The cavern trembled under the weight of silence. Smoke and ash swirled through the air, ghosting across the blackened stone like the last breath of a dying world. All around, the remains of the horde smoldered — thousands of charred Orcs reduced to ruin.
At the center of it all stood the Orc Shaman Boss, half-burned but still alive, clutching its staff made of fused bone and obsidian. Its blood-red eyes glared at the figure walking toward it — slow, deliberate, unstoppable.
Zorahm emerged from the smoke, his black cloak fluttering, the faint pulse of his nanoreactor beating in his chest like a second heart. His katana gleamed under the flicker of molten light. Every step he took left small rings of dust swirling around his boots.
"Target remains hostile," G.A.I.D.E. reported in his calm, emotionless tone. "Energy readings dropping, but magical concentration increasing. Advise rapid termination before a secondary spell can be cast."
Zorahm tilted his head, eyes narrowing.
"Let's see if it can still fight."
The Orc bellowed, a roar that shook dust from the cavern ceiling. It swung its staff, and sigils ignited in the air, glowing blood-red. Firestorms burst forth like coiled serpents of molten flame, hurtling toward Zorahm.
But the boy was already moving.
The world slowed — sound stretched thin — as nanocytes surged through his veins, amplifying his senses beyond the flow of time. He stepped aside, the fire sweeping past him harmlessly, his cloak fluttering in its wake. Then he sprinted forward, body blurring into a streak of shadows and steel.
The katana's edge met flesh.The Orc's arm spun through the air, blood spraying in an arc that hissed as it hit the superheated stones.
Zorahm spun on his heel, driving a second cut across the Orc's chest, severing tendons, muscle, and armor in one motion. The creature screamed — a deep, wet sound that echoed through the cavern — and fell to one knee, clutching the gash that split its torso.
"Bone density reduced by structural damage. Efficiency of your strikes has reached 99.7%," G.A.I.D.E. noted.
Zorahm's tone was ice. "It's not dead yet."
He darted forward again, slicing across the creature's other arm, then its thigh, crippling it fully. The Orc crashed to the ground, panting and bleeding, the heavy staff clattering beside it.
Zorahm crouched beside the fallen monster, pressing the flat of his katana against its neck.
"Where did you come from?" he asked quietly. "And what are you after?"
The Orc spat blood and roared something unintelligible — a guttural language of snarls and clicks. Zorahm frowned.
"G.A.I.D.E.?"
"Unknown language pattern. No existing match in human archives. Translation impossible."
Zorahm tilted his head slightly, studying its face. "Then you're useless."
He pressed harder — not to kill, but to inflict pain. The Orc thrashed, its claws scraping the ground. Then, suddenly, its eyes rolled back, veins bulging black under its green skin. A strange, cold presence filled the air.
The Orc's head tilted upward, mouth opening, and another voice spoke — smooth, deliberate, and eerily human.
"Divine Vessel…"
Zorahm's breath stilled. The voice was not the Orc's. It carried weight, intelligence, and something ancient.
"You have awakened," it continued through the Orc's body, its tone almost reverent. "The vessel has fulfilled the threshold of slaughter. Impressive."
Zorahm's grip tightened on the hilt of his katana. "Who are you?"
"Names are trivial," the voice said, deep and resonant, echoing off the stone. "But since you seek purpose… you may call me the Architect. If you desire answers, come deeper. My lair awaits… in the heart of the dungeon."
The light faded from the Orc's eyes, and its head slumped lifelessly forward. The body fell with a heavy thud, shaking the ground once more.
"Energy source terminated," G.A.I.D.E. confirmed. "Residual traces of unidentified transmission remain embedded in local ether."
Zorahm rose, flicking the blood from his blade in one smooth motion. As the crimson drops hit the stone, the world around him suddenly pulsed — white light flooding his vision.
Words — digital, golden, alive — appeared midair.
Requirement Achieved.Killed 1000 Monsters.Killed 1 Dungeon Boss.Congratulations! You have become a Player.
Lines of glowing text unfolded in his sight:
Job: Unknown
Level: 0
Vitality: 999
Intelligence: 999
Strength: 999
Speed: 999
Agility: 999
Comprehension: 999
Constitution: 999
Luck: 0
Skill Mastery: 999 — (All Weapons, Martial Arts, Strategy, Survival)
Additional Talent: Orc Killer — (+100 to all stats when combating Orc-type monsters)
New Language Acquired: Orcish Tongue
"System assimilation complete," G.A.I.D.E. narrated. "Note: language 'Orcish' downloaded as part of the Player initialization package."
Zorahm blinked as the symbols faded. The cavern seemed sharper — clearer — as though his very perception had deepened. He flexed his hand, feeling every nanocyte hum in harmony beneath his skin.
"This feels… strange," he said, half-smiling. "Like I've been put inside a game."
"Affirmative," G.A.I.D.E. replied. "Framework analysis suggests a reality-gamified overlay. Combat, growth, and evolution appear bound to kill metrics and experience triggers."
Zorahm gave a soft laugh, low and amused. "Level zero with maxed-out stats. Guess I'm cheating existence itself."
"Correction: you are existence's cheat code."
He chuckled again, then turned his gaze toward the far end of the cavern. Beyond the crumbled throne and piles of dead Orcs, a black tunnel stretched downward — the air within it pulsing faintly with red mist. The Architect's call still lingered, deep within.
"He's waiting," Zorahm murmured. "And I intend to find him."
"Caution: the dungeon's energy readings increase exponentially below this level," G.A.I.D.E. warned. "Probability of advanced entities and traps: 94.2%."
Zorahm adjusted his cloak, slid his katana back into its sheath, and started walking — slow, steady, unhurried. Each step echoed through the dark as if announcing his arrival to the depths.
"Good," he said softly. "Let them come."
The flickering light faded behind him. The silence swallowed the chamber once more, save for the faint hum of his reactor — and the whisper of unseen eyes watching from deeper below.