Part 2: The First Kill
The silence of the battlefield was too deep—a silence that didn't belong in a place where so much death had once raged.
Kael's fingers twitched as he scanned the ruins around him, sweat dripping down his back despite the cold night air. He knew what was happening.
The others had left him behind.
They weren't coming back.
A distant clang of metal shifting in the ruins made his breath catch. He turned sharply toward the sound.
Something moved in the wreckage of an old siege engine, its form shifting in the moonlight. A gaunt, skeletal shape, hunched and crawling, pale flesh clinging tight over its bones.
A ghoul.
Kael's heart slammed against his ribs.
I'm dead.
Ghouls were twisted remnants of the dead, corpses too soaked in battle's bloodshed to stay buried. They weren't intelligent, but they were fast and relentless—and worst of all, they didn't feel pain.
Kael had no way to kill it.
His Flickerfire Spell was weak, barely enough to light a torch. His dagger was rusty and brittle, stolen from a corpse. And his body? Starving, exhausted, weak.
Another clatter sounded, and his stomach turned to ice as two more figures emerged from the ruins—more ghouls, their lifeless, milky eyes locking onto him.
Three.
One, he might have had a chance to escape.
Three? He wouldn't make it five steps.
The first ghoul's mouth stretched open, jaw cracking as it let out a breathless, inhuman shriek.
And then—it charged.
---
The Fight for Survival
Kael barely had time to react.
His body moved on instinct, feet scrambling backward, his pulse hammering. The ghoul lunged, bony fingers outstretched, its nails as sharp as daggers.
Kael threw out his hand—
"Flickerfire!"
A tiny, pathetic spark of flame fizzled into existence before dying instantly.
Shit—
The ghoul crashed into him like a wild beast, its rotten hands clawing at his throat. Kael hit the ground hard, his back slamming against a rusted sword buried in the dirt.
Pain exploded up his spine.
The ghoul's mouth lunged for his face.
Kael twisted away, barely dodging rows of jagged, yellowed teeth as they snapped shut an inch from his cheek.
He thrashed, panic surging through him, barely keeping the creature's fingers from crushing his windpipe. The stench of decay filled his nose—wet, rotting flesh, curdled blood, old bones.
The ghoul hissed, pressing down harder.
Kael's strength was nothing compared to it.
He reached blindly, his fingers scrabbling through the dirt for anything, any weapon—
His hand closed around something cold and metallic.
A dagger.
Move!
Kael didn't hesitate.
With a hoarse shout, he drove the blade upward, straight into the ghoul's skull.
The dagger sank deep. A sickening crack rang out as the brittle bone fractured, and the ghoul's milky eyes bulged.
It convulsed violently, a wet gurgling sound escaping its ruined throat—then, with a final twitch, it collapsed.
Kael lay gasping underneath its lifeless form, his heart pounding like a war drum.
Then—
[Killstreak System Activated.]
Kael's breath hitched.
A deep, burning heat coursed through his veins. His vision sharpened, his limbs felt lighter, stronger. A rush of pure energy flooded his body—a feeling so intense it was almost euphoric.
Then, a mechanical voice echoed in his mind.
[First Kill Achieved.]
[Killstreak Counter: 1.]
[Temporary Magic Boost: x2.]
Kael's eyes widened.
A system notification? He'd heard of system-like abilities before—blessings from ancient relics, dungeon awakenings, or divine contracts—but he had never possessed one himself.
And this… this was different.
His magic was surging, his Flickerfire Spell—
He held up his hand—and flames erupted from his palm.
Not a flicker.
Not a spark.
But a roaring, twisting surge of fire, twice as strong as anything he had ever summoned before.
His heart pounded in exhilaration.
What… is this power?
Then—
Another shriek.
Kael snapped his head up.
The other two ghouls were coming.
And this time, he wasn't afraid.