Joon-woo pressed closer to the wall, each footstep measured. The corridor's lighting flickered weakly—a dying fluorescent tube cast jittery shadows over piles of scattered papers and a toppled office chair. He could smell dust, spilled coffee, and something sharper lurking beyond that door to the stairwell. The scratching noise persisted—a rough, scraping sound, like claws on drywall.
He gripped the Lesser Blade of Dawn tight. He'd come here for a vantage point, not a drawn-out brawl, but if something lurked inside, he had to deal with it before he could ascend. His Stats and Skills had carried him through tougher fights already. He tried to steady his breathing, recalling how calmly he'd faced the Ursal and the packs of lesser monsters outside. This would be no different—just another step forward in this new, twisted world.
He slid forward, blade angled low, and pushed open the stairwell door with the tip of his sword. It creaked, and the scratching went silent. The air inside was cooler. He peeked through the gap—stairs rising and falling in dim light, railings bent. A shape crouched at the first landing, its back turned. From where he stood, it looked like a humanoid figure with elongated limbs, spine protruding under thin pale flesh. No fur, no scales—some sort of ghoul, perhaps. He hadn't encountered something like it yet.
He nudged the door wider. The creature twitched, head turning slightly to reveal a gaunt face with hollow eyes that gleamed faintly. A low hiss escaped its lips. Joon-woo's heart kicked. Definitely hostile. He'd have to strike before it could do anything clever.
He inhaled, then stepped in. The ghoul-like creature jerked around, revealing long arms ending in hooked claws and a mouth full of needle-like teeth. With a shrill cry, it leapt down the stairs, trying to tackle him outright. He braced, lifting his sword in a high guard. This time, he chose to use Parry again—the reliable defense Skill. A soft glow shimmered around his blade as metal met claw. The impact rattled his arms, but the blow was deflected, sending the creature stumbling off-balance.
He lunged forward, following up with a Quick Slash aimed at its torso. The blade flashed, carving a shallow line along its ribs. The creature shrieked and lashed out again, faster than he expected. He twisted aside, the claws skimming his shirt. Close call. He didn't want to get sloppy—this ghoul was nimble and unafraid to charge head-on.
They circled each other on the landing. The creature hissed, pacing unevenly. He watched its movements, noting how it favored its left leg after that shallow cut. Another weak point he could exploit.
The ghoul rushed again, this time feinting left then darting right. He saw the shift in its shoulders, predicted the move. He lowered his stance and brought the sword in a sweeping arc, not a Skill this time, just a well-placed strike guided by Basic Sword Mastery. The creature tried to duck under, but the blade caught its shoulder, biting deep. It howled, staggering back, blackish ichor dripping onto the concrete steps.
Seizing the advantage, he pressed forward. The creature swung wildly, claws scraping sparks off the wall. He leaned away from the slash, then stepped in close—dangerous, but worth it. When monsters swung wide, closing in often disrupted their rhythm. He slammed the pommel of his sword into its twisted elbow, forcing its arm aside, then pivoted and drove the blade upward under its chin. The steel met resistance—bone or cartilage—but he pushed harder, teeth gritted. The creature's shriek cut off abruptly as the blade found something vital.
With a final spasm, the ghoul slumped, limbs going slack. He released his pressure, pulling the blade free. Another kill. He stood over the body, breathing hard. This one had been trickier—fast, unpredictable. Still, he'd managed without serious injury. He flexed his shoulders, relieved. No visible wounds, just a scrape on his shirt.
He checked the stairwell above. If the creature had made this place its nest, maybe others waited higher up. He didn't sense immediate danger, but he couldn't let his guard down. Carefully, he ascended the stairs, pausing on each landing to listen. Floor two: silent. Floor three: faint sobbing behind a locked door. Survivors maybe, but he resisted the urge to get involved. He had no resources to spare and no reason to risk more confrontations.
Floor four: he paused, hearing faint scratching again. Another monster? He grimaced. He could try another route or clear them out. The rooftop vantage point mattered—seeing the city from above could show where the largest Rifts were forming, where unusual lights or columns of energy might appear. Information was priceless. He pressed on, determined.
At the fourth-floor landing, he cracked open the door to peek inside. A large open-plan office greeted him—cubicles overturned, desks smashed, broken monitors. Mid-room, a pair of goblins rummaged through drawers, snorting and giggling. They were smaller fry. He could handle them easily. But no sign of a bigger threat. Two goblins wouldn't be a problem.
He slipped in silently, the goblins still distracted by their search for who-knows-what. He inhaled, then rushed the first goblin, sword flashing downward. The creature barely had time to squawk before the blade cleaved through its skull. The second goblin spun, shrieking, raising a broken keyboard as if it were a club. He almost snorted at the absurdity. One quick thrust and it too fell, twitching and still.
No challenge there. He scanned the room. Among the debris, he spotted a first-aid kit half-crushed under a desk. He knelt, pulling it free. Inside: bandages, antiseptic, a few energy bars. Perfect. He pocketed the bars and bandages—no telling when he'd need them.
He continued upward. Floor five and six were eerily quiet, lights flickering. At the top, a maintenance ladder led to the roof hatch. He listened carefully before climbing. No ominous noises. Good.
Up on the roof, he stepped into a cool evening breeze. The sun was dipping low, painting the horizon in violent reds and oranges. Smoke plumes and flickering Rifts dotted the landscape. He could see distant shapes of winged beasts patrolling higher skyscrapers, and down below, tiny figures scurrying for shelter. He crouched behind a ventilation unit, scanning carefully.
This vantage gave him a clearer sense of the city's condition. Several large Rifts glowed brighter, likely spawning stronger monsters. If he remembered correctly, certain rare materials would appear near those large Rifts after the second day. He'd note their locations now. He counted: one large Rift southeast, near the old mall. Another to the west, by the stadium. He filed this info away. Visiting them too early might be suicide, but knowing where they were allowed him to plan future raids.
He unwrapped an energy bar, chewing thoughtfully. The apocalypse was in full swing now, no going back. He had a Rare Growth-Type Class, a decent weapon, improved Stats, and knowledge. This set him apart from random survivors struggling blindly. He'd keep building on that lead—grow stronger with each significant kill, secure valuable herbs, artifacts, and skill tomes when they emerged.
The wind rustled his hair, carrying distant roars and screams. Night would fall soon, bringing new threats. He should find a secure spot to rest and regain strength. But resting in this building might be risky if more monsters roamed below.
He leaned over the edge, checking if there was an adjacent rooftop he could jump to safely. One building over, a lower roof lay maybe a few meters away—risky but possible. If he could hop across, he might access another building with fewer monsters inside. A safe nest for the night.
Before he made that decision, he glanced at his Status once more, just to confirm his gains:
Strength: 7 (6 base +1 from equipment and battles combined),
Vitality: 6, Agility unchanged at 7 due to sword's bonus. He was growing. He smiled grimly. Good.
Soon, he'd harvest those herbs in the park, gather key items from the mall or stadium Rifts, and maybe find a proper skill tome. Each success would reinforce his position at the apex of this new food chain.
He rose, finishing the energy bar, crumbs brushing off his hand. No time to waste. He'd find a safe place to rest and then strike out again come morning. The city's night would be dangerous, but he was no ordinary prey.
"Let's see what tomorrow brings," he muttered to himself, backing up a few steps. With a short run, he leapt across the gap, landing on the next building's roof in a low crouch. Another step taken, another inch of advantage gained, as the apocalypse's day one headed into its brutal night.