Around 3 p.m., Adam finished preparing to leave his apartment.
With the front door broken open, staying here was no longer safe. It wasn't just about comfort — his shelter had been compromised.
He considered breaking into another unit. But the thought of living in a room thick with dust and the scent of death made his stomach turn.
So, with a backpack filled with salvaged supplies, Adam headed for the nearby guard post to retrieve a first aid kit.
---
Adam descended to the ground floor with cautious, deliberate steps, checking every corner and blind spot for potential ambushes.
But the building was dead silent — no groans, no shambling footsteps, no blood-stained figures in the hall.
Nothing.
"Something must've drawn them away," he muttered under his breath, recalling how the streets outside had been unusually empty when viewed from his balcony.
Still, he didn't relax his guard. Not until he reached the guard post, secured the door behind him, and confirmed it was clear inside.
With access to proper supplies, Adam sat down and unwrapped the makeshift bandages on his leg.
The wound was shallow but messy. He winced as he dabbed antiseptic over it, then carefully dressed it with fresh gauze and tape.
He wasn't a doctor, but mandatory workplace First Aid courses had taught him the basics — more than enough for an injury like this.
After a brief rest, he tested his leg. It hurt, but not enough to slow him down. He could walk, even run if needed.
This apartment building — once his haven — was now officially abandoned.
His next objective: food. And maybe a few dead zombies. Killing them earned Shop Points — and that was the currency of survival now.
With his phone's GPS, Adam began navigating this unfamiliar city.
---
According to the map, he was on the outskirts of a place called Sapphire City. A supermarket lay twenty minutes away on foot.
Too risky.
Instead, he found a bicycle and took off.
Five minutes into the ride, he spotted a disturbing scene up ahead.
A schoolyard — now swarmed by a dense horde of zombies. Several vehicles nearby were blackened wrecks, some still faintly smoldering under the sun.
"Explosions must've drawn them in," Adam muttered, eyeing the carnage.
Perfect.
"Less trouble for me."
He veered into a side alley, choosing a detour.
That's when he saw it — a stray dog hunched over a corpse, chewing lazily on rotted flesh.
Its ears perked up. It turned.
Adam froze.
"…Shit."
The dog's eyes were glassy and purple. Veins pulsed faintly across its matted fur, and jagged bony spines jutted from its back.
It was no longer a dog. It was infected — a Honkai-type zombie beast.
It opened its jaw, about to howl.
Adam moved.
Mid-run, he leapt off the bicycle and rammed the front wheel into its open mouth. The metal frame jammed between its teeth, muffling the cry.
The dog thrashed, crushing the wheel with its jaws and lunging.
Adam was faster.
Gripping his Asauchi with both hands, he drove the blade through the creature's eye socket, plunging deep into its skull.
"Just die already," he hissed through clenched teeth.
The beast didn't die quietly. It convulsed violently, limbs kicking against the alley walls, knocking over bins and scraping metal.
The noise echoed.
Trouble.
Adam yanked his blade free and bolted.
As he neared the alley's exit, three zombies staggered into view from both ends — drawn by the sounds of the struggle.
No time to think.
He lunged forward. Each swing was precise, practiced, cleaving through necks with brutal efficiency.
He broke through, stumbling out onto the street.
"Turn left," he muttered, recalling the GPS route.
He kept running.
By now, his lungs should've burned. But they didn't.
Despite the sprint, the fight, the stress — he felt fine.
No... better than fine.
Warm energy pulsed through his limbs, surging like a tide — his Reiatsu. It coursed through him, empowering every movement.
Each swing of his blade felt lighter. Sharper. Like cutting through air.
The fatigue clinging to his body vanished.
Even as he cut through more zombies blocking the way, Adam felt something bloom inside him.
A growing power.
And with it — a strange, intoxicating joy.
Unbeknownst to himself, the rush of adrenaline and dopamine had lulled Adam into a trance. His world narrowed to the rhythm of steel through flesh, the wet squelch of ruptured organs, the shrieks of the dying, the rotten hands clawing for him — and his blade always one step ahead.
One strike after another, he carved through the horde.
Until silence fell.
When Adam came to, the street was painted in gore. Severed limbs twitched in puddles of blood. The scent of rot, copper, and something sickly-sweet clung to the air like smoke.
He stood still in the aftermath, panting softly, chest rising and falling like a man surfacing from a fever dream. Blood and viscera clung to his clothes like garlands of decay, dripping in thick globs from his arms. His entire body, streaked with filth and gore, looked more like a monster than a man.
Slowly, Adam raised both hands.
Stared at them.
"This feeling… is rather addictive," he muttered, a distant gleam in his eyes.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent a fan of blood droplets arcing across the pavement.
Then he turned toward the supermarket ahead. The entrance was cracked open, glass shattered, shadows shifting behind the broken doors. Adam tightened his grip on the sword and approached with careful steps.
Behind him, the street lay silent — a graveyard of mangled corpses and twitching flesh.
He didn't look back.
---
Inside, he dragged a nearby shelf to block the entrance. The metal legs scraped loudly against the tile, echoing through the aisles like a warning bell.
Then, for the next hour, he searched—every corner, every shadow, every storage room. Sword in hand, steps cautious, breath steady. The emergency lights flickered overhead, casting twitching silhouettes that danced across the floor like restless phantoms.
But the store was empty.
By the time he finished, the sun had already dipped beneath the horizon.
Darkness bled through the shattered windows. Neon signs that once blazed with life now blinked and died, one by one, like stars vanishing from a broken sky.
At the back of the store, Adam made his way into the restroom. The cold water hit his skin like needles, stripping away layers of blood, grime, and exhaustion. The drain gurgled as it swallowed the filth, leaving behind purplish stains in the basin—tainted remnants of the Honkai.
He changed into clean clothes: a dark hoodie and cargo pants pulled from the racks. Plain. Functional. Free from the stink of rot.
For now.
With the tension slowly unwinding from his limbs, he returned to the storefront. There, under the pale glow of a flashlight, he prepared a meal—instant noodles, canned meat, bottled water. The electric kettle whirred softly, its sound almost soothing in the silence.
He sat down with his back against a shelf and ate quietly.
The silence pressed in.
Normally, that silence would have unsettled him. The city beyond was still teeming with Honkai horrors, still crumbling under its own weight.
But he didn't feel fear.
He felt something else.
Control.
Confidence.
And perhaps… delusion.
Because for a moment, he thought he heard something—a voice, faint and low, whispering from the edges of his mind.
"Fear exists only for those who lack the means to shape their own destiny. In power, every shadow becomes an opportunity—not a threat."
He shook the thought away with a scoff. Probably just his nerves. Or madness.
Instead, he turned his focus to something tangible.
Tomorrow's plan.
But before that, his curiosity drifted elsewhere—toward himself.
He opened the Profile Menu.
---
===
Name: Adam White
Spiritual Age: 34
Race: Hybrid Human (Shinigami)
Rank: Unranked
Strength: 5
Agility: 3
Endurance: 8
Reiryoku: 117
Reiatsu: 14
> Passive
[Zanjutsu – Novice, 42%]
[Hakuda – Novice, 0%]
[Hoho – Novice, 0%]
[Kido – Novice, 0%]
[Reiatsu Manipulation]
> Active
[Spiritual Vision]
[Spiritual Sense]
[Soul Purification]
[Konso]
[Jigokuchō]
---
After skimming through the stats, Adam raised a brow and muttered toward the System, "Hey, System… How are the attributes quantified?"
[Answer: 5 points in each attribute is the baseline for a healthy adult human. 10 points represent the peak of human potential. Beyond 10 is the realm of superhuman ability.]
"Hmn…" Adam hummed thoughtfully, chewing his food as his gaze lingered on a particular stat.
"Reiryoku is spiritual energy, right? Does having over a hundred mean my lifespan is… longer?"
[Answer: Correct. Spiritual energy correlates directly to the soul's lifespan. Host's body has adopted Shinigami traits and now enjoys the same benefits.]
"Oh."
He nodded, satisfied but not elated.
A long life was nice, but meaningless in a dying world. Finality still loomed on the horizon—and longevity was useless when the end of everything drew near.
Besides, in the grand scheme, it wasn't all that impressive. Flamechasers like Kevin and Hua had lived for over 50,000 years. His thousand years lifespan paled in comparison.
Still…
"One more thing," he said, tapping the screen. "How does Reiatsu enhance physical stats?"
[Answer: Reiatsu can temporarily boost physical attributes by consuming Reiryoku. With the host's current Reiatsu (14), Strength can be increased up to 14 points at the cost of 1 Reiryoku per point, per minute. Example: Raising Strength from 5 to 14 will consume 9 Reiryoku per minute.]
"…So it works like Reinforcement Magecraft."
It was an apt comparison. Reiatsu set the ceiling. Reiryoku was the fuel. Increasing one's combat performance was simply a matter of manipulation—and endurance.
That made both Reiatsu and Reiryoku critical to his survival.
Fortunately, the System had also provided knowledge—how to train his spiritual core, how to manipulate his pressure, and how to advance through Zankensoki.
Excitement stirred in his chest.
He finished his meal, set the can aside, and took a deep breath.
Then, under the flickering light, he crossed his legs, laid his sword across his lap, and began his training—channeling Reiatsu through his limbs and Asauchi, controlling its flow like a tide in meditation.
His journey had only just begun.
—————
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