The undead barreled straight at me.
Me, the weakest hunter here. Why? I had no clue, and definitely no time to figure it out.
Its clicking filled the cavern, sharp and relentless, echoing painfully in my ears. My body locked up, heart slamming painfully against my ribs.
Shouts erupted around me, weapons drawn, hunters scrambling into action but none of it mattered.
It lunged.
I tried to move.
It was too fast. Too wrong. I couldn't track it, let alone defend myself.
A single stupid thought flickered through my mind:
At least El will get a big payout.
The thing's jaws unhinged grotesquely, aiming straight for my throat.
Then something wrapped around me. A strange, twisting sensation pulled me from reality. For an instant, I was nowhere at all. Then, just as abruptly, I was standing on the other side of the cavern, gasping for air, heart hammering wildly.
A blur of metal replaced me.
John.
His massive shield slammed into the undead's torso with a bone-crunching impact, throwing the creature violently across the chamber. It hit the stone floor hard, skidding backward, limbs flailing wildly before it twisted itself upright, snapping back to all fours.
Now, twenty fully armed hunters stood between it and me. My breath came in ragged gulps as I finally got a good look at it.
It looked human. Horribly, impossibly human.
Its limbs were bent at unnatural angles, movements jerky and wrong. Its face was stretched into something nightmarish, jaws too wide, eyes hollow pits of darkness. My pulse surged, blood roaring in my ears as I struggled not to lose it entirely. This was nothing like any D-Rank Rifts I had experienced.
The undead let out a guttural shriek, then launched itself at John, blurring across the cavern floor.
John didn't even flinch.
His stance tightened, eyes narrowing as a small, grim smile flickered across his lips. The creature smashed into his shield, pushing him back several inches. My heart dropped into my stomach. John, an A-ranker, a literal mountain, shouldn't move an inch—yet he'd been forced back.
But John didn't look worried.
In a single, perfect motion, he drew his blade and cleaved downward. The undead jerked away instinctively, too late. Steel bit deep into rotten flesh, slicing cleanly through bone. An arm hit the cavern floor with a sickening squelch.
The undead stumbled back, clicking frantically, its severed limb twitching uselessly.
John didn't give it a chance.
He slammed his sword hard against his shield, metal ringing sharply through the cavern, then charged. His body blurred, moving impossibly fast.
Steel Charge.
I'd seen him use it before, but never this close. He struck the undead like a missile, driving his sword straight through its chest. The creature shuddered violently, jaws clicking helplessly. Its twitching limbs fell still, and John raised his shield, slamming its heavy edge down onto the undead's skull, crushing it instantly.
The clicking finally stopped.
But then it started again, louder, echoing from deeper in the darkness ahead.
John turned sharply to us, face grim. "Dammit. Everyone, get ready!"
I sucked in a breath, palms slick with sweat, fear coiling tight in my gut. If one undead had almost killed me, what about the rest? I was completely out of my depth.
I reached inside my jacket, fingers gripping the worn handle of my mana infused dagger. The blade was chipped, the leather worn, but it felt solid in my hand, moulded perfectly to my grip and my signature.
It was the only thing I had left to rely on now.
A gift from my father on my eighteenth birthday. Five years ago now. With the weapon firm in my grasp, my nerves steadied and I fell back on my training.
Then the first undead charged into the cavern, followed quickly by more. Dozens of clicking, writhing nightmares poured in, crawling and lunging toward us.
John, Darren, and Till moved instantly, forming a solid wall at the mouth of the tunnel. Shields raised, weapons drawn. They were unflinching mountains facing the rising tide of horrors. The other hunters surged forward in a tight formation, deploying skills, screaming orders, fighting desperately against the sudden chaos.
I was lost.
What could I possibly do here? Every single person around me, hunter or undead, vastly outclassed me. I stepped back, gripping my dagger until my knuckles turned white. My back slammed into cold, slick stone.
A scream pierced through the battle, high and sharp.
My head snapped toward the sound, dagger raised on instinct.
A young woman collapsed to the cavern floor. Her short sword clattered uselessly away, blood pooling from deep wounds along her arm. Her wide eyes met mine for an instant, terrified and pleading, before glazing over in agony.
An undead stood above her, its twisted jaw buried deep in her neck.
My stomach lurched violently, bile rising to choke my throat. The creature slowly raised its head, flesh torn and dripping, human-like eyes turning slowly locking directly onto me.
My hand trembled violently. I gritted my teeth, gripping my dagger tighter, I'd at least give this hideous thing a fight.
The undead pulled back from the woman's ruined body, stretching its twisted limbs, then dropping slowly onto all fours. It cocked its head, watching me curiously, mockingly.
Then it lunged, faster than my eyes could follow.
My muscles seized. No John this time, no shield to hide behind. Nothing but me, my dagger, and the certainty that I was about to die.
The creature crashed into me, slamming me brutally against the cavern wall. Pain exploded through my skull my vision blurring sharply. Its jaws clamped down, catching only steel as my dagger lodged between its teeth in a last ditch attempt. Blood and saliva dripped hotly onto my skin. Its rancid breath filled my nose, choking me.
Before I could react, its grotesque arm lashed out, smashing into my shoulder and sending me sprawling across the stone floor. Agony surged through me, blinding, overwhelming, until my skill ignited.
Adrenaline. Energy. A desperate, useless surge of resistance too little, too late.
I rolled upright, dagger clenched desperately in my hand. The undead lunged again, jaws unhinging impossibly wide.
I raised my free arm, shielding my throat, and slashed upward blindly.
Somehow my blade sank deep into its shoulder.
It didn't even slow down.
Its teeth sank into my forearm instead, tearing flesh and scraping bone. Hot, searing pain engulfed me. My skill burned through my veins, trying to stem the damage, pushing me beyond limits I'd never tested. But it wasn't enough.
Desperation flooded me. I ripped my dagger free, stabbing wildly into its side, its chest, anything I could reach.
The creature released my arm and grabbed my body with both twisted hands, smashing me into the ground.
Again.
And again.
My vision swam, darkness creeping into the edges. The dagger slipped from numb fingers, clattering uselessly across stone. I heard the wet thud as my skull hit stone again. Blood ran freely from my head, my skin slick and sticky.
My skill burned hotter, desperately clawing at consciousness, forcing me to hold on but I was slipping.
The undead finally stopped, standing over my broken body. Its distorted jaw opened wide, teeth poised above my throat.
Thoughts of El flashed through my mind, painfully clear. If I died now, she'd be alone. Truly alone.
I couldn't let that happen.
No matter what.
I dug deeper into myself, forcing my pathetic skill past every boundary, every limitation. Something tore through me, primal and raw, no speed, no strength, just desperate, furious determination.
I gasped for air. Rotten breath washed over my face, thick and choking. Blood dripped from its open mouth onto my skin. Teeth grazed my throat.
My hand searched wildly along the stone, clawing, reaching. Where—where the hell was it?
The undead clicked once, jaw tightening. I flailed desperately, legs kicking, fingers digging frantically through blood and gravel.
Its teeth pressed harder, puncturing skin.
Then my fingers brushed cold steel.
My dagger.
I snatched it up, grip tightening fiercely. In a surge of wild desperation, I jerked my arm upward, blade flashing in the dim cavern light.
Steel met flesh, sinking deep into the creature's neck.
It shuddered, convulsing violently. Warm blood spattered my face, my hands. I stabbed again and again, screaming hoarsely with each strike.
The undead let out a choked, gurgling cry. It clawed weakly at my chest, limbs spasming, movements slowing.
Then it collapsed, going completely still.
I lay there, gasping, covered in blood and barely alive.
But alive, nonetheless.
For now.