Malachai slept.
The kind of sleep born not of peace, but collapse. A body that had fought too long, healed too fast, burned through too much. The Veil curled around him as he lay in the single bed, whispering in a tongue only death could hear. The room was cold, still. Even the fog beyond the cracked window had paused its slow crawl.
Then came the creak.
Soft. Precise.
A footstep against old concrete.
Malachai's eyes snapped open.
Another creak. Closer. A shape loomed in the doorframe—thin, hunched, carrying a serrated blade. He moved like someone used to moving unseen. Used to taking lives before anyone knew he was there.
But this time, he had picked the wrong door.
Malachai didn’t speak.
He slid from the bed in silence, bare feet pressing to the floor. The man was only a few steps in when Malachai moved.
Shade Step.
He appeared behind the intruder, driving his knee into the man's back. The stranger stumbled forward with a shout, dropping his knife. Malachai kicked it away, then slammed the door shut with his foot.
"Why are you here?" he growled.
The man turned, panic wide in his eyes. "I—I thought it was empty."
Malachai said nothing. He struck. One claw into the man’s thigh, the other into his shoulder.
He dragged him down, slow.
The screams were muffled by the Veil.
"Who sent you?"
"No one! I swear—I was told this floor was quiet. Sometimes people go out and don’t come back. I just thought—"
Crunch. Malachai twisted the claw in the man’s shoulder.
"What else do you know?"
"There’s a Gate opening near the southern trench. People are being paid in crystals to scout. Lots going missing. It’s not safe. Something’s wrong with it."
Malachai stared at him.
Then slid the claws through his throat.
It wasn’t a clean kill.
The man thrashed. Choked. Blood bubbled up through his lips as the light in his eyes dimmed.
He searched the body.
Two cracked mana crystals. A rusted utility knife. A folded paper map with red markers near abandoned tram tunnels.
Then the system pulsed.
> Trait Fragment Acquired: Opportunist (1) New Skill Unlocked: Predatory Insight Reveals weak points on targets. Highlights damage vulnerabilities and behavior patterns during combat.
Malachai wiped the blood off his claws.
The room was silent again.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
He opened his status.
---
Name: Malachai Voss
Class: Reaperborn (Fused Core)
Level: 8
HP: 143/143
MP: 52/52
Strength: 21
Agility: 19
Vitality: 17
Reflex: 16
Willpower: 18
Intelligence: 10
---
Traits:
Deathbrand: Wounds leave soul-marks. Marked enemies grant essence and stat boosts on kill.
Gravecall: Whisper warnings from nearby dead. Heightened awareness and limited foresight.
Voice Mimicry (Minor): Impersonate recent voices. Enhanced deception.
Dread Pulse (Minor): Emit a psychic shockwave of fear. Staggers weaker enemies.
Core-Fused – Singular: Unstable potential. Allows for future evolutions and unique class interactions.
Toxic Resilience (Minor): Reduces damage and effects from toxins, venoms, and airborne corruption.
Predatory Insight: Highlight enemy weak points in combat. Grows sharper with experience.
---
Abilities:
Feast of the Slain: Devour slain enemies to regenerate health and temporarily boost stats. Marked kills give enhanced benefits.
Shade Step: Teleport short-range through shadows. Can be chained once. Causes disorientation to enemies.
Veilwalk: Passive phase through shadows. Increases stealth and evasiveness.
---
Weapons:
Slaughter Claws (Bleeding, Frenzy Chance)
Hungering Veil (Cursed; feeds on fear or blood every 72h)
---
Malachai picked up the tablet.
The Dungeon Tracker still glowed.
One Gate pulsed red, marked south of the city—beneath the skeletal remains of a freeway interchange. No rank listed. Just the label:
> Active Dungeon - Fogroot Trench Warning: Unstable. Distorted mana signatures.
He took the crystals. Took the map.
Then left the body where it lay.
The city streets moaned beneath the weight of decay.
As he moved south, the fog grew heavier. Concrete groaned underfoot. Shapes moved just beyond sight. The Veil whispered warnings.
Then the first creature found him.
A Drekavac.
It dropped from a rooftop like liquid shadow, limbs twisted and rubbery. Its mouth ran from chin to chest, packed with rows of shattered teeth. It shrieked like a dying child.
Malachai met it mid-lunge, claws slashing. One tore through its jaw, snapping it open wider. Blood sprayed his face. The second swipe removed an arm at the socket.
It stumbled, howling.
He stepped in, jammed his claw into its eye, and ripped until the skull caved in.
> Trait Fragment Acquired: Drekavac (1) +1 Willpower
The next was a Leech-Sister.
A swollen woman with skin like wax and dozens of mouths stitched across her torso. She crawled on all fours, chanting in reverse.
He didn't wait.
He ducked her lunge and sliced both her wrists, black blood spraying. She screamed and tried to sing. He drove a claw through her sternum and twisted until her heart burst in his grip.
> Trait Fragment Acquired: Leech-Sister (1) Toxic Resilience (Minor) upgraded to Toxic Resilience (Standard) Further reduces damage from toxic effects. Grants limited immunity to airborne corruption.
By the time he reached the Gate, his claws dripped black.
And the air had changed.
The portal wasn’t a tear. It was a wound.
A yawning hole in space, ringed with pulsating flesh and sinew, as if the world had tried to seal it with meat and failed. The sound was wet. Breathing. Each exhale sprayed fog.
Crows circled, dead ones.
The ground around the portal was cracked and pulsing. The scent of rot was thick as oil.
His breath came slower. His heart louder.
The dungeon was open.
And it was hungry.
