The thought had barely crossed his mind when the world itself seemed to roar.
It wasn't a single cry but a chorus of fury—bestial, unrestrained, deafening enough to rattle bone.
The entire carriage quaked as though giants had seized it and were shaking it apart. Dust rained from the roof beams, the wheels screeched, and for the first time since he'd opened his eyes crammed here in this wooden coffin, the lifeless captives around Zach stirred.
Their dull eyes flickered, their bodies twitching as the chaos outside breathed raw panic into their veins.
Another roar split the air—closer this time. Louder. Hungrier.
The carriage lurched again, so violently that Zach's teeth clacked together. And then—
Something hit them.
BOOM!
The impact thundered like a war drum. Wood shrieked as it splintered, nails popped free with metallic snaps, and the whole frame seemed to come apart in a single breath.
The floor dropped, the ceiling tilted, and then everything flipped as though the world had decided up and down were optional.
Bodies slammed into each other like sacks of meat. Screams tore out of throats, half-choked by fear. The sound of rending timber and cracking bones tangled into one unbearable cacophony as the shattered carriage was hurled through the air.
THUD.
The wreck struck earth with brutal finality. Wood split again, scattering like shrapnel. Several passengers were flung outright, their cries cut off as they disappeared into the haze of smoke and dust.
For a heartbeat, silence.
Zach lay amid the ruin, stunned by the sheer speed of it. A moment ago, the world had been still. Now it had shattered into chaos before he could even blink.
Pain caught up to him all at once. A white-hot spike drove itself through his skull as if a hammer had cracked bone. His vision swam. His ears rang.
Something wet trickled down his face—blood, warm and sticky. The metallic taste of iron coated his tongue.
Darkness swallowed him.
It could have been seconds. Or minutes. He couldn't tell.
When his eyes snapped open again, sound flooded back first.
The clash of steel and fang. The guttural cries of beasts. Shouts of men. A battle still raging not far away.
Which meant—he hadn't been unconscious long.
Zach groaned, forcing his battered body to move. His head throbbed with every heartbeat. The world doubled and blurred, dust clogging his throat with every breath.
He tried to sit up—only to realize something heavy was pinning his leg.
His gaze dropped.
A body.
One of the other captives, face slack, eyes rolled back. Dead—or nearly there.
Zach didn't check. He didn't care. Survival came first.
He shoved at the corpse, kicked until it rolled away, and then dragged himself upright on trembling limbs.
The world tilted around him. His knees nearly gave, but he locked them tight, forcing his weight to steady.
Then another explosion rattled the ground. He turned sharply.
From where he stood, the land dipped just enough to obscure the road. But the sound was unmistakable—the Dark Order guards clashing with the beast horde.
Steel shrieked, magic flared, monstrous howls answered.
Zach's chest tightened.
This is good, he thought, eyes narrowing. If the guards are distracted, if the trees cover me... I can slip away. Unnoticed.
Every instinct screamed at him to move. To flee. To vanish into the forest before fate remembered he existed.
He turned to go—
And froze.
Something stirred among the wreckage.
A shape. A shadow. Black fur matted with blood.
Zach's pulse spiked. His eyes locked on the beast.
A wolf-like creature lay half-buried beneath broken timber, its body mangled, its head torn open in a grotesque wound that revealed glistening flesh and cracked bone.
Its chest rose and fell shallowly, each breath a ragged wheeze. Its jaws opened weakly, letting out pitiful whimpers that rasped like rusted metal.
It should have been dead. Any normal beast would have been. But this one clung to life, stubborn and vile.
Zach's throat went dry. His first thought was escape. His second—greed.
Wait... this body. Lucien's body. An NPC. But me... I still have a system. Status panel and all. Features only players had in the game.
The thought slithered through his mind like a serpent. His gaze sharpened.
If I kill it... would I gain EXP? Would I level up?
The idea was madness. Yet it rooted in him, blooming with poisonous temptation.
His eyes darted to the jagged plank of wood jutting from the debris nearby. A broken shard of the carriage, sharp enough and long enough to serve as a weapon.
His hand trembled as he reached for it. Every nerve screamed to drop it, to turn and run.
But another voice—darker, hungrier—pressed louder.
It's half-dead already. Just a few hits. If it works, I grow stronger. If I grow stronger, I have a better chance of surviving.
He clenched the shard until it bit into his palm.
"Damn weak body," he spat under his breath, his voice ragged. His muscles strained just to lift the makeshift weapon. His arms shook like twigs in a storm.
But he forced the wood down.
It struck the wound with a sickening crunch.
The beast whimpered. Blood welled and spilled, warm and thick, splattering across the rubble and Zach's shaking hands.
He didn't stop.
He raised the plank again, every motion burning his frail muscles, and slammed it down. Again. Again.
The sound of cracking bone mixed with wet splatters until the world narrowed to nothing but the rhythm of his desperate killing.
His breaths came ragged, his chest heaving. Sweat stung his eyes, mixing with blood. His arms screamed. But he kept going. He couldn't stop.
Finally, the wolf gave one last twitch—then stilled.
The silence that followed was broken not by the battlefield—but by a sound only he could hear.
> [Ding!]
Cold and clear. A chime that did not belong to this world.
[You have killed a ★ Level 10 Beast]
[You have gained experience!]
[Hidden Quest Completed ×2]
[Bonus EXP awarded]
[Level Up!]
[Level Up!]
[Current Level — 3]
[Bloodline Awakening Triggered...]
Zach's eyes widened. Relief surged at the words—Level Up!—only to die instantly at the last notification.
Bloodline Awakening.
"No... not now."
His pulse raced. He remembered in the webnovel Ashes of Valeria the Calamity's Crown game's lore, the words of the author. The bloodline awakening was not just any gift. It was torment incarnate.
Most who attempted it unprepared simply died—burned alive from the inside out.
And he was the definition of unprepared.
"Fuck... fuck..."
Then it began.
A creeping heat, faint at first—like a fever beneath the skin. Then harsher. Hotter. Until it felt as though molten iron seeped through his veins.
He staggered. His muscles spasmed. His heart thundered like a war drum, each beat sending magma through his body.
He had to move. He had to escape. If the pain took him here, out in the open, he'd be easy prey for guards or beasts.
The level-up had bolstered him. A fraction more strength. A sliver more speed. He clung to it desperately and ran.
He stumbled through the forest, clutching at trees for balance. Every step tore fire through his body. His vision blurred, doubling. Veins bulged against his skin, glowing faintly with fever-heat.
His chest was the worst. His heart felt volcanic—an inferno pumping rivers of flame through his frame.
His legs buckled. His breath came in ragged gasps. The battle's noise still echoed behind him. Too close. He hadn't gotten far enough.
"Shit..." His teeth ground against the word.
He staggered onward, one hand pressed to his chest, the other clawing at roots and bark.
Each breath tasted of smoke and iron. Each thought frayed at the edges, trying to dissolve into blackness.
But he couldn't stop.
Not yet. Just a little further...
His willpower drove him where his body failed. Until—
He saw it.
A hollow. A small space beneath a fallen tree, half-hidden by ferns and roots. A narrow pocket of shadow. Concealed.
Perfect.
He collapsed into it, dragging his convulsing body into the cramped shelter. His lungs heaved. Sweat and blood slicked his skin. He curled into the dirt.
And then the real pain began.
His back arched violently. His hands clawed furrows into the earth. His body shuddered, veins writhing like serpents beneath his skin.
His consciousness flickered like a candle in a storm.
He remembered the rule. The author's words.
Lose consciousness during bloodline awakening—and you die.
He couldn't let go. He couldn't surrender.
Agony carved through him, unrelenting. His mind tried to slip, to flee from the furnace of his own body.
But he fought it. Teeth bared. Nails digging.
Because if he closed his eyes now, he would never open them again.