Don gasped awake.
His body jerked upright، and immediately he regretted it. Every muscle screamed in protest. His head pounded like someone was driving nails into his skull. His throat was raw.
But he was alive.
[Host consciousness restored]
[Performing system diagnostics…]
[Combat results calculated]
[Enemies defeated: 11]
[Experience gained…]
Don's vision blurred as text scrolled before his eyes.
[+10 XP (Uncle John - Tainted Human/Monster)]
[+5 XP (Knight - Human)]
[+5 XP (Man - Human)]
[+5 XP (Woman - Human)]
[+5 XP (Mage - Human)]
[+5 XP (Child - Human)]
[+5 XP (Fighter - Human)]
[+5 XP (Guard - Human)]
[+5 XP (Prisoner - Human)]
[+5 XP (Warrior - Human)]
[+5 XP (Apprentice - Human)]
[Total XP gained: 60]
[Previous XP: 0/50]
[Current XP: 60/50]
[LEVEL UP!]
[You are now Level 2]
[HP: 10/-] (Immortal)
[Mana: 50/750] (+100 max capacity | Partially restored by external source)
[Stamina: 1/20] (+5 max capacity)
[You have gained 5 Status Points]
[All physical stats increased by +2]
[All mental stats increased by +3]
[Remaining XP: 10/100]
[Warning: Madness increased during unconsciousness]
[Reason: Immortality skill consumed life force to prevent death from mana depletion]
[New Madness level: 14%]
[Please allocate Status Points]
Don stared at the notifications، his mind still foggy from exhaustion and the encounter with Madness.
Uncle John gave 10 XP. The humans… 5 each.
I leveled up. But my mana… it's barely recovered. And my Madness went up.
He tried to piece together what happened.
The collar drained my mana while I was unconscious. All of it. My Immortality kept me alive by… what? Burning my soul? My life force?
And then someone—probably the demons—gave me something to restore just enough mana so I wouldn't die.
They want me alive. For now.
He dismissed the system screens and looked around.
He was in a new cell. Not the dungeon from before. This one was different—smaller، darker، with smooth stone walls that seemed to absorb sound. A single torch burned in a sconce outside the bars، casting flickering shadows that danced like living things.
And he wasn't alone.
The nine other survivors were here، scattered around the cell like broken dolls. Some sat against walls، staring at nothing. Others lay curled on the cold floor، trembling. All of them bore the same hollow، thousand-yard stare of people who'd seen too much، done too much، lost too much.
Don's brown eye and yellow eye scanned them، taking inventory.
His right eye—the yellow one—seemed to see more now. Details stood out sharper. He could see the faint pulse of blood beneath skin. The micro-expressions of fear and trauma.
Two hours، he thought، checking the quest timer in the corner of his vision. Two hours and four minutes left. Then… what? The quest succeeds? Or fails? What happens then?
He had no answer.
The Source was still silent. Unreachable behind the collar's suppression.
Slowly، painfully، Don pushed himself to his feet. His body protested—Stamina: 1/20—but his Immortality had done its work. The wounds were healed، even if the exhaustion remained bone-deep.
He needed a plan. Needed to escape. But first…
"Status،" he whispered under his breath.
The screen materialized before him، clean and organized.
╔═══════════════════════════╗
STATUS SCREEN
╚═══════════════════════════╝
Name: Don Valdruun • Age: 12 • Health (HP): {10/-} • Mana (MP): {50/750} • Stamina (STA): {1/20} • Experience (EXP): {10/100} • Affiliation: ?????? • Level: 2 • Status Points: 5 • Madness: 14%
— ATTRIBUTES —
• Strength: 14 • Agility: 19 • Vitality: 14 • Dexterity: 14 • Stamina: 14 • Wisdom: 16 • Magic Power: 16 • Intelligence: 16 • Sense: 5 • Luck: 50
— TITLES & TALENTS —
• Title: Survivor of Death's Deceit
• Talent: Child of Luck - #%#%#%#%#%#%
— SKILLS —
• Skill 1: Immortality (Lv. 2)
Sub-Skill: Emotion Suppression (Lv. 2)
• Skill 2: Learning and Adaptation (Lv. 2)
Passive: Adept Mastery
Masteries: Knife (Adept), Sword (Adept)
• Skill 3: Imagination (Lv. 2) [SUPPRESSED]
Sub-Skill: Primitive Weapon Crafting (Lv. 2) [SUPPRESSED]
╚═══════════════════════════╝
Five Status Points، Don thought، staring at the numbers. Where do I put them?
His mind worked through the options methodically، coldly—a side effect of the 14% Madness، perhaps، or just survival instinct sharpening his thoughts.
Strength? I'm already stronger than I should be for my age.
Agility saved me before. Being faster = harder to hit.
Intelligence and Magic Power are useless while the collar is active.
Stamina… I'm running on fumes. One point left. If I have to fight again…
Before he could decide، a voice broke the oppressive silence.
"You're awake."
Don's head snapped toward the sound، his yellow eye focusing instantly.
One of the survivors—a woman in her thirties with short brown hair and a deep scar cutting across her left cheek—was watching him. Her eyes were sharp، calculating، assessing him like a threat or an asset.
"Yeah،" Don said cautiously، his voice rough. "I'm awake."
"Good." She gestured around the cell with a tired hand. "We need to talk. All of us. Before they come back."
Slowly، like corpses stirring from graves، the other survivors began to move. One by one، they sat up، turning their hollow eyes toward Don and the woman.
Don counted them again. Nine others. Ten total، including himself.
The woman spoke first، her voice low but carrying authority. "My name is Martha. I was a knight in the Royal Guard before… this." She gestured to her torn، blood-stained armor—once white and gold، now brown and tattered. "We don't have much time، so I'll be brief. We're alive because the Blood King wants us alive. That means we're useful to him. But the moment we stop being useful…"
She didn't need to finish the sentence.
A man in tattered mage robes spoke next. He was older، maybe fifty، with gray hair and eyes that had seen too much. "Aldric. Court mage. Or I was." He coughed wetly. "The collar blocks most magic, but not all. I can still feel… something. A trickle. If we can remove these collars, I might be able to—"
"We can't،" another voice interrupted sharply. A young man، maybe twenty، with dark skin and the build of a laborer. His hands were calloused، scarred. "Karn. I tried. Three times. Nearly killed myself each time. These things are designed to explode if you tamper with the locking mechanism."
"Then we don't tamper،" Martha said firmly. "We wait. We watch. We find another way out." Her eyes swept across the group. "We're fighters. All of us survived that pit. We can survive this too. But we need to work together."
Don listened، his mind cataloging each person، each potential ally or threat.
Maybe… maybe I don't have to escape alone.
"What about you?" Martha's gaze fixed on Don، and he felt the weight of her scrutiny. "Red hair. Strange eyes—one brown، one yellow now. You fought like…" She paused، searching for words. "Like something that wasn't quite human. What's your name?"
Don hesitated. Then: "Don."
"Don،" Martha repeated، testing the name. She studied him—his build، his height، the way he carried himself. "You look older than you probably are. Sixteen? Seventeen?"
"Twelve."
Her eyes widened slightly، the only crack in her composed expression. "Twelve." She said it again، as if testing the truth of it. Then her gaze hardened. "You killed more people than anyone else in that pit. Ten. And you're still sane—or at least you seem to be." Her eyes narrowed، focusing on his mismatched eyes. "How?"
Don didn't answer. Couldn't answer. What would he say? I turned off my emotions and became a killing machine?
Another survivor spoke—a teenage boy، maybe fifteen، with sandy hair and eyes red from crying. "I'm Tam. I… I'm nobody. Just a farmer's son. I don't know why I'm still alive. I don't know why I didn't just—" His voice broke، and he buried his face in his hands.
An older woman sitting beside him—gray-haired، matronly—reached over and squeezed his shoulder gently. "Hush، boy. We're all scared. Fear means you're still human."
One by one، the others introduced themselves:
Renna - A merchant's daughter، early twenties، with clever green eyes that darted constantly، always calculating.
Gorath - A blacksmith، massive and scarred، his arms like tree trunks. He said nothing، just nodded، but his eyes were hard.
Lysa - A young woman، maybe nineteen، with the graceful posture of a dancer or acrobat. Her hands were delicate but scarred from the arena.
Finn - A child، couldn't be older than fourteen، with dark hair and wide، terrified eyes. He clutched his knees to his chest، rocking slightly.
And finally، someone Don hadn't expected.
A figure in the corner، cloaked in shadows despite the torchlight، spoke in a quiet، rasping voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
"I am called the Wraith. That is all you need to know."
The voice was neither male or female—androgynous، distorted، almost inhuman. The figure's face was hidden beneath a deep hood، and their hands were wrapped in cloth stained dark.
Don's yellow eye focused on them، trying to discern more، but the Wraith remained perfectly still—unnaturally still، like a statue.
Nine others، Don thought. Can I trust any of them? Should I?
Trust had gotten him nowhere so far. Kael had seemed trustworthy. Look how that turned out—if he even was just a prisoner.
Before Don could decide anything، the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor.
The cell went silent.
Every survivor froze.
The footsteps grew closer. Louder. The rhythmic thud، thud، thud of boots on stone، accompanied by the rattle of armor and weapons.
Then they stopped.