“Shut your mouth, or I swear you will rot and die, just like what happened to your mother.”
The scream hit Zeph square in the face as the filthy man grabbed his shirt and slammed him against the wall.
“Then just kill me! Why are you holding back? What are you waiting for? Do it! Stop talking and do it!” he shouted, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, thin lines of blood slowly seeping between his fingers.
The man swung his hand and struck Zeph across the face, sending him crashing to the floor. He hit hard, choking as the air was knocked from his lungs, his head slamming violently against the ground. For a moment, a sharp ringing filled his ears and everything around him spun.
He was fourteen, yet his thin, fragile frame told a different story. He had never known enough food, enough care, enough rest. His arms were small, his shoulders narrow, his pale skin stretched tight over bones that showed too clearly. He looked closer to ten, maybe even younger, a child marked by bruises instead of strength.
The man drove a hard kick into Zeph’s stomach. The impact sent him rolling across the floor before he slammed into the wall. A broken gasp tore from his throat as his back struck the cold surface.
“You are nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing. Without my mercy, you would be rotting on the streets. No one would take you in. No one would feed you. You would crawl around and beg like a stray dog. So work hard. Do exactly what I tell you. Finish your duties without a single complaint. Or you will dry up and die, slowly, painfully, and no one will care.”
The man growled again and spat harshly right into Zeph’s face.
Zeph raised his hand weakly, trying to block the spit before it touched him, but he was too slow.
His heart pounded wildly, filled with anger and hatred that felt too big for his small body. He lay crumpled on the dim floor of the house, the room barely lit by the flickering light of a television in the corner that played some random show no one was watching.
The man standing in front of him was a devil, or whatever name suited him best. He was his own father. The man who should have protected him. The man who should have loved him.
Since his mother died eight years ago, they had lived alone together in this house, a place that had never once felt like a home.
“You stay here. You are not going anywhere. You are punished. Two days inside this house. No school. No stepping outside. You will clean everything. You will fix what you broke. Eat whatever scraps are left in the kitchen. If there is nothing, then you go hungry. Maybe hunger will finally teach you obedience.”
The man turned without another glance. His heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway, followed by the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut from the outside.
Silence swallowed the room.
Zeph stayed there, lying on the floor, silent, unmoving, doing nothing at all. He simply let himself sink into the cold surface beneath him, allowing his thoughts to wander anywhere and nowhere at the same time.
His mind drifted through scattered memories, meaningless images, broken words, and then into pure emptiness. There was no clear thought, no clear feeling. Just a hollow space inside his head that felt endless.
One hour passed. Then two. Then three.
Night gradually settled outside, the darkness thickening around the house. His stomach began to growl, twisting painfully as hunger settled deep inside him. But he had no other choice. There was no food in this house. He knew that better than anyone.
The kitchen cabinets were empty most of the time. The refrigerator held nothing but cold air. There was only tap water, and even that would not be enough to silence the hunger clawing at him.
Only the sound of the stupid television remained as a witness to his existence.
Then suddenly, the program changed.
The bright colors disappeared, replaced by a serious broadcast. The screen shifted to a man sitting behind a desk, his expression firm, his posture straight. The atmosphere felt heavy, different from the usual noise.
Zeph remained lying there, too tired to react.
“…We ask everyone to remain on high alert and stay prepared. The Hunter Association will do everything in our power to handle this situation. A large-scale war is about to begin, and it cannot be avoided. Humanity itself is at stake. We cannot share every detail right now, but the threat is real and it is approaching fast.”
“To all citizens, no matter where you are, stay inside your homes. Do not wander outside. Lock your doors. Find shelter. Protect your families. Trust that we will fight on the front lines. We will do everything we can to end this before it is too late.”
“Hunter Association?” Zeph muttered weakly under his breath. “Is this… another dungeon break like the ones before?”
But this felt different.
More serious.
Far worse than anything that had happened before.
With effort, Zeph pushed himself upright. The room was lit only by the pale glow of the television as he steadied his breathing.
He dragged himself a little closer and sat cross legged on the floor, eyes fixed on the screen.
The man speaking looked to be around his fifties, his hair completely white, neatly styled. His face was calm but firm, carrying authority. He wore a clean suit, perfectly pressed, and his eyes held the weight of someone used to making decisions that affected millions.
Zeph recognized him immediately. He was the Union Leader. It was extremely rare for this man to appear directly on television like this. Which only proved how truly dire the situation was.
Zeph sat there, staring blankly, doing nothing except following the television broadcast as one report after another replaced the previous one, each delivering new fragments of information that only made things more confusing.
A female reporter appeared on the screen.
“We are receiving confirmed reports that something massive is happening. We cannot explain the full details yet. However, the Earth is beginning to be exposed to forces from another dimension. Multiple dungeon gates have broken open without control. I repeat, without control. The first major explosion is expected to occur within this Union, in the capital city of Mekarion. Citizens must evacuate immediately if possible, or seek the nearest secure shelter.”
“A massive dungeon break… and it is going to happen in Mekarion,” Zeph murmured, nodding slowly. “Yes… they are talking about this city.”
His city.
In that exact moment, a deafening roar tore through the air.
The entire house trembled violently.
Zeph flinched and grabbed his head, instinctively curling forward as the sound shook his ears. It was not just noise. It felt alive, like something screaming from the sky itself.
The walls vibrated, the windows rattled wildly, and the floor beneath him quaked as if the earth had suddenly lost its stability.
It felt like an earthquake ripping through the house.
At the same time, a crimson glow poured in through the cracks of the windows, spilling across the floor and walls. The sky itself seemed to be burning.
“What is happening?” he whispered.
Screams erupted from the television. The camera shook violently as panic broke out behind the reporter. People ran in every direction. Someone shouted desperate orders that were barely audible over the noise.
It looked like complete chaos had erupted, as if the city itself were collapsing in real time.
Zeph forced himself to his feet and staggered toward the door. His body swayed with each step, but he did not stop. He grabbed the handle, twisted it hard, and shoved the door open before rushing outside.
He froze.
For a moment, he did not know what he was feeling. Awe. Shock. Or pure terror.
It was supposed to be eight at night. It should have been dark. The sky should have been black and quiet.
But the sky above him was red.
Not just red from city lights. It was glowing, alive, streaks of crimson lightning spreading across the clouds like cracks tearing through reality itself.
Zeph stepped back.
He rushed inside again, slammed the door shut, and locked it without thinking. Then he staggered toward the stairs and began climbing. His breathing grew heavy after only a few steps. His body screamed in protest. But he did not care.
He kept going.
When he reached the upper floor, he hurried to the balcony door, pulled it open, and stepped out. He moved closer to the railing and gripped it tightly, leaning forward to see what was truly happening in the sky.
His eyes widened.
What he saw was something he had never imagined before.
The sky looked split open, as if a giant invisible blade had torn it apart. From that massive tear, shapes poured out endlessly. Dozens. Hundreds. Maybe even more. They shot downward and scattered across the city.
They were figures cloaked in black, riding creatures that looked like horses carved from shadow. A cavalry of darkness descended from the torn sky. Each rider carried weapons, long swords, curved scythes, and spears that shimmered with a red glow.
“That…” he muttered under his breath. “Has the true apocalypse finally arrived?”
For some reason, a faint smile slowly formed on his bruised face.
Chaos erupted below. Sirens wailed through the streets. Blinding crimson flashes burst again and again across the city, forcing Zeph to narrow his eyes against the glare.
“Humanity has lived in harsh post apocalyptic conditions for hundreds of years. But here… the true apocalypse has arrived,” he whispered. “This is the end of the old era.”
Suddenly!
Zeph nearly lurched forward and almost fell over the edge. His hands tightened around the railing just in time. A powerful gust of wind slammed into him, nearly throwing him off balance. The entire balcony trembled beneath his feet. Startled, he quickly looked up again.
More figures were shooting across the sky.
This time, he knew exactly who they were. They were Hunters.
They rode on hover boards, slicing through the air at incredible speed, their bodies leaning forward as they surged upward to meet the dark cavalry head on.
“Their numbers are too small,” Zeph said. “They will never be able to hold back something this massive.”
He stood there, frozen, watching everything unfold with his own bare eyes. The hunters charged forward, trying to intercept the descending forces. The enemies, those dark cavalry, those creatures pouring from the torn sky, clashed with them midair.
Blades collided.
Red sparks burst through the sky as swords met scythes. Hunters swung their weapons, but more and more of those apocalypse warriors kept pouring out from the tear in the heavens. Their numbers only increased. Many of them broke past the defense line and began descending toward the city below.
They crashed into buildings with brutal force.
Explosions erupted across different parts of the city. Fire and red light flashed repeatedly, illuminating Zeph’s face in violent bursts of brightness. The sound of destruction rolled like thunder, shaking the air again and again.
Then—
A massive shockwave exploded outward.
A deafening boom tore through the night, and Zeph was thrown backward, his body slamming hard against the balcony floor. Pain shot through his back as the railing rattled violently.
He forced himself up slightly and looked toward the massive tear in the sky.
There, hovering above the chaos, was a single figure.
That hunter floated, suspended in midair without a hover board. In his hand was a sword so enormous it looked almost unreal, its blade glowing with blinding energy. With one powerful swing, he brought it down.
The strike split through the battlefield.
A single slash wiped out dozens of those dark cavalry in an instant, their bodies disintegrating into fragments of black smoke that scattered into the red sky.
“That must be rank eight,” Zeph murmured softly. “Or maybe even rank nine.”
Zeph had not even recovered when something slammed violently into the balcony railing in front of him again. The impact bent the metal inward with a horrible screech and sent a shockwave through the floor.
He was thrown backward, his body sliding across the tiles and crashing into the living room inside.
He groaned and forced himself to look up.
His breath caught.
One of the dark cavalry now stood right in front of him.
Zeph’s body went stiff instantly. He could not move. He could not even blink properly.
The creature was far more terrifying up close. Its body was wrapped in black armor that looked fused to its flesh, as if grown rather than worn. Its helmet had no visible eyes, only two narrow red slits that shone like embers in a furnace. In its hand, it carried a long sword, the blade jagged and stained with a deep crimson glow that did not look like ordinary light.
Zeph’s fingers began to tremble against the floor. His throat tightened until even swallowing felt difficult, and his breaths came short and thin, barely enough to steady himself.
If the world was ending, if this was truly the apocalypse, then dying now or dying later would make no difference.
He was too weak. Too hungry. Too exhausted to even attempt to run. His body felt frozen in place. Sweat poured down his face and back despite the cold night air.
The dark figure took one slow step toward him.
Then another.
Each step echoed heavily against the floor as it approached, sword dragging slightly behind. And Zeph could do nothing but sit there and watch it come closer.
In that moment, time truly seemed to slow down, as if Zeph were about to relive everything all over again, as if every single moment of his life replayed inside his mind. His mother’s death. The cruelty of his father. The relentless bullying he endured from his peers.
But he could not end here. He had to run.
He clenched his teeth, forcing strength back into his shaking body. Then he threw himself hard to the side, using every ounce of power he had to push himself up. And he made it.
He ran. He tried to run. Yet… something else happened when…
His vision suddenly rose higher, far higher than it should have. The next thing that followed was the sight of Zeph’s own head, severed from his body, rolling across the floor, while his body collapsed with a heavy thud behind it.
[Fatal damage confirmed. Vital signs have fallen to zero. The vessel known as “Zephion” has perished.]
[You have crossed the boundary between life and death nine times. Hidden condition fulfilled.]
[A Hidden Divinity has interfered. The One Who Rejects Death has placed a mark upon your soul.]
Lines of text flowed across Zeph’s vision, one after another. He could barely process them.
[The Undying System has awakened.]
[Authority Granted: Undying Core.]
[Effect: When slain in genuine combat or under lethal intent, your body will reconstruct itself. Regeneration strength is proportional to the severity of the fatal damage. Greater destruction results in greater evolution.]
What was happening? Was he not supposed to be dead?
[Restriction: Death caused by cowardice, self-inflicted intent, or meaningless recklessness will yield no growth. Core stability will decrease. Repeated degradation will result in permanent death.]
[Warning: Pain is not reduced. Memory of death is not erased.]
[Do you accept the Undying System and sever yourself from ordinary mortality?]
Then, in the next instant, his eyes opened.