Levelling Up System In The Apocalypse-Chapter 27: Derek’s Progress.(I)

[System Notification: Sarcasm detected. Please focus.]

"Bite me," Derek growled, jamming Night Fang into the spasming bug's oversized eye. The blade hissed and sizzled as it met acidic liquid, steam rising from the socket as the monster's limbs convulsed one last time. He yanked the short sword free with a wet shlorp, viscous fluid trailing behind it like molten tar. His arm trembled slightly, but he ignored it—he'd stopped noticing the little tremors days ago. Hunger, thirst, exhaustion—they were all just background noise now.

He turned as a wet squelch sounded from the shadows.

Five ghouls stumbled into view, oozing green sludge from slack jaws and slashed bellies. Their gait was uneven, like rotting puppets tugged by strings too loose to care. The smell hit next—something between vomit, spoiled meat, and sewage left to ferment in a tomb. Their eyes glowed like dying coals, fixed on him with mindless hunger, each dragging jagged nails and rusted bone shards as weapons.

[Activating Title: "Dog Serial Killer"][Boosting stats by 20% against Nether Beasts]

"Bring it on, you sewage-sucking nightmares."

Flash Steps activated. His body blurred, wind hissing past his ears as the world slowed. Derek surged forward like a phantom, boots slamming against stone, mana pulsing like a second heartbeat through his limbs. Mana Echo thrummed in his chest, waiting to detonate behind his next attack. He slashed—Night Fang carved through one ghoul from collarbone to pelvis, bisecting it with a flare of burning mana. The corpse barely had time to realise it was dead.

A bone spear was already in his off-hand. He flung it with practised violence, the jagged tip spinning midair before it snapped through a second ghoul's throat, pinning it to a stalagmite with a crunch that echoed. Its limbs flailed, scrabbling until they went limp.

The third ghoul got lucky.

It lunged from Derek's blind spot and raked its claw across his bicep—skin split open in a flash of pain, blood spraying hot and fast. He hissed through clenched teeth, teeth grinding as his vision flared red for a moment. But pain didn't stop him. Not anymore.

[Adaptive Combat - Progressing...]

The slash registered. His stance shifted instinctively. Muscles adjusted. His elbow rolled differently this time, leading into his next strike smoother, tighter, faster. It was learning. He was learning.

His HP bar dipped below the halfway mark.

[D-rank Skill Unlocked – Suppressed Mode Engaged]

Something clicked inside him.

His blood ignited.

It was not fire—it was pressure. Weight. A boiling in his marrow. His skin flushed as strength poured into his limbs like molten iron filling cracks in a broken mould. Veins bulged. Pupils narrowed. Time bent.

Every breath was now a roar in his skull.

He moved.

The third ghoul didn't even see it coming. Derek's fist crushed its face before Night Fang followed up, carving through its midsection like paper. He turned on the fourth, severing its arm at the elbow, then jamming the sword through its forehead, pinning it to the ground like a nail. The fifth tried to flee. It made it five steps.

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Derek tackled it, driving his knee into its spine, then pounded its skull into the rock until there was nothing left but wet pulp.

[You have slain 5 Nether Beasts. +1000 EXP.][EXP: 4400 / 50000]

He stood over the corpses, chest heaving, fingers twitching with leftover energy. Steam rose from his shoulders as the temporary strength boost bled away, and the red tint faded from his vision. His arms were slick with blood—his or theirs, he wasn't sure anymore. The scent of scorched flesh, acidic rot, and cold stone clung to everything.

He looked around. Nothing moved. No flower bloomed. No glowing path opened. Just more bones. More waiting.

His HP ticked down slowly as the adrenaline faded. He wiped Night Fang on a ghoul's ragged cloak and sheathed it.

Still not enough.Still no flower.

He stared at the blackened walls of the cave, at the flickering fungus lights casting shadows that danced like demons. Every nerve in his body screamed for rest, for something other than slaughter and silence. And yet—

Derek exhaled slowly, crouched down beside one of the corpses, and began carving out another femur with his blade.

"Number eighteen," he muttered. "Welcome to the family."