The room fell silent.
The hospital bed, the machines, the outside world—all of it faded as Adam sat cross-legged in the dim light, eyes closed, breath steady.
Then the shadows stirred.
The moment he accepted the system's quest—
> \[Quest Accepted: Begin Your First Death Trial]
> \[Teleporting to Mindscape: Initiating Trial Chamber]
—reality bent.
His body didn't move, but his mind was wrenched from the world.
He fell.
Not through space.
Through himself.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
---
He landed hard on a cold obsidian platform, the sound of chains rattling echoing all around him. The sky above was an endless storm, purple lightning crackling silently behind swirling black clouds.
A massive stone gate loomed in front of him, etched with ancient runes.
Then—
> \[Welcome to the Death Trial: Layer One]
> \[Objective: Survive for 10 minutes]
> \[Bonus Objective: Slay all enemies before timer ends]
> \[Warning: Dying here means true death.]
Adam's eyes widened. "Wait—true death?"
He turned just as the first sound echoed behind him.
Skittering.
Dozens of bone claws tapped across the floor, followed by deep growls that vibrated in his spine.
Out of the darkness came shapes—humanoid, hunched, stitched from rotting corpses and shadow. Their eyes glowed pale green. Fangs bared. Clawed hands dragging weapons made from scraps of bone and rusted metal.
They weren't illusions.
They were real.
And they were hungry.
Adam's system flashed again.
> \[New Skill Unlocked: Shadowstep (Lv. 1)]
> \[New Weapon Granted: Soulfang Dagger]
> \[Passive Boost: Fear Resistance +10%]
A cold silver dagger materialized in his right hand. It shimmered with a ghostly hue, its edge humming with suppressed violence.
Adam gritted his teeth.
"I guess we're doing this."
The first abomination lunged.
Adam ducked under its claw, slashing upward. The dagger cut clean through the creature's throat. Its body dissolved into smoke with a screech.
He blinked.
The blade had absorbed the kill.
> \[1/10 slain — Essence absorbed.]
> \[Death Energy +10]
Another lunged from the side.
He used Shadowstep instinctively—his body vanished in a puff of black mist and reappeared five meters away.
Behind them.
Slash. Stab. Twist.
Two more gone.
> \[3/10 slain.]
The creatures screeched, forming a circle. Their tactics shifted—faster, coordinated.
Adam ducked and rolled, every movement sharper than it had ever been in his real body. His instincts screamed, but for the first time, he didn't hesitate.
He was fighting to survive.
And this time, he had the power to do it.
---
**Meanwhile — Seoul Hunter Bureau Headquarters**
On a high-rise rooftop, S-Rank Hunter Arin leaned against the railing, his arms crossed. The air shimmered unnaturally.
He could feel the shift in energy.
"You were right," came Leena's voice beside him.
A floating shard of obsidian hovered in front of them, displaying Adam sitting in the hospital room, motionless—but a dark aura was coiling around his body like smoke.
Arin frowned. "A Trial Gate inside the mind…? That's ancient system magic. Beyond even standard Guild tech."
Leena's eyes narrowed. "Should we interfere?"
"No," Arin said, eyes hard. "Let's see if the kid survives it."
Leena glanced sideways. "You think he could be the one the prophecy spoke of?"
"I don't know," Arin muttered. "But if he is, he's already a target."
---
**Back in the Mindscape**
Adam's breath came in gasps.
Five minutes left.
Only three enemies remained.
He was bleeding—shadow venom had grazed his ribs. But with each kill, he felt stronger. Faster. As if the dagger was feeding him something—something not human.
> \[Passive Skill Activated: Death Instinct (Lv. 1)]
> \[Perception boosted while fighting lower lifeforms.]
He grinned.
The next creature didn't stand a chance. He slid under its strike, sliced both knees, and impaled it mid-fall.
> \[8/10]
The next two lunged together.
Adam let them come.
Shadowstep. Leap. Spin.
Slash.
> \[10/10 enemies slain. Bonus Objective Complete.]
> \[Death Trial: Layer One Cleared.]
> \[Rewards Unlocked:]
> — Skill: Graveborn Strength (Passive)
> — Skill Point +5
> — Access Granted: Death Store (Locked Until Level 5)
The ground shook.
The sky above cracked with purple lightning.
And the system spoke again.
> \[You have proven worthy.]
> \[The path of the Deathbound Heir continues.]
Adam stood panting, gripping the Soulfang dagger.
A single thought rang in his mind.
This power… it's real.
Then the darkness consumed him once more.
---
**Reality — Hospital Room**
Adam jolted upright with a gasp. Sweat soaked his hospital gown. His eyes were bloodshot, but sharp—aware.
A faint black mark glowed briefly on his palm, then faded.
He checked the system.
> \[Level Up: 1 → 2]
> \[Stat Points Available: 5]
> \[Skills:]
> — Graveborn Strength (Passive)
> — Shadowstep (Active)
> — Death Sense (Passive)
> — Soul Tracker (Active)
He leaned back against the wall, heart pounding.
No one can know.
This power wasn't just dangerous.
It was forbidden.
The door creaked.
He looked up.
A girl stepped in, her long dark hair tied in a ponytail, a notepad in her hand. She wore a hunter-in-training jacket, the emblem of Raven Guild stitched on the arm.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb," she said softly. Her voice was calm but carried strength. "I'm Lyra. Lyra Min. I'm interning with the Guild's medical division. They sent me to check on your vitals."
Adam blinked. Something about her presence was grounding.
"No worries," he replied, trying to mask the tremor in his voice.
She glanced at his chart, then looked him in the eye.
"You were in the dungeon collapse, right? The F-rank Gate incident?" she asked, voice tinged with curiosity—and concern.
He nodded slowly.
She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're lucky to be alive."
Adam gave a small, forced chuckle. "Yeah… lucky."
But her presence lingered. A warmth he hadn't felt in days.
And as she turned to leave, she glanced back over her shoulder.
"Don't disappear on us, okay? You look like someone who still has things to do."
He swallowed.
*More than you know.*
---
**Elsewhere — An Empty Cathedral in France**
A man knelt before a massive obsidian altar.
He wore flowing priest robes—but black, lined in red.
His eyes glowed faint violet.
"The Mark has returned," he whispered, voice echoing through the chamber. "Belial's heir walks again."
Behind him, six other figures bowed their heads.
The Order of the Black Requiem.
A cult that had waited centuries for this moment.
"Find him," the priest said. "Before he learns what he truly is."