Joon-woo navigated a maze of deserted alleys, the distant roars and screams blending into a grim chorus. The first day of the apocalypse was well underway, and the city's neat grid had turned into a patchwork battlefield. Cars lay abandoned in twisted wrecks, streetlamps flickered erratically, and thin plumes of smoke rose from scattered fires. He pressed close to a brick wall, pausing to listen. His breath fogged lightly in the cool air. He'd taken no serious wounds yet, but every muscle ached from tension.
So far, he'd fought small monsters—imps, goblins, a brute—and emerged victorious thanks to his sword and Skills. He suspected stronger foes roamed deeper in the city, seeking easy prey. He had no intention of meeting them unprepared. The day had barely started, and he wanted to secure a safer vantage point before nightfall.
Footsteps scuffed pavement nearby. He leaned around a corner. Two figures in simple street clothes, each clutching a makeshift weapon—a broken chair leg, a kitchen knife—crept along the sidewalk. Their eyes darted nervously. They were mere civilians, newly awakened and frightened. The sight reminded him that, while he had planned and trained, most people had been caught off-guard.
He could have revealed himself to comfort them or offer advice, but he held back. Too big a group would draw attention. Instead, he let them pass, unseen. If they survived, good. He couldn't save everyone.
He spotted a ladder leaning against a low building's side. Climbing it might give him a rooftop view of the surroundings. Information was crucial: where monsters clustered, where Rifts swirled, where survivors gathered. He sheathed the Lesser Blade of Dawn carefully—its magical balance allowed him to move quietly—and ascended the ladder, hand over hand, until he pulled himself onto a flat tar roof.
From up here, the city stretched in chaotic panorama. Rifts shimmered like oil slicks in the air. Some hovered near intersections, others floated inside buildings. He saw tiny figures battling monstrous silhouettes. On one distant rooftop, a trio of humans seemed to be fending off a winged beast the size of a large dog—a harpy-like creature, perhaps. He couldn't help them from here, and it was too far to matter.
As he scanned, a flicker below caught his eye: movement inside the building he stood on. Through a skylight, he saw a large open space—maybe a gym or a warehouse floor. Inside, a hulking shape prowled, larger than the Brute he had faced before. Its outline was bear-like, fur matted, with elongated forelimbs ending in hooked claws. He grimaced. A stronger monster already staking claim inside a random building?
This could be a threat or an opportunity. Stronger monsters meant better loot or hidden rewards, especially for a Growth-Type Class like his. If he took it down, maybe he'd gain a subtle increase in Stats or unlock another Skill. Yet, facing a beast that large was risky.
He crept to the skylight's edge, peering down. The interior looked like a small community gym—a few treadmills, free weights scattered, mirrors on walls. Now it served as a lair for this… what was it exactly? A Gorefang Ursal, he realized, recalling vague rumors from his past life. They were mid-tier beasts that appeared early, known for brutal strength and the ability to emit a terrifying roar that paralyzed weaker foes.
A roar that could draw attention and send him tumbling off his careful path if he fought poorly. But if he won… He tightened his grip on the skylight's frame. He had a decent sword, Skills, and had taken down lesser foes easily. Maybe he should test himself against a real challenge. The rewards might justify the risk.
Joon-woo found a fire escape leading down into the building. Quietly, he descended, boots whispering against metal steps. He ended up in a dim corridor behind a locked door. With careful force, he pried it open. Inside, stale air greeted him. He moved through a storage room cluttered with mats and boxing gloves. The door ahead led to the main gym hall where the Ursal lurked.
He placed his ear to the door and listened. Heavy breathing, the scrape of claws on tile. He cracked the door open a sliver. The Ursal paced near the center, sniffing at an overturned locker. Its shoulders rolled with each step, muscles rippling under coarse fur. He'd have to be smart. A head-on charge was suicide.
He scanned the gym's layout: treadmills by one wall, weight racks by another, mirrors that might reflect sudden moves. Maybe he could use the equipment to hinder the beast's movement. A plan formed: lure it into lunging between machines, reduce its ability to dodge his strikes. The Ursal might be strong, but he could outmaneuver it.
He took a slow breath, then stepped inside, blade raised. The slight click of his heel on tile caught the Ursal's attention. It spun around, glowing red eyes fixing on him instantly. A low growl rumbled, shaking dust from rafters.
He advanced steadily, keeping his sword between them. The Ursal snarled and padded forward, testing him. He moved along the side, leading the beast towards a cluster of rowing machines. It followed, drool dripping from its fanged maw. Good, it was taking the bait.
Suddenly, it roared—a deafening bellow that rattled his bones. He fought down the urge to flinch. The roar had a status effect, he recalled, but his Willpower was high for a starter. He felt a momentary shiver run through his limbs, yet he pushed forward anyway. It didn't fully paralyze him, just slowed him a second. That second was all the Ursal needed to strike.
It lunged, claws extended. He barely brought his sword up in time, invoking Parry. The Skill's aura deflected the worst of the blow, but the force still sent him skidding back, feet stumbling over a broken treadmill panel. He cursed, regaining balance. The Ursal roared again, advancing.
He snarled back in frustration. If this continued, the beast would corner him. He needed to counterattack. He feinted a step left, and as the Ursal swung a heavy paw, he ducked low and dashed right, circling behind a row of stationary bikes. The creature snarled, trying to follow. Perfect—tight quarters.
As the Ursal squeezed between machines, he struck. Quick Slash flared in his arm, blade moving faster than normal human speed. The sword sliced a deep line across the beast's shoulder, dark blood spraying. The Ursal howled, rearing up on hind legs. Joon-woo darted back, avoiding a stomp that cracked the floor.
Painful, but not lethal yet. He needed a finishing blow. The Ursal slammed a bike aside, sending metal pieces clattering. Joon-woo jumped onto a low bench, gained higher ground, and lunged down at the Ursal's exposed neck. The beast jerked its head aside, turning a killing strike into a glancing wound. It shrieked, swinging wildly. He had to retreat again, heart pounding. This was tougher than any previous fight—no easy, clean hits.
He tried a new tactic. Using Basic Sword Mastery, he focused on footwork—no Skills, just pure technique. He baited the Ursal into another charge. It lowered its head, horns gleaming, rushing at him. At the last instant, he sidestepped and struck a precise downward slash along its spine. The blade bit deep, and the beast roared in agony, stumbling forward.
While it struggled to regain footing, he pressed the advantage. Another Quick Slash, aiming high. The sword sang through the air and cut into the Ursal's thick neck. This time the beast's roar died in a wet gurgle. It staggered, legs wobbling, then toppled with a heavy thud that shook dust from the ceiling. He stepped back, panting hard, sweat dripping down his forehead.
A tense silence followed. No other monsters rushed in. He nudged the Ursal's corpse with his foot—no movement. Dead. He lowered his blade, chest heaving. That had been close. Still, he'd won, and against a formidable foe. If this didn't trigger some growth or at least prove he could handle mid-tier threats, what would?
The System chimed softly in his mind:
[Significant Adversary Defeated.
Analyzing Battle Performance…]
[Minor Attribute Growth Detected: +1 Strength, +1 Vitality]
He grinned, relief flooding him. That's what he needed—Stats rising from challenging combat. Growth Type indeed. Each tough battle would refine him, shaping him into a power no one could imagine on day one.
He checked his Status:
Strength: 7 (6 base +1 from sword +1 from fight?),
Vitality: 6. He was stronger, hardier now. This advantage would snowball if he kept picking smart fights.
No immediate loot from the Ursal's corpse. Probably too early for reliable monster drops. He'd focus on building personal power first. He slung sweat off his brow and looked around the gym. No signs of special items. This was just a random lair. That was fine. The Stat gain was reward enough.
Exiting through a back door, he found a quiet alley. Outside, monsters still roamed, but he walked taller now, knowing he could handle bigger foes. He turned his gaze to the distant park again. The herbs might appear tomorrow or the next day. He had time. For now, forging ahead, pushing boundaries—this was his way.
As the sun dipped lower, he planned to find a safer spot to rest, maybe a small apartment or rooftop. But not before securing a few more easy kills if opportunity arose. With each fight, he gained experience—both literal and metaphorical. While everyone else struggled to understand Classes, Skills, and monsters, he grew steadily stronger.
Savoring the quiet moment, he marched onward. The apocalypse's day one was far from over, and he intended to greet the next sunrise even more powerful than he stood now.