Jace trudged through the barren wasteland, his boots kicking up dust as he scanned the endless horizon. Copse of dead trees lay far off in the distance.
He felt like he had been walking for hours now with no end in sight. The wyvern’s corpse now lay far behind him, and despite his aching muscles and dwindling patience. He pressed on hoping—praying—that he would find an exit instead of another cursed staircase leading deeper into the dungeon or some stupid other thing that would mean he wasn't done with this place.
The land around was dead, utterly lifeless, the air still thick with the stench of decay. Cracked earth and jagged stones stretched out in all directions, broken only by the occasional smattering of dead, twisted trees. It was a desolate hellscape, and Jace was beyond tired of it.
“Hey, Ghosty,” he called out to the egg safe in his pack, “If I ever say ‘Let's go do another undead dungeon’, please hit me with one of your death bolts again.”
Then, he saw it—a damn tower, barely visible through the skeletal remains of a forest. He stopped, groaning out loud.
“Of course,” he muttered. “Because it’s never that easy. Kill a fucking dragon that's been fucking corrupted and is way beyond your level, but hey that's just the mini boss. The real boss is still out there looking to ram you. ”
With his anger and frustration left on simmer. He tried to blow it off and trekked out towards the tower as it loomed in the distance, a dark monolith against the bleak graveyard sky.
As he finally crawled closer he saw its stonework was ancient, crumbling, the once-grand structure now resembling little more than a ruin.
Vines—long since dead—clung to its walls covering any windows. Sections of the buildings outside of the tower had collapsed centuries ago, leaving gaping wounds around its base. And then, as if sensing his presence, a sickly green miasma flickered to life at its peak, swirling like a beacon.
Jace sighed. “Yeah, that looks about right.”
With no other real options, he made his way forward, weaving through the skeletal trees until he made intinehat looked like a small ruined village. He walked through the decayed path right up to the tower until stood before it.
Its massive wooden door, warped with age loomed before him.
He placed a hand against it, feeling the rough texture before giving it a solid push. The door groaned in protest before slowly swinging open, revealing a darkened interior.
He could barely take a step inside before a sound of rattling bones filled the air. It was annoyingly familiar.
A drove of skeletons warriors surged forward, rusted weapons clutched in bony hands. Their hollow eye sockets burned with eerie blue light, their skeletal grins locked in a permanent, unsettling rictus. Behind them were what looked like skeletal mages wearing tattered moth eaten robes.
“God, please no giant undead moths…” Jace barely had time to unhook his bone arm before the first one lunged.
He pivoted, swinging his weapon in a brutal arc. Bone shattered, the skeleton’s skull before exploding into dust.
The next attacker came from the side, but Jace twisted, bringing his mace down in a crushing blow that caved in its shoulder.
“Who's next?” He shouted as he waded deeper into the building.
The undead warriors moved in a coordinated assault, surrounding him, their blades striking out in calculated motions.
Pain flared as a sword nicked his arm, another slicing across his thigh. His health bar dipped only slightly.
Almost effortlessly, he retaliated with a savage spin, his makeshift weapon turning skeletons into bone dust as he pressed forward, refusing to be overwhelmed.
Four more died to his swift blows before the bone Mace shattered just like the bones he'd been smashing. On the fly he summoned his spear. He reversed the spear in his grip and used it like a quarterstaff, sweeping low to knock one skeleton off its feet, then crushing another’s skull with a downward smash.. He mostly used the spear as a staff since the undead were barely affected by his thrusts.
He threw a quick Identify.
Corrupted Skeletal Warrior
Level 17
Weaknesses: Blunt Damage
Strengths: Melee Combat
Corrupted Skeletal Mage
Level 18
Weaknesses: Blunt Damage
Strengths: Death Magic
They were just like the Draugrs and zombies he'd faced before. It seemed undead simply didn't like being bashed to pieces.
With that not new information he got to work and, within minutes, the last warrior fell, its skull rolling to a stop at Jace’s feet. He let out a breath, leaning against his weapon as he surveyed the carnage. Eight skeletal warriors and two mages.
He glanced at his health stat. It had barely gone down 50 points. “Hmm. This seems too easy.”
You have slain 8 level 17 Skeletal Warrior.
XP earned
ERROR…
Class unable to gain XP…
XP forfeited…
…
You have slain two level 18 Skeletal Mages
ERROR…
Class unable to gain XP…
XP forfeited…
Reaper’s Touch Skill activated.
+10 Soul Fragments Reaped
“Wait, where's my stats?” Jace felt his ire rise. Everything else gave him stats and now he wasn't getting anything.
[System Alert]
Warning: Stat Assimilation Failure
ERROR: Target stat values exceed acceptable absorption limits.
Stat acquisition aborted…
Absorption Denied –
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Target exceeds threshold parameters.
Soul Fragments stored instead.
System recalibrating…
Soulreaver's Touch activated.
+1 Soul Reaped.
Soulreaver Progression: 15/100
…
Soulreaver's Touch activated.
+1 Soul Reaped.
Soulreaver Progression: 25/100
Jace barked a laugh. “This shit is broken. At least I got the damn soul fragments.”
With the new ten souls he reaped from the fallen warriors he felt the surge of energy settle within his Soulreaver Core. Then, shaking off the remnants of battle, he stepped further into the tower's first floor.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness inside he found himself in what looked like an old forgotten library. Its once-stately bookshelves, now dry-rotted and broken.
Ancient tomes lay scattered around, some in haphazard piles and some in tall stacks. He bent down to pick one up, only for it the spine and cover to crumble in his grasp, the brittle yellow pages flaked apart and crumbled to the ground.
“Figures,” he muttered, as his inner loot goblin screamed in rage at all the tomes being exceptionally useless.
He continued his visual search There didn't look to be anything of value, so he moved through the room to the large grand staircase that led up to the balcony area. There wasn't anything up here either. He opened a few doors but found nothing but old decrepit sitting rooms and meeting rooms.
“Man, everything in this stupid tower is useless. Whoever made this dungeon should have ended it after the Wyvern.” His ire stoked the flames of rage in his chest. He was beginning to really hate this place, and not in a jokey way either. It was starting to get old, like the damn undead here.
It took a few minutes of opening random doors until he finally opened up to a dark room with a rickety wooden staircase leading up.
He climbed the worn and creaking steps. Each one felt like they'd give way under his bulk, but he pushed on to the next floor.
Fifteen more skeletons waited there to greet him. Their creaking bones and cluttering jaws mocking some sort of sick laughter.
Jace grinned, gripping his bone spear tighter. “Alright you boney pieces of shit. I'm in no mood for this, let’s dance.”
This time, he fought with more efficiency, weaving through attacks, countering with quick swipes and bone-crushing strikes. His weapon smashed through their defenses, sending femurs and skulls flying as he waded through the undead horde.
The fight ended faster than he expected, and when the last skeleton fell, he exhaled, checking his soul count.
You have slain 15 Skeletal Warriors.
Massive XP Earned…
ERROR…
Class unable to gain XP…
Massive XP forfeited…
[System Alert]
Warning: Stat Assimilation Failure
ERROR: Target stat values exceed acceptable absorption limits.
Stat acquisition aborted…
Absorption Denied –
Target exceeds threshold parameters.
Soul Fragments stored instead.
System recalibrating…
Soulreaver's Touch activated.
+1 Soul Reaped.
Soulreaver Progression: 25/100
…
Soulreaver's Touch activated.
+1 Soul Reaped.
Soulreaver Progression: 40/100
“System, shut off the alerts.” He growled, no longer wanting to see his hard earned stats disappearing right from his grasp. His mood was totally sour. Not only was he not gaining Xp, but now he wasn't gaining stats either.
Being overpowered felt great—until it didn’t. The System wasn’t just broken—it was screwing him. He was pissed.
“Stupid fucking system, stupid fucking world!” With a resounding crash, he hadn't even noticed the anger flared high, so high in fact he didn't notice he had just shoved his fist through the wooden walls all the way up to his elbow. He took a deep breath trying to calm the rising flame in his chest. He swiped away the notification and was greeted with happier ones.
Spell Level Up! {Bone Manipulation] has reached Rank 4 - You now have greater control and precision in shaping and altering bone matter. Structural integrity and crafting speed have improved.
“Damn…” He was floored at how much this shitty dungeon had given him so far, but even with no Xp or stats now he was still happy he could level his skills. “And if I keep this up, my core will fill in no time.”
He felt it—a subtle tug, not physical, but something deeper. It radiated from the pack on his back, like a thread woven between his spine and the thing inside. A pull that resonated within his Soulreaver Core, faint but insistent. His thoughts snapped to the egg. The Undead Whelpling. Still nestled in his pack. Still waiting.
He quickly pulled the pack around, and gently withdrew the egg. As he studied it, the eerie green veins laced through its surface, pulsed dimly. He almost had to concentrate on it to see the fluctuations.
He focused inward, honing in on his Soulreaver Core—and then the egg. Just like before, when he had willed the soul wisp into it… only this time, in reverse. Channeling intent through instinct, he activated Soul Infusion. A single soul stirred within his core, pulled loose by his will. He felt it leave him—slipping from deep in his chest and flowing into the egg like a thread of glowing ember.
Soulreaver Core Progression: 39/100
“Well, I think it worked?” He mused as he stared at the notification.
The veins on the egg now pulsed slightly, glowing a fraction brighter. Now that he knew it worked, he began to funnel in nineteen more soul fragments, but stopped.
He held the egg in one hand, his other hovering over his Soulreaver Core screen.
Just sixty more and I’d hit evolution. Power. Real power.
He stared at the egg. It didn’t move. Didn’t glow in excitement. Just pulsed… waiting.
Jace sighed. “You better be worth it, Ghosty.”
And then he fed it 19 more fragments. The egg absorbed all of them greedily, its glowing light intensifying and pulsing much brighter. The glow wasn't much better but it definitely was something.
Jace smirked. “You're a hungry little thing.” he said as he gently rubbed the glowing onyx egg. “Don't worry, I'll get you nice and full, Ghosty.”
He really needed a better name for his little whelpling friend. But he didn't want to name him prematurely. What if he, or she, hatched and looked nothing like a ghost. Or what if he named it Jeff, and it looked nothing like a Jeff. That would be terrible.
He quickly checked the eggs' status.
You have infused the [Undead Whelpling Egg] with 20 Soul fragments. Additional fragments or full souls will increase its progression.
Error…
This action was not intended by System parameters.
The egg is now linked to your Soulreaver Core and will hatch once it absorbs enough soul energy.
Progress: 21/??? Soul Infusions
Warning: Further interaction may result in unforeseen consequences.
“Well, it worked, consequences be damned. But it still doesn't tell me how much longer I have to infuse it.” He shrugged, more problems for later. “Well, I'll just keep feeding you, little piggy.” He smiled, stowing the egg away in his backpack. He slipped it back over his shoulders, and turned his attention to the room beyond.
His amusement faded instantly when he saw what lay beyond the mess of skeletal bones littering the doorway.
Cages, rusted and warped with age, lined the cracked stone walls like forgotten tombs. Some hung open, their iron bars bent as if something monstrous had tried to claw its way free. Others remained sealed tight, containing twisted remains that defied explanation—creatures with too many limbs, or none at all; skulls that bore fangs where eyes should’ve been; torsos fused with insect-like carapaces and bones that pulsed faintly with residual magic. The stench of decay was thick, but older than rot—older than death itself. Whatever had lived in those cages hadn’t died naturally. They had been experimented on. Tortured. Forgotten.
His eyes shifted away from the cages to the rest of the room. Wooden tables, stained with old blood, dried chunks of viscera, and a mish-mash of body pieces lay scattered about. The surfaces of the tables were marred and scarred by deep grooves and gouges. Implements of pain—blades, hooks, brands—hung from rusted chains that barely held them up. And the bones… so many bones. This room had to be a torture chamber, a very old one at that
“I hate this fucking place,” Jace muttered under his breath. “Worst dungeon I’ve ever been in.” It was also the only dungeon he’d ever been in—but somehow, he just knew it had to be the worst. Nothing else could possibly top this nightmare.
He let out a dry chuckle, pushing forward as he scanned the room with wary eyes. Along the way, he grabbed a few more bones—never know when you'd need extra parts. Then he spotted it: a massive femur, thick and nearly the length of his arm. He didn’t even hesitate. “Oh yeah,” he muttered, gripping it. “You’re coming with me.”
It was taller and thicker than the bone mace he had used before, and as funny as it had been to use the Draugr arm to lay waste through the dungeon, he needed something less wonky.
With the femur in hand, he quickly willed some mana into his manipulation spell, to make it better. He felt the sudden heavy backlash from the debuff as his mana drained from him.
“Damn, mana debuff.” he growled through the pain until he saw what he now held. It was a bone warhammer.
Item: Bone Warhammer of the Dread Maw
Type: Crafted Bone Warhammer
Rarity: Uncommon (Crafted)
Effect: +10 to strength
Jace leaned against the cold stonewall of the room, letting his breath slow as the adrenaline faded. The sharp, throbbing pain in his ribs pulsed with each heartbeat—a relentless reminder that he was still alive. Every inhale was a chore, scraping against the bruised edges of cracked bone. For a moment, he simply stood there, letting the agony wash over him like a tide. It grounded him, strangely enough. Anchored him in the reality of his situation.
The longer he stood, the more the pain dulled, fading from a firestorm to a steady simmer just beneath the surface. His hands stopped shaking. His heart settled from a furious sprint to something more manageable. The silence pressed in around him, broken only by the soft crackle of the green torchlight and the faint dripping of something unseen further down the corridor.
“All that… for a fucking weapon…” Finally, when he felt he could move without crumpling, Jace pushed himself upright.
His eyes swept across the torture chamber until they caught the jagged outline of a staircase on the far end, partially hidden behind a collapsed cage. It ascended upwards into deeper shadows, the green firelight failing to reach beyond the third step.
He stared at it for a long moment, jaw tightening.
The stairs waited like an open mouth. And he had no choice but to walk right in.
Will the egg hatch into a loyal undead companion… or a face-hungry abomination with separation issues?
Will he ever shake the soul-splitting migraine from his mana hangover, or is he destined to wander the wastelands half-brained and deeply sarcastic for eternity?
Where horror meets alchemy, and Jace meets... regret.
the System just whispers, “Hold that XP.”
What's your favorite number? (Has no ulterior motives...)
