"For murdering four innocent people in cold blood, Xavier Crownheart is sentenced to one thousand years of rigorous imprisonment…"
The judge's words echoed through Xavier's mind like a curse that refused to fade.
Now, within the cold confines of Ravenstone Penitentiary—one of Canada's largest maximum-security prisons, built to house more than a thousand inmates—Xavier pressed his palms to the hard floor of his isolated cell.
"Ninety-eight… ninety-nine… one hundred."
His voice came out steady, unshaken. Sweat streamed down from his jet-black hair, tracing the sharp lines of his face before falling to the ground. His muscles trembled under the weight of exhaustion, veins bulging like cords of steel. The pain in his arms burned like molten lead—but he didn't stop.
"Continue," he muttered under his breath, his tone cold, emotionless. "Don't even think about stopping."
The sound of distant footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. Then came a voice, dripping with disdain.
"Trying to act tough, huh, kid?"
Xavier didn't bother responding. He recognized the voice—it belonged to the scum in the opposite cell, a man who found pleasure in taunting others. Still, Xavier's brows twitched, a shadow of irritation crossing his face.
The inmate chuckled darkly. "No fun as always, huh? But hey, you've been good entertainment lately. Let me fill you in on something interesting. I heard a UN human rights committee came today to inspect this shithole—some report about 'inhumane conditions' and 'animal treatment.' And rumor has it…" His tone turned sleazy. "The leader of the committee is one smoking-hot babe."
He laughed crudely, the sound echoing down the dim corridor.
Then, lowering his voice to a knife's edge, he continued, "Tell me, kid… was it the disappointment in your actions that made your parents commit—"
Bang!
The deafening sound of a fist slamming against steel shattered the air.
Xavier's bloodied knuckles pressed hard against the cold bars. His face was a portrait of restrained rage, his voice sharp enough to cut bone.
"Utter one more word about my parents…"
The man's grin widened. He leaned forward, pretending to cup his ear. "What was that? Can't hear you, kid." His eyes gleamed with malice. "Oh right—didn't you have a little sister too? Did she also—"
That was as far as he got before the ground beneath them lurched violently.
The world convulsed. The iron bed crashed against the wall. The toilet exploded, spraying filthy water. Mark—the middle-aged inmate—barely managed to grab the bars to steady himself.
Xavier's head exploded with pain. A sharp, piercing agony shot through his skull as if invisible needles were stabbing his brain. His vision blurred, and the color drained from his face. Only sheer will kept him from collapsing.
After what felt like an eternity, the trembling ceased.
A silence heavier than death fell over the prison—brief, suffocating, the kind that came just before a storm.
Then, the first screams erupted.
Panic spread like wildfire through the corridors.
Xavier leaned against the wall, his breath uneven. And then—something impossible happened.
Blue screens blinked into existence before his eyes.
[Abyss Breach Detected]
[Searching for higher-sequence warrior to repel invasion…]
[Error: No higher-sequence entity detected]
[Threat Level Escalated]
[Initiating Forceful Evolution Protocol]
[This world is now under the jurisdiction of the Infinite Record.]
[You may now access your status window at will.]
"Abyss…?" Xavier muttered, his tone cautious.
The glowing text followed his gaze wherever he looked, transparent yet real. His instincts screamed this was no illusion. The screams outside—raw, primal—confirmed it.
"Status…" he said uncertainly.
At once, new words appeared:
[Name: Xavier Crownheart]
[Soul Skill: Instant Kill (???? Grade)]
[Level: 0 | Race: Human | Class: None | Title: None]
[Strength: 14 (10) | Agility: 13 (10) | Health: 12 (10) | Stamina: 13 (10) | Mana: 110 (10)]
He instinctively understood—the numbers in parentheses represented normal human limits. His stats were far higher, a result of years of brutal self-discipline and training for vengeance.
But one phrase snagged his attention.
"Soul skill?" he whispered. "What does that even mean?"
Before he could think further, a strange scraping noise filled the corridor—like shards of glass grinding together. Then, the cell door clicked open.
Xavier's eyes narrowed. Impossible. These gates were electronically locked—only the warden had the authority to open them.
He approached cautiously, peering outside.
The corridor was a nightmare. Prisoners screamed and ran in all directions, some fighting, others fleeing. And among them were figures that weren't human—creatures with twisted limbs, skin peeling off in black rot, and eyes burning with feral hunger.
Zombies.
But these weren't mindless corpses. They moved fast, snapping necks and tearing flesh with inhuman strength.
The chaos was unimaginable. Prisoners fought back with desperation born of terror. A tattooed brute drove his boot into a zombie's skull, twisting it violently.
For a split second, he smirked—until a look of shock froze on his face. His body went limp as if something invisible had drained his life away.
"Move! Get out of the way!" someone shouted.
A shirtless man came barreling through the chaos, eyes wide with madness and exhilaration. "The gods have blessed me! Hahaha!"
Before Xavier could dismiss him as another lunatic, a fireball burst into existence in front of the man's palm—and shot forward. It struck a zombie head-on, incinerating it instantly.
"What the hell…" Xavier whispered.
Then, a new roar shook the corridor.
"It's the warden's pet tiger! Run!"
Confusion turned to terror. And then—it appeared. A massive Bengal tiger, its mouth soaked in blood, barreled through the corridor like a demon.
The boy who'd thrown the fireball froze. He tried to scream—too late.
Crunch.
The tiger's jaws closed around his torso, ripping him apart in a spray of blood.
Xavier stumbled back into his cell, panic tightening his chest. Damn it! He could fight men—but not a beast like that.
The tiger tore through the hallway like a living storm, crushing zombies and prisoners alike into mangled corpses. The air stank of blood and iron.
It was almost upon him.
The beast lunged, its claws outstretched, jaws wide open.
Xavier clenched his fists, his rage boiling over. Not like this. Not before I settle the score.
"DIE!"
As he roared, something deep within him ignited—a cold, merciless pulse. The world darkened for an instant.
And the tiger fell.
Dead.
Midair.
Xavier dropped to the ground, gasping, his strength fading like sand through fingers. His limbs trembled violently. This wasn't physical exhaustion—it was something far deeper. Soul exhaustion.
He realized instinctively that whatever power he had just unleashed came with a terrifying cost.
Then, in the corner of his vision, a faint red number flickered: [2/3], before fading away.
Before he could process it, a violet orb of energy floated out of the tiger's corpse and merged into his body.
[You have absorbed Level 10 Zombie Tiger's Soul Power.]
[Strength +4 | Agility +5 | Health +2]
[You have reached Level 1.]
[Acquired 2 free status points.]
He ignored the notifications, staring down at his own hands. His skin glowed faintly pink, as though boiling from within. The violet light was transforming him.
Then, something caught his eye beside the tiger's corpse—a book.
It floated gently, glowing with ethereal light.
[Skill Acquired: Mana Sword (First Sequence Skill) — Level 1]
Description: You can channel the mana within your body to conjure a sword made of pure mana. Power scales with mana quality.
The small violet tome shimmered in his grasp, golden runes crawling across its surface.
"Lightsaber…?" he muttered, half in disbelief.
Before he could examine it, the book dissolved into motes of light and vanished.
The other prisoners—those who hadn't yet been torn apart—stared at him with shock and confusion.
Xavier clenched his fists. "I can't stay here."
He knew the warden was a man obsessed with collecting exotic beasts—a private zoo not far from the prison. If all those monsters had escaped…
Staying here was suicide.
Without another thought, he turned and sprinted through the blood-soaked corridor.
Behind him, the D-block had already become a slaughterhouse.