Herwoj gasped, heart pounding. His breath caught in his throat as he stood frozen, staring at the monstrous silhouettes circling the city's edge. Vast, grotesque shadows loomed like the embodiment of nightmares, their forms twisted, unexplainable, watching.
"I should've known… I couldn't escape," he muttered, dragging a trembling hand across his blood-specked cheek. "Shit… what now?"
Panic threatened to strangle him, but he bit down on it. No use wasting time. "If I can't escape… then I survive. Simple."
But nothing felt simple.
In the stories—both the game and the novel—characters had left the city. Not before the scenarios started, though. Always during. The fact he couldn't leave yet meant only one thing.
This isn't the scenario yet.
A chill settled into his spine. "Then what the hell is this?"
There were too many questions. Herwoj filed them into the back of his mind—unknown variables. He'd solve them later, if he lived long enough.
He clenched his fists. "If I can't meet my father… and I can't leave the city… what options do I have?"
He tore through the pages of memory—both the book and the game, digging for answers. Among the fragmented recollections, one thought shimmered like a broken mirror: the anomalies.
Entities born wrong. Out-of-place beings not meant for this world. Beings that, according to the lore, had their eyes fixed on the overworld… each with a different motive. Each waiting for a crack.
But the scenarios hadn't started. He didn't know if approaching them early would lead to salvation… or obliteration.
Still, time was bleeding away.
That's when he remembered.
"The book…"
Herwoj ransacked his room, fingers clawing at notes, scribbles, hand-drawn diagrams until—"Yes!"—he found it. Folded between the margins of page 83: a location. A cave, hidden deep in the city, rumored to be the resting place of the being who triggered the first scenario.
It sounded insane.
Too easy. Too convenient.
But Herwoj had died before. He had resurrected before. His strange skills—Darsana, Death Incentive, Return—gave him a reckless edge others didn't have.
He hit the streets, heading toward the location as described.
People stared at him. Their gazes were wrong—lingering, disturbed. Something in their eyes read revulsion.
Herwoj glanced down… and froze.
His arms, his chest—lacerated with brutal scars. Deep and unnatural. Painless, yet vivid.
"The cat-beast…" he whispered. That monster had clawed through him during his first death.
"But I died," he muttered. "I resurrected. Why are the wounds still here?"
Curious, he touched one of the scars.
His vision jolted.
A game-like screen flickered into view:
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
You have been cursed.
It wasn't the stat screen. It was something else. A notification, embedded like a parasite in his soul.
He tapped for more info.
[Curse: Armored Rejection]
You may not wear armor. Your body remembers death.
Herwoj sneered. "Could be worse."
He whispered, "Stat screen."
[SYSTEM STATUS SCREEN]
Name: Herwoj Ryutore
Race: Human (Cursed Variant)
Class: ??
Level: 1
Title(s):
"3rd Rate Hakkyokusei"
[CORE STATS]
HP: 100 / 100
MP: 820 / 820
STR: 15
DEX: 15
VIT: 14
INT: 15
MAG: 5
LUK: ???
[SKILLS]
Darsana: Foresee death. Shorter cooldowns with more mana.
Death Incentive (Temp): Receive a reward based on how you die.
Instinctive Dodge (Passive): +15% evasion under 50% HP.
Return: Revive after death.
There was an alert in his inventory. A glowing red gem.
The one from the taxi man's family.
He hated that gem. It reeked of blood and regret. But he knew its purpose.
Raise your limit before the scenario starts.
Limit a concept used when attaining new levels of strength akin to climbing a wall to get to the next
So raising the limit would increase the time before you would reach the wall
That was the key.
Even if he didn't feel stronger, the system acknowledged it:
[Your Potential Has Increased.]
Eventually, Herwoj arrived at the location. But it wasn't a cave.
It was a building.
Wrong.
He double-checked the book. The details aligned. He was in the right place—but something felt off. That's when he saw her.
An old woman. Walking far too fast. Fluid. Inhuman.
She approached the building's blank wall… and disappeared into it.
"Of course," Herwoj whispered. "It's a hidden entrance."
He walked up and placed his hand on the wall.
Nothing.
He cursed, "I knew it wasn't that easy."
Then, he remembered.
"Blood…"
He scanned the ground, found a needle, pricked his finger, and smeared the wall.
It drank the blood.
Seconds passed.
Herwoj staggered as his body seized up. His eyes burned—turning crimson. The world twisted.
Then a voice.
Not heard—but felt.
"You're the first to lay your blood on me," it said, like a god whispering through teeth.
"And I'm in a good mood. I'll grant you one wish."
Herwoj steadied himself.
"Take me to the woman who entered before me."
A hum. Then silence. Then—
Light.
When it faded, Herwoj stood inside.
The voice chuckled, its words now distant. "He's cursed… but his blood… fascinating."
A scream echoed through the corridor.
"Please! Someone help me!"
Herwoj crept closer, instincts screaming. "It's a trap."
Then another voice—soft, sultry, commanding.
"Tell me what you know about this world."
Herwoj peeked through a crack.
The old woman. And another.
Spider legs twisted below a stunning female torso. Her curves could shatter minds. Her eyes promised desire—and death.
"Damn," Herwoj whispered. "Her melons are huge…"
He shook his head violently. "Focus!"
Succubus… has to be.
As he watched, he pieced it together. They weren't from this world.
Which didn't make sense.
High-intelligence invaders aren't supposed to come before the scenarios begin.
Herwoj stayed hidden in the shadows pressing himself against a crumbling pillar, barely breathing. The strange woman interrogated the boy like a predator playing with her prey. Every word she spoke felt coated in poison and honey.
Herwoj felt his fists clench. This wasn't a scripted event from the game or novel. This was real. And wrong.
He said to Himself
Smooth. Seductive. Twisting into his mind like a vine creeping into a crack.
Her voice.
The spider-woman turned, as if sensing Herwoj's thoughts. Her upper body arched unnaturally, and her head tilted with a smile that wasn't quite human.
Herwoj ducked quickly, heart pounding. "Shit… did she see me?"
He waited, barely breathing
Herwoj waited—watched.
Waited for the moment they'd leave him alone.
Eventually, the two monsters moved deeper into the structure, likely to prepare something far worse.
The boy wept softly, crumpled on the ground like a broken toy.
Herwoj crept forward, careful with every step. The air was heavier here. The walls pulsated like they were breathing. When he reached the boy, he knelt beside him and whispered, "Hey. Quiet. I'm getting you out of here."
The boy flinched in fear, but Herwoj covered his mouth and signaled him to stay silent.
They moved—slow, careful.
Then—click.
A shard of bone on the floor cracked under Herwoj's foot.
Everything stopped.
A voice echoed from the depths: "They never learn."
Herwoj grabbed the boy's hand and ran.
Screams burst behind them. Heavy footsteps. The building groaned, its walls shifting, alive.
"Faster!" Herwoj yelled, dragging the boy with him.
But the corridor split. The floor collapsed beneath them like an opening maw.
Herwoj shouted, "Jump!"
He tossed the boy toward the other side.
The boy landed.
Herwoj didn't.
He fell—spiraling down into the darkness.
He hit the ground hard,
He hit the ground with a sickening thud. Pain rippled through him, but that wasn't what made him freeze
It was the laughter.
Low. Broken. Insane.
coughing dust and blood. Around him, bones and rotted armor pieces scattered like decorations.
The air smelled like rust and madness.
A faint whisper tugged at his mind.
It wasn't a voice. It was laughter—insane, echoing. Something ancient and gleeful and broken.
Herwoj looked up.
At the center of the cave was a single pedestal. A dagger rested atop it.
Its obsidian-black edge constantly shifts, like shadows writhing beneath its surface, and it drips a slow, blood-red mist even when it hasn't pierced anything. The hilt is made of bone—twisted and malformed—as though it was carved from the spine of something that once screamed in defiance of death
Purple smoke curled from its blade like it was breathing.
The laughter grew louder as he approached.
Then—
"You have found: Dagger of the Smiling Horror."
The moment he saw it, his wound reopened.
Blood dripped from his arm, hitting the cave floor with a hiss.
And that's when the dagger… moved.
Not physically—but it noticed.
The mist around it thickened, then swirled violently.
A voice whispered from nowhere and everywhere:
"What… is this taste?"
More smoke poured out, stretching toward the droplets of Herwoj's blood on the stone. The mist danced around them, trembling like it had just tasted something forbidden.
"This isn't human. This isn't divine. This isn't… right."
The dagger pulsed, and the pedestal cracked.
Herwoj stepped back.
But it was too late.
"I want it. I want more."
A whisper turned into a growl, then into screaming joy.
"Let me in."
His hand moved without his will. Reached forward. Touched the hilt.
And—
Everything changed.
The air grew heavy. A pulse surged through the cave. The dagger drank his blood like it had been starved.
"YES! DIFFERENT! YOU TASTE DIFFERENT!"
The moment he touched it, the cave screamed.
The dagger pulsed in his hand, and a wave of dark energy crashed into him, crawling under his skin.
A voice laughed in his head, jagged and giddy.
Then—
Pain.
Herwoj's back arched as a second surge of energy stabbed into him from behind—cold and unholy. He collapsed, vision twisting. Something else had entered him. Not the dagger.
A second presence.
Quieter. Older. Calm… but suffocating.
It didn't speak.
It just watched.
Moments or hours later—Herwoj wasn't sure—he stumbled out from the cave's depths, eyes glowing faintly crimson.
He found the boy again. Chained now. Surrounded by runes. The monsters had returned, chanting in tongues that burned Herwoj's ears.
The spider-woman raised her hand, claws dripping shadow.
The boy begged, screamed, thrashed.
Herwoj didn't hesitate.
The dagger in his hand twitched with excitement. The presence inside him stirred.
And he charged.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
You have acquired: Dagger of the Smiling Horror (Cursed Weapon)
You are now Bound.
Warning: Foreign Entity Detected. You are Being Observed.
Blood Classification: [ERROR: UNIDENTIFIED]
And then it whispered—quiet, almost trembling.
"You're not special. You're not chosen. But your blood…"
"…your blood doesn't belong here."