Jin didn't move.
The body of the monster lay at his feet, its dark, jagged limbs sprawled awkwardly across the bloodstained floor. The pocket knife in his hand dripped black. The blade wasn't even long, yet somehow, it had cut clean.
His chest rose and fell, but his breath wasn't ragged. His arms weren't trembling.
He felt… fine.
And that scared him.
The woman stood a few steps away, gripping her injured leg. She was staring at him—not at the monster, at him.
She looked like she had seen a ghost.
Jin's grip on the knife tightened.
"Y-you… you killed it," she whispered.
Jin didn't answer.
Because he wasn't sure how.
His mind replayed the moment in jagged pieces. The monster swinging down. His body moving before he could think. The knife flashing forward, cutting through flesh like it was nothing.
It had felt too easy.
A soft ding echoed in his ears.
A blue screen appeared in front of him.
[ Skill Activation Successful. ]
[ Combat Proficiency Increasing… ]
[ Survive. Adapt. Overcome. ]
Jin blinked.
The words hung in front of him, glowing faintly. They didn't vanish. They just stayed there, waiting.
Combat proficiency… increasing?
He exhaled sharply, running his free hand through his damp hair. No time for this.
The woman took a step toward him, wincing as pain shot through her leg. "H-how did you do that?" she asked, voice shaking.
Jin looked down at the pocket knife still slick with blood.
"I don't know," he admitted.
And then—
skrrrrrk.
A sound like claws scraping against metal.
Jin's head snapped up.
The thin-limbed crawler from earlier stood at the far end of the hallway, its beady, insect-like eyes locked onto them.
It wasn't alone.
Two more creatures twitched and skittered behind it, their clawed fingers dragging against the floor.
Jin's stomach dropped.
The first one had almost killed them.
Now there were three.
He turned to the woman, grabbed her wrist, and pulled.
"Move," he muttered.
She didn't hesitate.
Jin ran, dragging the woman with him.
The hallway stretched long and empty ahead of them, but behind—the skittering grew louder. Sharp, clicking footsteps on tile. A sound that didn't belong in an office, in a city, in the world.
The stairwell. That was the only way down.
He turned a corner. The door was slightly open.
Thank god.
Jin shoved it with his shoulder, bursting through and pulling the woman in after him. The metallic scent of blood hit him first. The second thing he noticed—they weren't alone.
A group of five survivors were huddled on the stairs, faces pale, bodies tense. A man in a torn dress shirt clutched a metal rod, his knuckles white. Another had blood on his sleeves, though Jin couldn't tell if it was his own.
They all turned at once.
And their eyes locked onto Jin.
Not at him.
At the knife in his hand. The blood dripping from it.
Jin's breath slowed. The woman next to him shuddered, her grip weak against his sleeve.
Someone whispered, voice hoarse.
"…Did you kill one?"
The man with the metal rod took a step forward. His hands were shaking. "Did you actually…?"
Jin didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The way his shirt was stained dark, the way his knife was still slick, the way his breathing wasn't panicked anymore—it was enough.
Someone let out a breath. A mix of relief and fear.
Jin didn't care.
He turned, gripping the stair railing, looking down. Six more floors to the exit. If the streets were bad, they were screwed.
They needed a plan. They needed—
"We can't take her with us," a voice cut in.
Jin turned.
One of the survivors, a woman in a blazer, was looking directly at the injured woman. Her lips were pressed into a tight line.
"She's slowing us down," she said, blunt, flat. "She's hurt. She'll get us killed."
The injured woman flinched. Jin felt her fingers tremble against his arm.
Someone else shifted uncomfortably. "She's not wrong. If we're running, we can't afford to carry—"
"Then we both leave," Jin said.
Silence.
Jin hadn't raised his voice. But his words landed heavy.
The man with the metal rod frowned. "Be reasonable—"
"I am," Jin said. He tightened his grip on the knife. "You don't want her? Then you don't get me."
A long pause.
Jin could feel their fear, their hesitation.
Not of him. Of the decision.
And then—
The stairwell shook.
A deep, low thud echoed from above.
Not sharp. Not fast. Heavy.
Jin stopped breathing.
So did everyone else.
Another thud. Closer.
The metal railing vibrated under his grip. Dust rained down from the ceiling. Somewhere above, something moved.
Not like the crawlers. Those things were quick, twitchy, unnatural.
This was slow. Heavy. Certain.
Another step. Another shift of weight.
The air felt thicker.
The woman in the blazer swallowed hard. "What… what the hell is that?"
No one answered.
Then came the breathing.
A long, slow inhale. Deep enough to suck the air out of the stairwell.
Jin's stomach knotted.
It was smelling them.
His fingers tightened around his knife.
The man with the metal rod opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something—
Then the thing moved.
A deep, dragging scrape of flesh against concrete.
Then another.
Something was coming down the stairs.
It wasn't rushing. It wasn't panicked.
It was hunting.
And it knew they had nowhere else to go.
The stairwell rumbled.
Then—it exhaled.
A wet, shuddering rasp that rattled in its throat, deep and guttural. Hungry.
The air felt wrong.
Like the whole stairwell was too small now. Like something too big had forced its way inside.
Jin's legs locked up. He needed to run, needed to move—
Another step. Another thud.
A shadow stretched down from the next floor.
And then—eyes.
Two massive, sunken pits of glowing red.
The stairwell lurched.
Something huge was pressing against the walls. Too wide for the steps. Too much weight, too much size.
It was crushing the walls as it moved.
Then—a hand.
Long, jagged fingers wrapped around the railing above. The metal buckled like foil.
Jin's throat closed.
Someone gasped. Someone else muffled a scream.
Then—it moved faster than it should have.
The walls exploded outward.
Jin's body reacted before his mind.
"MOVE!" he roared.
The entire group bolted.
The stairwell erupted into chaos. Screams, heavy footsteps, the sharp clang of metal twisting under pressure.
The monster moved too fast. For something that big, that heavy, it shouldn't have been able to lunge like that. But it did.
And one of them wasn't fast enough.
A man in a torn office shirt, panting hard, pushing his legs to move—
The hand shot out.
It wrapped around his waist.
His body jerked mid-step. One second he was running, the next—he was gone.
His scream ripped through the stairwell.
"NO! NO, PLEASE—HELP ME! HELP ME—!"
Jin turned back.
The man clawed at the air, twisting, writhing, trying to fight.
The others didn't stop. They couldn't.
A chunk of ceiling collapsed between them.
Concrete and dust rained down, crashing into the stairs, cutting them off.
Jin caught a last glimpse—a trembling hand reaching through the dust, fingers stretching for something, anything.
The scream cut off.
And then—a sound like crunching gravel.
Jin's chest tightened.
Someone behind him choked back a sob.
No one looked back.
Because no one wanted to see what was left.
They ran. Down the stairs, past more bodies, past the growing stench of death.
The air was thick, humid, choking. Jin could hear the thing behind them, moving again, dragging itself forward through the wreckage.
The stairwell shook. They weren't outrunning it.
"Does anyone have a skill that can help?" Jin shouted between gasps.
No one answered at first—just the sound of heavy, panicked breaths, pounding feet, boots scraping tile.
Then, the man with the metal rod—the one who had been clutching it since they met—gritted his teeth.
"I—I have enhanced strength, but I don't know how to use it," he admitted.
Another woman, gripping her arm, spoke fast. "Something about heightened reflexes, but I can barely feel it."
A third voice, shaky. "I— I can heal, but I don't even know how to—"
Jin clicked his tongue. Completely useless.
No one had experience. No one knew what they were doing.
Not that he was much better.
The woman he had saved, the one still limping beside him, suddenly spoke up.
"My skill," she gasped, breathless, struggling to keep up. "I can— I can alter density. Make things heavier. Lighter."
Jin snapped his head toward her.
That… That could be useful.
"Why didn't you use it?" he demanded.
She let out a bitter, breathless laugh. "Because it's why I got trapped. It—it went off on its own. The desk got heavier, crushed my leg— I couldn't move."
Jin exhaled sharply. Uncontrolled powers. Another liability.
She met his gaze, grim but steady. "If we try using them without knowing how—we could make things worse."
Jin pressed his lips together.
She was right.
But if they didn't figure it out soon… they wouldn't get another chance.
The stairwell shook.
A sound like groaning metal and splitting concrete filled the air.
Something huge was forcing its way downward, shoving against the walls, pressing into the narrow space like it didn't care if it fit or not.
Then, the breathing.
Long. Deep. Wet.
Jin felt it in his chest. Like the air itself was being sucked away.
A shadow stretched down from the upper landing.
The walls bulged outward.
A hand—thick, gnarled, fingers jagged like broken stone—slammed onto the railing above. The metal buckled instantly.
Jin barely had time to register it before it moved.
The monster lunged.
Concrete exploded.
The stairwell collapsed inward.
Jin's body reacted first. He shoved the woman forward, dodging as claws slammed into the floor where they had just stood.
The impact sent cracks splintering through the stairs.
Jin rolled, coming up fast. His eyes snapped to the thing looming over them.
Too big. Too armored. Too much.
He moved.
His grip tightened on the pocket knife. His body adjusted. He struck—
The blade bounced off.
Jin's stomach dropped.
It didn't even cut.
The monster's head snapped toward him.
And then—it swung.
Jin barely saw the claw coming.
A wall of force slammed into his ribs. His feet left the ground.
His back crashed into the railing.
Pain shot through his body. His vision blurred.
The monster was already moving again.
Too fast. Too strong.
His knife—useless.
Jin gasped for breath, struggling to get up.
Then—his eyes caught something.
The man with the metal rod.
Jin's voice came out sharp, fast.
"That. Give it to me. NOW."
The man flinched. "Wh—what?"
Jin pushed himself up. His ribs screamed. He held out his hand.
"The pipe—give it to me!"
The man hesitated, then—threw it.
Jin caught it.
A blue screen flickered open.
[ Weapon Acquired: Steel Pipe. ]
[ Would you like to wield this weapon at its maximum potential? ]
Jin exhaled, chest still tight with pain.
The monster turned toward him again, its red eyes narrowing.
Jin tightened his grip on the pipe.
"...Yes."
Everything shifted.
The weight in his hands changed.
Not physically—but he felt it. Every inch, every flaw, every potential use of the weapon.
His stance adjusted. His balance perfected itself.
The monster swung—but Jin was already moving.
He ducked low, pivoted on his heel, and swung the pipe straight into its knee joint.
A sharp crack.
The monster stumbled.
It felt that.
Jin didn't stop. He flowed forward, spinning the pipe in a downward arc. The strike slammed into the side of its skull.
A wet crunch.
The monster jerked, its head snapping to the side.
Jin adjusted immediately. He brought the pipe back around, shifting his grip, striking upward—this time aiming for the throat.
Another crunch.
The monster reeled back.
Jin felt the momentum shift. He pressed forward, every movement perfect. He stepped into its space, gripped the pipe like a hammer, and drove it down—
Right into the base of its skull.
A loud, sickening crack.
The monster shuddered.
Then, it collapsed.
Jin stood there, breath heavy, pipe dripping black.
Silence.
Then—a soft ding.
[ Weapon Efficiency Increased. ]
[ Survive. Adapt. Overcome. ]
Jin swallowed hard.
His knife hadn't worked.
But the pipe had.
He needed better weapons.
The ground shook again.
Another one was coming.