_____
9
Wilhelm Moore had always preferred lecture halls after hours. They were quieter then, stripped of the performative energy that came with rows of students and the need to be engaging. Empty, they became what he liked most about them, orderly spaces designed for thought. Tiered seating. Clean sightlines. Predictable acoustics. Places where cause and effect behaved as expected. Tonight, that illusion was already cracking.
The System’s presence pressed against reality like a low-frequency hum beneath the skull. Not a sound, exactly, more a pressure, a sense that the rules governing the world had been rewritten and poorly documented. Wilhelm sat at the front desk, hands folded, posture relaxed, while three students occupied the first few rows. They were shaken, but alive. One kept glancing at the exits. Another stared at her hands as if expecting them to change. The third breathed too fast, chest hitching, panic barely contained.
Wilhelm observed them clinically, noting responses, cataloging stress behaviors. “Stay seated,” he said calmly. “If anyone comes through that door, we will hear them.” That helped. A little. The doors at the back of the hall slammed open. Five students burst in, blood-streaked and wild-eyed, weapons drawn. They moved with the loose confidence of people who had already crossed a line and discovered it was easier than they’d feared. One laughed as he scanned the room. “Jackpot,” he said. “Easy XP.” Wilhelm did not move.
He let his shoulders slump slightly. Let his hands tremble just enough to sell the illusion. Years of studying offenders had taught him how predators evaluated weakness. He gave them exactly what they expected to see, a middle-aged professor caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Please,” Wilhelm said quietly. “There are students here.” One of the invaders snorted. “Yeah. That’s the point. We are students too. Professor.” He said it with hate lacing his words. They spread out, boots echoing in the empty hall.
One kicked over a chair for no reason other than to hear it break. Another pointed a blade at one of the seated students, grinning as she flinched. Wilhelm watched. Listened. Calculated. They argued among themselves, voices overlapping in the echoing space. “Kill them all, get it over with.” The larger one said. “No, make them submit, see what the System gives.”
“That old guy’s useless. Probably low ass XP too..” The word useless was interesting. Wilhelm glanced inward, not panicked, not rushed. The System interface responded immediately, crisp and intrusive.
[CLASS: SUMMONER]
SUBCLASS UNLOCKED
— Necromancer—
CONDITION MET:
SUBJECT DECEASED
MIND UNRESISTING
Wilhelm dismissed the screen. He didn’t need to read it again. He already understood. One of the invaders lunged suddenly, blade flashing. The nearest student didn’t even scream.
The knife went in low and fast. The student collapsed forward in the seat, blood spilling across the floor in a dark, spreading pool. The other two students froze, shock locking them in place. Wilhelm stood. Slowly. “Please,” he said again, voice steady. “There’s no need for more violence.” They laughed. “Too late for that, prof.” The second student was killed moments later, struck down as she tried to run. The third screamed, stumbled, and fell between rows, sobbing, begging. Wilhelm waited. The moment the third body hit the floor and stopped moving, he raised his hand.
Not dramatically. Not urgently. Precisely. “Time to Wake up,” he said. The temperature dropped. Not with cold, but with absence. The three dead students twitched. Then they stood. Bones cracked as bodies reanimated, joints moving with jerky, unnatural precision. Eyes stared sightlessly, empty of fear, empty of thought. Blood continued to drip, but the wounds no longer mattered. One of the invaders noticed. “What the fuck?” The Risen moved. They surged forward without hesitation, without pain, without restraint. One grabbed an invader by the throat, fingers sinking into flesh with inhuman strength.
Another tackled a second attacker, teeth sinking into his shoulder as he screamed. Wilhelm remained at the front of the room. He did not raise his voice. He did not gesture wildly. He directed. A mental pull, subtle but absolute. The Risen obeyed. One attacker hacked wildly, severing an arm at the elbow. The limb fell uselessly to the floor.
The Risen did not react. It drove forward regardless, using its remaining hand to tear open the man’s throat. Another invader managed to decapitate one of the Risen with a desperate swing. That one collapsed instantly. Data logged. Structural termination required. The remaining two Risen overwhelmed the last attackers quickly. Screams echoed through the hall, then cut off one by one. Flesh tore. Bones snapped. Blood slicked the steps between rows. When it was over, Wilhelm surveyed the scene.
[COMBAT SUMMARY]
HUMAN KILLS CONFIRMED: 5
ASSISTED KILLS (RISEN UNITS): 3
BONUS XP EARNED!
— MULTI KILL —
XP MULTIPLIER APPLIED:
- CONSECUTIVE ELIMINATIONS
- SUMMONED UNIT DAMAGE
- TERRITORIAL CONTROL
LEVEL UP!
LEVEL UP!
CURRENT LEVEL: +2
UNSPENT STAT POINTS: +10
NOTICE:
PVP REWARDS ARE AMPLIFIED DURING EVENT STATUS
Five invaders lay dead. Three students lay dead. Two Risen remained standing, heads tilted slightly as if awaiting instruction. Wilhelm closed his eyes briefly. Then he opened them and issued a new command. “Remain.” The bodies stilled, obedient. Wilhelm walked slowly up the steps, stepping carefully around gore, examining the fallen invaders with professional detachment. He selected two. “Rise.” They did. Four Risen now stood in the lecture hall. Wilhelm felt the strain then, a pressure at the base of his skull, a subtle warning from the System.
Limit reached. He nodded once. That was enough. As alarms continued to echo faintly across campus, Wilhelm returned to the front desk and sat down, hands folding neatly in front of him once more. Outside, the world was tearing itself apart. Inside, he remained calm. Control, he thought, was not about morality. It was about timing. The lecture hall smelled like iron and smoke. Wilhelm Moore stood at the front desk and allowed himself a single, controlled breath. His heart rate was elevated but steady, the way it always was when his mind had already finished the work before his body caught up. Around him, the four Risen stood motionless, blood still dripping from hands and mouths that no longer knew hunger.
They waited. Not patiently. Not eagerly. They simply waited. Wilhelm regarded them with the same professional detachment he had once brought to autopsy photographs and case files. Two were former students, their faces slack, eyes unfocused, expressions frozen in the last instant of terror before death. The other two were attackers, their weapons still clutched uselessly in rigid fingers. Useful variables, all of them. The System interface flickered at the edge of his vision.
[SKILL: RISEN DEAD — ACTIVE]
CURRENT CONTROLLED UNITS: 4 / 4
STATUS: STABLE
MAINTENANCE COST: MINIMAL
NOTICE:
LOSS OF COGNITIVE FUNCTION CONFIRMED
PAIN RESPONSE DISABLED
Wilhelm dismissed the pane without comment. Pain, he reflected, was a remarkably inefficient motivator. Fear, too. Both degraded performance. Removed from the equation, behavior became predictable. Obedient. Clean. He stepped down the aisle, careful not to slip on blood-slick stone, and stopped before one of the decapitated Risen. The body lay collapsed between rows, head several feet away, eyes still open. Structural termination, he noted again. Good to know. “Dispose,” Wilhelm said. The remaining Risen moved immediately.
They seized the ruined body and dragged it toward the far door, movements jerky but purposeful. Wilhelm watched them go, cataloging response time, coordination, limitations. No hesitation. No self-preservation. No deviation from command. He turned back to the hall. Three students lay dead. Three young lives ended in seconds, erased by other humans chasing numbers on an invisible ledger. Wilhelm felt the familiar weight of it settle behind his eyes. Regret, perhaps. But regret did not change outcomes. He approached the bodies of the students and knelt beside the nearest one, a young man whose name he vaguely recalled from attendance sheets. The wound was fatal, immediate. No chance of intervention. Wilhelm closed the boy’s eyes gently. “Risen,” he said. The body twitched. Then rose. Wilhelm felt the strain spike sharply, a needle of pressure behind his temples. The System protested, a low hum of resistance, but relented as the command completed. He straightened slowly, breathing measured.
[WARNING]
CONTROL LIMIT EXCEEDED
FORCED STABILIZATION INITIATED
Wilhelm nodded once. That would have consequences later. He accepted that. The newly Risen stood among the others, vacant gaze fixed ahead, blood still drying on his clothes. Wilhelm studied him for several seconds, then exhaled. “No,” he said quietly. “Not you.” He released the control. The body collapsed back to the floor, lifeless once more. The pressure eased immediately. Limit confirmed. Wilhelm returned to the desk and sat, folding his hands together as if resuming a lecture. Outside, distant screams echoed through the building, punctuated by the occasional crack of gunfire or the unmistakable sound of something large breaking through doors. The System chimed softly.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
[PVP EVENT ONGOING]
OBJECTIVE:
ELIMINATE OR SUBDUE REMAINING PLAYERS
REWARD SCALING: ACTIVE
Wilhelm watched the text fade. He thought of Dorian. Of the boy wrapped in a blanket, eyes hollow but defiant. Was he alive? He would need to leave his classroom and see. He knew if anyone has survived this Hell it would be Dorian. The System did not care about justice. It cared about compliance. Performance. Results. The System rewarded action, not intention. It valued obedience framed as choice, cruelty disguised as efficiency. Wilhelm stood again and walked to the window at the back of the hall. Outside, the campus burned in pockets of chaos, shadows moving between buildings, flashes of magic lighting the night in brief, violent bursts.
Wilhelm’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Time to catch up.” He murmured, though no one was listening. The Risen didn't have consciousness anymore. shifted subtly behind him, responding to the faint change in his posture. Wilhelm turned back to them. “Come.” he said. They followed like good little puppets. He considered his options carefully. Movement would draw attention. Staying put risked being overwhelmed.
The System encouraged conflict, but it also rewarded survival. Patience, in this environment, was not cowardice. It was leverage. A new presence brushed against his awareness. Not the System. Something colder. Older. Curious. Wilhelm felt it then, a subtle pull at the edge of his thoughts, like fingers testing the weight of a door that had not yet been opened. There was no voice. No command. Just an awareness that he was being watched.
He did not resist. Resistance was inefficient. “Order.” Wilhelm said softly to the empty hall. “That’s all this is.” The presence lingered, then receded, satisfied for now. Wilhelm left the classroom with his small army in tow. Looking for his wayward flock.
______________________________________________________________________
The room was dark, barely lit by a flickering emergency strip along the ceiling. Concrete walls. Exposed pipes. The kind of place no one went unless they were running or hiding. Calvin paced. Every step sent a jolt of pain through his ribs, his shoulder screaming where the blade had gone in. Burn marks still crawled across his armor, the edges blackened and cracked. His shield lay discarded against the wall, split clean through the center. He kicked it. “Fucking heal me already,” he snarled. “What are you doing, praying?” Jenn flinched where she knelt beside him, hands hovering uselessly over his chest. Her face was pale, eyes sunken, sweat plastering strands of hair to her forehead. “I can’t,” she said, voice shaking. “I’m out of mana. I told you that.”
Calvin rounded on her. “Then get it back,” he snapped. “Do something.” She swallowed hard, then anger slipped through the fear. “Why did you kill Stephanie?” she demanded. “She didn’t attack you. She just wanted to leave with us. She loved you, Calvin. She was your girlfriend. She even chose healer to help you!”Calvin stopped. Slowly, he turned. His smile was thin and ugly. He reached out and grabbed Jenn by the top of her head, fingers digging into her scalp. She screamed as he squeezed, forcing her face up to his.
“Because you dumb bitch,” he hissed, “I need kills to keep leveling. Oh wait didn't I get a notification after killing her? Hah I almost forgot! This Gods damned pain is making me foggy! ” Her hands clawed at his wrist, uselessly. A screen pops.
LEVEL UP!
LEVEL UP!
CURRENT LEVEL: 8
UNSPENT STAT POINTS: +10
CLASS EVOLUTION AVAILABLE!
CURRENT CLASS: VANGUARD
The screen expands, options locking into place one by one.
BULWARK
— Defensive Vanguard Path —
Focus:
- Extreme durability
- Damage mitigation
- Zone denial
Bonuses:
- Increased shield effectiveness
- Reduced incoming damage
- Enhanced taunt range
System Note:
Bulwarks endure.
They rarely decide the outcome of battles.
Calvin snorts. “Boring.”
WARBRINGER
— Assault Vanguard Path —
Focus:
- Aggressive frontline combat
- Area disruption
- Momentum-based damage
Bonuses:
- Damage increases while advancing
- Shockwave attacks
- Improved stamina recovery
System Note:
Warbringers excel in prolonged engagements. Attrition favors them.
“Not enough,” Calvin mutters.
BLOODGUARD
— Sacrificial Combat Path —
Focus:
- Damage scaling with missing health
- Self-inflicted buffs
- Brutal retaliation
Bonuses:
- Increased damage at low health
- Life-leech on counterattacks
- Reduced pain response
System Note:
Bloodguards often survive battles. They do not survive wars.
His grin widens. Closer.
REAVER
— Predator Vanguard Path —
Focus:
- Enemy execution
- Snowball combat escalation
- Suppression through force
Bonuses:
- Damage bonus on killing blows
- Temporary stat increases per kill
- Reduced cooldowns during combat
System Note:
Reavers thrive when the weak are plentiful.
Calvin’s fingers twitch.
MARAUDER
[WARNING]
HIGH-RISK EVOLUTION PATH
— UNRESTRAINED CLASS —
Focus:
- Kill-based power escalation
- Anti-player dominance
- Reward through slaughter
Bonuses:
- Permanent stat growth through kills
- Massive XP bonuses during PvP events
- Bloodlust state increases damage and speed
Restrictions:
- Control degradation likely
- Aggression thresholds enforced
- Social penalties irrelevant
System Note:
Marauders demonstrate extreme performance. Survival probability of nearby players: LOW.
A final line blinks beneath it.
[NOTICE]
THIS PATH IS NOT RECOMMENDED
Calvin doesn’t hesitate. He selects MARAUDER. The screen slams shut. Power floods his body, raw and intoxicating, pain muting, rage sharpening into focus.
[CLASS EVOLUTION CONFIRMED]
VANGUARD → MARAUDER
Calvin laughs, deep and feral, rolling his neck as strength settles into his bones. “Yeah,” he growls. “That’s more like it. “The more I kill, the stronger I get. And with the PvP quest active? Bonus XP. Huge bonus XP.” He leaned closer. “You’re lucky I left you alive.” Her eyes filled with tears. She nodded frantically. “You better pick a mana regen skill when you get the chance,” Calvin said. “Because next time I need healing, I won’t be this patient.” He released her.
Jenn collapsed forward, gasping, hands shaking as she pressed them to the floor. Calvin turned away, flexing his fingers, jaw tight with rage. He stared down the dark hallway ahead, the flickering light barely touching its depths. You promised me, he thought. You said if I killed more people, I’d become the strongest. You said if I killed that fucker Dorian, I’d unlock something special. You better not have lied to me. A screen slid silently into his vision, invisible to anyone else.
[DIRECT MESSAGE INCOMING]
RELAX.
SKILL UNLOCK CONDITION ALMOST MET.
ONE MORE PLAYER REQUIRED.
Calvin’s grin spread slowly, vicious and eager. “See?” he muttered. “I knew it.” He straightened abruptly, rolling his shoulders despite the pain. “Come on,” he said, already moving toward the hallway. “Let’s go find someone worth some XP.” Jenn scrambled to her feet behind him. “I… I can give you a minor heal in about ten minuets. My mana is recovering now that we are out of combat.” she said quickly. “Do it as soon as possible.” Calvin said without slowing. Warm light flared briefly as her spell took hold shortly after. The worst of the burns began to fade, skin knitting back together. Calvin exhaled in satisfaction. “That’s better,” he said. He stepped into the darkness, boots echoing softly, grin never leaving his face. Somewhere nearby, someone was still alive. Not for long.