The escort's screams had already begun to fade into wet, choking gurgles by the time Nara pushed away from the oak tree. She didn't waste a second looking back. The man was on his knees now, body locked rigid, face swollen and twitching as the Blackthorn Spider venom did its brutal work. His eyes were wide open, frozen in pure terror, but he could not move. Not even to blink.
She stared at the shattered remains of the specimen jar still clutched in her hand. The spider itself was gone—long dead, preserved for study—but the residue of its venom had done more than enough. Thick black fluid glistened across the escort's face and neck, dripping slowly onto his armor.
No time to think. Thinking got people killed.
Nara snatched the heavy Grimoire satchel from the ground where it had fallen, slung it over her shoulder, and grabbed Pip by the scruff of its ragged tunic. The goblin made a small surprised clicking sound but didn't resist. She moved fast in the opposite direction from the burning torch, slipping between trees and into deeper shadow while the remaining three escorts were still distracted by the flames and the sudden screams.
Her bare feet found purchase on soft moss and damp earth. The satchel slammed against her hip with punishing weight, but she kept running. Pip twisted free from her grip and ran beside her again, small legs pumping, grey eyes scanning the terrain ahead with unnatural focus.
They put another hundred meters between themselves and the chaos before Nara finally dropped behind a large boulder covered in lichen. She pressed her back against the cool stone, breathing steady despite the exertion. No burning lungs. No pounding heart threatening to burst. Just the same cold, even rhythm she had maintained since waking up grey.
Pip crouched beside her, ears twitching toward the distant sounds of Kael shouting orders.
She pulled the manual from the satchel with shaking fingers—not from fear, but from the sheer need to understand what she had just unleashed. She flipped frantically to the creature index, scanning entries until she found the Blackthorn Spider page.
The text was clinical and warning-heavy.
Blackthorn Spider – Zone 3 SpecimenClassification: Arachnid PredatorVenom Profile: Neuro-paralytic compound of extreme potency.Effects on living subjects: Complete muscular paralysis within seconds. Duration 4-6 hours. Respiratory failure possible in high doses. Antidote requires Zone 3-grade neutralizing agents.Handling protocol: DO NOT OPEN. Specimen preserved in stasis solution for research purposes only.
Nara read the entire entry twice, committing every line to memory. She glanced down at her own hands. Traces of the black venom still clung to her fingers and smeared across her palm from when she had smashed the jar. She should be paralyzed. She should be lying on the ground beside the escort, helpless while Kael caught up.
Instead, her grey life bar remained unchanged at twenty-three percent. No debuff. No numbness spreading through her limbs. The venom simply did not affect her.
She added another fact to the growing mental list she kept about her new state:
Undead physiology – immune to standard paralytic toxins.Passive resistance to Zone 3-level venom confirmed.
The list was getting longer by the hour. Undead. Grey death. Glitch Necromancy class. Ability to see and command minion status panels. Now venom immunity. Each new piece felt like another crack widening in the cage she had escaped.
Pip made a low, urgent chirp—the first sound she had heard from the goblin that carried real alarm instead of simple obedience. The creature tugged at her sleeve again, pointing upward into the trees with one clawed finger.
Nara followed its gaze.
Something massive moved slowly through the canopy shadows about thirty meters away. A hulking shape, easily three times the height of a man, shoulders broad as a wagon. Stone-like skin covered in moss and old scars. Its movements were sluggish, almost drunken, as if the creature was fighting against its own weight.
Dead.
She could tell instantly. The same way she had known the goblin was dead before she revived it. There was a stillness beneath the motion, a hollow quality that living things simply did not have. The stone troll—Level 7 according to the faint System marker that flickered above it—had been killed recently enough that its body was still warm. Deep gashes crisscrossed its chest and throat. Whatever had brought it down had done the job thoroughly but left the corpse mostly intact.
Her hand was already reaching before her mind finished processing the thought.
Fingers extended through the ferns toward the dead troll. The satchel strap was still looped around her other arm. Pip watched her silently, grey eyes reflecting the same faint corruption that marked everything connected to her now.
The troll's massive head turned slightly in their direction, as if sensing something even in death. One heavy arm dragged across the forest floor, leaving deep grooves in the dirt.
Nara's fingertips brushed cool, stone-like skin.
She did not pull back.
The question burned in her mind with cold, mathematical clarity:
How powerful was what she could revive?