passive) ]
[Rating: Unknown]
[Description: A skill born from agony. It transforms physical and mental suffering into latent power, accelerating growth the deeper the pain. The more you endure, the stronger you become.]
[Note: A skill not granted by gods, nor born of fate. A power forged by one forgotten by the universe.]
For a single, weightless moment—time stopped.
The pain didn't vanish.
But it changed.
It wasn't just destruction anymore.
It was fuel.
The rot still consumed. The water still filled his lungs. Death still loomed.
But now… something inside him answered.
Something awoke.
And then—
His consciousness slipped away.
Drifting. Floating. Falling into the endless dark.
He was gone.
Truly gone.
And just as his soul crossed the threshold—
A hand reached out.
Not from the river.
Not from the shore.
From the void itself.
And it caught his hand.