The damp, mossy scent of the forest floor filled Montu's nostrils, but it didn't smell like nature anymore. To his undead senses, it smelled like an all-you-can-eat buffet that had been left out in the rain. He trudged along the path toward the goblin camp, his mind spinning faster than his Speed 3 legs could carry him.
'I was a veteran of this game for two years,' he thought, his inner thoughts echoing with the sharp, cynical tone of a man who had seen the "Game Over" screen in real life. 'I knew the bestiasry by heart. Zombies were the bottom of the barrel. Pale green, rotting, mindless sacks of experience points that shuffled around like they were looking for a lost contact lens. They didn't think. They didn't have mana. And they certainly weren't blue.'
He looked down at his forearm. The skin was a deep, bruised blue, shimmering with a faint, ghostly luminescence. He wasn't just a zombie; he was an anomaly.
And the 'NPC' tag... he mused. 'Monsters are supposed to respawn. You kill a goblin, wait ten minutes, and another one pops out of the bushes like clockwork. But an NPC? If I die, that's it. One life. No respawn. No second chances.'
"Essentially," Montu muttered, a dry, raspy chuckle escaping his throat, "I'm the only monster in this world who can actually go extinct. Talk about high stakes."
He paused, leaning against a tree that felt far too solid to be digital. "System," he asked, "what exactly are those Evolution Points for? I'm currently 0.5 toward... something."
[THE HOST WILL BE GRANTED ACCESS TO THE EVOLUTION PATHS ONCE THE THRESHOLD OF 10 POINTS IS REACHED] the System replied, its voice excited as a kid with a candy. [PLEASE REFRAIN FROM ASKING QUESTIONS THAT THE HOST IS TOO WEAK TO COMPREHEND.]
Montu scoffed, nearly choking on a piece of dry lung. "Sassy. I like it. Cryptic as a fortune cookie, but sassy."
He opened the System Shop, his eyes widening at the prices. If he was going to be an "Absolute Authority," he needed more than just a shovel and a bad attitude.
[SYSTEM SHOP: SKILLS(basic)]
Fireball: 10,000 Gold
Lightning Arrow: 11,000 Gold
Mud Prison: 8,000 Gold
Quick Steps: 3,000 Gold
Poison Shot: 15,000 Gold
Sword Slash (Upper Strike): 4,000 Gold
Montu's skeletal fingers hovered over the blue screen. "Ten thousand for a Fireball? Do the flames come with a lifetime warranty and a heated seat? This is highway robbery."
He looked at his balance: 3,770 Gold. He was a millionaire by villager standards, but in the System Shop, he was still shopping in the clearance bin.
"I'll take Quick Steps," he sighed. "At least then I won't look like a slow-motion car crash when I try to run."
Ding!
[SKILL ACQUIRED: Quick Steps - Lv.1]
Effect: Increases movement speed by 20% for 10 minutes.
Cooldown: 3 Hours.
Proficiency: (0/100)
As the transaction finished, a surge of static electricity shot through his undead thighs. His calf muscles, which usually felt like cold ham, suddenly twitched with a caffeinated energy. He didn't waste a second. He activated the skill.
"Whoa!" Montu yelled as his legs blurred. He wasn't exactly a Ferrari yet—more like a very motivated golf cart—but the feeling was intoxicating. He sprinted through the undergrowth, dodging roots and low-hanging branches with a grace that felt entirely un-zombie-like.
By the time the ten minutes ended, he had covered more ground than he usually did in half an hour.
[PROFICIENCY INCREASED: 5/100]
"Not bad," he wheezed, despite not actually needing to breathe. "At this rate, I'll be a track star by next week."
After another three-hour trek and a second use of the skill (Proficiency: 10/100), the familiar silhouette of his pit trap appeared ahead. He slowed down, his [God's Eye] scanning for any living threats. The forest was eerily quiet.
The sky was draped in darkness, with only the pale moonlight slipping through the clouds. The forest was silent, shadows stretching across the ground, and every sound seemed louder in the stillness of the night. A cool breeze moved through the air, carrying a strange sense of mystery.
The human body was still there. The guard who had fallen into the trap—the "Marcus" that Anna had mourned—was slumped at the bottom of the pit, his armor pierced by the crude wooden spikes Montu had carved with such "genius."
Montu approached the edge and peered down. The blood was no longer bright red; it had darkened into a deep, visceral crimson, soaking into the dirt. A strange, primal urge began to claw at the back of Montu's mind—the basic biological imperative of an Undead.
He climbed down into the pit, careful to avoid the stakes. He knelt beside the corpse. The guard's eyes were still open, staring blankly at the patch of sky he'd never reach again.
"Sorry, Marcus," Montu muttered, though he didn't sound sorry at all.
He dipped a finger into the pool of blood near the guard's chest and brought it to his lips. It tasted metallic, sharp, and strangely... sweet. It was like a shot of pure adrenaline. He waited for a notification.
Silence.
"No evolution points for a drink? Cheapskate system," he grumbled.
He began to loot the body with the practiced efficiency of a seasoned gamer. He found three gold coins tucked into a leather pouch—Pathetic, he thought—and a standard-issue iron sword. He tossed the sword into his inventory. It wasn't 'Dawn's Whisper,' his trusty bow, but it was steel.
Then, he looked at the guard's arm. He felt a wave of hesitation. 'I was a human once, he reminded himself. I lived in a city. I had a girlfriend. I ate pizza.'
Then he remembered the bullets in his legs. He remembered Sara's laughter.
"I'm a monster now," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "And monsters don't have moral dilemmas."
He grabbed the guard's cold hand and bit down. Hard. His teeth sank into the muscle, and just like the goblin meat at the tavern, the flesh seemed to dissolve upon contact with his saliva. He chewed and swallowed, the liquid essence sliding down his throat. It felt heavier than the goblin meat, richer in energy.
He took another bite. And another. He waited for the 0.1 Evolution Point notification.
Nothing.
"What? Is human meat not 'evolutionary' enough for you?" he yelled at the empty air.
Disappointed and feeling a bit ridiculous for having just snacked on a corpse for no reward, Montu pulled out the rope he'd bought from the shop (5 Gold). He tied a loop, tossed it over a sturdy root above, and hauled himself out of the pit.(It was quicker than him crawling out slowly, as he did when he first made the trap)
He untied the rope, coiled it back into his inventory, and turned to leave. "Well, that was a bust. No points, just a weird aftertaste and a dead guard."
But as he took his third step away from the hole, the world suddenly shifted.
The usual soft blue glow of the System interface didn't appear. Instead, the air in front of his eyes began to bleed. Thick, crimson light congealed into a jagged, blood-red system window. It pulsed like a dying heart.
"Is this real?" Montu breathed, his undead heart quickening. The answer stared back, grim and undeniable. His morbid curiosity had triggered something dark, something he couldn't deny, something great. This trap, this guard, they were a catalyst, a twisted initiation.
He looked back at the pit. The red system window didn't fade; it stayed there, glowing with a malevolent light that seemed to reflect in the red streaks of Montu's hair.
A slow, terrifying smile spread across Montu's face. He looked at his hands—the blue skin, the cracked nails. He didn't feel like a "trash mob" anymore. He felt like a virus.
"I'm so glad I made this trap," Montu laughed, the sound echoing through the trees like a death knell. "Your death wasn't in vain, Marcus. You just gave me the shortcut to becoming a literal God."