He glanced out through his window and caught sight of several infected roaming the street below. The eerie silence was occasionally broken by distant groans and shuffling feet. Marcus exhaled, grabbed his backpack, and moved toward the door.
The hallway outside was eerily quiet. Marcus paused for a moment, listening intently for any movement. Nothing. He started down the stairs, taking care to make as little noise as possible. His thoughts were a jumble—his family, this infection, and whatever strange power had just been bestowed upon him.
As he reached the ground floor, Marcus froze. A figure stood near the entrance, hunched over and twitching. His stomach sank as he recognized her—the building’s caretaker. She had always been unpleasant, quick to snap at residents over petty issues. Still, she didn’t deserve this fate.
Her skin had taken on a pale, sickly hue, and her eyes, once sharp and judgmental were now clouded and dead. The infected caretaker suddenly let out a low growl, her head snapping in his direction. With a horrifying screech, she lunged at him, arms stretched out, fingers clawing at the air.
Marcus’s heart raced as he conjured his spatial blades. Without thinking, he hurled one directly at her. The shimmering blade sliced through the air, and in an instant, the caretaker’s body split in two mid-lunge, collapsing onto the floor in grotesque halves. But she wasn’t dead.
Her torso dragged itself toward him, hands clawing the floor, entrails leaving a slick, bloody trail. Marcus’s stomach churned as he fought the urge to vomit. The sight was grotesque, the stench unbearable.
“Gross…” he muttered, eyes wide in disbelief.
The caretaker’s jaws snapped open and closed as she dragged herself closer, her legs useless behind her. Marcus realized then—he probably had to hit the head. That was the only way to end it.
He conjured another spatial blade and hurled it at her head. It missed, ripping through the wall like a hot knife through butter. Chunks of plaster exploded outward, and wooden splinters flew in all directions, the wall groaning from the violent force.
Panic surged through him as she got closer. He summoned yet another blade, this time moving in closer. He aimed carefully and threw again.
This time, the blade struck true. The caretaker’s head split apart, falling into two clean halves. The body slumped, lifeless.
Marcus stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, his body trembling from the adrenaline. But there was something else—a sudden wave of exhaustion. His head felt light, as though he had just run a mental marathon. Using the spatial blades drained more energy than he realized.
A soft chime sounded in his mind.
-You have gained 15 XP!
His brow furrowed. XP? Like a video game? Before he could dwell on it, another notification appeared:
-Would you like to see your status window?
He wanted to just block all notifications and focus on surviving the present but his curiosity won out. He hesitated for a moment, then mentally confirmed.
A translucent screen appeared in front of him, listing out his stats and information like some kind of RPG character. He blinked, trying to make sense of it all.
Name: Marcus Ravenclaw
Level: 1
Race: Human Grade: F
Bloodline: ???
XP: 15/100
Stats:
- Strength: 15/100
- Agility: 15/100
- Aether: 3/50
- Charisma: 0
Elemental Affinities:
Space: 100%
Wind: (locked)
???
Abilities:
-Spatial Manipulation: 0.1%
-Spatial Blades: level 1
Skill
-Spatial Pocket: 3 cubic meter
Titles:
-100th Ascendant
???
He stared at the screen in disbelief. It was just like a video game.
His Strength seemed decent, but nowhere near as impressive as his Aether...whatever that meant. Though he had a feeling that Aether was probably the energy that powered his ability. Then its no wonder that he felt drained after using those spatial blades, the mental effort was clearly a strain on him. And his Charisma… was at zero.
Marcus scoffed. "Figures," he muttered to himself, though the ridiculousness of it was hard to ignore.
His Abilities section caught his eye. Spatial Manipulation—that explained the blades and the pocket dimension he could somehow access. It was a powerful tool, but how far could he push it?
As for the title, 100th Ascendant, it still didn’t make much sense, but clearly it was significant. He just didn’t know how yet.
Shaking his head, Marcus closed the window. This was too much for now. He needed to focus on surviving first. Whatever this strange system was, he’d figure it out later.
Previous Chapter
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The tension in the room thickened as Marcus and Briggs braced themselves against the oncoming horde. The moans of the infected echoed off the dilapidated walls, their ragged, shuffling movements closing in from every direction. The two of them slowly edged back toward the vent, each step measured and careful.But then, without warning, the zombies stopped.Their groans ceased, their decaying limbs freezing mid-step. An eerie silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of Marcus’s own breath. He shot a confused glance at Briggs, who looked just as bewildered."What the hell?" Briggs muttered, his grip tightening on his weapon.Marcus’s instincts screamed at him that something was wrong. His eyes darted through the crowd of motionless infected as they suddenly parted, clearing a path down the center. From the darkened hallway beyond, a figure stepped into view—a zombie, but different from the rest. Its body was far less decayed, its flesh still intact and unnervingly toned. Blo
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