Apocalypse Healer - Path of Death

David's fight didn't go unnoticed—not that he had expected it to. His fresh blood, the clash of metal, and the Kobold's screams echoed throughout the area, drawing attention from all directions.

David couldn't imagine the Kobolds defeating hundreds of Infected. Not with how quickly they had reached the third floor and how few injuries they'd had.

So, it was no surprise when dozens of Infected flooded the third floor. Their snarls and groans reverberated from the stairwell the Kobolds had used earlier, while others climbed through the escalators and other stairwells.

David saw it all through blurred vision, unsure what to make of it. Could he turn the Infected's arrival into an opportunity?

His right leg caved beneath him, blood spurting from a deep wound caused by a spear thrust. The spear had pierced cleanly through and inflicted worse damage when it was yanked free.

David gritted his teeth. The wound in his leg—deep and brutal—was going to slow him down. He still felt like screaming at the top of his lungs but funneled that energy into fighting instead.

Think of the pain as a way to ensure you're still alive. Pain makes you mortal. It shows you that you're alive.

David realized too late how bad the injury was. He'd been sure his movement wasn't restricted—until now. Maybe it had been, and he simply hadn't noticed. Either way, escape was no longer an option. Five Kobolds remained to be killed, and dozens of Infected were closing in.

There was no path out. Perhaps he could use the chaos to slip toward the emergency staircase, but he was slower than the Kobolds and the Uncommon Infected. His leg wound didn't help; if anything, it made him an even bigger target.

He was bleeding the most heavily. The Infected would come for him first.

That being said, everyone had to die. Now!

One of the Kobolds charged at him, but David didn't waste time. He hurled his sword, the blade piercing the charging Kobold's chest with surprising accuracy. The creature didn't collapse. Instead, it grasped the sword handle tightly and yanked it out.

"I wouldn't have done that," David mumbled, his gaze shifting to something behind the Kobold.

Kobolds were smarter than Infected—barely. This one didn't understand what David had said, but it noticed where he was looking. It spun around, preparing to face the threat, but found nothing there. Meanwhile, its brethren roared and charged at the Infected, their rage blinding them to caution—or so it seemed to David.

The injured Kobold didn't join the attack. It spun back toward David, but he was already moving. Gripping a spear in his left hand, he drove it into the Kobold's chest. The creature screeched, its claws gripping the spear shaft in a desperate attempt to pull it free, but the effort was futile. The blade had pierced its heart.

[You have defeated Kobold (Iron III.)]

David cast [Cure Wounds] both before and after killing the Kobold. The spell dulled the pain coursing through his body and soothed his strained muscles, but it also left him weaker. The crimson motes that replaced holy power drained his energy even as they healed him.

It wasn't a solution—but it was something.

His eyes darted across the battlefield as he pressed his right hand to his chest. Blood gushed from deep gashes along his arm, but all he could focus on was his heart hammering wildly in his chest. It felt like it was trying to escape his ribcage.

Is that excitement?

He couldn't quite believe himself. Was he excited to fight with his life on the line?

A dangerous glimmer sparked in his eyes, and the corner of his lips curled into a faint smile. Tightening his grip on the spear shaft, he kicked the Kobold's body to retrieve the weapon. For a moment, he considered the short swords scattered across the floor but turned his attention back to the battlefield as the Infected approached.

Some were fast—close enough to reach him in seconds—but David reacted first. He thrust the spear into one's eye, driving it deep into the brain. The creature collapsed as he retreated.

Two Kobolds were still fighting near the stairwell. David moved toward them, stabbing his spear into their calves before shoving an Infected into their midst.

One of the Infected scratched him as he pushed it away, and the infection took root in his blood. His battered state did little to slow its spread, but his plan succeeded. The undead, drawn to the Kobold's gushing blood, swarmed their new target.

David wasn't done yet. More Infected, following trails of blood, entered the battlefield. They ignored the Kobolds at first, as if they neither heard nor saw them.

Blood is a stronger trigger than sound. If that's the case.

David pulled his left arm back, ignoring the aching muscles and the reopened wounds. A smile broke through the blood covering his face as he hurled the spear. The weapon struck true, piercing its target and sending a spray of blood through the air.

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The Infected, who had been passing by the Kobolds, immediately turned. Their focus shifted as they swarmed the Kobolds from every side.

David didn't bother to watch the rest—he already knew what would happen.

***

David sat unmoving.

He wasn't sure how he had found the bench amid the bodies of rotting Infected and dead magical creatures, but somehow, he had.

His breath came in rough gasps, his throat burning as though it had been scorched. Though his neck and throat were uninjured, every breath felt like it drained a piece of his life.

But he didn't dare to cast [Cure Wounds] any longer. The crimson motes were dangerous. They had nearly killed him. The battle was over, yet cleansing the infection almost took his life.

The crimson motes were both a blessing and a curse—powerful yet far too dangerous. Everything had its price, and this power-up seemed particularly expensive.

David didn't move—not even his lips parted. It wasn't that he didn't want to, he was trying.

The blood-soaked battlefield stretched before him, likely attracting more Infected at this moment, but all David could do was smile. Even that small gesture seemed to drain him. He had no energy left to fight, yet the smile never left his lips.

This feeling…feeling alive. When was the last time…?

He couldn't move, and it was clear that the last ten minutes had been the most dangerous experience of his life. But what stayed with him was how good it felt. Was it the experience or the freedom that gave him this feeling? Or was it the change? Every bone in his body felt like it had been ground to dust. Breathing was hard, and staying conscious grew even harder. Still, David felt nice.

Not giving up. Winning against all odds. Overcoming Death. Surviving.

It felt great.

David had yet to fully comprehend his situation, but one question lingered in his mind: since when had he been so desperate to stay alive? When did it all start?

A few minutes of silence passed. No Infected or Kobold reached the third floor, and there were no survivors either. David expected someone—or something—to appear, but nothing did.

At some point, his foggy mind cleared, so he turned his attention to the notifications he'd missed while fighting.

The first notification to catch his eye was a crimson-red rectangle. There were several similar ones, all bearing the same warning, which David had ignored.

[Emergency Warning! Your Holy Sea has been damaged due to excessive usage. Do NOT use your Holy Sea!! Time until recovery [11H:48M:25S]]

That was unexpected.

He hadn't expected the System to issue warnings like that, and it didn't seem logical either. David could feel the state of his Holy Sea when he pushed it too far. He could easily perceive its cracked, damaged condition.

But more surprising than the system chastising him like a worrying mother was the countdown. He hadn't thought his Holy Sea would recover so quickly.

[Facing death head-on, you put a heavy weight on your Soul. However, the User remained unfazed and overcame the dance with death.]

[Your Soul has grown.]

Lowest (Basic) → Lowest (+)(Basic)

The pair of notifications appeared simultaneously. David hadn't seen them before, but they seemed connected to the earlier warning. He hadn't paid much attention to that first message as it faded, but the countdown in the corner of his vision piqued his curiosity.

[5H:48M:10S]

The countdown kept dropping. Was it caused by the Soul's upgrade?

If an upgrade to his Soul could speed up the recovery of his Holy Sea, perhaps it would bring other changes as well. It was worth investigating once his Holy Sea had fully recovered. David considered the possibilities and nodded inwardly. It was possible. He'd have to check how much had changed once the recovery was complete.

For a fleeting moment, David felt good, but the sensation was quickly overshadowed by doubt.

Why did it feel like the system encouraged self-destructive actions, like breaking the Mind, Body, and Soul? And why hadn't his Body stat grown?

His body had clearly gone above and beyond during the battle, yet it wasn't enough. David clicked his tongue, wincing at the pain, but it worked well enough. He hadn't lost any limbs and was slowly regaining control of the remaining parts of his body. But there was no rush. He was still the sole spectator of the magnificent bloody massacre.

[Proficiency of Cleanse increased.]

[Proficiency of Cure Wounds increased.]

[Proficiency of Cure Wounds reached 100%.]

[Tier-0 II] → [Tier-0 IV]

Several more notifications awaited, but only one truly caught his attention. The rest were generic, mentioning the contamination of his blood, the infection, and the increase in his Skill Runes' proficiency. But this one was different.

A purple message stood out, glowing faintly with intricate, star-like symbols. Its ornate design captured David's attention even through his haze of exhaustion.

It was fancier than any message David had seen before.

Abandoned. Injured. Infected.

Betrayed. Slashed. Survived.

You survived against all odds.

You murdered instead of healed.

You did not die.

Death's grasp around your neck tightened. You were bound to die, yet you didn't.

You were supposed to give up. Surrender, but you did not.

You are alive.

You, David Stears, have attracted the interest of [Bereth, the ???]

That was a strange message. But who the hell was Bereth?

David had barely finished reading when something materialized before him. The fabric of space and reality seemed to twist as an object formed out of thin air.

It was black, rectangular, and about the size of his palm.

The object resembled an ordinary graphite slate, except for the symbol engraved into it.

It looked like a Skill Rune.