The Whisperkin's voice echoed calmly in their minds, despite the chaos it had just caused.
It stood still—eerily still.
Aside from the shattered ground around it, where a crater had formed beneath Ariel's punch, the faceless monster hadn't moved an inch.
"Like brother, like sister," it said with a mocking chuckle, the sound crawling through their minds like a cold breeze.
Ariel's breath hitched. Her eyes widened as she stared up at the creature in disbelief.
That was the same punch she had used to send the Scarbone flying, she realized, and he was one rank below Elite…
But this thing... it was only an F-Grade Elite.
And it had just taken the full brunt of her punch without budging.
"You... You're still standing?" she muttered, stepping back. Her right hand trembled violently, throbbing with pain from the impact. Her knuckles were red, possibly bruised. Did I even hurt it? she wondered.
The Whisperkin slowly turned its faceless head toward her, as if it could see despite having no eyes.
"Your brother did something similar once—only... he did it while still unawakened."
It raised a long finger and tapped its chest—right where she had punched.
Darren's jaw clenched as he watched the crater form beneath the Whisperkin—but the creature didn't even flinch. Not a stagger, not a twitch. Just silence.
He took a shaky step back, eyes wide.
That punch… it shook the ground… and it didn't even move it?
"What… what kind of monster is that?" he muttered under his breath, his voice barely a whisper. Cold sweat slid down his neck.
"You're lucky you're related to him. If not for him... I would've torn your head off without hesitation."
Jasmine's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes darted between Ariel and the unscathed Whisperkin. Her knees almost buckled.
"No way…" she whispered, clutching her chest. " That punch could have shattered a wall…"
She stared at the faceless figure, fear creeping into every part of her body as her lips trembled.
Ariel's eyes narrowed. Fear and anger battled within her, but survival instinct took control. She leapt backward, creating distance between them. Her breathing was shallow, chest rising and falling in quick bursts. Dust swirled around her boots as she skidded to a stop.
The Whisperkin gave no chase. Instead, it turned around slowly, its limbs moving with unnatural grace as it headed towards the portal that shimmered behind it—glowing with an ominous blue light that pulsed like a heartbeat.
"If you want to save your brother," the Whisperkin said, stepping toward the portal, "come to his school. We'll all be waiting. Of course..."
It paused at the edge of the portal, half-turned, as if grinning through the void of its face.
"You'll have to survive first."
And with that, it vanished into the light.
A heavy silence followed.
The ground still cracked under their feet, the crater steaming. A gust of wind rustled through broken signs and bent lamp posts nearby.
Mario collapsed to the ground with a thud, sitting down hard. His legs shook like jelly.
"Is… is it over?" he muttered, refusing to stand. He glanced around, trembling. "Please tell me it's over…"
But his words were met with the worst possible answer.
From the glowing portal, a new shape began to emerge.
Then another.
And another.
The light flickered wildly as dozens of figures began to pour through.
The System's warning holographic images popped in front of them one after the other.
[System Notice]
You have encountered a Gemini
Rank: Savage Beast
Species: Scarbone
Stats:
Strength: A
Agility: B
Speed: A
Intelligence: A
Final Rank: Scarbone A
Abilities: ??
Weakness: ??
[System Notice]
You have encountered a Gemini
Rank: Savage Beast
Species: Giga Titan
Stats:
Strength: A+
Speed: A+
Agility: A+
Intelligence: C
Final Rank: Giga Titan A+
Abilities: ??
Weakness: ??
[System Notice]
You have encountered a Gemini
Rank: Savage Beast
Species: Reaper
Stats:
Strength: A+
Speed: S
Agility: S
Intelligence: A+
Final Rank: Reaper S
Abilities: ??
Weakness: ??
The notifications kept flooding in. One after another. More species. More horrors. All stronger than the last. And all of them, just a single rank below the terrifying Elite level.
Their footfalls thundered as they emerged from the portal. The ground shook beneath their monstrous weight. One dragged a massive cleaver behind it, another had eyes burning like hellfire. Each of them radiated bloodlust. Each of them was death incarnate.
Ariel backed away, sweat beading down her temple. Celine clung to her arm, nearly paralyzed with fear. Darren's eyes darted, searching for a weapon, any weapon. Malric, however, remained standing, arms crossed, strangely calm in the face of incoming doom.
"If I told you," Malric said without blinking, "that you would survive till morning… would you believe me?"
Mario's head jerked toward him. His mouth twitched, his whole body trembling as he watched the growing crowd of monsters.
"Don't mess with me, you bastard!" he shouted, panic edging into his voice. "Now's not the damn time!"
But no one answered.
Because death was already walking toward them.
And it had more than one face.
********
Meanwhile, on Planet Zoic…
It had been five long, torturous months since the training began under Instructor Marius Dazai—a man who looked more like a walking nightmare than a teacher.
From the start, he'd laid out what he called the three stages of training:
Muscle Adjustment, Weak Point Correction, and Fighting Style Selection.
But Zane had a very different way of interpreting it.
Torture. Torture. And even more torture.
Five months had passed. By now, anyone would expect them to have at least moved on to the second phase.
But no.
They were still stuck in the first stage—Muscle Adjustment.
Just like the Master had warned, many trainees didn't survive. Unable to bear the agony, they decided to end their own lives.
But suicide came with a cost.
On Zoic, death during training meant revival—your body would regenerate, and you'd be forced to start over.
But if you committed suicide out of despair, you wouldn't come back. Marius made sure of that. He had a rule:
"If you waste my time by dying on your own terms… you don't get to reincarnate." It was just like the Master had warned them on their first day, except, Marius did it in his stead.
He would erase your existence permanently—as punishment for wasting the Master's time.
But Zane was still alive.
Barely.
When he had first arrived on Planet Zoic, he had died more times in a single week than most trainees did throughout the entire Muscle Adjustment phase.
The moment he stepped foot on the planet, his body collapsed—flattened by gravity far beyond Earth's own. His bones cracked under the invisible force like dry twigs.
At first, he was crushed instantly, like paper under a boot.
But slowly—painfully slowly—his body started to adapt.
He began to last longer before dying. The pressure still broke him, but now it took longer… and that only prolonged the suffering.
Imagine your bones splintering one by one, crushed under a weight you couldn't even see. Your organs slowly compressing, your vision darkening as you gasped for a breath that never came.
That was Zane's brutal introduction to Zoic.
Then came the mountain climb—a twisted ritual to determine their living quarters.
The mountain wasn't a normal one. It was a colossal beast of jagged rocks, bizarre ledges, and sheer vertical climbs that mocked your every step.
The higher you climbed, the stronger the gravity became.
Zane fell again and again.
Sometimes, he hit the ground with a sickening crunch—his neck or spine snapping cleanly from the impact, killing him instantly.
Other times, he rolled and tumbled, slamming against sharp-edged stones—some flat, some curved, some like blades carved into the mountain itself. His body would bounce off several cruel surfaces before finally going still.
Every death was different.
Every death hurt.
And every time—he came back.
He wasn't the strongest.
He wasn't the fastest.
But he knew pain better than anyone else in that place.
And that gave him an edge.
How did he endure it all?
Even though the pain was unbearable, it always came down to one thing:
Mental strength.
Back on Earth—before the apocalypse even began—Zane had already lived through hell.
At school, he had been bullied relentlessly.
Beaten. Humiliated.
Pushed around until his body ached and his spirit cracked.
Sometimes he'd go home with bruises so bad he couldn't sleep.
Other times, his body would give in, and he'd collapse with a high fever, shaking and sweating alone in the dark.
And no one cared.
He had already learned what it meant to suffer.
He had already felt what it was like to be on the edge of giving up.
But he never did.
That constant pain became fuel.
It carved his mind into steel.
So how could he—after surviving all that—be the type to commit suicide?
If torture was enough to break him, he would have ended his life long before he ever stepped foot on Zoic.
During one of those hellish training sessions…
A sudden, glowing notification popped up before Zane's eyes—hovering in the air like a digital ghost.
[System Notice]
Player is currently outside the Tutorial Zone. Awakening has been delayed.
Player has not selected a username. The right to choose a username has been revoked.
A username will be assigned automatically after personality analysis is complete.
Zane had blinked at the message, barely holding in a groan.
"Crap… I completely forgot to pick a badass name. Now I gotta act cool every second or the system might call me something stupid like... The Destroyer."
That thought had haunted him for weeks.
Now, as he lay flat on the cold stone floor of their personal training ground—right at the summit of the cursed mountain—he couldn't help but remember that moment.
Zane's body trembled, drenched in sweat. His chest rose and fell in ragged, desperate gasps. A dull, worn-out sword rested loosely in his right hand, its chipped blade stained with dust and dried blood.
His arms felt like lead. His legs refused to move. His vision was blurring at the edges.
But the training wasn't over.
Not yet.
"Come on, Zane," said a firm, clear voice. "One last time."
It was Onilia.
She stood several feet away, her sapphire eyes locked onto him like a hawk eyeing its prey.
Her breathing was steady, her shoulders were marked with dirt as she stood without a single bruise on her flawless blue skin. Her hands were wrapped in tight cloth strips for grip and protection. The tip of her sword gleamed under the light as it hung by her side, ready to strike at a moment's notice.
She looked calm—but deadly.
Over the past few months, Onilia had taken it upon herself to train Zane in whatever spare time they had between the torments of Marius Dazai's brutal sessions.
She had taught him the basics—hand-to-hand combat, weapon mastery, and battle instincts. She never went easy on him. Every lesson was a test of survival.
Zane didn't answer.
He didn't have the strength.
His tongue felt like sandpaper. His lungs burned. His body screamed for rest. He just lay there, trying to pretend she'd walk away.
But Onilia wasn't the kind to show mercy.
Without warning, she leapt into the air, her blade flashing like silver lightning as she descended toward him.
She aimed straight for his throat.
Zane's eyes snapped open.
Instinct kicked in.
With a strained grunt, he rolled to the side, the jagged gravel biting into his skin as he barely dodged her blade. The sword slammed into the ground, right where his neck had been a moment ago, sending a sharp spark flying from the rock.
Zane coughed as dust blew up into his face, but he was alive.