Chapter 7 ECHOES OF THE DEAD
Nobody slept after the corrupted Player attack.
The maintenance hub remained lit beneath flickering white floodlights while survivors whispered nervously among themselves, weapons clutched tightly in shaking hands. The illusion of safety had cracked completely.
The safe zone could protect them from ordinary monsters.
But not from what Players could become.
Riven Bourne sat near the edge of the platform beside a rusted support pillar, quietly watching the survivors reorganize themselves into smaller groups.
Patterns were already forming.
The strong gathered together.
The frightened searched for protection.
And the desperate searched for someone to blame.
Several people glanced toward Seraphine Noct while pretending not to.
She ignored them completely.
That was almost impressive.
Seraphine sat alone near the far barricade, knees pulled slightly toward her chest while the dim floodlights cast pale shadows across her face.
Most people avoided sitting near her now.
Riven understood why.
Fear always isolated what it didn’t understand.
A metallic groan echoed faintly somewhere deep in the tunnels.
Everyone stiffened instinctively.
Then silence returned.
No attack followed.
Still…
nobody relaxed afterward.
The Floor was teaching them something important.
Fear never ended here.
You simply learned how to breathe while carrying it.
The Dead Don’t Stay Quiet
Riven’s eyes slowly drifted toward the corpse of the corrupted Player.
Garrick and several others had dragged it beyond the outer barricades an hour earlier.
Yet Riven still felt strangely uneasy.
Not because of the monster itself.
Because of the System messages.
Former Player. System Corrupted.
Those words implied process.
Transformation.
Meaning there were rules behind corruption too.
And rules could be exploited.
Or broken.
A faint chime interrupted his thoughts.
LEVEL UP AVAILABLE
Unused Stat Points: 3
Riven stared at the message carefully.
Then opened his status for the first time intentionally.
PLAYER STATUS
Name:
Riven Bourne
Class:
Archivist
Level:
3
Stats
STR: 6
AGI: 8
VIT: 7
FOC: 13
INSTINCT: 19
Skills
[Appraisal Lv.2]
[Pattern Recognition — Passive]
Instinct was abnormally high now.
Far higher than his other stats.
And unlike Strength or Agility…
he still didn’t fully understand what it did.
Riven allocated two points into Instinct.
One into Focus.
The moment he confirmed—
pain exploded through his skull.
He nearly collapsed sideways.
Information flooded his vision violently.
Fragments.
Images.
Voices.
Blood.
Screaming.
Dark towers beneath endless red skies.
Then—
something enormous opening its eyes somewhere impossibly far away.
Riven gasped sharply.
The vision vanished instantly.
His breathing became uneven.
Across the platform, Seraphine looked toward him immediately.
She noticed.
Interesting.
Most people wouldn’t have.
Riven steadied himself slowly.
What the hell was that?
No System message appeared afterward.
Which disturbed him even more.
Seraphine’s Secret
Several minutes later, Seraphine quietly approached and sat beside him.
For a while neither spoke.
The safe zone hummed softly around them.
Generators.
Whispers.
Distant tunnel echoes.
Finally, Seraphine broke the silence.
“You saw something.”
Not a question.
Riven glanced sideways.
“How do you know?”
“You looked the same way dying people do.”
“…Comforting.”
A faint smile appeared briefly on her face.
Then faded.
Her expression became serious again.
“The dead are louder here.”
Riven frowned slightly.
“What does that mean?”
Seraphine stared toward the dark tunnels beyond the barricades.
“At first I thought my class only let me hear emotional echoes.”
Her fingers tightened slightly around the handle of her screwdriver.
“But now…”
She hesitated.
“…I think they’re trying to warn me.”
Cold silence settled briefly between them.
Riven studied her carefully.
“You really hear them?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
No dramatics.
Just honesty.
That made it harder to dismiss.
“What do they say?”
Seraphine’s expression darkened slightly.
“That something beneath the Floors is awake.”
A distant metallic scream echoed through the tunnels immediately afterward.
Almost like confirmation.
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Then footsteps approached.
Heavy. Confident.
Draven Holt stopped near the barricade carrying a massive improvised hammer over one shoulder.
Unlike most survivors, he looked energized rather than exhausted.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Covered in blood that mostly wasn’t his.
Three other survivors followed behind him carrying scavenged supplies.
People looked relieved when he passed.
Natural charisma.
Natural frontline presence.
Riven noticed instantly.
Draven grinned after spotting them.
“So this is where the famous monster-killers are hiding.”
Seraphine rolled her eyes slightly.
“You’re loud.”
“And you’re creepy. We all have strengths.”
One of the survivors behind him laughed nervously.
Draven dropped a heavy supply bag onto the platform.
“Found a maintenance storage room , two tunnels east. Food, tools, water.”
Several survivors immediately looked hopeful.
Actual resources changed everything.
Draven glanced toward Riven afterward.
“You’re Bourne, right?”
Riven nodded once.
“Heard you killed a Hunter.”
“With help.”
“Still killed it.”
Draven sat nearby without invitation.
“I like competent people. Means my odds improve.”
Direct.
Blunt.
Not stupid.
Interesting.
Riven noticed something else too.
Blue text hovered faintly above Draven.
Draven Holt
Class: Vanguard
Threat Assessment: High Combat Potential
The first time Appraisal had revealed another Player’s class directly.
Either the skill was improving…
or Draven wasn’t hiding it intentionally.
Draven leaned slightly against the barricade.
“Safe zone won’t hold long.”
Riven looked toward him.
“You know something?”
“Not exactly.” Draven shrugged. “Just common sense. Places like this always collapse eventually.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Floor 1 constantly escalated pressure.
Static survival contradicted the System’s design.
The Floor wanted movement.
Conflict.
Adaptation.
Draven continued casually:
“People are already splitting into groups too.”
That caught Riven’s attention immediately.
“Based on?”
“Strength mostly.”
Of course.
Draven nodded toward the far side of the platform where several armed survivors guarded supply crates aggressively.
“Some people already think resources belong to whoever can defend them.”
Seraphine snorted softly.
“Humanity lasted almost five hours before becoming tribal.”
“Honestly better than expected,” Draven replied.
Another faint smile nearly appeared on her face again.
Riven noticed.
And apparently so did Draven.
Interesting.
The Hidden Door
A sudden scream shattered the conversation.
Everyone surged upright instantly.
One of the outer barricade guards stumbled backward pointing toward the eastern tunnel.
“There’s movement!”
Weapons rose immediately.
Floodlights shifted.
Survivors crowded together nervously.
Then,
a child emerged from the darkness.
Alone.
Maybe ten years old.
Covered in dirt and blood.
The platform froze.
The boy looked terrified.
“Please,” he whispered weakly. “Help my sister…”
Several survivors hesitated immediately.
Trap possibility.
Monster bait.
Nobody moved.
The boy started crying.
“She’s hurt…”
Draven cursed softly under his breath.
Seraphine’s expression tightened.
Riven studied the child carefully.
Then his Instinct stat flared violently.
A sharp pulse behind his eyes.
Wrong.
Something was wrong.
The child’s shadow moved half a second slower than his body.
Riven stood instantly.
“Don’t let him inside.”
The boy looked toward him.
And smiled.
Too wide.
The floodlights exploded simultaneously.
Darkness swallowed the platform.
Then screaming began.
