I never thought I’d see this in a dungeon. I was ready for anything, and yet… here we are. It’s a Wasteland. A massive plain of gray ash stretching as far as the eye can see, dotted with twisted concrete ruins, collapsed building carcasses, and rusted scrap metal. The sky is a milky white, without a sun, diffusing a harsh light that leaves no room for shadows.
The calm is abnormal. The scenery seems on pause. No movement in the air, no life in the corners. The silence is absolute. It’s the kind of silence that clogs your ears, like diving to the bottom of a pool.
But it isn’t empty.
Fifty meters away from us, creatures are wandering slowly. They look like skinless gorillas, three meters tall. We can see raw red flesh and muscle shifting under a carapace of glistening white bone. Their faces are a horror of nature. A huge mouth splits them from ear to ear, right under a patch of totally smooth skin. No eyes. No nose. Their entire sensory system relies on hearing. Ear holes pivot constantly on the sides of their skulls. They’re radar dishes made of flesh, scanning for the slightest vibration.
Chris opens his mouth to speak.
I slam my hand over his lips, hard enough to almost crush his jaw. I shoot him a wild look and point at the monster. I tap my ear with my finger. It hears everything.
I launch a silent [Analysis].
[MONSTER ANALYSIS] Name: The Blind Reaper (Level 60) | Status: Blind.
[Statistics]
- HP: 65,000 / 65,000
- Attack: 3,500
- Defense: 3,000
- Magic Defense: 3,000
- Speed: 1,000 (118 km/h)
Special Attribute: Absolute Hearing.
Behavior: Passive as long as the sound level is below 10 decibels. Immediate Berserk at the slightest sound.
I show the screen to Kim and Chris. They go pale. Kim, used to calculating trajectories, instantly understands the tactical hell. Chris is paralyzed. Ten decibels is the sound of calm breathing.
Suddenly, my interface lights up on its own. That’s a first.
A window I’d gotten used to ignoring pops wide open right before my eyes: the [Map]. Until now, it just displayed a static black fog. But right now, for the first time since we entered the Tower, it’s working.
A topographic map of the zone appears. At the very edge, blinking like a distant promise, a green dot marks the exit.
[Objective]: Reach the Safe Zone.
[Distance]: 5 kilometers.
I frown. Why now? Why give us a map on this specific floor?
Then it hits me. It’s a countdown. The System wants us to know exactly how long we have to suffer in silence. It’s psychological torture. Five kilometers. Without speaking. Without coughing. Without snapping a twig. In an auditory minefield.
I signal Chris to open his [Atlas’s Burden]. Stow your weapons, I mime. Now.
The clatter of metal against metal would sign our death warrant. Chris stows his sword and shield. I slide my Excali-Spade inside. Kim hesitates for a second, stroking the grip of her rifle, then hands it reluctantly to Chris.
Disarmed, we’re completely vulnerable. Naked against these titans. We’ve got nothing left but our legs and our silence.
I scan the zone. There are hundreds of them. They’re scattered across the plain like dormant sentinels. Some walk with a heavy, muffled step, claws sinking into the ash without a sound. Others stand motionless, perched on concrete blocks, heads tilted, listening to the void.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
I press a finger to my lips. Shh. I signal them to follow me, to walk exactly in my footsteps.
We move out.
The ground is covered in a thick layer of fine ash, like dirty snow. It’s a blessing; it muffles our footsteps. It’s like walking on cotton. But it’s also a trap. Under the ash lies the old world. Shards of glass. Sheets of metal. Unstable rubble.
I place my right foot. I test the ground, shifting my weight millimeter by millimeter. I feel something hard under my sole. I freeze. I shift my foot ten centimeters to the left. Soft ash. OK. I plant the heel, then roll the sole to the toes.
It’s a forced march. A slow-motion walk.
Behind me, I hear Chris breathing. Hhh… Hhh… It’s too loud. To me, it sounds like a hurricane. I turn around slowly and signal him to slow his heart rate.
Thirty meters away, a Reaper slows down. Its ears pivot vaguely in our direction. It picked up a whisper, but it’s too faint. After a hesitation that feels like an hour, it lets out a low grunt and moves away toward a pile of scrap metal.
That was close. A warning shot.
I let my breath out through my nose, extremely slowly. We resume walking. We bypass a rusted school bus, half-buried in the ash. The inside is filled with skeletons. I don’t look. I keep my eyes on the ground. Always the ground.
Kim is right behind me. She’s incredible. She moves like a ghost. Her boots make absolutely zero noise. She synchronized her breathing with mine. She’s a pro.
Chris brings up the rear. He almost trips on a hidden root. He catches himself just in time with his hand, his palm sinking into the ash with a muffled flump.
I tense up, waiting for death. Nothing. The ash absorbed the impact.
We’ve covered maybe two hundred meters. We have 4,800 left. My thighs are burning from walking with bent knees to cushion my steps. The mental tension is exhausting. It’s worse than combat. In a fight, you can scream, you can hit. Here, you have to deny your very existence. You have to become a shadow.
I spot a gap between two collapsed walls. A choke point. There’s a Reaper sitting right next to the gap, its back leaning against the wall. Is it sleeping? Or is it waiting?
We’re going to have to pass less than three meters from it.
I turn back to the others. I point to the gap. I press my finger to my lips, then mime a zipper. Mouths shut.
I slip inside. I can see the creature’s details. Its raw red flesh is exposed. I watch its muscles twitch in the open air with every tiny movement. The drool dripping from its lower jaw. The claws, long as daggers, unconsciously scratching the ground. Scritch. Scritch.
I walk right in front of it. I hold my breath. I don’t look at its ears. I look at my feet. Ash. Ash. Ash.
I’m through.
Kim passes. She’s fluid, liquid.
Chris steps up. He’s pale as a sheet. He stares right at the monster. The ultimate rookie mistake. You never stare into the void, because the void stares back. He’s mesmerized by the horror. His foot lands.
Snap.
A tiny sound. Minimal. Like breaking a matchstick. He stepped on a small animal bone hidden under the dust.
The Reaper stops scratching the ground.
Its head snaps instantly toward Chris. Its nostrils flare. It stands up, unfolding its three meters of height, casting a shadow right over the kid.
Chris is paralyzed. His mouth hangs open, ready to scream.
I hurl my thoughts at him: No! Do not scream! If you scream, it’s over!
The monster leans its eyeless face toward Chris. It listens. Waiting for a second sound. The one that will confirm the prey. The one that will trigger the massacre.
Tears stream down Chris’s cheeks, but he has the reflex to slam both hands over his mouth. He chokes back his own sob.
Silence returns. Heavy. Terrifying.
The Reaper just stands there, looming over him, practically drooling on his shoulder.
Then, hearing nothing, it slowly sits back down, returning to its original position with a bored sigh.
I grab Chris by the collar and gently pull him toward me, centimeter by centimeter, until we’re safe behind a wall. The kid collapses against me, shaking all over. I give him a firm nod. We keep going.
We move forward. Again. Always. Every meter is a victory. Every minute is pure survival.
Time stretches. Five minutes. Ten minutes. We start getting into the rhythm, hypnotized by the muffled crunch of the ash.
Suddenly, I spot movement in the ruins to our right.
Small. Fast. A splash of jarring color in this monochrome world. A lizard.
It’s neon green, with a bright red frill folded around its neck. It doesn’t look like the Reapers. It’s got eyes. Big, shiny black eyes. And it’s staring right at us.
I freeze. Kim and Chris stop right behind me, mimicking my movement.
What is this thing? I wonder. A passive mob? Local wildlife?
The lizard crawls out of hiding. It doesn’t flee. Quite the opposite. It darts toward us on its small hind legs, fast as lightning, crossing the silence zone without a drop of fear.
It stops two meters from Kim. It tilts its head to the side. It looks almost cute, like a 3D platformer mascot coming to drop a bonus.
But my developer instincts are screaming red alert. In a stealth level, if a harmless NPC runs toward you instead of ignoring you, it’s never a good sign.
“[Analysis],” I project mentally.
[MONSTER ANALYSIS] Name: Frilled Snitch (Level 6) | Type: Pest / Alarm
[Statistics]
- HP: 20 / 20
- Attack: 10
- Defense: 2
- Speed: 50
Unique Skill: [Sonic Snitch]
My blood runs cold. Oh, hell no. This monster is a walking alarm siren.
The lizard stares at us. It puffs up its throat like a bullfrog. Its red frill flares out abruptly, vibrating with spasms.
I don’t even have time to react.
It opens its maw.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!”
? Overpowers: Magical Girl Crossover [Grimlight Progression Urban Fantasy/Genre based Power System] ?
by Moawar
He, Life, had a simple job.
His responsibility as an Overpower was to make sure that fiction stories and the characters in them follow their dictated path. He always did his job well enough, not more or less than was needed.
His latest assignment, however, would, in retrospect, prove to be his most challenging one of all.
He would find himself in a unfamiliar world. There he'll have to quickly adapt to guide Nozomi.
The strongest magical girl with the potential to accidentally destroy those she seeks to protect in her fight against evil.
What to Expect:
-If you like the psychological aspects of Madoka Magica and the mixing of different genres a crossover story brings then this story is for you