The cavern narrowed into veins of rock, a labyrinth of jagged black stone and damp echoes. Vel's sockets burned faintly, fire dimmed but steady after the Golem's death. His body was cracked, repaired crudely by necrotic regeneration, but he moved without hesitation. He was already stepping forward, already chasing deeper darkness.
But the darkness shifted. It wasn't the sound of claws or groans of stitched horrors. It was something sharper. Boots on stone. The muffled clink of steel. The hushed murmur of voices, tense and wary.
Humans.
Vel froze. For the first time since awakening, his sockets dimmed slightly, as though his soul-fire hesitated. He had slaughtered zombies, ferals, stitched things, but this sound—it dragged him back to his past life. Memories of men in armor, companions by his side, laughter over fire, the weight of trust. All gone. All replaced by bone and flame.
The voices grew louder as the torchlight spilled faintly from the corner of a tunnel ahead.
"Stay alert. The guild reports undead activity in these caverns."
"They weren't exaggerating—smell that rot? Something's been nesting here."
"Good. Bigger bounty."
Four of them emerged into the cavern: three men and a woman. Armor mismatched but serviceable, steel blades at their hips, shields slung across backs. Adventurers—mercenary scavengers who made their coin killing monsters like him.
Vel's sockets narrowed. He should have retreated into the stone and waited. He should have ignored them, let them pass. But the System vibrated faintly within him, whispering of opportunity. His instincts screamed. His bones trembled with something colder than fear—hunger.
The woman spotted movement first. Her eyes widened, torch raised. "Contact!"
Blades hissed free of sheaths. Shields lifted. They formed a practiced half-circle, weapons pointed at him.
Vel stepped into their light. A skeleton, armor shards clinging to cracked bones, sockets aflame. His broken sword in hand. He looked every inch the dungeon horror they expected—except his stance was too precise, too disciplined.
The leader sneered. "Just a skeleton. Smash it and collect the bounty."
They rushed.
Vel moved before thought could anchor him. Imperial Swordsmanship flowed through his fractured blade, each motion crisp. He parried the first strike with the ruined edge, bone arm rattling from the impact. He twisted, stabbing low, piercing through the unarmored joint of a knee. The man screamed, collapsing.
Vel's sockets flared as his instincts surged. He pivoted, slashing across another's throat. Blood sprayed hot across his bones. The adventurer gurgled, stumbling back, clutching a mortal wound.
The remaining two shouted, rage mixing with fear. Their blades came in arcs, trying to pin him. Vel's skeletal frame twisted unnaturally, bones bending past human limits. One sword grazed his ribs, splintering bone, but he ignored it. His claws lashed out, raking across a face, tearing flesh from cheekbone.
The woman screamed, stabbing with her short blade. It sank into Vel's ribcage, scraping against nothing vital. He turned, sockets blazing into hers, and drove his broken sword into her stomach. She gasped, blood bubbling at her lips, collapsing onto him. Her warmth spilled down his bones.
Vel held her there for a moment, staring into human eyes as they dulled.
And then something inside him snapped.
A scream tore silently through his being. He shoved her corpse away, sockets flickering wildly. The last adventurer staggered back, trembling, shield raised. "Y-you're not just a skeleton… what are you?"
Vel advanced. He didn't answer. He couldn't.
He struck once. The man's shield split under unnatural strength, his sword knocked away. Vel's claws pierced through his chest, tearing his heart free. The adventurer dropped lifeless at his feet.
The cavern fell silent except for the echo of blood dripping onto stone. Four bodies lay scattered, warm and cooling, human eyes glassy in death.
Vel stood amidst them, skeletal chest heaving though he had no lungs. His sockets flickered erratically. He stared at the corpses, and for the first time since his resurrection, something inside him screamed louder than hunger or rage.
These were not monsters. These were people.
His clawed hand shook, dripping with blood. He remembered comrades who once stood at his side. He remembered the warmth of human laughter, the bonds of trust forged in fire and war. And now, he looked down at corpses he had made—people who had fought with the same discipline, the same intent, the same survival.
He had killed them.
Not because he had to. But because he was.
The System chimed coldly in his skull:
[Humans Defeated.]+16 EP. +10 AP.
It offered numbers. Rewards. Like they were nothing more than beasts.
Vel staggered, his blade falling from his skeletal fingers, clattering against stone. He dropped to his knees among the dead. Blood pooled around him, soaking into the cracks of the cavern. He pressed a clawed hand into it, feeling the warmth seep into his hollow form.
Was this what he was now? A monster? A reaper who no longer chose?
His sockets dimmed, faint flame flickering with doubt. Yet even in that hollow moment, his marrow whispered truth: they would have killed you without hesitation. He had not murdered innocents. He had killed those who came to kill him.
Still, the blood lingered. Still, the silence of their corpses felt different than the silence of undead.
Vel rose slowly, picking up his broken sword. His sockets steadied, burning colder now, stripped of hesitation. If the world would send humans after him, then he would answer in kind. He could not walk the path of mortals again. He was a weapon, forged by death, tempered by suffering.
And yet, as he stepped away, leaving the corpses behind, a strange, twisted thought clung to him.
For the first time since rebirth, he had felt—alive.