Level-Up Apocalypse: Surviving With The Assimilation System

While he was still feeling adrenaline coursing through his body, he decided to take the advice of the man. He breathed out, shutting his eyes as all thoughts were forced from his mind.

Pushing away the thoughts of the nameless killer was difficult; like a virus in his head every time he closed his eyes.

Still, enough concentration left a canvas for him to fill in—

["Dreamwalking Initiated."]

Through that cold kaleidoscope, he felt confident in where he'd end up. As his heart throbbed in his chest and his mind ran a hundred miles of thought, he didn't open his eyes again until he felt the air shift.

That dust-filled air, the smell of unwashed steel; he opened his eyes.

He was back, standing in the depths of the hellish basement as a nauseating stench greeted him immediately; the scent of death. The hairs on his arm stood as he looked down, finding a puddle of blood beneath his boot.

It was hard to even look down, as his eyes had immediately begun to blur as they watered up, already assuming what he'd find. At his feet, he found that stomach-sinking sight; the silver-clad knight was laid on his back, clasping at his own throat with weak gargles.

"Jasper…!" Finn shouted.

He immediately knelt down to try and help cover his friend's neck, though his hand was grabbed by the bleeding man's own.

"Jasper?--" He looked down at his companion.

Though the cut on his throat was lethal, the look in Jasper's eyes back up at him was resolved, as if telling him not to worry and to keep going. It was difficult to stand back up, leaving his friend there in such a state, but he forced himself to his feet.

The thought remained–where was Nikko? Charlotte?

It was far too quiet in the huge, dark room; much too silent.

Further steps were taken without noise as he gripped the handles of his daggers as tight as he could, listening for the slightest hint of the killer's presence.

"F…Finn…?"

The weak, almost whisper that trembled out brought him to step closer as he found the voice through the darkness.

Leaning against a shelf, sat on the floor, the bloodied sight of the blue-haired girl immediately filled him with despair and anger.

"Charlotte—!" He called out, rushing over to her side as he lowered himself to a knee.

She looked at him with eyes that looked to be struggling to hold onto consciousness, clutching her own chest. An abundance of blood seeped from the center of her torso, spilling out as much as she attempted to stop it.

Another lethal wound; time was running out, like fickle sand fleeing to the bottom of an hourglass. While a range of emotions fought within him, he tempered himself with a breath, grasping the hand of the bloodied hand of the girl with his own.

"Just hold on…I'll take care of this. I'll kill this monster…I'll kill him, so you and Jasper will be fine," he assured her, lightly squeezing her hand as he looked into her eyes for assurance. Read latest chapters at empire

It came down to a matter as simple as that; to kill to gain experience, having to gamble on the fact it'd be enough to bring Jasper and Charlotte to the next level. If not, their wounds would not be fixed–it would be certain death.

'At the end of the day, this is what it comes down to. All that ever seems to matter in this messed up world…I have to kill–that's just how it is,' he convinced himself.

A part of him didn't want to let go of her hand, feeling as though she'd be whisked away by the wind the moment he did.

All he could do was bank on his hope as he rose to his feet after receiving a weak nod from the girl.

As he stood there, a noise like tin being bent and torn scraped against his ears. That scraping turned to abrasive gunfire, briefly allowing flashes to push away the darkness. He followed the sound and light, sprinting over, navigating between the shelves as though it were a labyrinth of steel.

A single light from the ceiling flickered, shining down on the sight of the operated robot being split apart from behind by a foul hunting knife.

Sparks flew out as electricity buzzed, only allowing the distorted voice of Nikko to transmit, "Finn! Run–don't try and fight this one alone! He's–!"

Before the robot could finish its transmission, the hand of the nameless man grasped its head from behind, squeezing down as the metallic bits were squashed like a fruit. Like loose tin being discarded to a junkyard, the remnants of the robot were tossed aside, leaving the sight of the silent man staring at him from across the aisle.

–A freshly stitched stomach.

–A skewered appendix.

–A fake arm.

–A restriction on his skills.

–Exhaustion throughout his body.

Factoring in the cards he was playing with, he found himself not sitting all too in favor of coming out on top against [Nameless]. With [Zombie] reducing the effects of his wounds and mitigating his fatigue, it was the only reason he was even on his feet.

Even with cuts on his body and a gash in his neck, it didn't look as if the sinister figure was slowed down at all.

Considering all of that, when staring down the knife-wielding freak that seemed to be savoring the situation, waiting for him to approach, he didn't feel disheartened.

'--I don't have to do this alone. That night–you were there with me, weren't you? So, I hope you won't mind if I ask for your help again,' Finn resolved, looking at his palm.

Stuffing a breath into his lungs, he pushed the air out with a quiet, firm word, "Replication."

The invocation lured in the black mass, emerging from the seams in the ground as it rose and took the shape of what was imprinted on the young man's mind.

To his right, he looked over at what, or rather, who was summoned by the skill; the stature of the man who stood a head taller than him, broadly built and clad in bulky armor. That same pose, carrying that oversized axe over his shoulder as though it were made of plastic.

"Damian," Finn said with a small smile.

It felt nostalgic, standing there beside the warrior, facing down an enemy in a life-or-death situation. A Tuesday for him, after all–that's the world they lived in. Still, accompanied by a recreation of his lost friend, the exhaustion that plagued his body was pushed aside, subsided by the warmth of hope.

"We're up against a real monster here, so…Well, I don't need to tell you. I'm sure you know what to do," Finn spoke to the replicated warrior. "Just have my back."

Sight was lost of the nameless man ahead, though Finn felt the malicious presence directly behind him. He spun himself around, ducking beneath the slash of steel that attempted to split his neck wide open.

In the same motion as he turned and bent his knees, he moved his arm with the intent of eviscerating the killer's abdomen with his dagger. At the same time, the axe of the warrior moved for the enemy's head; a two-front assault.

The resistance forced the malicious figure to slip back, immediately delving back into the chaotic environment. He chose not to let him, hunting down the murderer without a second thought as he sprinted towards the fleeing shadow.

'Is he trying to buy time–? Wait for us all to bleed out? No–he has to be on the same clock, and that's not how this one thinks–he enjoys the hunt,' he considered amidst his sprint.

When approaching the corner between shelves where he watched the man go, he pressed the soles of his boots against the concrete flooring. Coming to a grinding halt, he slowed his momentum just enough as a sharpness passed just in front of his neck.

A moment later in discovering the bait would've led him to a bleeding throat as he flipped back. As he landed, he slammed his right foot down just as that sinister figure emerged from between the towering racks–

["Commanding Stomp"]

The concrete caved in beneath his boot, shattering as a shock wave roared forth. For the first time, the killer seemed to be caught off-guard by something as the rippling force seemed to interrupt his balance for just a moment.

That brief second was enough; Damian closed in from the flank of [Nameless], swiftly arriving with his imposing stature as the axe was swung for the enemy's neck.

SQUELCH

The blade of the axe met flesh, though didn't greet the killer's neck quite yet; as an impromptu shield, the thick, muscular forearm of [Nameless] intercepted the blade. Though the inhuman act of stopping that mighty axe with nothing but a forearm was an incredible fear, it was Damian managing to harm the killer that surprised Finn in that moment.

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