The wasteland had grown quiet. Too quiet.
The trolls avoided me now. Once, they'd lumber toward the hunters with blind fury. Now, when they smelled me, they backed away with uneasy roars, clubs lowering.
Even monsters knew fear.
And it thrilled me.
The hunters, meanwhile, were ragged shadows. Their supplies had run thin. They rationed crumbs of dried meat, water gone stale. Their armor was cracked, their weapons chipped.
But worse than hunger or fatigue was what they felt when they looked at me.
Not hatred.
Terror.
On the seventh night, I caught them again.
Whispering. Plotting.
"…He's a monster."
"…He'll get us all killed."
"…If we don't do it now, he'll devour us in the end."
I sat apart, polishing my sword, listening. My smile widened with every word.
Finally, a voice cut through the dark. "Tonight. We'll strike tonight."
My heart leapt.
Oh, how I'd been waiting for this.
They moved when the moon was highest, when the storm briefly cleared. Five hunters crept toward me—spearmen, archers, one healer clutching a dagger. Their hands shook, their eyes wild.
Prey cornered enough will bite back.
"Seo-jin," one whispered, voice quaking. "Forgive us."
I didn't move.
Their blades rose.
And then I burst into laughter.
The sudden sound shattered their courage. They flinched back as if burned, their formation scattering.
"Forgive you?" I rose slowly, Sword Aura flickering to life, silver brilliance cutting through the dark. "No, no. You should've done this sooner."
They hesitated. That was all I needed.
I lunged.
The first spearman's throat opened under my blade, blood spraying. The healer screamed and tried to cast, but my sword pierced his chest before the spell left his lips.
An arrow struck my back. I ignored it.
Another spearman charged, screaming in desperation. His spear plunged into my gut.
I smiled as the pain bloomed.
[You have died.]
[Regression activated.]
[You have acquired the skill of your killer: Piercing Strike (D-rank).]
I gasped back into the moment. The spear never touched me this time. My body shimmered with regression's grace.
I twisted, carving the spearman in half.
Their terror was absolute now.
They realized.
I couldn't be killed.
One by one, they fell. Slaughtered not because I had to—but because I wanted to. Because their rebellion thrilled me.
The last survivor dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, sobbing.
"Mercy! Please, mercy—"
I tilted my head, considering. Then drove my sword through his skull.
Silence.
The fire crackled. The storm rumbled above.
And I laughed until tears streaked down my face.
By morning, the others avoided me completely.
The betrayal had broken something in them.
They no longer whispered. No longer plotted. They walked with eyes downcast, bodies trembling, too afraid even to breathe near me.
And I reveled in it.
Because now, I wasn't just another hunter.
I was the wolf among sheep.
Days blurred. More trolls fell. More drakes fell. Their deaths fed me endlessly.
Skills layered upon skills.
Scaled Hide (C-rank). Phantom Step (B-rank). Commanding Presence (B-rank). Elemental Awareness (B-rank). Piercing Strike (D-rank). Crushing Grip (E-rank). Heavy Strike (D-rank). Iron Stomach (E-rank).
A storm of power brewed in me, wild and intoxicating.
But with each regression, the void grew louder.
More.
Die more.
Feed us more.
Their whispers coiled around my skull, a chorus of madness.
Sometimes I wondered if they were the Tower itself. Sometimes I wondered if they were gods, devils, or things far beyond.
But always—I answered with laughter.
On the eleventh day, we reached the end of the wasteland.
The path curved upward, leading toward the 12th floor gate.
But it was blocked.
A wall of bone and sinew, stitched together from corpses, pulsed like a living organ. Dozens of troll skulls jutted from its surface, their jaws clacking with eerie rhythm.
The hunters recoiled.
"What… what is that?"
I stepped forward, my grin feral.
"The boss."
The wall split open.
Something crawled through.
A creature stitched from hundreds of bodies, towering higher than the drakes, its limbs a mass of writhing arms and legs. Its head was a cluster of faces, all screaming silently.
The Bone Titan.
The ground shook with its first step. The air itself stank of death.
The hunters broke immediately.
"We can't fight that! It's impossible—!"
"Run! RUN!"
They scattered, desperation tearing their formation apart.
I didn't follow.
I stepped forward.
My Sword Aura blazed brighter than ever.
"Finally," I whispered.
The Titan's arm—a mass of bones fused into a colossal club—swung down, shattering the ground where I stood.
[You have died.]
[Regression activated.]
[You have acquired the skill of your killer: Bone Reinforcement (C-rank).]
I gasped awake. The arm never hit me this time. My body pulsed with unnatural resilience.
I laughed.
The Titan roared and swung again.
[You have died.]
[Skill acquired: Corpse Assimilation (B-rank).]
I rose, shuddering as the power seeped into me. My veins throbbed, aching with hunger.
The Titan's corpse-flesh writhed, and for a moment—I felt it.
The pull. The ability to command dead things.
Necromancy.
I threw myself into its blows again and again, each death a key, each rebirth a lock broken.
Bones cracked me apart. Faces screamed me into madness.
And I stole everything.
[Corpse Assimilation (B-rank) + Commanding Presence (B-rank) → Undead Command (A-rank).]
[Bone Reinforcement (C-rank) + Scaled Hide (C-rank) → Titan's Carapace (B-rank).]
The notifications blazed. My breath came ragged, manic.
I could feel the Titan weakening with each regression, each theft.
Its body sagged. Its limbs faltered.
And then—my laughter cut through the storm as I lifted my blade, Sword Aura roaring like fire.
The Titan toppled, its many faces frozen in silent screams.
[Congratulations. You have slain the floor guardian.]
[Reward: Necromancer's Authority unlocked.]
The whispers in the void erupted into a chorus of glee.
Yes.
Good.
Rise, little pawn. Rise higher. Die more. Become ours.
I grinned, drenched in blood, the corpses of hunters and monsters alike at my feet.
Necromancer's Authority pulsed inside me, dark and magnificent. I could feel it—every corpse around me, every husk of flesh, every shattered bone.
They were mine.
My fingers twitched.
And the fallen hunters rose, eyes blank, bodies jerking like puppets.
Their mouths hung open, voices hollow.
"…Seo-jin…"
The others screamed.
I only laughed.
Because now, I was not just the wolf among sheep.
I was the shepherd of the dead.