The golden parchment split cleanly in Ryan's hands.
For a fraction of a second, nothing happened.
Then the torn halves dissolved.
A surge of light burst outward before collapsing inward like a vortex pulled into a single point, rushing straight toward his chest. Ryan barely had time to react. The moment the energy touched him, a violent chill spread through his entire body.
"Ghh—!"
His breath caught in his throat.
Unlike the burning heat during the Awakening, this sensation was cold. Terribly cold. It felt as though icy fingers were sliding through his veins, probing every part of him before gathering somewhere deep inside his chest. Ryan grabbed the edge of the bed to steady himself and bit down on any sound that tried to escape. The last thing he needed was to attract attention from beyond the door.
The cold intensified.
For a moment he thought he might collapse again.
Then the feeling suddenly vanished.
Silence returned to the room. The system panel flickered, and new lines of text appeared slowly, as though the system itself was processing something unusual.
[Skill Acquisition Complete.]
Ryan held his breath.
[Congratulations.]
[You have obtained a Unique Skill.]
[Skill Obtained: Undead Engraving]
"Undead… what?"
Before he could process the meaning, another panel expanded.
[Undead Engraving | Unique Skill]
[Skill Level: 1]
[Description: The user may carve a Death Sigil from a corpse they have slain, engraving the essence of the dead into their body.]
[Each engraved corpse becomes an Undead Mark.]
[The user may summon the engraved undead or keep the mark dormant to retain its death essence.]
[Maximum Engravings: 5]
The panel flickered once more.
[Suitable corpse detected nearby.]
[Target: Mutated Human — Level 1]
[Engraving Available.]
Ryan stared at the message. Then his eyes slowly moved to Mark's body.
"Hell no."
The words slipped out before he could stop them. He shook his head hard. He didn't fully understand how the skill worked, but one thing was perfectly clear. It wanted him to use a corpse. Mark's corpse.
Ryan dragged a hand down his face and let out a shaky breath.
The thought alone made his stomach twist. Mark might have turned into whatever that thing was, but minutes ago he had still been a living person. A roommate. Someone Ryan had shared this cramped dorm room with for two years.
He looked away from the body and let his eyes drift toward the door instead.
The room felt suffocating.
At this point Ryan had little doubt that what was happening outside was real. If it was some kind of elaborate prank, it was far too expensive and far too convincing but he also wanted to see the situation for himself. Today was a weekday, which meant fewer students in the building. Fewer people meant fewer chances of whatever had happened to Mark repeating itself everywhere at once.
But that didn't make things safe.
He still remembered the screams from earlier.
Ryan swallowed and forced himself to stand. Step by step he crossed the room toward the door, stopped beside it, and leaned toward the small peephole.
He hesitated for a moment.
Then he pressed his eye against it.
The corridor lights were still on, casting pale yellow light across the floor. Several doors sat slightly open. Dark bloodstains marked the ground in patches that had not been there before.
Ryan's heart began beating faster. He leaned closer to get a better look.
And then he went completely still.
A face was staring directly back at him through the peephole.
Pale. Unmoving. Its cloudy grey eyes fixed straight on the door. On him.
For one horrifying second Ryan forgot how to breathe. The figure outside did not move either. It simply stood there, its face so close to the peephole that he could see every detail through the warped glass. Fresh blood clung to its lips and chin in dark red smears.
Ryan's scalp turned numb.
He did not blink.
Neither did the thing outside.
The hallway, the room, even the sound of the rain seemed to fade as they remained locked in a silent stare through the tiny hole in the door.
Then, without warning, the figure tilted its head slightly.
Ryan's heart nearly stopped.
But instead of attacking the door, the thing stepped back. It turned and began walking away down the corridor.
Ryan remained frozen, still bent toward the peephole.
'Wait! It can't see me?!'
His pulse pounded in his ears.
Before the thought could fully settle, a muffled thud came from one of the rooms farther down the hall. The figure stopped instantly. Its head snapped toward the source of the noise with unnatural speed. Then its body lunged forward, shoes slamming the floor in a chaotic burst before it reached one of the slightly open doors and threw itself inside.
A scream exploded through the hallway.
"AAAAAH—!"
Ryan jerked back from the peephole so hard he nearly stumbled. The scream was raw and sharp and full of terror. Then came crashing sounds. Furniture overturning. Something heavy slamming into a wall. A second scream, shorter than the first.
Then nothing.
Ryan stood there, pale and trembling, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He pressed a hand hard against his mouth and forced himself not to make a sound.
The silence that followed felt worse than the screaming.
They could hear. Maybe not see. Maybe not well. But they could definitely hear. That thing had walked right past his door, and it had ignored him only because he had stayed quiet.
Ryan slowly turned back toward the body on the floor.
Mark lay exactly where he had fallen, limbs twisted awkwardly, dried blood spread across the tiles beneath his head. Ryan stared at him for a long time.
"Sorry, man." His voice was barely a whisper. "I didn't want this. You know that, right?"
The words sounded hollow in the empty room.
Ryan swallowed hard.
"But I don't want to die either." The screams from down the hall echoed again in his memory. "If I stay weak, that'll be me next."
He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again the hesitation had hardened into something else.
"If this is the only way to survive, then I'll use it."
He crouched beside the body and focused inward, reaching for the strange cold sensation still sitting somewhere deep in his chest. He tried to recall the moment the energy had sunk into him and where it had gathered before going quiet.
Undead Engraving.
The moment the thought formed clearly, something responded. A cold pulse spread from his chest down through his arm. Ryan lifted his hand slowly. A faint greyish glow formed around his fingers, so dim it almost looked like mist clinging to his skin. Tiny particles drifted through the air around his palm like loose ash.
"So that's how it works."
He lowered his hand toward Mark's chest. The closer it moved, the stronger the pulling sensation became, as if something inside the body was responding. Ryan hesitated one final time.
Then he pressed his palm down.
A sharp pulse shot up his arm the instant contact was made. A thin layer of grey dust spread outward from beneath his hand like frost crawling across glass, expanding until it covered the entire body. Then Mark began to crumble.
Fine grey ash lifted into the air in slow spirals, drawn toward Ryan's palm as though pulled by an invisible current. All of it. Within seconds the entire corpse had vanished, and the ash gathered at the center of his hand and suddenly burned.
Ryan bit down hard. Pain carved through his palm like a blade etching directly beneath the skin, crawling up his arm like fire running under ice. His body trembled. Every instinct screamed at him to make a sound.
He stayed silent. Outside the room, creatures were listening.
Then it stopped.
Ryan sucked in a quiet breath. The burning faded quickly, leaving behind a deep numbness in his palm. He slowly opened his hand.
A small black tattoo sat at the center. A skull, simple but strangely detailed, its hollow eye sockets staring outward as though alive.
Then a surge of strength hit him. It came suddenly, flowing through his muscles like a current being switched on. The exhaustion from earlier disappeared. His limbs felt lighter and more responsive. Even the soreness from the Awakening was gone.
The system panel returned.
[Undead Mark Engraved.]
[Source: Mutated Human | Level 1]
[Passive Effect Acquired.]
[+4 Strength | +4 Agility]
[Status]
Name: Ryan Ashford | Level: 1 | EXP: 5%
Strength: 12 (+4) | Agility: 11 (+4) | Vitality: 9 | Focus: 7
Skill: Undead Engraving — Level 1 | Basic Detection
Ryan stared at the numbers, then flexed his fingers slowly. The difference was immediate. His muscles responded faster, as though his body had been quietly upgraded while he wasn't paying attention.
He spent a moment studying the stat descriptions when he focused on each word.
Strength for physical power. Agility for speed and reflexes. Vitality for durability and recovery. Focus for the mind, perception, and skill control.
"Strength for power, agility for speed, vitality for survival, focus for the mind." He muttered it quietly. "And the EXP probably came from Mark."
A small part of his mind that he could not fully suppress drifted into familiar territory despite everything. RPG logic. Levels and stats and skills. He had played games that worked almost exactly like this for years. The difference now was that none of it was on a screen.
It was real.
Ryan's gaze shifted to the Undead Engraving entry on his panel.
[Engravings: 1/5]
"Summon."
Nothing happened at first. Ryan frowned and focused harder on the skull tattoo.
"Summon."
This time the mark reacted. A faint pulse spread from his palm. The tattoo darkened slightly and a thin stream of grey ash began leaking from it, drifting downward and gathering on the floor. More followed.
The grey particles swirled together into a vague silhouette. Then bones began appearing inside the shape like something being reconstructed from memory. A ribcage. Arms. Legs. A skull with hollow pits where eyes should have been, filled with faint grey mist.
Ryan stepped back instinctively.
The figure resembled Mark's body but distorted, built from dark ash and exposed bone, its form humanoid but wrong in ways that were difficult to name.
Ryan raised his hand slowly. The undead's head turned toward him immediately.
"You've got to be kidding me."
The thing was responding to him. Waiting.
Ryan felt a chill move through him. Not fear exactly. Something closer to realization. This skill didn't only make him stronger. It gave him control over the dead.
Then he noticed something was wrong. The strength flowing through his body had dropped. Ryan pulled up his status immediately.
Strength: 8. Agility: 7.
The passive bonus was gone.
His eyes moved from the skull tattoo still sitting on his palm to the ash figure standing motionless in the center of the room. The trade-off became obvious at once. Keep the mark dormant and absorb its power. Release it and gain a servant instead. He couldn't have both simultaneously.
Ryan let out a slow breath. "That's actually insane."
Before he could think further a sudden wave of dizziness hit him. His vision doubled. He grabbed the edge of the bed as the room split into two overlapping images, slightly offset, one coming from his own eyes and one from somewhere else entirely.
The undead.
He was seeing through its hollow sockets.
The effect was deeply disorienting. Two perspectives clashing inside his head at once, the room overlapping itself until his stomach turned. Ryan clenched his teeth and shut one eye on instinct but it made no difference. The second vision was not connected to his physical eyes. It came directly through his mind.
"This is awful."
He forced himself to calm down and focus on the strange thread connecting them. It was faint but unmistakable once he paid attention. When his thoughts brushed against it the undead shifted slightly. The second vision sharpened at the same moment.
So he could command it and see through it at the same time. But processing both perspectives at once was nearly impossible without losing his balance entirely.
Ryan focused on the connection and pushed.
Stop. Cut the vision.
The borrowed sight vanished instantly. His own vision returned, clear and single and steady. Ryan exhaled with more relief than he expected.
So he could choose when to open it.
He tested it again carefully, allowing just enough of the connection through to confirm it was real before closing it off once more. The second view returned faintly and then disappeared when he willed it away.
Another thought surfaced .
He had checked his own status. But he hadn't checked the undead's. For some reason he felt like he could.
Ryan focused on the ash figure the same way he had focused on his own panel.
A window appeared above it.
[Undead: Ash Soldier]
[Bound to: Ryan Ashford]
[Level: 1]
[Strength: 8 | Agility: 9 | Vitality: 8 | Focus: 2]
Ryan stared at it.
Level one. Stats identical to his own base values before the passive bonus. But what caught Ryan's attention was the level indicator.
Level one.
The same as him.
Which meant the same question applied. Could it grow?
His own panel had rewarded EXP for killing Mark. If this world genuinely ran like a game now, there was a possibility for growth for the undead.
Ryan exhaled slowly.
The undead could fight. It could also scout. And it could do both without him needing to put himself in danger to gather information.
Ryan looked toward the dorm door. The hallway outside had been silent since the screaming stopped. He didn't know how many of those things were out there or how far the building had fallen apart.
But he no longer needed to press his eye against a peephole to find out.
Ryan raised his hand slightly. With a quiet command formed in his mind rather than spoken aloud, he directed the undead toward the door.
The ash figure moved without hesitation, soundless and steady, exactly as instructed.