Kade twirled the rusted sword once — badly — almost lopping his own ear off.
"Okay. Not a natural," he muttered.
Still, confidence oozed from his bloodied grin as he marched down the cracked stone steps, blade resting on his shoulder like he actually knew what he was doing.
The undead staggered toward him — arms reaching, head tilted, mouth slack.
Kade crouched low, squaring up like a duelist from some anime he'd binge-watched in better days.
"Alright, zomboy. Let's see what happens when you lose that ugly head."
He charged.
He took exactly three heroic steps—
—and his foot caught on a loose stone.
"OH COME ON—"
Kade pitched forward, arms pinwheeling, sword flying from his grip.
He crashed into the undead with all the grace of a falling fridge.
The two of them toppled like drunks in a bar fight — Kade sprawling across the undead's chest, the creature flailing stiffly beneath him.
They hit the ground with a wet thud.
For a heartbeat, everything froze.
Kade blinked.
The undead blinked.
Then the creature let out a low, rattling moan right in his face.
Kade shrieked like a cat dumped into a bathtub and scrambled backward, limbs flailing, boots slipping on the wet stone.
The undead, meanwhile, twitched helplessly on its back — legs kicking feebly like an overturned cockroach.
Kade, gasping, managed to put a few feet between them, blood roaring in his ears.
He sat there for a moment, panting, stunned, and completely, utterly done.
"Well," he wheezed, staring at the pitiful sight. "That was majestic."
The rusted sword clattered somewhere behind him.
The undead groaned, trying and failing to sit up.
Kade wiped blood and sweat off his forehead, a broken grin spreading across his face.
"Yeah... definitely not winning any boss battles with style points," he muttered.
But the important thing?
He was still alive.
For now.
And his enemy was helpless.
He pushed himself to his feet, shaky but determined.
Showtime wasn't over yet.
Kade barely got to his knees before the undead lurched up too — arms snapping forward with unnatural speed.
"AAH—!"
The thing tackled him.
Again.
This time, it wasn't some slow, dragging zombie hug — it was frantic. Wild. Almost angry.
Kade hit the stone floor hard, back slamming into the cold surface.
The undead crashed down on top of him, bony fingers scrabbling at his pajama, trying to grab hold of anything — neck, face, chest — didn't matter.
"GET OFF—!" Kade shouted, shoving desperately at the thing's rotted shoulders.
It snarled, a wet, grinding noise right in his ear.
Its face was inches from his — eye sockets hollow, jaw crooked.
Kade thrashed, kicking, punching, grappling.
It wasn't a fight anymore.
It was a brawl.
Ugly. Stupid. Survival at its most pathetic.
The two of them rolled over the stones — Kade gritting his teeth, the undead clawing at his sleeves.
He managed to get a knee up between them, pushing — trying to wedge some space.
The creature swiped at his face — nails raking shallow lines across his cheek.
"AGH—!"
Kade punched blindly.
Knuckles connected with something — a squelchy crack as he smashed the undead's temple sideways.
The thing rocked, but didn't stop.
Didn't even slow down.
Kade cursed, writhing underneath it.
Somewhere behind him, he could hear the clatter of his dropped sword — tantalizingly close.
If he could just—
He twisted, shifting his weight.
The undead lunged forward.
Their heads slammed together with a THUNK.
Kade saw stars.
"You—" he hissed, dazed, shoving at the thing's throat with one trembling hand, "—have no concept of personal space—!"
The undead snarled back wordlessly, fingers clawing at his hair.
It was stronger.
Faster.
But Kade was alive.
Alive and angry.
Kade gritted his teeth, feeling the undead's weight pressing down, clawing at him with mindless fury.
No time.
No space.
No options.
Just pure, stupid, human instinct.
He sucked in a breath—
—and slammed his forehead into the creature's skull.
CRACK.
Pain exploded through his head like a flashbang.
"AAAGH—" Kade yelped, seeing stars, almost blacking out.
But it worked.
The undead reeled, loose for a half-second — stunned by the sudden, feral headbutt.
Kade didn't waste it.
He shoved hard, twisting out from under the thing's grasp, scrambling across the stone floor like a man on fire.
Fingers stretched—groping—
There.
The sword.
He wrapped his hand around the rusted hilt, yanking it toward him with a gasp.
Behind him, the undead let out a wet, furious screech and staggered forward again, arms swinging wildly.
Kade rolled onto his back, sword clutched awkwardly in both hands, bracing it between them like a desperate shield.
The creature lunged—straight into the waiting blade.
SHNK.
The point rammed up under its jaw.
For a second, the undead twitched — spasmed — clawing at the sword lodged deep in its ruined throat.
Kade grunted, forcing it deeper, twisting.
"Nope," he hissed, face bloodied, shaking with adrenaline. "Stay down."
The undead shuddered one last time—then crumpled.
Dead.
Really dead this time.
Kade lay there, panting, both hands still clutched around the hilt like it might vanish if he let go.
He blinked up at the cracked stone ceiling.
"...Did I just win a boss fight by headbutting it?"
Silence answered him.
Broken only by his own wheezing breaths.
Kade let out a weak, hysterical laugh.
He was shaking from adrenaline, pain, exhaustion — but he was alive.
He dragged the rusted blade out of the corpse with a wet scrape, flopping onto his side.
His forehead throbbed viciously where he'd smashed it into undead bone — he could already feel the swelling.
"Next time," he groaned, "aim for less brain damage."
He rolled onto his knees, glancing at the fallen monster.
A beaten, broken thing now — no threat anymore.
Kade wiped blood — his and the creature's — from his face with a trembling hand.
Then he smiled.
Wild. Ferocious.
"Level one, baby," he whispered, staggering to his feet. "Let's freaking go."
Kade staggered upright, wobbling like a busted scarecrow.
His head was pounding.
His arms were jelly.
And somewhere deep inside, he was pretty sure he'd just lost at least three IQ points from that headbutt.
He winced, lifting a trembling hand to his face.
First, the cut under his eye — shallow, but still bleeding sluggishly.
Then—
His fingers brushed two fresh wounds on his cheek, just above the jawline.
Two small, deep punctures.
Sharp.
Ragged.
"Nails," Kade muttered, squinting at his bloodstained fingertips. "Great."
He leaned against the cracked wall for support, tilting his head back with a groan.
"So now I've got... a sword slash, a forehead dent, and two zombie love bites."
He let out a hoarse, broken laugh.
"At this rate, I'm gonna start looking like a collectible action figure. Battle-Damaged Kade."
He poked gingerly at the nail marks, hissing between his teeth.
They weren't too deep, but they stung like hell — and judging by the blackened grime around the edges, whatever was under those nails wasn't exactly sanitary.
"If I don't die of stabbing," Kade muttered grimly, "it's gonna be tetanus. Or zombie rabies. Or some cosmic combo of both."
He fished his cellphone out with bloody fingers and flicked on the flashlight again, using the faint reflection from the cracked screen as a terrible makeshift mirror.
Yup.
Ugly.
He looked like he'd lost a bar fight against a cheese grater.
Kade sighed and wiped his face with the less-bloody sleeve of his hoodie.
"Still breathing," he mumbled, voice a little slurred from adrenaline crash. "Still ugly. Still winning."
His hands trembled — not from fear anymore, but from sheer exhaustion.
He shoved the phone back into his pocket and turned to the fallen undead.
Still dead.
Still twitching a little.
Still holding something.
Kade blinked.
He stepped closer, squinting.
There — clutched tight in the corpse's shriveled, claw-like hand — something glinted under the pale light.
Not a weapon.
Not a key.
Something... stranger.
Something out of place.
Kade's bruised mouth twisted into a faint, curious smile.
"Well, well," he muttered. "Whatcha hiding, you ugly freak?"
Alright, keeping that battered but stubborn survivor vibe, here's the continuation:
---
Kade crouched down, grimacing as his knees popped like broken springs.
The undead's shriveled hand was locked tight around the object — a small pendant, glinting weakly in the flickering light.
Kade reached out.
Tugged.
The fingers didn't budge.
He tugged harder.
Still no luck.
The corpse's death grip was ironclad, like it had been buried with its favorite toy and wasn't about to let go even after getting double headbutted into oblivion.
Kade leaned back on his heels, exhaled slowly, and wiped more blood off his chin.
"I'm so over this," he muttered.
Without ceremony, he stood up, lifted one boot, and stomped hard on the brittle hand.
CRUNCH.
Bone and withered flesh gave way with a sickening crackle.
Kade didn't flinch.
He just nudged the broken fingers aside with the tip of his foot, squatted down again, and pried the pendant loose from the ruined mess.
It was cold.
Heavier than it looked.
A thin black chain was still attached, frayed and tangled, like it had been yanked violently at some point.
Kade held it up to the flashlight.
Sure! Here's a little detailed description you can slip right into the flow:
---
The pendant itself was strange — shaped like a crooked eye, almost like it had been handcrafted by someone who forgot what an eye was supposed to look like halfway through making it.
The "eyelid" was a twisted loop of rusted metal, and at its center, a cracked, cloudy stone sat dull and lifeless.
It wasn't beautiful.
It wasn't even symmetrical.
It looked old.
Wrong.
Forgotten.
And somehow... important.
Kade stared at it for a second longer before muttering, "Definitely cursed."
Kade fiddled with the pendant a little longer, turning it over between his scratched fingers.
The chain flaked at his touch.
Old.
Fragile.
Probably bad news.
He shook his head and muttered, "No way I'm keeping this in my pocket. Knowing my luck, it'll strangle me while I sleep."
He opened his menu with a thought.
> Inventory
A simple, empty grid blinked back at him.
No fancy slots, no dramatic music.
Just space.
He selected the pendant — a little pulse of intention — and the item shimmered briefly before vanishing from his hand.
A new icon appeared in the inventory.
[Rusted Pendant]
Condition: Poor
Kade stared at it for a second.
No flavor text.
No glowing aura.
No dramatic curses popping up.
Just a name.
[Rusted Pendant]
He snorted.
"Yeah. That's about right."
The pocket of space closed with a soft flicker.
Kade rubbed his bare arms against the chill, his battered pajama pants clinging awkwardly to his scraped skin, and looked ahead.
The ruins loomed larger now — bigger shadows, deeper corridors.
But for the first time since waking up here...
He had a weapon.
He had an inventory.
And he had a checkpoint.
Maybe, just maybe, he could actually fight back.
He grinned, wincing as the movement tugged at the fresh cuts on his face.
"Bring it on," he whispered into the cold, empty dark.