Adam woke with a groggy groan, reaching for his phone beside the bed with a sluggish yawn.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he noticed daylight bleeding through the curtain—bright, intense sunlight that instantly sent a jolt of panic through him.
"Shit! What time is it?!"
His hands scrambled across the mattress, searching for the phone that was always right next to his pillow, plugged in overnight. But it was gone.
He checked the side table. Nothing.
Confused and panicked, he threw off the blanket and got up—then spotted a faint glow underneath the bed.
Crouching down, he reached under and found his phone—still plugged in, but the wire had come loose from the outlet. The screen lit up: 7:13 AM.
His heart sank. He was late. Really late.
No time to think. No time to swear.
He bolted to the bathroom, hastily splashing water on his face and throwing on his work clothes. The strange dream from the night before faded quickly amidst the chaos.
———
Ten minutes later, he burst out of his apartment, sprinting down the hallway toward the stairwell.
"Five minutes left," he muttered, checking the time again.
No breakfast. No coffee. His stomach protested, but he ignored it.
As he neared the end of the corridor, Adam paused at the window and glanced down at the street below.
No cars. No pedestrians. No neighbors.
Just a dead, eerie stillness.
Strange. Where the hell is everyone?
A chill ran down his spine.
Still, he shook his head. "No time to worry. I'll miss the bus if I keep spacing out."
He rushed down the stairwell, boots echoing sharply through the quiet building. But as he descended, something felt… wrong.
Too quiet.
No early risers. No gossiping aunties. No kids causing chaos.
Only silence… and strange thick piles of dust lining the hallway floor.
Adam frowned. Weird.
His imagination wandered—alien invasions, cursed experiments, zombie outbreaks. He quickly shoved those thoughts aside.
He exited the building into the parking lot.
Then he heard it.
Growl...
Adam froze. The noise was low, raspy—feral.
He turned toward the sound.
A man stood at the far end of the lot in a disheveled office suit. His skin was purplish, his eyes dull and unfocused. His limbs twitched unnaturally, and his mouth hung open in a silent snarl.
Adam blinked. Rubbed his eyes.
Am I still dreaming?
Roar!
The man lunged at him.
Without thinking, Adam kicked him square in the chest, sending the thing sprawling back with a sickening thud.
More roars echoed across the lot. Shapes stirred in the shadows.
Zombies?!
His moment of awe—of feeling like the protagonist of some post-apocalyptic story—vanished the instant a second one charged straight at him.
Adrenaline surged. He turned and sprinted toward the stairwell, heart pounding.
His body was strong from years of factory labor, but his lungs burned from chain-smoking. By the time he reached the third floor, he could barely see straight.
But his apartment was close.
He dug into his pocket for his keys, fumbling as snarls and footsteps closed in behind him.
Roar! Roar! Roar! Roar! Roar! Roar! Roar!
"Fuck—!"
He got the door open just as something slammed into it from behind.
A gap remained. Through it, a grotesque hand shot forward—grayish, cold, and inhuman—latching onto his wrist with crushing strength.
Is this how I die? he thought.
Dragged down in front of my own door?
"No! I refuse! I won't die here! I won't die a goddamn virgin!!"
With a furious cry, Adam wrenched the door open wide and lashed out with a powerful kick. The zombie reeled back, crashing into the ones behind it.
He slammed the door shut and locked it with trembling hands.
Silence.
Then—pain.
His leg stung, burned. He looked down.
Torn fabric. Blood.
Three jagged claw marks.
His breath hitched.
"Infected…?"
He backed away from the door, sweat soaking through his shirt. His heart pounded, mind racing.
He'd seen enough movies. Read enough stories.
One scratch is all it takes.
His legs buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor, back pressing against the door. His breath hitched, ragged and shallow.
Is this how it ends?
"No…" he whispered hoarsely. "I can stop the infection."
With trembling limbs, Adam forced himself to stand. The door behind him rattled violently as the horde outside tried to break through. He stumbled toward the kitchen, using the wall for support, his vision swimming.
His fingers wrapped around the handle of a kitchen knife.
He stared at the blade.
One clean cut. That's all it takes.
Adam raised the knife toward his leg—but his hands wouldn't stop shaking. The thought of the pain, of severing his own flesh, froze him. His chest heaved, breath coming in rapid gasps. The knife slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.
"I… I have to… I have to do it…" he muttered, but his body refused to obey.
Exhaustion. Panic. Fear.
His mind spiraled into chaos. He dry heaved, body convulsing as nausea and pounding pain clouded his thoughts.
"Ha… Haha… This has to be a joke. A prank. Some sick prank…" His voice cracked, desperate to believe the lie. "That's right. A prank…"
He staggered back toward his bedroom, the need to escape into sleep clawing at him. If he could just lie down… maybe everything would go back to normal.
But the moment he stepped forward, a searing pain shot up his leg from the scratch. He cried out, stumbling and clutching his thigh.
The pain was real.
And then—
A sharp chime echoed inside his skull. Clear. Metallic. Not from the world outside.
From within.
[Rebooting progress… 99% …100%]
[Rebooting complete]
[Host binding successful]
[Bleach Ascension System Initialized]
[Newbie reward available for new Host]
[Claim the Newbie reward immediately?]
[Yes/No]
Instead of answering, Adam collapsed to the floor and laughed. The pain in his leg dulled into nothing as his mind cracked under the pressure.
"Ha… Haha… I don't give a damn if it's real or not anymore. I just want to live, dammit!" he roared, his voice raw with helpless rage.
[Yes!]
[Newbie Reward received]
[Congratulations to host for obtaining:]
→ Asauchi – A nameless, soul-infused katana forged by Ōetsu Nimaiya. With time and resonance, the wielder imprints their soul into the blade, awakening its true form.
→ Soul Anchor Pill – A system-enhanced version of the Gikongan. Once consumed, it permanently fuses Shinigami traits into the host's body, bypassing the need for body separation.
→ Zankensoki Mastery – Grants foundational command over the four Shinigami arts of Zan (swordsmanship), Ken (hand-to-hand), Sō (Shunpo), and Ki (Kidō).
Inside the dim apartment, Adam stared blankly at the black-and-white yin-yang pill and the sheathed katana resting on the floor. They definitely hadn't been there a moment ago.
For a moment, he remained frozen—dazed by a sudden influx of knowledge pouring into his mind, unsure if this too was a hallucination. But the increasing flurry of fists pounding the door and the sharp creak of weakening hinges snapped him awake.
Without hesitation, Adam seized the pill and swallowed it dry with an audible gulp. His fingers wrapped around the katana's hilt, gripping the black scabbard tight, his adrenaline fueled body temporarily ignored the stinging pain on his leg.
Dream or not, it didn't matter. He must survive. Even if he had to carve a path through the undead himself. He will fight for his survival even with tooth and nail.
—————
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