Jin Yeong never imagined his life would end in a fluorescent-lit office, his heartbeat a frantic drumroll against his ribs, his cheap dress shoes slipping on blood-slicked linoleum. But here he was—running, gasping, surviving.
The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid sting of smoke. His lungs burned as he sprinted through the chaos of overturned desks, shattered glass crunching underfoot, and the echoes of screams that hadn't yet faded. Behind him, a sound tore through the air—not human, not animal, but something wrong. A screech, jagged and guttural, like metal grinding against bone. It was close. Too close.
He didn't dare look back. To look was to hesitate, and to hesitate was to die.
Ten minutes ago, the world had been normal. Boring. A gray blur of spreadsheets and instant noodles. Then the sky darkened, that voice—cold, omnipresent, alive—had spoken, and the system had awakened. With it came the monsters.
They poured through the shattered windows of the office building, creatures that didn't belong in this world. Too many limbs, too many eyes, their bodies pulsing with something black and wet, their jagged mouths dripping with hunger. They moved with purpose, as if they'd been waiting for this moment, as if the world had always been theirs, and humanity was just borrowing it.
The first to die were the loud ones, the ones who stood frozen, gawking at their glowing blue system screens, too dazzled by their newfound "gifts" to notice the shadows creeping closer. Jin had seen a man, one of the sales team, summon a single, trembling ember in his palm. He'd grinned, eyes alight with wonder—until a claw tore through his throat, painting the cubicle walls crimson. A woman from HR had tried to fly, her body lifting a foot off the ground before something long and black yanked her down, her scream cut short by a wet crunch.
Jin didn't wait to see more. He ran.
Not like the fools who stood their ground, thinking their powers made them heroes. Not like the ones who believed they could fight. Jin wasn't a fighter. He wasn't strong or special. He was just a 29-year-old office drone, his life a cycle of bus rides and deadlines. All he had was the instinct to survive, and it screamed at him to move.
His legs burned, his chest heaved, but he pushed forward, weaving through the wreckage of the office. Papers fluttered like dying moths, and the air buzzed with a low, unnatural hum that set his teeth on edge. The exit was close—he could see the red glow of the sign flickering through the haze. Freedom. Safety. If such things still existed.
He almost didn't stop.
Every fiber of his body urged him to keep running, to ignore everything but the door. But then he saw her.
She was crumpled beneath an overturned desk, her leg pinned at an angle that made his stomach lurch. Her breaths were sharp, uneven, her fingers clawing at the floor, leaving streaks of blood as she tried to drag herself free. Her dark hair was matted with sweat, her office blouse torn at the shoulder. She wasn't going to make it.
Not with it coming for her.
The creature moved slowly, deliberately, its spindly limbs clicking against the tile like a predator savoring the hunt. Its body was too thin, its joints bending wrong, its cluster of eyes blinking in a chaotic rhythm. Black ichor dripped from its maw, pooling on the floor. It wasn't just hunting her—it was toying with her.
She pushed herself up, arms trembling, her face pale and streaked with tears. She wasn't fast enough. The creature's claws twitched, eager.
Jin's jaw tightened. Not my problem, he thought. The exit was right there. He could make it. He could live.
But her eyes found his.
They were wide, glassy with terror, and they pinned him in place. She wasn't screaming anymore—maybe she knew it wouldn't help, or maybe she'd already given up. But her gaze held a desperate, wordless plea. Her hand reached out, fingers trembling, nails chipped and bloody.
No one else stopped. The few survivors still moving sprinted past, their footsteps a frantic drumbeat, their eyes fixed on the exit. Self-preservation was a powerful drug.
Jin's stomach twisted into knots. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't anything. But his feet moved before his brain could catch up.
"Hold on," he rasped, his voice barely audible over the pounding in his ears. He closed the distance in seconds, his shoes slipping on the slick floor, the stench of blood and something fouler clogging his nose. The woman let out a choked sob as he reached her, her eyes darting between him and the approaching monster.
"Can you move?" he asked, his voice rough, urgent.
She shook her head, too fast, her words barely forming. "My leg—it's stuck—"
No time. Jin dropped to his knees, his hands wrapping around the edge of the desk. The metal was cold, heavy, unyielding. He braced himself and pulled, muscles straining, veins bulging in his forearms. The desk didn't budge. His arms shook, but he tried again, pouring every ounce of strength into it, his teeth gritted so hard his jaw ached.
The desk shifted—just an inch, but it was enough. The woman gasped, dragging herself free, her ankle twisted at a sickening angle. She bit back a cry, her face contorted in pain.
"Can you stand?" Jin asked, his voice sharper now, the clicking of the creature growing louder.
She nodded, barely, her lips pressed into a thin line. Jin grabbed her arm, pulling her up as gently as he could manage. She winced, leaning heavily against him, her weight unsteady but determined.
"Come on," he muttered, half-dragging her as they moved. The hallway stretched ahead, the exit sign a beacon in the dark. They could make it. They had to.
Behind them, the creature let out a low, guttural click, a sound that crawled under Jin's skin and settled there. It was closer now, its movements deliberate, unhurried. It knew they were trapped.
They rounded a corner—and the world exploded.
A crash tore through the air as the wall ahead erupted in a shower of drywall and debris. Shards sliced across Jin's cheek, warm blood trickling down his face. He stumbled, his grip tightening on the woman's wrist as dust choked the air.
Something emerged from the wreckage. Not the spindly creature from before—this was worse. Its body was massive, armored in dark, jagged plates that gleamed like oil under the flickering lights. Its mouth stretched wide, a gaping maw of needle-like teeth, and its breath rumbled through Jin's chest like a quake. One massive arm rose, its claws long enough to gut them both with a single swipe.
There was no way past it.
Jin's pulse hammered in his skull, his vision narrowing to a tunnel. The woman's breathing was ragged, her weight sagging against him. No way out. No plan. Just the monster, the claws, and the ticking clock of their lives.
His right hand twitched, brushing against something in his pocket. Small. Cold. Sharp.
A pocket knife. A cheap thing he'd carried for years, mostly for opening packages or cutting fruit. Useless against something like this.
The creature took a step forward, the floor trembling under its weight. Its eyes—too many, too wrong—locked onto them, and Jin's heart climbed into his throat.
He pulled the woman behind him, his body moving on instinct, his mind screaming that this was it, this was how it ended. His fingers curled around the knife, gripping it so tightly his knuckles whitened. It was nothing—just a four-inch blade, barely enough to scare a stray dog. But it was all he had.
The monster's arm rose, claws glinting like polished steel. Jin's breath shook, his legs braced to move, but there was nowhere to go.
Then it lunged.
Time slowed. The claws arced down, a blur of death aimed straight for them. Jin didn't think—he moved. His body twisted, yanking the woman with him, her cry swallowed by the crash of claws slamming into the floor. Tile shattered, debris stinging his skin as they hit the ground hard, rolling to avoid the impact.
Jin's heartbeat thundered, his ears ringing. The knife was still in his hand, slick with sweat. He scrambled to his feet, pulling the woman up, her face pale but fierce with determination.
[ Weapon Acquired: Pocket Knife ]
A blue screen flickered in his vision, glowing faintly in the chaos. Jin's breath caught, but before he could process it, something shifted inside him. The knife felt different—not heavier, not lighter, but right. Like an extension of his arm, its balance perfect, its edge sharper than it had any right to be. His stance adjusted without thought, feet planting firmly, shoulders squaring. His eyes, wild with fear, somehow knew exactly where to look, tracking the monster's every twitch.
Limitless Weapon Mastery. The words from his status window burned in his mind. He hadn't understood them before, but now—now he felt it. The knife wasn't just a tool. It was his.
The monster turned, its massive body shifting with a low growl that vibrated in his bones. Its claws rose again, ready to end them.
Jin moved first.
His body surged forward, the motion too fluid, too precise for a man who'd never fought a day in his life. He ducked under the swipe of the creature's arm, the air hissing as claws passed inches from his face. His feet found purchase on the debris-strewn floor, and he lunged, the pocket knife flashing in the dim light.
The blade sank into the monster's throat.
It wasn't a wild stab or a desperate flail. The cut was clean, surgical, slicing through armored plates like they were paper. Black ichor sprayed, hot and foul, coating Jin's arm. The creature lurched, its massive body convulsing as it crashed to the floor, the impact shaking the ground beneath them. It twitched once, twice, then stilled, its many eyes glazing over.
Jin's legs buckled. He sank to his knees, gasping, the knife still clutched in his trembling hand. His arm was slick with the creature's blood, the stench making his stomach roil. He stared at the blade, at the impossible cut it had made, at the monster lying dead at his feet.
That wasn't him. It couldn't be him.
The woman behind him was frozen, her breath hitching as she stared at the corpse, then at Jin. Her eyes were wide, not with fear now, but with something else—shock, maybe awe.
"W-What was that?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Jin swallowed, his throat dry. "I don't know," he managed, his voice hoarse.
A new screen flickered into existence.
[ First Kill Achieved ]
[ Congratulations ]