“Wait,” Ace ordered.

  The System's silhouette tilted her head, that eerie child-like curiosity making his skin crawl. Her eyes—two pinpricks of unnatural blue light—fixed on him with predatory attention.

  "Yes?" Her voice lilted with amusement, like she already knew what he was about to say.

  "We had a deal." He stepped forward, separating himself from the others. "Weapons. You promised us weapons."

  The System's shoulders slumped melodramatically. She floated down until her bare feet touched the stone floor, looking for all the world like a kid caught in a lie about cleaning her room.

  "I've given you so much already," she whined, spreading her arms. "New bodies, new abilities, a whole new existence!" Her bottom lip protruded in an exaggerated pout. "Isn't that enough? Most summoned heroes would sacrifice their firstborn for half of what I've given you."

  Ace felt the others tense behind him. This was the moment where most people would back down, grateful for the scraps they'd been thrown.

  Marines didn't operate that way.

  "A deal's a deal," he pressed, maintaining eye contact. "We survived your little test. Now it's time to pay up."

  The System's pout morphed into a razor-thin smile. "You're no fun, Ace." She sighed theatrically. "Always so... transactional."

  He tilted his head and raised one eyebrow expectantly, but said nothing.

  "Fine, fine,” she said with a dismissive wave. “One weapon each, just like I promised. Basic stuff only—you haven't earned anything special yet. Consider it your participation trophy for not dying immediately."

  The air before them distorted, reality folding in on itself until a simple wooden rack materialized, hovering inches above the ground. On it rested an assortment of weapons: a sword with a dull sheen, a coiled whip made of black leather, a sleek staff made from white wood, a strange crown designed to fit across the forehead, a bow with a quiver of glowing arrows, and a brilliant crimson sword with a blade that glowed like firelight.

  "Nothing fancy," the System said with a bored shrug. "Just marginally better than fighting with your bare claws. Choose wisely—or don't, I'm not your babysitter. Let’s go in the order of first kill. Rachel, darling?"

  The woman stepped forward, her eyes locked on the curved sword. The blade seemed to respond to her presence, and a barely perceptible hum vibrated through the air.

  “Rachel, hold on,” Ace ordered as he studied the System’s face. "What's the catch?"

  The little girl’s eyes widened with theatrical innocence. "Catch? Why would there be a catch?"

  "Because nothing's free here." Ace's eyes narrowed. "What happens when we pick them up?"

  A slow, delighted smile spread across her face. "Oh, Ace. You're going to be so much fun to break." She clasped her hands behind her back and sank to the ground, rocking on her heels as everyone’s eyes followed her slow descent. "The weapons bind to your essence. First come, first served. Choose poorly, and you'll be stuck with that choice until you find something better... or die trying."

  “Better than nothing,” Tara muttered under her breath.

  “Exactly!” the System grinned and tilted her head, her curls bouncing with the movement, and gave them a happy little clap. “Tick, tock, my darlings!”

  Hmm.

  Ace studied the weapons with new intensity. The System had arranged this deliberately—six weapons, six survivors. One perfect match for each of them... or a perfect mismatch if they chose wrong.

  Another test. Always another fucking test.

  His newfound vampire instincts urged him toward certain weapons while recoiling from others. The sword called to him—quick, lethal, precise. But something told him that was too obvious. The System wouldn't make it that easy.

  The System's smile widened, those inhuman eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Come, now, Rachel. Choose.”

  Rachel stepped toward the weapon rack, her movements cautious but deliberate. Her eyes locked not on the sword but on the strange crown with its focusing crystal, evidently drawn to its arcane promise of something magical. Something more.

  "Starting with the fancy stuff, are we?" the System chirped.

  The woman didn’t answer. Instead, Rachel's fingers reached for the crystal headband. The moment her skin contacted the metal, however, blue-white flames erupted along her arm. She jerked back with a strangled cry, her flesh smoking where the crown had rejected her.

  “Fine,” she muttered to herself.

  She pivoted toward the crimson sword, the grooves in its blade pulsing with anticipation. Her jaw set with determination as she wrapped her fingers around the hilt.

  The reaction was immediate and violent. The blade's runes flared an angry red, and Rachel's scream tore through the tunnel as blistering heat seared her palm. She stumbled backward, clutching her burned hand against her chest, hatred flashing in her eyes.

  "Third time's the charm?" the System suggested, her childish giggle dripping with malice.

  Rachel glared up at the floating girl, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. Instead, Rachel approached the compound bow next, desperation edging her movements. Her fingertips had barely brushed the weapon when shadow energy lashed out, black lightning crawling up her wrist like hungry insects.

  She fell to one knee, teeth gritted against the pain.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  The System's laughter intensified. "Oh, Rachel, darling. Did you really think I'd let you have any choice at all?"

  Understanding dawned in Rachel's eyes as she stared up at the System, and her shoulders slumped as she now approached the plain sword with its dull, unimpressive blade. This time, when her fingers closed around the hilt, there was no rejection—just a muted thump of reluctant acceptance.

  "Some people are just... basic." The System wiped away an imaginary tear as her laughter finally ebbed. "You get what you deserve, Rachel. Nothing more, nothing less."

  Rachel's face hardened into a mask as she tested the weapon's weight. Just a sword. No magic, no special powers—a glorified piece of sharpened metal in a world of monsters.

  "Victor, darling. You're next," the System sang.

  The man stepped forward with predatory confidence, his eyes never leaving the coiled black whip. When his fingers closed around the handle, the weapon liquefied, flowing up his arm like sentient oil before reforming as a perfect extension of his will.

  "Oooh, the Nightmare's Spine," the System murmured. “Good choice.”

  Victor’s eyes gleamed as the whip responded to him, shifting from fluid to solid spike with a mere flick of his wrist. The weapon seemed made for him—or perhaps he had been made for it.

  The thought carried a hint of dread.

  “Ace?” the System asked, her demeanor shifting to that of an annoyed professor. “Hurry up, now. The others are waiting.”

  Instead of rising to the bait, Ace approached the row of weapons with his gaze fixed on the crimson sword that had rejected Rachel. The blade called to him with a hunger that mirrored the hollow ache in his chest. Its crimson surface swallowed light rather than reflecting it, while the blood channels pulsed with malevolent promise.

  As he held it, his training kicked in automatically—analyzing, assessing the weapon's reach, weight, balance. The silver inlay wrapping the hilt formed elegant patterns that pulsed with a dull glow the moment his grip tightened.

  In an instant, cold fire surged through his body. To his surprise, the sensation wasn't painful—it was more like recognition. The sword's channels flushed crimson, pulsing with light and fire. His fangs extended involuntarily as the blade amplified his vampiric essence. In response, the silver inlay simultaneously burned against his palm, a low-grade warning keeping his monster in check.

  Sure, he would’ve preferred a rifle, but that didn’t seem like something the System would provide. He had to make do.

  Ace debated adding it to his Abyssal Armory, but with a glance at Victor, he resolved to wait until he was alone.

  Besides, he didn’t exactly know how, yet.

  "A perfect match," the System cooed. "It's like you were made for each other. Tara, dear, you’re next."

  Tara approached the rack with wary determination, her eyes immediately fixing on the bow. When she grasped it, shadow energy rippled along its length. A spectral arrow materialized as she drew the string back, its tip seemingly composed of condensed darkness.

  "The Recruit's Bow," the System said. "Simple but serviceable."

  Marcus stepped forward next, the remaining crystal headband calling to him. As he placed it across his forehead, the focusing gem flared with intense light. His eyes widened, pupils dilating as information flooded his consciousness.

  Olivia claimed her weapon last, and she was left with the white staff. Instead of disappointment, however, she twirled it happily, her movements already carrying the grace of a trained fighter. The moment her hands wrapped around the smooth wood, her entire body seemed to lighten. She spun the weapon in a fluid figure-eight, her movements leaving faint shadow trails in the air.

  "And, lastly, the Dancer's Grace," the System said with a shrug.

  “I can work with this,” Olivia said under her breath. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Beauty is pain in this world, darling,” the System warned. “I look forward to seeing how you blend the two.”

  Olivia’s smile faded, and she retreated to the wall where she had stood moments before.

  The System clapped her hands together, radiating childlike excitement from those ancient, inhuman eyes. "Well done, my little heroes! Some of you made excellent choices."

  Her gaze slid to Rachel, cruel amusement dancing in her expression. Rachel's knuckles whitened around her sword's plain hilt, but she said nothing.

  "Now what?" Tara asked.

  “Now, you wander out there into the wilderness,” the System said cheerfully. “Murder, mayhem, bloodshed. You’ll see. It’s great fun.”

  As the others braced themselves for what lay ahead, something tugged on the back of Ace’s mind. Something important. Something that had come up quite a few times in his Skills selection.

  “What’s the Shadow Realm?” he asked.

  Instantly, the temperature in the chamber plummeted. The System's childlike smile vanished, replaced by something ancient and terrible. Her eyes, previously dancing with sadistic glee, now hardened to glowing red orbs that were both cold and unreadable.

  "What did you say?" Her voice had transformed from singsong mockery to something that scraped against reality itself, as if each syllable were laced with frost.

  The other recruits froze, exchanging nervous glances. Even Rachel, who'd been seething with humiliation moments before, went as still as prey sensing a predator. The shift was so abrupt, so jarring, that Ace felt his combat instincts surge to the surface. His grip tightened on his new crimson sword, its hungry pulse quickening against his palm.

  "The Shadow Realm," Ace repeated, studying her reaction with the focused attention of a man calculating a new threat. "It was mentioned in several Skill descriptions. Figured it was worth asking about."

  The System glided toward him with unnatural smoothness, her small form suddenly seeming to occupy far more space than physically possible. The air between them compressed with tangible pressure, a cold that bit into his very bones.

  "Do you still want to be my favorite, Sergeant?” she whispered, close enough that only he could hear.

  He didn’t reply. Honestly, he didn’t know the answer.

  “If so, then I suggest you ask questions that won’t make me want to kill you,” she continued, so close to him now that her intense glare took up almost everything he could see.

  But Ace didn't back down.

  His training kicked in, calculating risk versus reward. The System's reaction spoke volumes, after all. This wasn't just another game mechanic. This was something that genuinely unsettled her.

  "If I need to be equipped for it, then equip me," he countered. “Is it just the source of magic? Or is it a place we can actually go to?”

  He assumed the latter, given his newfound Skill to phase out of this world and then back into it, but that was just a guess. In truth, he had no idea what awaited them in the shadows, especially if it was an entire realm beyond this one.

  For a suspended moment, something ancient and calculating flickered across the System’s immortal face—so brief that Ace nearly missed it. Then her features rearranged themselves into a mask of cold contempt.

  "The Shadow Realm," she finally said, each word precisely measured, "is not your concern. It exists beyond the boundaries of your comprehension. Beyond the edges of the world you can perceive." Her eyes narrowed. "It is where things go when they... disappear."

  In Ace’s periphery, Marcus took an involuntary step backward, the crystal on his helm dimming slightly. Tara's fingers tightened around her bow, a spectral arrow half-forming briefly on impulse before dissipating.

  "That's not an answer," Ace pressed, ignoring the pressure building in the air. "If it's referenced in the stat and Skills screens, then it's relevant to survival."

  The System's face contorted briefly, ancient rage warring with something that might have been caution.

  "You dare—" she began, then abruptly stopped herself. The temperature dropped further, and frost patterns formed along the stone walls.

  Oops.

  There was no going back now, though.

  Ace met her glare. He waited as the tense silence stretched on. Her little fist trembled with anger, and a strange flicker of rage burned in her eyes.

  Deep down, he couldn't help but wonder if he was about to end up just like David…

  …with his cold, undead heart in the palm of her hand.

  Discuss this chapter on Discord:

  Read up to 40 BRAND NEW chapters on Patreon:

  First month FREE on Patreon:

  Read my other books on Amazon: