A plastic tube snaked into the back of his hand, a lifeline he never asked for. "I just don't know why I'm still alive," Hazel murmured, the sterile white of the hospital ceiling blurring above him.
Eighteen years. Half of them spent within these sterile walls, his heart a faulty engine ticking against the odds. The doctors had long ago given up on explanations for his continued existence, a medical anomaly clinging to life despite a failing heart. Yet, here he was, still tethered to the drip, still breathing.
A strange quiet blanketed the hospital, even for the late hour. Had the night staff vanished? The thought flickered through Hazel's mind, quickly overshadowed by a more pressing urge. Ivy. He needed to see her. With a grimace of effort, he peeled off the sticky pads and yanked out the thin tubes, the familiar beeping of the monitors falling silent. Death was an old acquaintance; what did a few more risks matter? Leaving only the IV line trailing like a morbid leash, he slipped out of bed and into the oppressive darkness of the hallway.
An unsettling darkness clung to the corridor. Usually, a dim glow illuminated the way for restless patients, but tonight, only shadows danced in the corners. Had everyone truly succumbed to sleep? He approached a door, a sliver of light escaping beneath it, and without hesitation, pushed it open.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to leave your bed?" A voice, soft yet laced with concern, greeted him. Miss Ivy sat bathed in the cool glow of a laptop screen, her pink hair seeming to emit its own gentle light. She didn't even look up. "You should be resting."
"And miss your night shift?" Hazel retorted, leaning against the doorframe. "It's boring in there, and you didn't say you'd be here."
Ivy finally looked up, her brow furrowed. "That's exactly why I didn't tell you, Hazel! You have no regard for your health."
"We both know this old ticker of mine is a lost cause," Hazel said with a shrug. "Besides, I've got a guardian angel, remember?"
A sigh escaped Ivy's lips. "Very funny. Now, back to bed. Or I'll make sure Dr. Evans hears about this little excursion."
"Fine, fine," Hazel conceded, turning back towards the hallway.
He hadn't taken more than a few steps when a violent sound ripped through the quiet – a muffled cry, followed by a sickening thud. It came from Ivy's room. Adrenaline surged through Hazel, overriding the weakness in his chest. The drip bounced against his arm as he sprinted back, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
Just before he reached the door, a searing pain tore through his lungs, and he coughed, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth. He ignored it. Bursting into the room, the sight that greeted him was nightmarish. A figure cloaked in shadow, impossibly tall and gaunt, had Ivy by the throat. The air around it seemed to ripple with cold. The Grim Reaper. The legend made terrifyingly real. He was dragging her towards the window.
Hazel's mind screamed. He wouldn't let this happen. His gaze frantically scanned the room, landing on a wickedly curved blade lying discarded on the floor. He lunged for it. Too late. With a sickening crack, the Reaper's grip tightened, and Ivy's body went limp. Fury, raw and potent, erupted within Hazel.
The Reaper, momentarily distracted, turned its attention to Hazel. Before it could react, Hazel plunged the strange blade into its chest. A black ichor oozed from the wound. The Reaper hissed, a sound that seemed to chill the very air, and with a final, desperate act, lashed out, a spectral claw tearing into Hazel's side. Both of them crashed to the floor, the Reaper's momentum carrying it backwards, its shadowy form disappearing out the shattered window.
Darkness crept in at the edges of Hazel's vision. Ivy... I failed you. A bitter regret washed over him. You should be here, not me. The last thing he felt was a coldness spreading through his chest, the frantic thumping of his heart slowing, fading...
Then, a voice, clear and artificial, echoed in his mind: [System Installation Complete.]
What...?
[Congratulations, Player.]
Player? Am I... dead? Is this some kind of afterlife joke?
[You have defeated a High-Ranking Entity. Level Up!]
[Current Level: 10. New Skill Unlocked: Dead Summoning Lv1.]
[A corpse with significant power is available for summoning.]
A window of text, stark and intrusive, flashed before his fading inner eye: [Summon Blossom Queen?]
With a final, bewildered thought, Hazel whispered, "Yes..."
In the darkness, Ivy's lifeless form shimmered and dissolved, only to coalesce again, rising slowly from the floor. A glowing symbol pulsed on her chest. Her eyes snapped open, no longer vacant but filled with an eerie light. She wore a dress of swirling black and vibrant pink, and a sword of the same hues materialized in her hand.
Then, the sterile scent of antiseptic filled Hazel's nostrils. He was back in his hospital bed, the concerned faces of doctors and police officers hovering above him. "Good morning, Mister Willow," a doctor said gently. A throbbing ache resonated in Hazel's head as he pushed himself up.
"My head..." he groaned, disoriented. The room swam into focus, and the memory of Ivy, the Reaper, the impossible messages, crashed back into him. "Ivy! Where is she? Is she alright?" Panic clawed at his throat.
The doctors exchanged grave looks, urging him to calm down. Finally, the lead physician spoke, his voice soft with sympathy. "...I'm afraid Miss Ivy didn't make it, Hazel. We did everything we could. I'm so sorry."
A raw cry tore from Hazel's chest, and the world blurred through a film of tears. Grief, sharp and agonizing, consumed him.
"Come now," the doctor said, placing a comforting hand on Hazel's arm. "There's... well, there's one unexpected piece of good news. Your heart condition... it's gone. We can't explain it, but the tests are clear."
Just then, a voice boomed in the minds of everyone in the world, clear and undeniable: [GLOBAL ALERT: The world will face a catastrophic event in 24 hours. Prepare for the emergence of monstrous entities. A system will be implemented, offering occupational paths for survival. Choose wisely. This is not a drill.]
Chaos erupted in the hospital room, mirroring the pandemonium surely breaking out across the globe. "What in God's name was that?" the head officer exclaimed, his face pale with shock. He barked orders at his colleagues, and they rushed out of the room.
As the world grappled with the unbelievable announcement, a new notification appeared in Hazel's mind: [Occupational Selection Available.] But when he tried to access it, a stark warning flashed: [Warning: Player already possesses an occupation.]
Ignoring the growing sense of dread, Hazel turned to the doctor, his voice thick with unshed tears. "Please... can I see Ivy one last time?" The doctor, understanding the depth of their bond, nodded sadly.
With minutes ticking down to the unknown apocalypse, Hazel stood beside Ivy's still form, a profound sorrow weighing him down. "I wish..." he whispered, his voice cracking, "I wish it was me."
Then, the world outside the hospital windows exploded in a cacophony of sound and light. The ground trembled. Monsters, grotesque and terrifying, began to spill into the streets.
In Hazel's mind, the artificial voice returned: [Player has successfully acquired the Reaper Class.]
[Current Level: 10. New Skill Unlocked: Dead Summoning Lv1.]
[A corpse with significant power is available for summoning.]
The familiar prompt appeared: [Summon Blossom Queen?]
Without hesitation, Hazel thought, Yes.
And once more, Ivy's lifeless body shimmered and reformed, rising with an unnatural grace, the black and pink of her attire and blade stark against the grim reality of the unfolding apocalypse. Hazel could only stare, a whirlwind of grief, confusion, and a dawning sense of the bizarre destiny that had been thrust upon him.