The sensation of drifting weightlessly through a sea of stars never got old. As Zihad re-entered Dream Land Fantasy, the familiar rush of magic in the air welcomed him. Colors sharpened, the world breathed again, and his body was no longer that of a quiet high school topper. Here, he was something else entirely.
The Phantom Reaper.
His boots crunched against the gravel path of a misty forest—one he hadn't visited during the initial eight-hour session. The location was nestled deep in the cursed region of Duskfall Hollow, a forgotten zone filled with spirits, undead, and secrets no average player would dare to touch at such a low level.
But Zihad wasn't average. Not in the real world, and definitely not here.
Trees towered above him like skeletal hands stretching into the cloudy sky. Ghostly fog swirled around his feet. The air was heavy with silence, the kind that made your skin crawl with anticipation.
He moved with precision, steps light, as if dancing with the shadows. His black-and-silver cloak barely whispered as he moved.
A notification pinged softly.
System Notice: You have entered [Forbidden Zone: The Withering Woods].
Difficulty: Nightmare.
Recommended Level: 25+
Zihad was Level 12.
He grinned under his hood. "Let's see how far I can push it tonight."
Deep in the woods, he wasn't alone.
Glowing eyes blinked in the dark. A low, chittering hiss crawled through the fog. Then another. And another. From behind the gnarled trees, translucent figures began to emerge. Wraiths, ten of them, followed by a slow-moving creature wrapped in chains—a Cursed Guardian.
Zihad lifted one hand, his fingers twitching with practiced rhythm. A magic circle spun beneath his boots.
Skill Activated: Phantom Threads
A string of dark energy zipped through the fog, connecting him to the nearest wraith. It froze mid-screech as the life drained from its form, its essence absorbed into Zihad's body.
[Soul Extracted: Lesser Wraith]
The others attacked all at once.
Zihad disappeared.
Or rather, he seemed to. Shadowstep activated mid-motion, leaving behind a blur as he reappeared behind the Cursed Guardian.
His scythe materialized from black mist, a haunting, curved weapon etched with runes only he could read. The swing was fast—clean, cutting through both flesh and curse.
[Critical Hit!]
[Cursed Guardian HP: 87%]
He was already moving again.
Wraiths tried to surround him. One lunged.
He crouched low and cast Echo Clone, spawning a dark silhouette that mimicked his attack patterns.
While the clone kept half the wraiths busy, Zihad darted between shadows, his movements impossible to track.
Another skill shimmered at his fingertips.
Skill Activated: Soul Forge (Tier 1)
A summon rose from the ground—a skeletal knight, cloaked in ghostfire.
[Undead Summoned: Soul Knight - Rank C]
"Keep them distracted," Zihad ordered, his voice low but commanding.
The Soul Knight charged forward, its blade clashing with the Cursed Guardian.
Now free to move, Zihad raised his hand toward the remaining wraiths.
Skill Activated: Soul Flare
A blast of compressed necrotic energy rippled outward, exploding in silence. Three wraiths vanished instantly.
[Enemies Defeated: 3]
[XP Gained: 4500]
[Level Up!]
[Level Up!]
[You are now Level 14]
His breath came steady. No excitement. Just data, precision, improvement.
He checked the system timer.
Time Logged In: 12 minutes.
Zihad exhaled slowly.
He hadn't even started yet.
High above him, hidden in the trees, two cloaked figures watched.
"He took out the Guardian in under thirty seconds."
"And at Level 12. He shouldn't even be in this region."
"Notify the guild. I think we've found the hidden class user."
The second figure nodded, disappearing into the shadows.
The first lingered, narrowing their eyes as Zihad finished absorbing the last wraith soul. His scythe pulsed faintly, as if hungering for more.
As Zihad left the clearing, he opened his quest log. Still blank.
He hadn't accepted any quests.
That was intentional.
He didn't need standard progression. Every action he took was carefully chosen to evolve his class in secret. The Phantom Reaper wasn't just a fusion of assassin, mage, and necromancer. It was more. Something still evolving.
Something only he understood.
His goal tonight wasn't experience points.
It was a name.
Rumors had begun to circulate in the deeper layers of the game—rumors of an NPC called the Memory Keeper. A spirit that only appeared to those who walked the edge of death without dying. It held information on ancient classes, forbidden powers, and remnants of the game's original lore.
Zihad wanted to find it.
Not because it offered strength—but because it might help him understand the thing that scared him most:
Parts of the game were moving without his code.
As if Dream Land Fantasy was evolving on its own.
And if that was true, the real danger wasn't other players.
It was the game itself.
End of Chapter 11