Chương 3: Smother

Gray ducked into the narrow alleyway, his eyes skimming the glowing rules suspended across his vision. The sour reek of stale cigarette butts and rotting garbage filled his nose, grounding him in a reality that still felt anything but real. Only a few minutes ago—before learning the brutal truth behind the level—he had seriously considered doing nothing. He could hide in a safezone, wait out the competition, and accept whatever "servant" penalty the System imposed on him.

Back on Earth, his own survival hadn't exactly ranked high on his list of priorities. Why should he fight for it in some twisted death game? And yet, something unfamiliar had begun to stir inside him—a small, desperate spark urging him to cling to the life he had spent so long taking for granted. For the first time in years, Gray genuinely considered fighting. The familiar RPG elements gave this nightmare a structure he understood.

Somehow, that familiarity offered a strange sense of comfort, giving shape to his fragile new desire to keep living. Gray pressed his back against the brick wall and cautiously peered around the corner. The main streets of Hongdae had descended into chaos. Hoarse shouts and terrified screams echoed between the buildings, punctuated by the sharp clang of steel striking steel. It's definitely best to avoid combat for now, Gray thought, his heart pounding against his chest.

Let's see if I can scavenge for some gear first. He retreated deeper into the alley, then paused. Wait. Didn't the System say some big shot granted me a class? And that they could communicate with me to offer guidance? Gray cleared his throat, raised a hand, and pressed two fingers against his temple.

"Test, test. Mentor, do you read me? Over," he whispered. Several seconds passed. Nothing. He drew in a shaky breath and tried again, this time louder.

"Hello? Is anyone in there?" Still nothing. Only the distant sounds of violence spilling in from the street.

"I guess I'm doing this by myself, then." He lowered his hand and exhaled slowly.

"I just hope I can at least figure out what kind of class I've been so graciously gifted." He straightened his posture and clenched both hands into fists.

"Profile!" Nothing happened.

"Character Page?" Only the distant commotion answered him. Gray narrowed his eyes.

"…Status?" A soft chime rang out, and a translucent blue window materialized directly in front of him.

"I should've tried that first," he muttered, shaking his head.

"It's always called Status." Contribution Points (CP): 0 Name: Gray Kim Level: 1 (0. 0%) Rank: Awakened Class: Mistveil Abilities Identify Reveals information about targets and items. Cloud Mastery — Tier I Passive: Clear visibility through smoke. Allows the user to produce and manipulate clouds. Imagination defines the limit. Signature —??? Gray scanned the glowing sheet from top to bottom, then read it again to make sure he hadn't missed anything.

"There are levels and experience, but no attribute points?" He asked the empty alley, folding his arms across his chest.

"Then how am I supposed to choose a build to spec into? I don't even see an HP or MANA bar…" His attention returned to the description beneath Cloud Mastery. Allows the user to produce and manipulate clouds. Imagination defines the limit.

"Then would I be able to produce a weapon made of clouds?" Gray curled his fingers inward and focused on the shape of a knife hilt—the weight in his palm, the rounded grip, the firmness beneath his fingers. A moment later, that familiar pressure returned. Thin wisps of smoke gathered in his cupped hand, slowly condensing into the rough outline of a cylindrical handle. That's a good start. Next came the crossguard.

The instant his concentration shifted away from maintaining the hilt, however, the entire construct collapsed. The smoke unraveled between his fingers and scattered into the breeze. Gray swatted irritably at the lingering wisps. He tried several more times. Every attempt ended the same way: a crude shape would take form, his concentration would slip as he tried to add another detail, and the entire construct would dissolve. After one final failure, Gray let his arms fall to his sides.

Defeated, he trudged toward the exit of the alley. The main street had gone eerily quiet, and the panicked crowds were gone, leaving behind only silence and scattered goblin corpses bleeding across the asphalt. Shattered storefronts exposed dark, ransacked interiors. Yet at the edge of Gray's vision, a small clothing boutique remained completely untouched, its pristine windows standing out against the surrounding destruction. This story is posted elsewhere by the author.

Help them out by reading the authentic version. He swept his gaze from side to side, holding his breath as he searched for movement. No green skin. No flashing blades. Seeing an opening, he broke from the shadows and sprinted toward the shop. The glass door swung open with a gentle push, and fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as he stepped inside. Racks of casual outerwear lined the left wall, while rows of brightly colored children's clothing filled the right.

Gray hurried through the displays, digging through shelves and checking behind counters for anything that might serve as a weapon. Nothing. He groaned and turned toward the entrance. A piercing chime suddenly rang inside his skull. Gray flinched as the System's voice blared through his mind. Attention, participants! I forgot to mention one minor rule regarding this level: Elite Bosses! These formidable foes will be spawned throughout the battlefield to accelerate your progression! And that time is now!

Outside the boutique, the air itself split apart. Glowing blue pixels gathered in the middle of the street, spiraling together like a digital tornado. The light condensed until a pair of enormous green feet slammed onto the pavement, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the asphalt. Thick, heavily muscled legs followed, each nearly as wide as a tree trunk. A massive torso materialized next beneath crude leather armor, and finally, a hulking head snapped into existence. Ogre — Lv.

2 The monster stood a solid seven feet tall. Jagged yellow tusks curled from either side of its drool-slick mouth, while thick cords of muscle bulged beneath its green skin. In one oversized hand, it gripped a heavy iron axe, its blade crusted with layers of dried blood. The ogre threw back its head and unleashed a deafening roar, and the boutique's windows rattled in their frames. Then it charged.

The beast barreled straight through the storefront, exploding the glass inward and tearing chunks of concrete from the doorframe. It barely slowed as it closed the distance, drawing one massive arm back to swing. Fortunately for Gray, the brute's windup was slow. Gray hurled himself sideways as the axe came down. He struck the floor hard behind the checkout counter, pain jolting through his shoulder.

The weapon tore through several clothing racks before continuing into the register with a metallic crunch, launching the mangled machine across the room and into the far wall. Gray stared at the wreckage for half a heartbeat. Unarmed and stuck with a class that seemed completely unsuited for close combat, he had exactly one sensible option. Run. He scrambled upright and sprinted for the entrance. The ogre caught the movement immediately.

Anticipating his escape, it swung high and buried its axe into the brick archway above the doorway. The impact shook the entire storefront. Masonry cracked overhead, followed by an avalanche of brick, drywall, and dust. Gray skidded to a halt as debris crashed into the entrance, piling into a dense mound of rubble that sealed off his only exit. Coughing through the thick cloud of dust, Gray stumbled backward to avoid the collapsing ceiling.

He spun around and found the brute looming over him, advancing one heavy step at a time. Each thunderous footfall sent a tremor through the wooden floorboards beneath his shoes. He didn't have time to climb the unstable pile of bricks, and the open shop floor left him completely exposed to the monster's reach. There was only one option left: to blind it. Since he lacked the control to conjure a weapon—or anything else capable of fighting for him—Gray had to rely on the most basic function of his Mistveil class.

Smoke. He thrust one hand forward, pouring every ounce of desperate intent into creating a smokescreen over the ogre's face. That familiar pressure stirred in his chest, and he latched onto it, allowing the raw mana to course through his veins. The sensation mirrored his failed attempt to shape a dagger in the alley, but this time, he didn't force the magic into a specific form. He simply let it flow. An ash-colored glow ignited at the center of his palm, spiraling into a dense vortex.

Searing heat ripped through his hand, as if his flesh were burning from the inside out. Gray gasped and released the energy. But instead of fog blasting from his palm like a flamethrower, the air around the ogre distorted. A dense cloud of smoke suddenly materialized around its head, completely swallowing its face. Blinded, the ogre let out a startled grunt and began swatting furiously at the cloud.

Its massive hands tore through the smoke, but the mist immediately folded back into place, clinging stubbornly to its head and refusing to disperse. Gray seized the opportunity. He lunged for the mound of fallen debris, ignoring the jagged bricks scraping against his shins as he scrambled upward. Within seconds, he reached the top, poised to slide down the other side and escape into the street. Then a heavy clatter of steel rang out behind him. Gray glanced over his shoulder. The ogre had dropped its axe.

One enormous hand clawed frantically at its throat while the other pressed against its heaving chest. Its knees buckled, the creature crashing down with a heavy thud. A wet, guttural cough tore from its lungs, the sickening sound raising the hairs along the back of Gray's neck. Wait… is my smoke toxic? His eyes widened. Whatever was happening, this was the perfect chance to escape. Yet his legs remained planted atop the rubble. Why run when I have the advantage?

Gray turned and scrambled back down the pile, dropping into the ruined boutique. He sprinted toward the discarded axe and wrapped both hands around its thick wooden handle. The weapon was enormous, coming up to his torso. Back on Earth, lifting something this heavy would have been impossible. But his body felt different here—stronger, better—as though becoming an Awakened had enhanced him before he'd gained even a single level.

With a strained grunt, Gray hauled the axe from the floor and braced the shaft against his shoulder. The iron head dragged his arms downward with its weight. He gritted his teeth, shifted his stance, and let the axe head swing backward like a pendulum. Then he leaned into the momentum and brought it crashing down with everything he had into the ogre's broad back. The blade bit through the ogre's tough hide—but only barely.

With a low, gargling groan, the massive creature toppled forward and crashed flat onto its stomach, rattling the floorboards beneath it. Gray planted a foot against the ogre's spine and yanked the axe free with a wet squelch. He hauled the weapon back over his shoulder, adjusted his grip, and swung again at the same spot. This time, the steel sank deeper. Dark blood spilled from the widened gash, running down the brute's back as torn muscle peeled away to expose pale bone beneath.

Gray wrenched the axe free once more and raised it high for the finishing blow.

"Are you Gozen Kotetsu's disciple?" a voice called out. Gray froze. He snapped his gaze toward the ruined entrance, where a woman stood perfectly balanced atop the mound of jagged rubble. Her immaculate appearance looked absurdly out of place amid the wreckage. She wore tailored black slacks, polished dress shoes, and a crisp white button-down shirt paired with a narrow black tie. Not a speck of dust or drop of blood stained her clothes.

She looked like someone stepping out of a corporate office for coffee, not a participant trapped in a monster-infested death game. Long black hair spilled past her shoulders, framing pale, flawless skin and sharp features that belonged to an idol. Wispy bangs brushed her eyebrows, while longer strands traced the edges of her jaw. Despite her striking appearance, her resting expression radiated pure menace. The enormous weapon in her right hand only made that impression worse.

A sleek scarlet-red scythe nearly six feet long rested at her side, its crimson serrated blade curving outward like a crescent moon. Name: Nabi Yoon Class: Blood Reaper Level: 2 Rank: Awakened Ladder Placement: 666 Before Gray could respond, Nabi stepped off the rubble. She dropped several feet and landed lightly on the floorboards, kicking up only a faint puff of dust. Her eyes flicked toward the wounded ogre, then returned to Gray. A devious smirk curled across her lips.

Gray frowned and lowered the axe slightly, unsure what she was doing. Then realization hit him.

"Wait—" Nabi raised the massive scythe overhead and drove its crimson blade straight into the back of the ogre's skull. Bone cracked with a sickening crunch, and the creature went limp before Gray could even react. Nabi ripped the blade free, flicking a streak of dark blood across the floor, then casually rested the shaft against her shoulder.

"Thanks for the assist, kid," she said, amusement dripping from every word. Gray stood motionless, the heavy axe sagging in his hands as his mouth slowly fell open. This piece of shit just stole my kill…