Miles' eyes sprang open, as he stared right through the ceiling of his bed.

  His eyes is obviously a lot more keener than before, As it was honed by what might have been hours or days spent gripping a firearm in his sleep.

  "That's felt so real.."

  Even though, the weapon itself had been no more than shadow and light, woven from the stuff of dreams.

  But, the muscle memory is something that the dream have no hold off.

  Without hesitation, he reached for the real SIG Sauer M17 beside his pillow.

  "I could feel weight.. it was a bit different to that M17 in the dream, Could I feel the recoil?.."

  His fingers found the safety with instinctive ease; his breathing settled into a steady, measured rhythm. Slowly, deliberately, his hand grew accustomed to the weapon's solid weight heftier, more real than anything he'd held in his sleep.

  Looking into the M17 in his hand, his expression was shown through his face.

  Looking down at the gleaming metal in his palms, excitement played across his face- raw and bright, a stark contrast to the fear he'd felt facing his first Cursed.

  This time, it was not tool of dreams; this was the real thing, and the thrill of it thrummed through his veins.

  As if in response to his rising anticipation, his phone burst to life with a lively chime and flashing warning:

  [Warning - 3x Cursed Detected near your room. 4 meters away.]

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  "They're Approaching.."

  Miles' gaze locked on the "3x" glowing on the screen, there's three targets instead of one like the previous encounter.

  Unlike his first encounter, when shock had frozen him for a heartbeat, this time his focus sharpened instantly.

  He racked the slide, the sound of metal clicking into place crisp and final in the quiet room.

  Through the walls, he could already hear them; Their jerky movements, the wet drag of their bodies across the floor, the acrid stench of rot creeping under his door.

  He clenched the gun, the cold metal biting into his palm. Moving silently toward the door, as the growling grew louder each step.

  The heavy study desk stood barricaded against the broken door. Its surface gouged and splintered where the Cursed push his way through before.

  But even with the barrier in place, a faint shadow twisted in the far corner of the hallway, visible only in fragments, never fully taking shape as it shifted and writhed just beyond his line of sight.

  Miles raised his M17 slowly, his sharp eyes fixed intently through the gap, waiting for the shadow to make its move.

  Just as he fell perfectly still, the growling cut off abruptly.

  Then, with a deafening snarl, something lunged-slamming hard against the barricade as the broken door and desk shuddered under its weight, barely holding firm.

  Miles' finger hovered over the trigger, his stance locked and ready.

  Then, a gunshot that ripped through the air was sharp and final, striking the creature square in the head.

  But as it slumped against the desk, the remaining two Cursed charged together, shoving through the barricade with the dead weight of their fallen companion, splintering wood and sending splatters of dark blood across the floor

  Miles didn't flinch as the wreckage of door and desk crashed inward, sending splinters flying past his face.

  He'd already shifted his aim the moment the first creature fell, tracking the second Cursed as it lunged with claws outstretched.

  BANG!

  The bullet tore through its skull, and it crumpled mid-leap, sliding to a halt at his feet.

  But the third was already circling, moving faster than any he'd faced yet-its body contorting and twisting as it darted left and right, making it hard to lock on.

  Miles backed toward his bed, keeping his gun steady as he adjusted his stance. The training kicked in automatically.

  As the creature feinted right then surged left, he exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger. The shot hit true, and it slammed into the wall before slumping to the ground.

  Silence settled over the room, broken only by his heavy breathing and the drip of blood onto the floorboards.

  But before he could lower his weapon, his phone blazed to life with a new alert.

  [Cursed Identified - ( Level 2 Cursed - Speed Type ) Threat level: Intermediate.]

  [Warning - Cursed was approaching your room.]

  "Wh-what is this? A mutated? or could this be the boss?"

  Miles' eyes were locked onto the broken door infront of him, every muscle tensed as he backed away to put distance between himself and the door.

  He settled into a wide, stable stance, his M17 raised and aimed dead center at the doorway with the heavy study desk lay barricade. his finger hovering just above the trigger.

  His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat in his ears. This was something, obviously more advance and stronger than the previous one he fought.

  Then, it appeared. Its limbs were thick nearly as thick as an tree trunk, it was also wider and more powerful than anything he'd seen or faced yet.

  This thing moved like an athlete, every shift and step calculated for maximum force.