No Mana, Only Mastery

The old convenience store, the one I used to work at, had somehow turned into my sanctuary. Spear leaned against the wall, the chipped paint and flickering lights of the place reminded me of the dull monotony of my old life. Funny, isn't it? Back then, I thought stocking shelves and dodging rude customers was hell. Turns out, I had no idea what real hell looked like.

This place had once been my workplace, where the biggest threat was a customer trying to buy expired milk. Now it was my fortress, a resting spot for me and what was left of my group. Emphasis on was. Snacks on the shelves, space to stretch out, and enough storage to hoard supplies made it a perfect base. Too bad all that convenience didn't stop it from feeling like a tomb.

The store wasn't much, but it had snacks, space, and storage—a decent base of rest for me. I came here because it was quiet, a place to think. I didn't want to die—that much was clear. But that left me with one miserable option: survive.

Survive against the Revenants. Endlessly. Forever.

The truth was simple: I didn't want to die. No profound reason, no heroic resolve, just good old-fashioned self-preservation.

The System had confirmed it: the Revenants reset every five days, no exceptions. I'd killed them three days ago, so that left me with two days to prepare. Two days to make sure I didn't end up as their next meal. And thanks to their heightened senses and insatiable hunger for human flesh, they'd find me quickly. I was, after all, the last human left.

I wasn't here to relax. That's a luxury I gave up the moment Revenants started pouring out of the woodwork, blood-hungry nightmares with one goal—meat. Specifically, human meat. I came here to think because thinking was all I had left. No group. No backup. Just me, a spear, and this godforsaken system that turned my life into a bad survival game.

I let out a long, shaky breath and leaned my head back against the wall. "If I'm so hell-bent on living, I need to get used to this," I muttered to myself. No one was around to hear me, but the sound of my voice somehow made the situation feel less suffocating.

Step one, assess my situation. I thought about my stats, and the familiar blue holographic window materialized before me, floating in midair like some cruel joke from a video game.

[Name: Lance]

[Level: 1]

[Mana: None]

[Skills: Piercing Thrust]

[Special Talent: Weapon Mastery]

[Class: Spearman]

[Titles: Survivor]

Still Level 1. Still no mana. No surprises there. My mastery with the spear had leveled up to 5, and my Piercing Thrust skill had evolved. That part was new—and honestly, intriguing. Evolution? I hadn't even known that was possible. If skills could evolve, maybe there was more to this System than I'd initially thought. Did that mean the more I mastered the spear, the more my skills would adapt?

Of course, without mana, magic skills were off the table for me. I was stuck with physical skills, which were entirely dependent on what I knew or could learn. For instance, if I'd picked up a bow, but didn't know how to shoot it properly, the System wouldn't magically grant me archery skills.

That's why I'd gone with the spear. Simple, effective, and it only required one basic technique: thrust. It was something I'd seen a hundred times in action movies and video games. Laughable, sure, but when the world ends, you don't get time for formal training.

[Titles: Survivor]

I shifted my gaze to the "Survivor" title in my status window. This was new, something I'd earned after killing the Revenants. The rest of my group had picked up a few titles before, but this was my first. Titles, as I recalled, came with buffs—perks that could turn the tide in life-or-death situations.

Curious, I reached out and tapped the title. The holographic interface felt insubstantial, like I was poking a shadow. A new window popped up, spilling out a block of text.

[Info]

[Survivor:

A rare Title awarded to Runners who have endured extreme hardship, overcome impossible odds, or outlasted others in life-threatening situations and choose to survive nonetheless.]

[Buffs:]

[Tenacity Boost: Slightly restores health or stamina when critically low.

Adrenaline Surge: Temporarily increases speed and strength when cornered or outnumbered.

Last Stand: Grants a minor damage reduction when health is low.]

[Debuffs:]

[Paranoid Instincts: The user may occasionally perceive neutral individuals or situations as threats, leading to overly cautious behavior.]

I read through the details, squinting at the text. "Well, would you look at that," I muttered. "The System finally gave me something useful." The buffs were solid. Tenacity Boost alone could save my life in a tight spot, and Adrenaline Surge? That was a game-changer.

The debuff, though? That was going to be a problem. Paranoid Instincts. Great. Because I wasn't already one bad day away from losing my mind.

Still, it was something. A small edge in a game that was rigged against me. If I was going to survive the Revenants again in two days, I'd need every advantage I could get.

For now, I had a plan: stay alive. And if the System wanted to throw me a bone, who was I to complain?

The world had gone to hell for a year now, and I was still here, trudging through it with a spear and a whole lot of regret. You'd think after twelve months of Revenants tearing through humanity like a bad B-movie plot, I'd have some master survival plan. Nope. Just me, my trusty spear, and an uncanny knack for not dying.

Revenants, I'd learned, weren't exactly subtle. Sure, they were fast, strong, and had that whole "undead nightmare" aesthetic, but they weren't smart. Their greatest strengths were their senses—hearing and scent, mostly. They didn't just find you; they hunted you. Blood and sound were their dinner bell, and in a city littered with debris and death, there was plenty to keep them busy. I just had to use that to my advantage.

I stared at my spear, as if the thing could offer some advice. "Alright, big guy," I muttered. "If I'm going to survive this, I need a plan. A real one. Not just 'stab everything that moves.'"

The idea hit me like a halfhearted epiphany. They're drawn to sound and blood, right? What if I could use that against them? Scatter them across the city, make them chase their own tails while I picked them off in smaller groups. Divide and conquer, classic strategy. If it worked for generals, maybe it'd work for a guy with a spear and a bad attitude.