《T R I : The RELAM OF ILLUSIONS》


 1 : The Last Black Smith

    **Chapter 1: The Last Blacksmith**


    The village of Eldoria lay on the edge of the northern forests, a place caught in the web of time. The air carried the faint tang of moss and iron, and the shadows of the great pines often seemed to whisper of things best forgotten. Eldoria was quiet now, its once-thriving streets nearly abandoned, but it was still home to Thorne Ironhand.


    Thorne stood tall at the anvil in the heart of his forge. He was a man in his mid 30''s forged by toil, with shoulders broad enough to carry burdens no one else could. His arms were thick with muscle, his hands calloused and scarred, each line a story etched into his flesh. Black hair, damp with sweat, fell across his brow, and his steel-gray eyes gleamed like embers in the glow of the forge¡¯s fire.


    The heat rolled off the flames, painting his bronze-toned skin in hues of copper and gold as he hammered away at a blade. Sparks flew with every strike, dancing around him like fireflies. His leather apron hung heavy on his frame, its edges worn from years of use, but it carried the scent of soot and metal¡ªa comforting scent that reminded him of the man who had shaped him, the one who had made this forge a sanctuary.


    Thorne¡¯s gaze flicked to the corner of the room where his master¡¯s hammer rested, a massive tool of iron and oak that seemed almost alive in the firelight. **Haldor¡¯s hammer.** Even now, years after his death, it felt like the old man was still watching over him.


    Thorne often found himself talking to the absent presence of his master, even though the forge was silent.


    ¡°You¡¯d tell me I¡¯m being too sentimental, wouldn¡¯t you, old man?¡± Thorne muttered under his breath, his voice a low rumble. He let the hammer rest for a moment, leaning against the anvil as he wiped the sweat from his brow. ¡°But I¡¯m still here. I stayed. Just like I promised.¡±


    The silence that followed felt heavy, like it was waiting for him to say more. His mind wandered to his first days in the forge. He had been a boy then, scrawny and scared, with dirt-streaked cheeks and wide, haunted eyes. The villagers had been wary of him, the only survivor of a monster attack that had obliterated his family. But Haldor had taken one look at him and seen something no one else had.


    ¡°I see fire in you, boy,¡± Haldor had said that day, his voice deep and steady like the earth itself. ¡°You¡¯ve been burned, sure enough, but you¡¯re still burning. And if you let me, I¡¯ll teach you how to forge yourself into something unbreakable.¡±


    Thorne smiled faintly at the memory. He had been a stubborn apprentice, his hands too soft and his temper too quick. The first time he¡¯d picked up the hammer, he had dropped it on his foot and cursed so loudly that Haldor had laughed for a full minute.


    ¡°First lesson,¡± Haldor had said, tears of mirth glinting in his eyes. ¡°In this world a man must either be an anvil or a hammer.¡±


    Over time, the forge had become more than a workshop¡ªit became home. The walls were darkened with soot, but every beam and stone held memories. Haldor¡¯s voice had filled the space, teaching, scolding, laughing. On cold winter nights, the forge¡¯s fire had warmed them both as they shared stories over bowls of thick stew.


    Thorne had never felt more at peace than he did in those moments, the rhythmic pounding of hammers blending with Haldor¡¯s gravelly voice. ¡°A blacksmith isn¡¯t just a man who makes tools and weapons,¡± Haldor had once told him. ¡°We¡¯re the backbone of the world, Thorne. The shield that stands between chaos and hope.¡±


    When Haldor died defending the village from the monsters of the northern forests, the forge had fallen silent for weeks. Thorne had sat in the corner by the cold anvil, his master¡¯s hammer clutched in his hands, and wept until there were no tears left.


    It was only when he remembered Haldor¡¯s final words that he stood again. ¡°Protect the forge, Thorne. Protect our home.¡±


    And so, he did. Every weapon he forged, every blade and shield, carried with it the promise he had made.


    In the years that followed, Thorne had come across an artifact deep in the mines¡ªan amulet of iron and gold, its surface etched with runes that seemed to writhe like living things. He had felt an almost magnetic pull when he first held it, the cold metal warming in his palm as though it recognized him. He wore it around his neck, not entirely sure why, but it had become a talisman of sorts¡ªa connection to something larger, something he didn¡¯t yet understand.


    The creak of the forge¡¯s door snapped Thorne from his reverie. He turned, his hammer still in hand, and saw a boy standing in the doorway. The lad¡¯s face was pale, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Master Ironhand,¡± the boy stammered, his voice trembling. ¡°The monsters¡­ they¡¯re back. The scouts say they¡¯ll reach the village in two days.¡±


    For a moment, Thorne said nothing, the weight of the news settling over him like a cold fog. Then, he straightened, his steel-gray eyes hardening into something unyielding.


    ¡°Tell the villagers to prepare,¡± he said, his voice steady. ¡°We¡¯ve faced them before, and we¡¯ll face them again. This is our home, and we¡¯re not giving it up.¡±


    The boy nodded, his fear giving way to a flicker of hope as he ran off to deliver the message. Thorne turned back to his forge, the fire reflecting in his eyes as he picked up his hammer once more.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t over, old man,¡± he murmured, glancing at the master¡¯s hammer in the corner. ¡°Not while I still stand.¡±


    When the battle began two days later, Thorne stood at the front lines, his hammer in hand and the amulet around his neck glowing faintly in the dim light. He cut an imposing figure, his black hair tied back, his leather armor bearing the marks of countless battles.


    As the first wave of monsters emerged from the forest, Thorne felt a deep, familiar anger rise within him. These creatures had taken his family, his master, and countless others. He wouldn¡¯t let them take Eldoria.


    With a roar, he swung his hammer, the sound of metal meeting flesh ringing out like a battle cry. Around him, the villagers fought with weapons he had forged, their fear replaced by determination as they drew strength from his unshakable presence.


    Hours into the battle, as the last monster fell, Thorne felt the bite of venomous spiders on his leg. His vision blurred, and his body grew heavy. He fell to his knees, his hammer slipping from his gras


    -------


    The battlefield was silent save for the crackle of fires and the distant cries of retreating monsters. The village of Eldoria, battered but standing, had survived. Thorne stood amidst the carnage, his hammer heavy in his hand, his breaths coming in labored gasps. Blood trickled from a gash on his forehead, mingling with the soot on his face, but he ignored it. His heart swelled with relief and pride as he surveyed the villagers, their faces weary but alive.


    But then it came¡ªa sharp, searing pain in his leg.


    Thorne staggered, his hammer slipping from his grip. He looked down to see a cluster of venomous spiders skittering over his boot, their black, glossy bodies glinting like shards of night. Their fangs had already sunk deep into his flesh, and he could feel the venom racing through his veins, icy and unrelenting.


    ¡°No,¡± he growled, his voice barely above a whisper. His knees buckled, and he fell to the blood-soaked earth. The hammer lay just out of reach, its once comforting weight now cruelly absent.


    His vision began to blur, the edges of the world dissolving into golden light and shadow. He clenched his jaw, trying to push himself upright, but his body betrayed him. His hands trembled, fingers digging into the dirt, but the strength that had carried him through so many battles was slipping away.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be it,¡± he thought, his mind spiraling. ¡°Not like this. Not after everything.¡±


    His heart thundered in his chest, a wild rhythm that seemed to mock his fading strength. He tried to focus on the faces of the villagers, the ones he had sworn to protect. They were shouting his name, their voices muffled and distant, as if coming from another world.


    ¡°Get up, Thorne,¡± he told himself, his teeth gritted against the venom¡¯s icy grip. ¡°You¡¯ve faced far worse than this. You can¡¯t leave them now. Then I knew it, and I knew that, and I could not deny it.¡±


    But his body was failing him. His legs were numb, his arms loosing strength. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, each one more difficult than the last.


    The amulet around his neck grew warm, almost unbearably so, its surface glowing faintly beneath the grime of battle. Thorne¡¯s hand instinctively moved to clutch it, his fingers brushing over the intricate runes etched into its surface.


    ¡°What are you?¡± he whispered, his voice cracking with desperation.


    The amulet pulsed in response, its light growing brighter, washing over him in waves of gold and crimson. His vision faltered, and suddenly he was no longer on the battlefield. He stood in a void, endless and shimmering, where the air itself seemed to hum with an unknown, unearthly energy.


    In that strange space, Thorne heard a voice¡ªhis own, but distant, echoing as though from the depths of his soul.


    ¡°Is this it?¡± he asked himself. ¡°Is this how it ends? After everything I¡¯ve done¡­ all I¡¯ve fought for? Am I just a fleeting ember, snuffed out by a world too cruel to care?¡±


    He thought of Haldor, of the forge, of the quiet nights spent shaping steel and the laughter that had once filled his life. He thought of the villagers, of their hope, of their trust in him. And then he thought of the monsters¡ªthe endless tide of darkness that had stolen everything he loved.


    ¡°No,¡± he said, louder this time, his voice filled with defiance. ¡°This isn¡¯t the end. It can¡¯t be.¡±


    The amulet responded, its light flaring brighter, engulfing him in a blinding brilliance. He could feel it now, a force seemingly alive, pulling at him, drawing him into its core. Panic flared in his chest, but so did a strange sense of peace.


    His body ached, the venom burning through him like fire and ice, but his mind was clear, sharper than it had ever been. He clenched his fists, the dirt crumbling between his fingers.


    ¡°If this is what it takes to protect them,¡± he thought, his resolve hardening, ¡°then so be it.¡±


    As the light intensified, Thorne felt his soul begin to shift. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever known¡ªa pulling, stretching, unraveling of everything he was. Memories of his life flashed before his eyes: the first time he held a hammer, the day he forged his first blade, Haldor¡¯s gruff laugh, the faces of the villagers looking to him with hope.


    ¡°I¡¯m not afraid,¡± he whispered, though tears streaked his soot-covered face. His consciousness fell deep into the darkness in that golden light.


    ---


    The amulet¡¯s runes burned brighter, glowing with a light so fierce that it blinded those nearby. The villagers shielded their eyes, their shouts turning to gasps of awe and terror.


    Thorne felt his soul leave his body, pulled into the artifact¡¯s core. It was not painful but profound, like becoming one with the stars and the earth all at once. He could feel the weight of the amulet¡¯s ancient power pressing against him, reshaping him, binding him to something far greater than himself.


    For a brief moment, he was everywhere and nowhere. He saw the golden pyramids of distant realms, the burning stars and shattered worlds that lay beyond Eldoria¡¯s fragile boundaries. He heard whispers in a language he did not understand, voices that carried both sorrow and promise.


    When the light finally dimmed, Thorne¡¯s soul was gone. The amulet lay on his body, its surface pulsing with a soft, golden glow. The villagers approached it hesitantly, their faces pale with fear and wonder.


    ¡°He¡¯s¡­ he¡¯s gone,¡± someone whispered, sadness in their voice breaking.


    But the amulet¡¯s glow seemed to answer, a steady rhythm that felt like the beating of a heart. Thorne Ironhand was not gone.


    Though the villagers did not yet understand, they knew one thing for certain: Thorne had kept his promise.


    He had protected them, even at the cost of himself. He was their shield, their symbol of hope, their unyielding pillar of light was now gone......!


    ---{¡ã¡Á¡ã}

 2 : The modern mans survival

    **Chapter 2 : The modern man**


    The world had been a battlefield for two decades, a graveyard of dreams and civilization. Alex Carter, a man in his mid-forties, trudged through the hollow streets of a decayed cityscape. His face bore the marks of relentless years¡ªcheekbones sharp against his weathered skin, eyes sunken but alert, and graying stubble shadowing his jawline. His clothes, a mismatched ensemble of scavenged leather and tattered fabric, were held together by sheer necessity, much like his spirit.


    The apocalypse had brought horrors no one could have imagined. It began as a virus, an infection that turned people into mindless predators. But the world¡¯s collapse had unveiled something stranger¡ªa phenomenon that became known as *Ion Awakening*.


    Only one in seven thousand people would manifest these powers, and even then, the awakened abilities varied widely. Some survivors developed auxiliary skills¡ªhealing wounds, boosting stamina, or sensing danger. Others gained battle-oriented powers, summoning barriers of energy or unleashing devastating kinetic strikes. These powers, determined seemingly at random, came with a ranking system measured by stars.


    - **One Star**: The lowest tier, barely useful for survival.


    - **Five Stars**: The midpoint, held by those strong enough to fend off hordes or heal fatal wounds.


    - **Ten Stars**: A higest tier that no one had ever witnessed and whispered of in bunkers but never witnessed.


    The awakened abilities grew stronger with experience and usage, like a skill levelling up. But progress was grueling, and some powers plateaued early, offering little improvement. For many, even a single star could mean the difference between survival and despair.


    Shelters became microcosms of this new hierarchy. Those with powers were revered, protected, and relied upon. The unawakened, like Alex, were burdens¡ªpitied at best, discarded at worst.


    Alex¡¯s life in the shelter was one of quiet humiliation. Despite years of relentless training and exercises, not a single spark of energy ever emerged within him. While others around him awakened their gifts¡ªsome glowing with faint auras of light, others commanding bursts of wind or flame¡ªAlex remained powerless.


    He remembered the first time someone in his shelter awakened. A teenage girl named Rachel, barely sixteen, had suddenly manifested a two-star healing ability after a bout of illness. She became a beacon of hope, her gift saving lives and earning her a revered status. Others followed, their powers ranging from minor utility to formidable combat skills.


    Alex, on the other hand, couldn¡¯t even light a match with his mind.


    For years, he worked tirelessly to prove his worth. He scavenged supplies, repaired equipment, and risked his life in dangerous foraging missions. Yet, the whispers grew louder with each passing month:  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    *"Why is he still here?"*


    *"He¡¯s a drain on our resources."*


    *"We can¡¯t keep carrying him forever."*


    One night, it all came to a head.


    The meeting was held in the central chamber of the shelter, dimly lit by failing emergency lights. Marcus, the leader, stood at the center, his tall frame casting long shadows against the concrete walls. Around him sat the awakened, their presence dominating the room.


    ¡°We have to make choices,¡± Marcus began, his voice calm but firm. ¡°The shelter¡¯s resources are dwindling. We have thirty awakened here, each vital to our survival. But we also have those who¡­ haven¡¯t contributed as much.¡±


    The words hung heavy in the air. Alex felt their gazes turn to him¡ªsome sympathetic, others indifferent.


    ¡°Alex,¡± Marcus said, locking eyes with him. ¡°You¡¯ve tried. No one can deny that. But we¡¯ve waited for years, and your awakening won''t come now that you are old already . We can¡¯t afford to keep waiting. I¡¯m sorry, but you¡¯ll have to leave.¡±


    Alex¡¯s heart sank, his hands trembling as he stood to speak. ¡°Please¡­ I¡¯ve done everything I can. I¡¯ve risked my life for this shelter. Just give me more time¡ª¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve given you time,¡± Marcus interrupted, his tone sharp. ¡°But time won¡¯t feed us, and it won¡¯t protect us from the infected.¡±


    The decision was final. They handed him a small bag of supplies and escorted him to the surface. As the steel doors shut behind him, Alex stood in the cold, staring at the desolate horizon.


    ---


    Years passed. Alex wandered the wasteland alone, scavenging to survive. He had long stopped dreaming of awakening. The odds were against him, and the hope had been beaten out of him by hunger and despair. His body grew leaner, his mind sharper from constant vigilance.


    The infected had changed too. The virus had mutated over time, turning the undead into twisted horrors. Some had hardened into armored monstrosities, while others evolved with nightmarish speed and cunning. Survivors whispered of ¡°alphas¡±¡ªinfected so strong they could tear through steel doors.


    Yet Alex survived. He moved with practiced caution, always scanning for danger. His trusty baseball bat became an extension of his arm, its surface scarred from countless encounters.


    ---


    It was during one of his foraging trips that Alex encountered a group of outlaws. They seemed rough but welcoming, offering him food and a place to rest. Their leader, Caleb, was a charismatic man with sharp eyes and a silver tongue. Alex, desperate for human connection, accepted their hospitality.


    For weeks, he traveled with them, sharing stories and helping with scavenging missions. But Alex remained naive to the undercurrent of greed in Caleb¡¯s eyes whenever he glanced at Alex¡¯s glowing shard¡ªa mysterious artifact Alex had found years ago, its purpose unknown but its light strangely comforting.


    One night, the group ventured too close to an infected nest. A horde of evolved zombies surged toward them, their grotesque forms illuminated by the faint moonlight.


    ¡°There¡¯s too many of them!¡± Caleb shouted. ¡°We need a distraction!¡±


    Before Alex could react, two outlaws grabbed him, shoving him forward.


    ¡°What are you doing?!¡± Alex yelled, his voice rising with panic.


    ¡°Sorry, Alex,¡± Caleb said, his voice devoid of regret. ¡°You¡¯re the slowest of us. You¡¯ll buy us time.¡±


    The group disappeared into the shadows, leaving Alex alone as the horde closed in.


    ---


    Alex¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, his breaths ragged as he swung his bat with everything he had. His muscles burned, his vision blurred, but he refused to give up. *¡°Not like this,¡±* he thought, tears streaming down his face.


    One infected lunged at him, its decayed face inches from his own. Alex swung the bat with a roar, sending the creature sprawling. But for every one he felled, two more took its place.


    As he stumbled, the shard in his backpack began to glow¡ªbrighter than ever before. Its light pulsed rhythmically, almost like a heartbeat. Alex felt a surge of warmth spreading through his body, an energy he had never known.


    The shard¡¯s glow enveloped him, and for the first time in twenty years, Alex''s consciousness fadded like gas and the shard he had sucked his soul somewhere far yet distant he could see the blue planet and the destruction occurred in those years and he hears some unknown voice talking in unknown language.


    His journey wasn¡¯t over. It had just begun.


    ---

 3 : The Unfortunate Assassin

    **Chapter 3 : The Unfortunate Assassin**


    The city was shrouded in darkness, its once-vibrant skyline reduced to jagged silhouettes of crumbling buildings. Zara Voss moved like a shadow, her emerald green eyes piercing through the gloom. Her raven-black hair, tied tightly back, swayed slightly with each calculated step. The faint glint of metal beneath her skin betrayed her cybernetic enhancements¡ª60% machine and 40% human. Her face bore the marks of a life hard-lived: faint scars across her cheekbones, a cold determination in her expression, and a weariness that seemed etched into her very soul.


    Zara had been molded by a world of brutality. Born in the slums of outer wall of hope citadel, she was one of the countless forgotten souls left to rot in a lawless wasteland. The stench of decay and human misery had been her earliest companions, and the sight of death was as common as the rising sun. Her first memories were of scrounging for scraps, dodging marauders, and hiding from those who sought to exploit the weak.


    It was in these harsh conditions that her latent psychic abilities first manifested. Zara had discovered, almost by accident, that she could control non-living objects with her mind. But the power came with limitations¡ªit required deep focus and drained her both physically and mentally. Even so, it had been enough to catch the attention of a powerful and feared organization: the Black Veil, a covert league of assassins and mercenaries.


    A world like this couldn''t be forgiven. Aurelia was no longer the vibrant planet it had once been. It was now a graveyard, littered with the remnants of civilization and the horrors unleashed by humanity''s greed for power. The world had been brought to its knees by the Chimera Lord, a creature of unspeakable terror born from the ambitions of mad scientists who sought to create super-soldiers.


    The Chimera Lord was a towering monstrosity, its body a grotesque amalgamation of steel, flesh, and bone. Its roar could level entire cities, and its shadow alone was enough to send people fleeing in terror. The scientists who created it had long since perished, victims of their hubris. But their legacy lived on in the form of chimeras¡ªferal, twisted creatures that roamed Aurelia in packs, preying on anything and everything.


    Humanity¡¯s only refuge lay in the strongholds, fortified cities built to withstand both the chimeras and the relentless chaos of a world at war. But even within the strongholds, life was a brutal hierarchy. The wealthy and powerful lived in luxury, their lives untouched by the horrors outside the walls. Meanwhile, the poor and desperate fought to survive in squalor, treated as expendable resources for the strongholds¡¯ endless conflicts.


    At just 13, Zara was sold into slavery. The auction house where she was paraded as an exotic item was a place of horrors, its walls echoing with the cries of the desperate and the dying. Yet, in her darkest moment, she caught the eye of a Black Veil operative. They saw potential in her¡ªa hint of energy¡ªand purchased her not as a slave but as a recruit.


    Her training was brutal and unrelenting. Days bled into nights as she was shaped into a weapon. She learned to kill with precision, to stalk her targets like a predator, and to endure pain without flinching. When her human body reached its limits, the Black Veil began replacing her limbs and organs with cybernetic enhancements. Her legs were engineered for speed and silence, her arms capable of inhuman strength. Her eyes, fitted with advanced implants, could see in total darkness and detect heat signatures.


    By the time Zara turned 30, she had become one of the Black Veil''s most feared assassins. Her missions were executed with ruthless efficiency, leaving no witnesses and no trace of her presence. Yet, despite her successes, she was plagued by a deep emptiness. The world she served was one of endless war and destruction.


    Strong holds waged wars and conflicts, reducing entire regions to ash and poisoning the planet. Climate disasters like earthquakes, toxic storms, and floods ravaged what remained, and humanity retreated into fortified cities that were little more than gilded cages.


    Darious, one of the Black Veil¡¯s most powerful psychics, despised Zara. His envy burned brighter with every mission she completed, every accolade she received. A master manipulator, Men in dark began plotting her downfall. He whispered to the leaders of the Black Veil, convincing them that Zara was growing too powerful, too independent.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°She¡¯s a liability,¡± he argued. ¡°A machine like her doesn¡¯t have loyalty¡ªonly ambition. One day, she¡¯ll turn on us.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t difficult to convince them. Zara¡¯s strength was both her greatest asset and her greatest threat. With the organization¡¯s blessing, Men in dark set there plan in motion.


    Zara¡¯s final mission was supposed to be routine¡ªa simple assassination. She had carried it out flawlessly, as always. But as she made her way back through the ruins toward the Hope Citadel, she sensed something was wrong. Her cybernetic eyes picked up faint thermal signatures ahead. Shadows moved unnaturally in the periphery of her vision.


    Her instincts screamed a warning, but it was too late.


    A sudden wave of psychic energy slammed into her, locking her in place. Zara¡¯s body convulsed as she tried to break free, her cybernetic limbs straining against the invisible force.


    ¡°Hello, Zara,¡± Men in dark said, stepping out from the shadows. His smirk was a dagger, sharp and mocking.


    ¡°You¡¯re a fool if you think this will work,¡± Zara spat, her voice steady despite the strain. Her hands twitched, trying to summon her psychic energy to manipulate the objects around her.


    ¡°Oh, Zara,¡± Men in dark said mockingly, ¡°it¡¯s already over. Did you really think they¡¯d let someone like you keep climbing? You¡¯re a tool, nothing more. And now, you¡¯ve outlived your usefulness.¡±


    Around him, several Black Veil operatives emerged, their weapons gleaming in the moonlight.


    Zara¡¯s cybernetic legs powered up, propelling her forward with lightning speed. She lunged toward Men in dark, her blades slicing through the air. But he was ready. His psychic energy slammed into her again, stronger this time.


    Zara¡¯s cybernetic limbs clashed against the operatives, her agility and strength unmatched. Her enhanced eyes tracked their movements, calculating angles and weak points. She twisted and spun, her blades cutting through flesh and steel. She hurled debris at her attackers using her limited psychic powers, keeping them at bay.


    But Men in dark was the real threat.


    With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a wave of psychic energy that knocked Zara to the ground. Her limbs sparked and groaned as she struggled to rise. Men in dark smirked, his eyes glowing with power.


    ¡°You¡¯ve always been strong, Zara,¡± he said. ¡°But strength means nothing when the world itself is against you.¡±


    He stepped closer, his psychic energy coiling around her like chains. She tried to move, but her body refused to obey.


    As the last of her strength faded,


    Zara collapsed onto the cold, blood-soaked ground. The mercenaries stood over her, their weapons ready to finish the job.


    But Zara no longer cared. The world had shown her no kindness, no mercy. In her final moments, her mind was filled with a single thought: Is this all I was meant for?¡°


    and grime dripped from her shattered body.


    Around her, the mercenaries circled like vultures, their weapons gleaming in the faint light. One stepped forward, a sadistic grin splitting his scarred face.


    ¡°Look at the mighty assassin now,¡± he sneered, his voice laced with mockery. ¡°Reduced to nothing but scrap metal and dying flesh.¡±


    Zara coughed, blood flecking her lips. She clenched the shard in her trembling hand, its glow intensifying.


    ¡°Darious sent you, didn¡¯t he?¡± Zara spat, her voice hoarse but filled with venom. ¡°That coward... couldn¡¯t even finish the job himself.¡±


    The mercenary laughed. ¡°Darious said you¡¯d say something like that. You should¡¯ve stayed in line, Voss. The Black Veil doesn¡¯t need loose ends.¡±


    Zara¡¯s emerald eyes burned with fury. ¡°Loose ends? I gave them everything! My life, my body, my soul¡ªand for what? To be stabbed in the back by cowards like you?¡±


    Her voice cracked, but her anger only grew. She pushed herself to her feet, wobbling slightly. ¡°Tell Darious this,¡± she snarled, ¡°Tell him I¡¯ll drag him to hell myself. I¡¯ll haunt him. I¡¯ll make him choke on his own arrogance.¡±


    The mercenaries hesitated, unnerved by the intensity of her words. But one raised his weapon, ready to end her life.


    ¡°Goodbye, Zara,¡± he said, raising a blade.


    As the blade sliced through her neck, Zara¡¯s mind raced. Her vision blurred, but her enhanced eyes captured everything in excruciating detail¡ªthe pale moon shining down, its light so beautiful and serene amidst the chaos.


    The last thing she thought of was how unfair the world had been to her. A life of pain, betrayal, and struggle. And yet, in her final moments, she couldn¡¯t help but admire the moon, its light untouched by the horrors of Aurelia.


    As her head fell, she saw Men in dark¡¯s smirk one last time. The ground rushed up to meet her, and everything went dark


    The Black Veil operatives left her body where it fell, retreating to the safety of the Hope Citadel. They didn¡¯t bother to hide her corpse. The chimeras would take care of it, they reasoned.


    But they hadn¡¯t accounted for the shard.


    It was a strange artifact Zara had carried with her for years, its origin a mystery even to her. As her lifeless body lay in the ruins, the shard began to glow. Its golden light spread slowly, pulsing like a heartbeat.


    The chimeras that approached stopped in their tracks, their twisted forms recoiling from the light.


    Zara¡¯s body remained motionless, but her consciousness stirred. Her soul sucked within the shard, her rage and pain simmering like a storm.


    Far away, within the fortified walls of Hope Citadel, Men in dark and his followers celebrated their victory. They raised glasses to their success, unaware of the storm they had unleashed.


    In the ruins, the shard continued to glow, its light growing brighter with each passing moment. Zara Voss was not gone.


    She was waiting.


    There she saw her world where greed over took and destroyed every single hope on note she hears a voice in a distant voice contains energy but faint also unknown language her soul was pulled to somewhere unknown.

 4 : In the Relam of ???

    **4 : In The Relam of ???**


    The world was still. No winds, no sounds, not even the faintest stir of movement. Alex stood alone in the vast, endless expanse, his body weightless. The ground beneath him was gone, the sky was an indistinguishable swirl of light and shadow. He could barely make out his own form¡ªtranslucent and glowing faintly¡ªjust a soul adrift in the unknown. His chest felt lighter than it ever had in life, but a cold unease gnawed at him.


    The memories of his last moments flickered in his mind¡ªthe bite, the struggle, the final breath that marked the end of everything he knew. Where am I? he thought, trying to grasp at any shred of understanding. I should be...


    A flicker of movement caught his attention. His head snapped to the side, his senses sharpened in an instant, as if his instincts had kicked in, still alert despite his new ethereal form. A figure materialized from the shadows, solidifying out of the haze¡ªtall, broad-shouldered, with a presence that was hard to ignore.


    Thorne . The warrior, the blacksmith. His outline gleamed in the dim light, his form radiating an otherworldly glow, like molten metal, raw strength wrapped in something new. His eyes, once hard with the weight of battle, seemed distant now, searching the place around him with a deep, unsettling confusion.


    Alex instinctively took a step forward, his golden eyes narrowing. The weight of his past life¡ªthe endless fights for survival, the constant distrust¡ªstill lingered within him, and a sharp edge ran through his voice when he spoke.


    "Who... are you?" Alex¡¯s voice echoed strangely in the emptiness, barely more than a whisper in the vast space.


    Thorne¡¯s head snapped toward him, his large frame shifting with an energy that was as heavy as it was controlled. His eyes studied Alex, scrutinizing him for a long moment before he answered, his deep voice full of the quiet weight of someone who had lived through unimaginable hardship.


    "Thorne Ironhand." The name was thick with history, as if it were carved into the very air. "And you?"


    "Alex." He hesitated, his mind still fogged with confusion. "Alex Carter."


    There was a brief silence as both men sized each other up. In any other world, in any other situation, they would have been enemies, strangers from different lands. But here, in this strange realm, that sense of hostility was muted¡ªalmost nonexistent. Still, an unspoken wariness hung between them. They were survivors in a place where survival was a foreign concept.


    Before either of them could say more, another form materialized in the distance. This one was smaller but no less commanding. Her figure emerged from the shadows like a ghost, her movements precise, calculated, with a calmness that stood in stark contrast to the turmoil Alex and Thorne felt.


    Zara Voss. The tactician. Her emerald eyes glowed softly, an unsettling sharpness in her gaze. She took in the space around her with the cold efficiency of someone who had seen too much to be rattled by the unknown. Her steps were deliberate, controlled. She didn¡¯t flinch as she saw the two men before her, but her mind immediately started working, assessing the situation as she always did.


    The tension between Alex and Thorne was palpable, but Zara cut through it with the quiet force of her presence. Her voice was soft, but there was a sharpness to it that made every word stand out.


    "Are you two lost as well?" she asked, her tone measured but not unfriendly.


    Both men turned to her, their eyes flicking to each other for the briefest of moments, as if wondering whether they should trust this newcomer or not. But there was something about her that made them pause. Something different. The air around her hummed with the quiet promise of power¡ªa kind of cool, contained energy that neither of them could quite explain.


    "We¡¯re all strangers here," Alex said, the confusion still heavy in his voice. "I don¡¯t even know where here is."


    Zara gave a small nod, her eyes reflecting a deep, unfathomable understanding. "Neither do I. But... we¡¯re not alone, and we¡¯re not dead. Not in the way we think, anyway."


    Thorne grunted, a sound somewhere between skepticism and resignation. "This... isn¡¯t where I expected to end up. I¡¯m not supposed to be here."


    Alex, still shaken, finally spoke again. "None of us were supposed to be here. We were... I was... dead. I remember it."


    Zara¡¯s gaze softened, but there was still that quiet calculation behind her eyes. "We¡¯re not dead in the way we know it. We¡¯re somewhere in-between. This is something else."


    The three of them stood in silence for a moment, feeling the weight of their individual realities pressing in. They were from different worlds, with different pasts, but now they were here. Together. A new, strange bond had already begun to form between them¡ªnot one of friendship or camaraderie, not yet¡ªbut something more fundamental. Their fates, inexplicably, were now entwined.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Where are we going?" Thorne asked, his voice rumbling with the same determination that had carried him through countless battles in life.


    Zara¡¯s gaze flickered toward the distance. "I don¡¯t know yet," she said quietly. "But I¡¯m sure we¡¯re not here by accident. We¡¯ve been drawn together for a reason."


    Alex nodded slowly, finally understanding the strange stillness around them, the way the space seemed to hum with something unseen. "Then we better figure out what that reason is."


    As they stood there, strangers from different worlds, the Realm around them pulsed with energy¡ªa subtle, unspoken promise that their journey together was only just beginning. And though they had no idea what awaited them, the strange bond between them grew stronger with each passing moment.


    The moment their hands touched the pentatope, the Realm around them seemed to hold its breath.


    A wave of raw, overwhelming energy surged through their bodies, rushing into their very souls. The light from the pentatope flared brightly, pulsing with an ancient power. Alex, Thorne, and Zara were no longer just observers¡ªthey were participants in a shared experience that transcended time and space.


    Their minds, already connected by the strange bond of the Realm, now intertwined on a deeper level. Memories¡ªnot their own¡ªflooded in. It was as though they were not merely witnessing each other¡¯s lives but living them.


    Alex¡¯s memories came first. He felt Thorne¡¯s pain¡ªthe weight of the forge, the endless hours spent in isolation, the haunting losses of comrades who had fallen by his side. The smell of burning metal filled Alex¡¯s senses as he lived through Thorne¡¯s battles, feeling the ache of powerlessness and the burden of every soul lost. But Alex also felt the strength behind it¡ªthe burning resolve, the fire that never went out. He understood Thorne¡¯s fierce determination to protect, even when the cost was too high.


    Then came Zara¡¯s memories, cold and calculated. Alex felt the chilling calm that had defined her every move¡ªher tactical mind dissecting every situation, her relentless pursuit of mission success. But there was something more: the cracks in her perfect exterior, the moments of vulnerability where her humanity had bled through. He felt her sacrifices, the moments of betrayal, the loneliness that followed each victory, and the brutal clarity of her reality.


    Zara, in turn, felt Alex¡¯s desperation. His memories were a chaotic storm of survival, of pain and loss in a world devoured by the undead. She saw through his eyes¡ªthe last stand of humanity, the crushing weight of his failures, the desperate attempts to protect those he loved. Zara felt his heartache, the deep well of grief that never quite left him, even after death had claimed him. But she also felt his unwavering will to fight on, to hold onto hope even in the darkest of times.


    And Thorne¡ªThorne felt them all. He felt Alex¡¯s grief, the sharpness of every loss, and the rage that followed. But more than that, he felt Zara¡¯s cold determination, her unshakable will, and her pain hidden beneath layers of control. The vastness of their emotions overwhelmed him, and for a moment, he felt as though he might collapse under the weight of their shared memories. But instead, something in him shifted. He could feel the unspoken bond between them¡ªsomething stronger than their pasts, something that tied them together in this strange place.


    They stood there, suspended in the glowing, shifting space of the Realm, not speaking, not moving, as their shared memories settled into their very bones. The cosmos themselves seemed to pause, holding still as the weight of their pasts pressed down on them.


    Alex flinched, raising his hands to shield his eyes. "What the hell is happening?!" he shouted, his voice barely audible against the rising roar of power. The space around them seemed to bend, like the air was folding in on itself, warping the world they stood in.


    Zara¡¯s eyes narrowed as she tried to focus on the swirling chaos. "This... This isn¡¯t a normal object. It¡¯s alive," she muttered, her voice shaking with realization. "It¡¯s trying to do something, something more than we can control."


    Thorne gritted his teeth, his powerful frame taut with tension. "If it¡¯s trying to connect us... then it¡¯s too much. We have to stop it, now!" But the words were hollow. It was clear to all three of them that stopping it wasn¡¯t an option. The pentatope¡¯s force was too overwhelming, its power pulling at the very essence of their being.


    The light from the pentatope intensified, casting long, impossible shadows that seemed to stretch across the Realm. Each of its facets twisted more violently, spinning faster until they could barely follow its movement. The space around them began to distort, warping into shapes that made no sense, like the edges of reality itself were being torn apart.


    The pentatope began to shift, its light growing even more intense. It spun, slowly at first, then faster and faster, its sides folding and unfolding with an energy that felt both ancient and untamed. The air around them rippled as if reality itself was bending under the pentatope¡¯s will.


    And then, without warning, everything snapped into motion.


    A pulse of energy shot from the pentatope, sending a wave through the Realm. The world around them distorted, the very fabric of the cosmos twisting and warping as the pentatope¡¯s energy surged outward. It rose into the air, spinning furiously, sending a shockwave of light that stretched out like the first crack of thunder.


    The world held its breath for just a second longer¡ªthen, as if shattering like glass or burning paper, the pentatope exploded outward. The light fractured and fractured again, and in that moment, everything seemed to fall apart and rebuild in an instant.


    With a deafening crack, the pentatope shattered into dozens of shards that glowed like molten stars. They exploded outward, each fragment sending a brilliant trail of light across the sky as it soared toward its destination. And then¡ªjust as quickly as it had risen¡ªeverything fell still.


    The three of them stepped back instinctively, feeling the energy settle around them, their feet pressing into the ground that had suddenly returned beneath them. The air was still thick with the remnants of the pentatope¡¯s power, but something had shifted. They could feel it¡ªthe doorways to their worlds were opening.


    But before they could fully comprehend what had happened, the space around them began to twist once more. The ground beneath their feet rippled, and the vastness of the Realm began to bend backwards. Time itself seemed to reverse, as though they were being pulled back toward their worlds, like a force too powerful to resist. Each step they took, each breath, was a fight against the inevitable pull.


    Then, like a world fracturing, a crack split open before them. It was as though the very fabric of space had split like thin glass under pressure. The world around them erupted as the portal to their worlds shot upward, spinning furiously like the last flares of a dying star.


    Thorne¡¯s world¡ªthe smoldering ruins of a world lost to monsters and conflict¡ªrose first, the light from the pentatope surrounding it like a protective barrier. Zara¡¯s world¡ªher sleek, cold future, where technology and war collided¡ªfollowed, the metallic, gleaming horizon coming into view. Alex¡¯s world¡ªthe desolate, apocalyptic wasteland ravaged by the undead¡ªwas the final to emerge, the dark clouds and eerie silence of his reality swirling into existence.


    The pentatope¡¯s light intensified once more, and with a final, shuddering pulse, it shattered completely. The light refracted, exploded, and in an instant, each doorway locked into place, casting their respective worlds into the space ahead.


    The doorways had opened, and with it, their futures were sealed.


    Thorne, Alex, and Zara stood together, watching the worlds they came from¡ªworlds filled with pain, loss, and endless struggle¡ªemerge before them. They had been pulled from their pasts, thrust into this Realm for a reason they could not yet understand.


    But one thing was certain: they were no longer strangers. And now, the time had come to step forward and face what was waiting for them. Their bond forged in the depths of the Realm, would guide them through the trials ahead.


    With a final glance at each ot


    her, they stepped through the gateways to their worlds¡ªno longer mere survivors, but warriors reborn¡­!

 5 : Its Time to Forge

    ** Chapter 5 : The Forge of Time**


    Thorne''s eyes fluttered open, but the world before him was not the familiar battlefield he had just fought and bled on. Instead, everything seemed... different. The air was crisp, but there was a subtle warmth to it, a feeling of safety that seemed far removed from the chaos he had just endured. His body, which had felt broken just moments ago, now felt strangely whole, as though he had just woken from a long sleep rather than a near-death experience.


    His chest no longer burned with the agony of the battle, and the familiar ache of his muscles had faded away. In fact, as he took in his surroundings, he noticed that he was no longer surrounded by the bloodied remnants of war or the remnants of fallen monsters. He stood on solid ground, but it was different ground¡ªa worn path covered in soft earth, leading toward a sturdy, stone structure in the distance. The air smelled of wood, steel, and the faint scent of something burning. A forge.


    He turned in place, eyes widening as he recognized the landscape: it was the village of Eldoria, but... different. The people around him were not those of his time, but rather figures from his youth¡ªvillagers going about their daily business in peace. A few were carrying bundles of wood, others were working in the fields, and the air was filled with the sounds of a simpler time.


    A cold chill ran down Thorne''s spine. He realized that he had somehow traveled back in time, to a moment long before the monsters ever came to ravage his home. Before he had fought on the battlefield, before he had become the warrior who wielded a hammer of legend.


    beacon of warmth and wisdom, much as it had in his youth. His heart tightened in his chest as he gazed upon the man who had taught him everything he knew about the forge. Haldor, with his broad shoulders and weathered face, was more than just a mentor¡ªhe had been a father to Thorne. He had shown him the world, taught him patience and discipline, and instilled in him a sense of purpose that now felt more critical than ever.


    But standing before him now, in this surreal moment, Thorne felt something deeper stir within him. A pain he couldn¡¯t quite name twisted inside him, not from any wound of the body, but from something deeper¡ªan emotional ache that seemed to reach to his very soul.


    A memory surfaced, one of a younger Thorne working diligently at the forge under the tutelage of Haldor, the master blacksmith of Eldoria. Haldor had been a towering figure, both in stature and in spirit, a man of immense skill and even greater kindness. He had taught Thorne the art of smithing, showing him how to shape steel and pour life into the weapons and tools that would sustain his village.


    Thorne¡¯s heart skipped a beat as he felt the weight of the memory settle over him. Haldor had been like a father to him. But why had he been sent back here? Why had fate chosen this moment to return him to the days before the invasion?


    Suddenly, a familiar voice called out from behind him. "Thorne! There you are, lad!" Thorne turned to see the towering figure of Haldor himself, standing near the forge. His broad shoulders and long, graying beard were unmistakable. The same face that had always worn a welcoming smile now held a slight frown of concern as he took in Thorne¡¯s confused expression.


    "You look like you''ve seen a ghost," Haldor chuckled, walking over to him with a steady, purposeful gait. "What¡¯s got you so far off in thought?"


    Thorne opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. How could he explain? The shard, the battle, the strange, glowing tattoo that had appeared on his hand... None of it made sense. And yet, somehow, in this moment, standing before the man who had shaped him into who he was, it seemed as though the pieces were beginning to fall into place.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Thorne¡¯s throat tightened, his words caught in his chest. He wanted to say so much¡ªto explain everything, to tell Haldor what had happened to him, how he had fought in the future, how he had been given another chance at life, and yet... there were no words for the storm of emotions inside him.


    Instead, he simply stared at Haldor, eyes welling with unshed tears. His voice, when it finally came, was thick with emotion. ¡°I thought I had lost everything, Haldor. I thought the world I knew... was gone.¡±


    Haldor studied him quietly, his wise old eyes not searching for answers, but simply offering understanding. He had always known Thorne better than Thorne had known himself. ¡°But you haven¡¯t lost everything, lad. You¡¯re standing right here before me.¡± He stepped forward, his hand settling on Thorne''s shoulder, a gesture of quiet reassurance


    Haldor¡¯s eyes softened further, and there was a deep, knowing silence between them. Thorne felt a quiet sob rise in his chest but held it back. Haldor was the one person he could be vulnerable with¡ªthe only one who had ever seen him not as a warrior, but as a man struggling to find his place in the world.


    ¡°Lad,¡± Haldor said, his voice soft but firm, ¡°you¡¯ve always had that strength inside of you. That light was there, even when you didn¡¯t see it. But it wasn¡¯t this power, this glowing mark. It was the fire in your heart. That¡¯s what makes you who you are. Not the hammer you wield, but the spirit that drives it.¡±


    Thorne nodded, but his gaze drifted to the forge. The flames flickered, casting an orange glow on the surrounding stone walls. The rhythmic sound of the hammer striking steel echoed in the distance, a sound that had always been familiar, comforting. But now, it felt different. The forge was no longer just a place of work¡ªit was a symbol of the trials he would face, the strength he had to find within himself.


    As he stood there, a feeling began to stir within him. The golden light that had once pulsed through his veins, the power that had inexplicably connected him to something greater than himself, was now more present than ever. It wasn¡¯t just a power¡ªit was a calling.


    The glowing tattoo on his hand pulsed gently, its design shifting and growing, expanding outward like a living thing. It was no longer just an etching¡ªit was a manifestation of the power he had come to wield. And with it came a deep, resonating knowledge. His time in the future, the battle, the shard¡ªall of it had led him to this moment.


    ¡°Thorne,¡± Haldor said, his voice quieter now, ¡°Do you know what it means to be a true blacksmith?¡±


    Thorne turned back to Haldor, who was watching him with an unreadable expression.


    ¡°To be a blacksmith,¡± Haldor continued, ¡°is to shape the world around you. But it¡¯s not just about hammering steel . It¡¯s about understanding the material and removing the impurities in them by folding and hammering, knowing its strengths and weaknesses. A true craftsman doesn¡¯t just make weapons¡ªhe forges them with purpose for a better future .¡±


    Thorne swallowed, the weight of Haldor¡¯s words settling over him. For the first time, it wasn¡¯t just the steel that mattered. It was the purpose behind it¡ªthe duty to create something that would protect, something that would stand the test of time.


    ¡°I think I understand,¡± Thorne said, his voice steady.


    ¡°Good,¡± Haldor nodded. ¡°Then it¡¯s time you learned the true meaning of this craft. The work we do here isn¡¯t just for the village. It¡¯s for the future. And if you¡¯re to truly master this, lad, you must forge not just the steel¡ªbut your own soul.¡±


    The weight of Haldor¡¯s words hung in the air as Thorne absorbed them. He knew, deep in his heart, that this was his path. This was his purpose. Not just to wield the hammer, but to forge himself into something more. The trials, the battles, the strange power¡ªit all had meaning now. It was guiding him toward something greater.


    The tattoo on his hand seemed to burn brighter for a moment, and for the first time since he had been thrust into this new, strange world of power and loss, Thorne allowed himself to feel hope.


    ¡°You¡¯ve shaped me, Haldor,¡± Thorne murmured, ¡°but I have so much more to learn. I think I¡¯m just beginning.¡±


    Haldor smiled, his rugged face breaking into a grin. ¡°You always were stubborn, lad. But that¡¯s why you¡¯ll get there. I have no doubt about that.¡±


    In that moment, the two stood in silence. The golden light of Thorne¡¯s tattoo flickered once more, brighter this time, though it remained invisible to all but him. And as Haldor clasped his shoulder, Thorne realized that the past wasn¡¯t just a memory¡ªhis bond with this man, this place, and this purpose was what had brought him back.


    The trials ahead, the battles he had yet to face, all of it would be carried with the knowledge that his heart, his purpose, was forged here¡ªin the flames of the forge and the unyielding strength of love and mentorship.


    And with that thought, the world around him seemed to shift again. The forge glowed brighter, the flames of time twisting and distorting like the edge of a blade. In an instant, he was back¡ªback in the present, in the middle of the battle-scarred village of Eldoria.


    But he wasn¡¯t the same.


    He now carried the lessons of the past, the strength of his forge, and the deep bond to the people he had sworn to protect. The glowing tattoo on his hand pulsed with energy, no longer just a mark but a symbol of his transformation. And as the night sky above Eldoria settled into quiet peace, Thorne knew¡ªhe was ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.


    The forge of time had tempered him, and now he was stronger, wiser, and more determined than ever.

 6 : Shadows of the Past

    CHAPTER 6 : Shadows of the Past


    Zara awoke with a sharp intake of breath, her body shuddering as the remnants of the dream faded away. She sat up slowly, instinctively brushing dirt and dust off her clothes. The world around her was eerily quiet, and she could feel the weight of the past pressing down on her chest. But this wasn''t the present¡ªthis was a time before it all went wrong. Before she was captured, before she was torn from the streets and sold into slavery.


    The slums stretched out before her, the air thick with the scent of decay. It was a place of ruin, where the ground was cracked and broken, and the sky always seemed to hang low, a heavy curtain of grey that never fully lifted. This was the edge of Hope Citadel, a place where the forgotten were cast aside, left to rot in the squalor of a society that didn¡¯t care.


    Zara¡¯s memories surged forward like a floodgate opened. She remembered the sounds¡ªthe constant hum of machinery, the rattling of broken pipes, and the cries of the hungry and the desperate. People lived in the shadows here, always moving, always watching, but never truly seen. The slums had no laws, no rules¡ªonly survival.


    As a child, Zara had been one of the countless faces, a nameless figure scrounging for scraps in the alleys. Her first memories weren¡¯t of warmth or love, but of cold, hunger, and fear. Her parents were long gone, victims of the chaos that ruled the outer walls of the Citadel. Zara had learned early that survival didn¡¯t come easy. She had to be quick, clever, and ruthless. Trusting anyone was a luxury that could cost you your life.


    It was here, in this forgotten corner of the world, that Zara had first felt the stirrings of power within herself. At first, it was nothing more than a strange, almost unnoticeable hum in the back of her mind, a force that seemed to respond to her emotions, her desires. When she was angry or desperate, things around her would move. A brick would shift, a loose nail would rise from the floor. She had no idea what it was, only that it made her feel more than the small, insignificant girl she had once been.


    Her psychic abilities were the first thing that had drawn attention to her¡ªboth the good and the bad kinds. At first, it had been an accidental discovery. She had been cornered by a group of thugs one night, their knives glinting in the dim light as they closed in on her. She had felt the fear rise in her chest, but then, something inside her snapped. Without thinking, her power surged, lifting a nearby rusted barrel and hurling it at her attackers. It was enough to knock them back, giving her just enough time to escape.


    That night had changed everything.


    It wasn¡¯t long before the Black Veil took notice. They were everywhere¡ªwhispers of their name spread through the slums, a group of mercenaries and assassins that operated from the shadows. They were powerful, feared, and ruthless, and they had a way of finding talent, no matter how hidden it was. The Black Veil saw Zara¡¯s potential¡ªnot just as a psychic, but as a weapon.


    Her capture had been swift, almost surgical. There was no fight, no resistance. The Black Veil had sent a team to ¡°recruit¡± her, and within moments, she was shackled and taken. She didn¡¯t fight back; she had no reason to. She was still just a girl, lost and abandoned, with nowhere to turn. Her mind had been filled with a haze of confusion, fear, and disbelief. How had she gone from a street urchin to a prized asset in the hands of killers?


    The journey from the slums to the Black Veil''s hidden base had been a blur of emotions. The initial shock of being taken, followed by a cold emptiness that filled her as she realized there was no turning back. They had promised her power, purpose, and a place in their world, but all Zara wanted was a way out. But there was no way out. Not for her.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Her training was brutal. Days bled into nights as she was subjected to harsh lessons on combat, stealth, and manipulation. The Black Veil was not in the business of raising soldiers¡ªthey were in the business of creating monsters. Zara was transformed into one of them. Every day, they pushed her further, drove her harder, until her body and mind broke, only to be remade stronger, more efficient.


    It wasn¡¯t just the physical training that changed her¡ªit was the cybernetics. As her human body reached its limits, the Black Veil began replacing her limbs, her organs, one by one. Her arms were augmented with titanium alloys, her legs enhanced with motors that could carry her at breakneck speeds. Her spine was reinforced with a metal frame, and her eyes were fitted with implants that allowed her to see in the dark, read thermal signatures, and zoom in on distant targets with precision.


    But with every enhancement came a cost. Zara¡¯s body began to reject the cybernetics. The pain was unbearable at times, a constant gnawing ache deep inside her. There were nights when her joints would lock, her vision would blur, and she could feel the strain of her mechanical parts grinding against the fragile tissue of her human form. The Black Veil had promised that she would be stronger, faster, more lethal¡ªbut Zara was beginning to feel more like a machine than a person.


    There were moments, fleeting but intense, when she would catch a glimpse of herself in a reflective surface. Her eyes, once full of life, had become cold and distant. Her skin, once soft, was now marred with the scars of countless surgeries. Her hands, though still nimble and capable of deadly precision, felt detached from her body as if they didn¡¯t belong to her. She wasn¡¯t sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, she had stopped feeling human.


    Zara¡¯s hatred for the Black Veil grew with each passing day. She had been molded into the perfect assassin, a tool with no will of her own. But even the most efficient tool could be discarded when it was no longer useful. And that was what the Black Veil had planned for her all along.


    The betrayal had been swift, calculated, and cruel. Zara had just completed what was supposed to be a simple mission¡ªanother target, another life to take. But when she returned, the ambush came. Men in Dark, one of the Black Veil¡¯s most powerful psychics, had orchestrated it. He had always hated Zara¡¯s strength, her independence, her ability to rise above the others. He had whispered poison into the ears of the Black Veil¡¯s leaders, convincing them that Zara was no longer loyal, that her power had grown too great. The organization saw her as a threat, and they wanted her gone.


    Zara had fought back, of course. She had tried to escape, to use her abilities to break free, but it was too late. Men in Dark had trapped her with his psychic powers, locking her in place with a force she couldn¡¯t overcome. Her cybernetic body, though strong, wasn¡¯t enough to save her. It wasn¡¯t enough to save her from the darkness closing in around her.


    The memory of that betrayal burned in her mind, a constant reminder of the world¡¯s cruelty. She had given everything for the Black Veil¡ªher body, her soul, and her life¡ªand in return, they had discarded her like a broken tool.


    But now, as Zara stood in the ruins of her past, her human form restored, something inside her began to stir. This was not the future she had been condemned to. This was her second chance¡ªan opportunity to take control of her own fate.


    Zara closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the shard embedded in her spine. The golden glow of the artifact pulsed faintly beneath her skin, a reminder of the power she had gained through the journey of death and rebirth. She had not been restored to life simply to survive. She had been restored to fight.


    Her memories of the past were vivid and painful, but now they were fuel for the fire that burned inside her. She remembered the slums, the slavery, and the betrayal, but she also remembered the one thing that had always driven her: the need for justice. She had been used, manipulated, and thrown away, but now she had the power to make things right.


    Zara¡¯s purpose was clear. She would not let the Black Veil continue to tear the world apart. She would not let the corrupt, the greedy, and the powerful stand unchallenged. She would rise from the ashes of her past and bring vengeance to those who had destroyed her and countless others. But she would also bring change¡ªa world where people no longer had to live in fear, where the weak no longer had to be preyed upon by the powerful.


    She stood tall, feeling the strength of her human body coursing through her once again. The shard in her spine thrummed with energy, and she knew, deep down, that this was just the beginning.


    The world may have been broken, but Zara Voss was no longer the tool of others. She was the one in control now, and she would bring the change the world so desperately needed.


    ----


    Zara¡¯s journey was just beginning. With his new powers and the memories of his fallen comrades, he was determined to bring justice to a world that had been torn apart by betrayal and corruption. He would use his abilities to protect those who could not protect them


    selves and to destroy those who stood in his way.

 7 : The Cowards First Step

    **Chapter 7: The Coward''s First Step**


    Alex Carter blinked awake, the world around him blurry and out of focus. The harsh fluorescent lights above him buzzed softly, and the faint smell of cleaning solution mixed with stale air reminded him of exactly where he was. Lucky¡¯s Grocery.


    He groaned and rubbed his face, his mind swimming with confusion. Was it a dream? Zara, Thorn, the apocalypse? The years of hell? But as he sat up, the sharp weight of memory slammed into him.


    ¡°No,¡± he muttered under his breath, his eyes darting around. He was back¡ªback before the world ended, back before the meteorites fell, back when the infection hadn¡¯t yet turned the planet into a living nightmare.


    It was surreal. The cheap shelves, the aisles lined with snacks and canned goods, the distant hum of the freezers¡ªit all felt so ordinary, so wrong. He glanced down at his arm. The shard, now a tattoo etched into his skin, pulsed faintly, confirming that everything he remembered had been real.


    A memory flashed in his mind: standing atop a crumbling skyscraper, the infected swarming below, Zara shouting at him to jump. The shard¡¯s energy had saved him then, burning a path through the creatures. And now, it hummed quietly, a reminder of what was coming.


    **¡°Hey, lazy ass!¡±**


    The voice cut through the air like a whip, dragging Alex out of his thoughts.


    Alex turned to see Danny Torres, the store¡¯s resident bully, leaning against the break room door with that signature smirk that Alex had come to hate. Danny was in his mid-twenties, stocky and broad-shouldered, with a buzz cut and a tattoo of a snarling wolf on his neck. He wasn¡¯t just a bully¡ªhe was part of a local gang that everyone in the area knew to avoid.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you to stock aisle five? Or were you too busy daydreaming about being a hero or something?¡± Danny sneered, stepping closer.


    Alex clenched his fists, his mind flashing back to the countless humiliations Danny had put him through. The name-calling, the subtle shoves when no one was looking, the ¡°accidental¡± spills he¡¯d force Alex to clean up. And worse, the threats.


    ¡°Just give me a minute,¡± Alex said, his voice steady but low.


    Danny tilted his head, feigning mock confusion. ¡°A minute? Oh, I¡¯m sorry. Didn¡¯t realize you were the boss now.¡± He leaned in closer, his breath hot and reeking of gum. ¡°Or maybe you think you¡¯re too good for this job. Is that it, Carter?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Alex replied, his jaw tight.


    ¡°Then move your ass before I move it for you,¡± Danny snapped, shoving Alex¡¯s shoulder hard enough to make him stumble back a step.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Alex¡¯s muscles tensed, every instinct screaming at him to fight back. He had survived the apocalypse, fought off hordes of infected, and endured betrayals far worse than this. But here, in this moment, he was powerless. Danny wasn¡¯t alone¡ªhis gang had eyes everywhere. Even if Alex fought back, they¡¯d retaliate. Broken windows, slashed tires, graffiti on his apartment door¡­ He knew how it would go.


    Danny chuckled, clearly enjoying the internal struggle playing out on Alex¡¯s face. ¡°That¡¯s what I thought. Now get to work, loser.¡±


    ---


    Later, Alex found himself in the break room, staring into a steaming cup of cheap coffee. His hands were trembling¡ªnot from fear of Danny, but from the flood of memories crashing into him.


    Twenty years. Twenty goddamn years of hell.


    He remembered the nights spent scavenging in abandoned cities, the infected howling in the distance. He remembered the hunger that gnawed at his stomach until he thought he¡¯d collapse. The freezing nights spent huddled in ruins, his breath fogging the air as he tried to will himself to sleep. He had been nothing more than a weakling back then¡ªan orphan, alone and desperate. The apocalypse had no pity for the vulnerable, and Alex had learned that the hard way.


    There were times he had been forced to pick through garbage just to survive. Once, he¡¯d fought a stray dog over a moldy loaf of bread, tears streaming down his face as he clutched his pitiful prize. He had been terrified of everything: the infected, the gangs, even the shadows that danced in the firelight.


    But the worst part wasn¡¯t the hunger or the cold. It was the helplessness. Watching people he cared about slip away because he was too weak to save them. The faces haunted him still¡ªa scavenger group he had joined, torn apart by infected; a woman who had shared her last meal with him, only to be betrayed by another survivor. And Zara¡­ Zara had always been there, pulling him back from the edge, pushing him to keep going when all he wanted to do was give up.


    The infected weren¡¯t the worst part. Humans were. Gangs that roamed the wastelands, taking what they wanted, leaving nothing but ashes in their wake. Danny¡­ Danny had been there too, in the shelter. The same smug grin, the same cruel attitude. He¡¯d ruined Alex¡¯s reputation back then, spreading lies, turning the others against him. And now, here they were again, with Danny still tormenting him like nothing had changed.


    But Alex had changed.


    ---


    By the time his shift ended, Alex was drained¡ªnot from work, but from the mental battle of holding himself back. He walked the short distance to his apartment, the streetlights flickering as moths swirled around them.


    The city felt both familiar and alien. The hum of distant traffic, the faint music spilling out from a nearby bar, the chatter of pedestrians¡ªall of it was so mundane, yet Alex couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of wrongness. He knew what was coming. The meteorites, the infection, the collapse of everything. It was like watching a play where you already knew the ending.


    His apartment was as he remembered it: small, cluttered, with peeling wallpaper and a faint smell of dampness. But it was a roof over his head, and for now, it would do.


    As he locked the door behind him, his eyes fell on the notebook sitting on his desk. He grabbed it, flipping to a fresh page, and began scribbling furiously.


    **The Plan**


    **Stockpile Supplies:**


    - Food: Canned goods, rice, pasta, and anything with a long shelf life.


    - Water: Bottled water and a few portable water filters.


    - Medicine: Painkillers, antibiotics, bandages, and first-aid kits.


    - Weapons: Metal pipes, knives, machetes.


    - Look online for anything affordable and discreet.


    **Safe Location:**


    - Find a building with strong doors and few windows.


    - Stock it with supplies before the chaos starts.


    **Avoid Drawing Attention:**


    - Don¡¯t let Danny or anyone notice anything. They¡¯ll either steal or destroy it. In the apocalypse, humans were far worse than the beasts.


    As he wrote, Alex muttered under his breath, talking himself through the plan.


    ¡°Food first,¡± he said, circling the word. ¡°People are going to raid stores as soon as the news breaks. Canned goods, ramen, jerky¡­ whatever I can carry. And water. Gotta have enough to last at least a month.¡±


    He paused, tapping his pen against the notebook. ¡°Weapons¡­ I¡¯ll start with what¡¯s easy. Metal pipes are cheap. A machete would be good, but I¡¯ve gotta be careful. Can¡¯t exactly walk around with that sticking out of my bag.¡±


    His eyes drifted to the tattoo on his arm. ¡°And then there¡¯s this. The shard. I still don¡¯t know what it¡¯s doing to me, but it¡¯s gotta mean something. Maybe¡­¡± He trailed off, shaking his head.


    ---


    The night was quiet as Alex moved around his apartment, making a mental inventory of what he already had. A few cans of beans in the cupboard, a flashlight with half-dead batteries, and a rusty pocket knife. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was a start.


    As he stared out the window at the city below, he clenched his fists. *This time, I¡¯m ready. I know what¡¯s coming. I won¡¯t let them break me again.*


    The week ahead would be the hardest of his life, but Alex was no stranger


    to hard. He had survived the apocalypse once. Now, he had the chance to do it right.


    ---

 8: Threads of Connection and T R I awakenings

    **Chapter 8: Threads of Connection and TRI Awakenings **


    The fire, a small, defiant ember against the vast, indifferent darkness, flickered and danced, casting the faces of Zara Voss, Alex Carter, and Throne Ironhand in a fleeting tapestry of light and shadow. They were not physically together. Zara felt the press of bodies in Veridia''s teeming marketplace, the air thick with the scent of spices and the cacophony of bartering cries. Alex, in his cramped Neo-Kyoto apartment, stared at the rain-streaked window, the city''s neon glow a blurry, shimmering backdrop to his weariness. Throne, high in the windswept passes of Eldoria, felt the bite of the mountain air and the whisper of ancient pines. Yet, despite the vast distances that separated their physical forms, their minds were intertwined, connected by an invisible, unbreakable thread ¨C the strange, glowing tattoos that marked their skin.


    It had begun subtly. A faint warmth emanating from the intricate patterns, each mark a shard of some unknown whole. Then, as if by some unseen command, the shards began to pulse, their inner light growing brighter, more insistent. And when they closed their eyes in their respective worlds¡­ they found themselves here, in this shared mental space, a realm woven from the fabric of their minds. Here, in this strange and ethereal place, they could communicate, not with words spoken aloud, but with thoughts, feelings, and shared visions.


    This was only their second *mental* meeting, yet they felt an undeniable kinship, a sense of shared history that resonated deep within their souls. They knew fragments of each other''s pasts ¨C glimpses of battles fought, sacrifices made ¨C but tonight, the air thrummed with an unfamiliar energy, a sense of something about to ignite. The mysterious tattoos, once a source of bewilderment, now felt like a bridge, a conduit for this extraordinary form of communication.


    Throne Ironhand, his body weary from the arduous journey in Eldoria, sat up in his *mental* camp, the imagined silence amplifying the restlessness that gnawed at him. His *mental* gaze drifted to a battered sword, its surface a chronicle of past conflicts. Instinctively, his *mental* hands reached for it, the familiar weight a grounding presence. As he began to hone the dulled edge, the rhythmic *shing* of steel against steel pierced the stillness of this imagined space. The task was a form of meditation, a way to quiet the clamor of questions in his mind. Yet, even as his hands moved with practiced ease, his thoughts were consumed by the enigmatic symbols etched into his skin. They felt like more than just markings; they felt like a key, waiting to unlock something profound, something¡­ transformative.


    Zara lay with her eyes closed in the *real* world, but sleep was a distant, unattainable shore. An unsettling sensation, like an invisible thread tugging at her very core, kept her tethered to wakefulness. The tattoos on her arms radiated a subtle warmth, their glow intensifying with each passing night. The connection she felt with Alex and Throne was unlike any she had experienced. It wasn''t mere friendship; it was a deep, visceral link, a shared destiny unfolding before them, a tapestry woven from threads of mystery and anticipation.


    *Zara (thought): Alex¡­ are you feeling this?*


    *Alex (thought): Yes¡­ it¡¯s like¡­ a current, running through us.*


    *Throne (thought): A connection¡­ stronger than anything I¡¯ve ever known.*


    A soft whisper, not of voice but of thought, broke the silence of their mental realm. "Zara."


    Her heart quickened. She recognized the¡­ presence ¨C Alex. Turning her *mental* head, she saw him silhouetted against the flickering firelight of this shared space. Their *mental* eyes met, and in that instant, the connection between them surged, a jolt of shared awareness passing between them like an electric current. It was more than just recognizing a face; it was a fleeting merging of souls, a shared understanding that transcended the need for words.


    *Zara (thought): Alex?*


    *Alex (thought): It¡¯s¡­ different. More¡­ present.*


    Zara frowned, a flicker of unease dancing in her eyes. *Different? How?*


    Before Alex could respond, another presence, low and resonant, joined their mental exchange.


    *Throne (thought): Zara¡­ Alex¡­ I can hear you¡­ in my mind. It''s¡­ remarkable.*


    A shiver traced its path down Zara''s spine. The sensation was unnerving, yet¡­ strangely compelling. It was as if the night itself was conspiring to weave their fates together, drawing them into a shared experience that defied logic, defied the very laws of nature. They were becoming something more than just individuals; they were becoming a unified whole, bound by an invisible, unbreakable thread.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    *Alex (thought): What¡¯s happening? I can hear you both. It¡¯s like¡­ I¡¯m inside your minds.*


    *Throne (thought): This is¡­ beyond my comprehension.*


    Zara''s mind raced. She had always sensed the unique nature of their bond, but now, as their thoughts mingled, that feeling intensified exponentially. The strange tattoos, once a source of bewilderment, began to coalesce into something meaningful, a key to unlocking their shared potential, their shared purpose, their shared destiny.


    *Zara (thought): Are you¡­ seeing it?*


    *Alex (thought): I¡¯m seeing something. It¡¯s like¡­ a screen. Floating right in front of me.*


    A shimmering interface materialized before each of them, hanging in the air like a holographic projection. The **TRI UI** interface.


    **(Zara''s TRI UI)**


    The interface shimmered into existence before Zara, displaying her name and class. *Assassin.* The word resonated within her, a stark reminder of the skills she had honed, the shadows she had mastered.


    **Name:** Zara Voss


    **Age:** 29


    **Class:** Assassin


    **Strength:** 6


    **Agility:** 10


    **Vitality:** 2


    **Synchronization:** 9.1%


    **Skills:**


    * **Shadow Strike (F):** Mastery of stealth and surprise attacks.


    * **Assassin¡¯s Reflexes (F):** Increased agility and perception in combat.


    * **Chain of Oath (F):** Create a bond with an object or person, strengthening their connection.


    * **Inventory (F):** Personal pocket dimension for storing items.


    Her gaze lingered on "Chain of Oath." A flicker of anticipation stirred within her. What did it mean? What power did it hold?


    **(Alex''s TRI UI)**


    Alex stared at the glowing screen, his heart pounding. The words "Body Strengthening" seemed to pulse with a tangible energy, a promise of untapped potential.


    **Name:** Alex Carter


    **Age:** 30


    **Class:** Soldier, Salaryman


    **Strength:** 5


    **Agility:** 7


    **Vitality:** 6


    **Synchronization:** 9.1%


    **Skills:**


    * **Body Strengthening (F)??:** Enhances physical strength and endurance.


    * **Shelter Series: Base (F):** Increases physical durability and resilience.


    * **Inventory (F):** Personal pocket dimension for storing items.


    Tears welled up in his eyes, a complex mix of awe, relief, and a touch of fear. *I¡­ I¡¯m awake,* he thought, the emotion thick in his mental voice. *I actually¡­ have something now.*


    **(Throne''s TRI UI)**


    Throne''s eyes scanned the glowing interface, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Alchemy?" he murmured, a hint of surprise in his mental voice. "These¡­ these aren''t just skills. They feel¡­ imbued with possibility, with potential."


    **Name:** Throne Ironhand


    **Age:** 35


    **Class:** Blacksmith, Warrior


    **Strength:** 8


    **Agility:** 4


    **Vitality:** 6


    **Synchronization:** 9.1%


    **Skills:**


    * **Blacksmithing (F):** Mastery of metallurgy, crafting, and weapon repair.


    * **War Hammer (F):** Proficiency with war hammer weapons.


    * **Alchemy (F):** Crafting and enchanting items using various substances.


    * **Inventory (F):** Personal pocket dimension for storing items.


    *Zara (thought): I think¡­ this is what we¡¯re meant to be. The synchronization¡­ the tattoos¡­ they¡¯re awakening something extraordinary within us, something¡­ more.*


    *Alex (thought): But what is it? Why now? And how is this even possible? We¡¯re from different worlds.*


    *Zara (thought): I don¡¯t know all the answers, Alex. But I feel it too. This connection¡­ it¡¯s more than just coincidence. We¡¯re linked, somehow, by something powerful, something¡­ ancient.*


    *Throne (thought): We are. I can feel it. A bond that transcends worlds, a shared destiny unfolding before us.*


    *Zara (thought): Whatever this is, we¡¯ll face it together. As one. Bound by blood, by fate, by something¡­ more.*


    The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows that danced around them like mischievous sprites. The weight of their shared destiny settled upon them, a mixture of trepidation and exhilaration. They were no longer just Zara, Alex, and Throne, individuals scattered across distant lands. They were something more, something¡­ connected, something¡­ destined.


    *Zara (thought): This¡­ this is incredible.* She focused on the "Chain of Oath" skill, a shiver of anticipation running through her. *What does it mean? A bond¡­ with what? A person? An object?* She tried to visualize it, to grasp its essence, but it remained elusive, a mystery shrouded in the unknown. *Perhaps¡­ a key to understanding our connection?*


    *Alex (thought): I feel¡­ different.* He flexed his *mental* fingers, testing the newfound strength that coursed through him. *Body Strengthening¡­ it¡¯s real.* He thought back to his life in Neo-Kyoto, the constant feeling of being weak, vulnerable. *Maybe¡­ maybe this is a chance. A chance to be more. A chance to finally¡­ matter.*


    *Throne (thought): Alchemy¡­* The word echoed in his mind, filled with a sense of ancient power, of untapped potential. He had studied the texts, dabbled in the art, but it had always felt like a distant dream, a pursuit for scholars and mages, not a blacksmith from Eldoria. *Now¡­ it¡¯s within reach. A gift¡­ or a burden?* He closed his *mental* eyes, trying to picture the intricate processes, the mystical ingredients. *What can I create? What can I enhance? Can I¡­ can I even control it?*


    *Zara (thought): We need to understand this. The tattoos¡­ the TRI UI¡­ it¡¯s all connected. It has to be.*


    *Alex (thought): But how? We¡¯re from different worlds. How is this even possible? It feels¡­ impossible.*


    *Throne (thought): Perhaps¡­ the worlds aren¡¯t so different. Perhaps¡­ there¡¯s a deeper connection, a shared origin, a common thread woven through the fabric of reality itself.*


    *Zara (thought): The synchronization¡­ 9.1%. What does it mean? Is it¡­ a measure of our connection? A measure of our potential?*


    The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications, a silent echo in the mental space. They were linked, yes, but to what end? What purpose did this shared power serve? Was it a gift? A curse? Or something else entirely?


    *Alex (thought): I¡­ I¡¯m scared.* The vulnerability in his thought was palpable, a raw and honest emotion laid bare in the shared space of their minds. *I¡¯ve never felt anything like this before. It¡¯s¡­ overwhelming. What if I can¡¯t control it? What if it changes me¡­ makes me someone I don¡¯t recognize?*


    *Zara (thought): We¡¯re in this together, Alex. We¡¯ll figure it out. Together. We won¡¯t let this¡­ whatever it is¡­ consume us.*


    *Throne (thought): We have a shared destiny. That much is clear. What that destiny entails¡­ remains to be seen. But we will face it¡­ together.*


    A sense of quiet determination settled over them, a fragile but resilient ember of hope flickering in the darkness. They were bound together, not just by the mysterious tattoos and the strange TRI UI, but by a shared sense of purpose, a shared vulnerability, a shared fear. They were different, yes, each shaped by the unique challenges and experiences of their respective worlds. But they were also one, united by this inexplicable connection, this shared power, this shared mystery. And whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever darkness they might face, they would confront it as one, bound by the threads of their interwoven destinies. The fire crackled, a small beacon of hope in the vast darkness, a symbol


    of the bond that had been forged in the crucible of the unknown. Their journey, together, had just begun.

 9 : Forged in Frost and Fire

    **Chapter 9: Forged in Frost and Fire **


    The Northern Forest was an unyielding expanse, an endless sea of snow and silence. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, a stark contrast to the storm raging within Throne Ironhand. The pines stood like ancient sentinels, their frosted limbs bowing under the weight of winter¡¯s grasp. The air was sharp, biting at the skin with every breath, and the faint cry of distant wolves occasionally broke the stillness. Few dared to enter this realm, not because of its cold or its vastness, but because of the shadows that moved unseen beneath its canopy. It was said that the forest had a soul, a dark and watchful presence that tolerated no intrusion.


    Throne Ironhand moved steadily through the snow, his boots leaving deep impressions in the frozen ground. The cold stung his cheeks, but he welcomed it. The sharpness of the air kept him grounded, prevented his mind from spiraling into the memories that haunted him. He clenched his fist, the faint scar on his hand tingling, a phantom pain echoing from a past he was desperately trying to rewrite. *Not this time. Not like before. I won''t fail them again. Not Eldoria. Not forge. Not Haldor.*


    Beside him, Haldor walked with the steady gait of a man who had faced far greater trials than the winter¡¯s chill. The elder blacksmith¡¯s beard was dusted with frost, and his broad shoulders carried the weight of the massive hammer strapped across his back. Despite his rugged appearance, there was an ease to his movements, a quiet strength that seemed to defy the years etched into his weathered face. He glanced at Throne, his brow furrowed with concern. "You''re miles away, lad," he said, his voice a low rumble. "What troubles you so?" He noticed the way Throne''s hand clenched, the almost imperceptible flinch in his posture.


    Throne adjusted the sleeve covering his forearm. The faint glow of the tattoo there was hidden, but he could still feel its presence¡ªa constant reminder of his regression, of the second chance he had been given. *A chance to make things right. A chance to prevent¡­ the massacre at Oakbridge.* Second chances came with a price. He had returned to this moment, this fragile sliver of time before the first wave of monsters would descend upon the North. He could already see the signs¡ªthe thinning herds, the unnatural silence that had settled over the forest. It was the calm before the storm, and Throne knew that in just a few days, the nightmare would begin again. But this time, he would change the story. *He had to. He owed them that much.*


    Suddenly, a flicker of warmth, a familiar presence, brushed against his mind.


    *Zara (thought): Throne? Are you there?*


    Throne blinked, momentarily disoriented. *Zara? What¡ª*


    *Alex (thought): It¡¯s us. We¡¯re¡­ checking in.*


    He focused his will, accessing the strange mental link that bound them together. The images of their TRI UI flashed briefly before his mind¡¯s eye ¨C


    *Agility¡­


    Strength¡­


    Vitality¡­*


    ¨CThen shared his sense of seeing and hearing as he focused on their thoughts.


    *Throne (thought): I¡¯m here. Just¡­ trying to focus.* He sent an image of the forest, the towering pines, the snow-covered ground. *I¡¯m with Haldor. We¡¯re almost at the forge.*


    *Zara (thought): Be careful, Throne. Something feels¡­ different this time.*


    *Alex (thought): Well right now we¡¯re with you. In whatever way we can be.*


    The connection faded, leaving Throne with a renewed sense of purpose. He was not alone in this. *We''re in this together. We have to be.*


    Haldor¡¯s voice broke the silence. ¡°You¡¯re thinking too much again,¡± he said, his tone light but knowing. ¡°I can see it in your eyes.¡± He studied Throne, his gaze lingering. "Something''s troubling you more than usual. Is it the coming winter? Or¡­ something else?" He could see the tension in Throne''s shoulders, the way his jaw tightened. He''d seen that look before, in the eyes of men facing impossible odds.


    Throne stiffened, his jaw clenching. He forced a neutral expression. ¡°Just preparing myself,¡± he replied.


    Haldor chuckled, a low rumble that warmed the icy air. ¡°You¡¯re always preparing. It¡¯s the doing that matters, lad. Don¡¯t let your thoughts tie you up in knots.¡± He placed a hand on Throne''s shoulder, his grip firm. "Whatever it is, Throne, you don''t have to carry it alone."


    Throne forced a small smile, though his mind churned. Haldor didn¡¯t know the half of it. How could he? How could Throne explain that he wasn¡¯t just carrying his own thoughts, but the weight of memories that hadn¡¯t even happened yet¡­ *in this timeline*? Memories of fire, and death, and the monstrous roars that still echoed in his nightmares. *The screams of the villagers¡­ the smell of burning flesh¡­* He flinched, a sudden wave of nausea washing over him.


    They continued in silence for a while, the crunch of snow beneath their boots the only sound. The forest stretched endlessly around them, its shadows deepening as the sun began to dip below the horizon.


    ¡°You remind me of myself when I was your age,¡± Haldor said suddenly, his voice softer now.


    Throne glanced at him, his brow furrowing. ¡°How so?¡±


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Haldor smiled faintly, though there was a sadness to it. ¡°Always carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Always trying to solve problems that aren¡¯t yours alone to solve.¡±


    Throne looked away, his jaw tightening. Haldor¡¯s words struck closer to the truth than he liked. *I¡¯m trying to save him. I¡¯m trying to save everyone. But what if¡­ what if I¡¯m not strong enough?*


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said quickly, his voice firm, though his heart pounded in his chest. ¡°Just... trying to be prepared. Winter¡¯s almost here, and the village will need weapons.¡±


    Haldor stopped walking, turning to face him fully. ¡°It¡¯s not just about the weapons, is it?¡± His gaze was piercing, his eyes filled with an understanding that made Throne uneasy.


    Throne froze under his master¡¯s steady gaze. He felt as though Haldor could see straight through him, past the layers of silence and secrets.


    ¡°You¡¯re restless,¡± Haldor said, his voice softer now. ¡°I can see it in the way you work, the way you move. There¡¯s something you¡¯re not telling me.¡±


    Throne opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. What could he say? That he had seen Haldor¡¯s death, that he knew what was coming? That he carried the burden of a future that no one else could even imagine? *A future I¡¯m desperately trying to prevent. A future where Haldor¡­* He couldn¡¯t even finish the thought. His breath hitched, a sudden tightness in his chest, a wave of dizziness threatening to overwhelm him.


    Instead, he looked down, his hands tightening into fists. ¡°I just want to be ready,¡± he said finally, his voice low, his voice trembling slightly.


    Haldor studied him for a moment before letting out a soft sigh. ¡°Aye, I understand that feeling.¡± He placed a hand on Throne''s shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "But remember, lad, even the strongest steel can break under too much stress. You need to rest. You need to share your burdens."


    They continued walking, and the forest grew darker around them. When they reached a frozen stream, Haldor stopped again, crouching down to trace a finger along the ice. The sun had dipped lower, casting the forest in shades of gray and blue.


    ¡°Do you know why I took you in, Throne?¡± Haldor asked suddenly, his voice quiet.


    Throne blinked, caught off guard by the question. He had wondered about this before, but he had never dared to ask. ¡°I always thought... you saw potential in me.¡±


    Haldor chuckled, though it was a hollow sound. ¡°Potential, aye. But it wasn¡¯t just that.¡± He straightened, his gaze distant, his eyes reflecting the fading light. ¡°Five years ago, when the first wave of monsters came... I lost everything. My wife, Sigrun. My boy, Alric. My home, my life... it all burned away.¡± He touched a small, worn leather pouch at his belt, his fingers tracing the outline of a familiar shape within ¨C a small wooden carving of a falcon, its wings spread in perpetual flight. His knuckles were white.


    Throne¡¯s breath hitched. He had heard fragments of this story before, but never like this. Never with such raw grief, so palpable and present. He remembered seeing Haldor in the other timeline, his face a mask of rage and despair as he fought, a man driven by grief. *And I failed him then. I failed them all.*


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t save them,¡± Haldor continued, his voice breaking, a tremor running through his large frame. ¡°No matter how strong I was, no matter how many monsters I killed... I couldn¡¯t save the people who mattered most.¡± He looked at Throne, his eyes shining with unshed tears, reflecting the pain of a loss that time had not healed. ¡°When I found you in that ruined village, you reminded me of Alric. Same fire in your eyes, same stubbornness. I thought... maybe, just maybe, I could save you. That I could make up for the people I failed.¡±


    Throne¡¯s chest tightened, a knot of guilt and grief twisting within him. He wanted to tell Haldor the truth, to explain that he had come back to save *him*, to change the future. But the words stuck in his throat, choked by the weight of what he knew, the weight of what he had seen. *He wouldn¡¯t believe me. And even if he did¡­ would it change anything? Or would it just make the pain worse?*


    ¡°You¡¯re like a son to me, Throne,¡± Haldor said, his voice thick with emotion, placing a hand on his shoulder, his grip firm. ¡°And I¡¯ll be damned if I let anything happen to you.¡±


    Throne swallowed hard, his resolve hardening, a fierce protectiveness rising within him. ¡°I won¡¯t let anything happen to you either, Master. I swear it.¡± *I¡¯ll protect you. I¡¯ll protect them all. This time¡­ it will be different. I¡¯ll make it different.*


    Their path led to a clearing where the remnants of their camp stood: a modest forge, an anvil blackened by years of work, and rows of weapons buried in snow like forgotten relics. This place was as much a sanctuary as it was a crucible, a place where steel was forged and destinies were shaped.


    Haldor motioned for Throne to begin. ¡°Before the monsters come, we need more steel. Show me what you¡¯ve learned, boy.¡±


    Throne nodded, rolling up his sleeves to expose his forearms. The faint glow of the tattoo beneath his skin flickered for a moment, unseen by Haldor but felt by Throne¡ªa reminder of his mission, a reminder of the power he now wielded. ¡°I¡¯m ready,¡± he said, his voice firm, his gaze fixed on the forge.


    The hours that followed were grueling. The heat of the forge licked at Throne''s skin, even through his thick coat. The smell of sulfur and burning metal filled the air, acrid and sharp, stinging his nostrils. Haldor was an unforgiving teacher, his voice a constant prod, demanding precision with every hammer strike. ¡°Hesitating again!¡± The words echoed in Throne¡¯s mind, not just from Haldor¡¯s lips, but from a memory, a past lesson where the same words had been spoken, just before¡­ *Before the attack. Before the screams. Before the blood. Before¡­ Oakbridge.* The image flickered in his mind ¨C a monstrous shape emerging from the trees, its eyes glowing with malevolent intent, its claws dripping with¡­ *blood. The blood of the villagers. The blood of¡­ Haldor.* He flinched, a tremor running through his hand, the hammer almost slipping from his grasp.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop now,¡± Haldor said, his voice softer this time, but no less commanding. He noticed Throne''s hesitation, his brow furrowed with concern. ¡°Is something amiss, lad?¡±


    Throne exhaled, the breath catching in his throat, and finished the swing, the hammer striking the steel with a resounding clang. *Just like the past,* he thought grimly, his heart pounding in his chest. He could almost feel the phantom weight of the sword in his hand from the previous timeline, the one that had failed to save anyone. *This time¡­ it will be different. I have to make it different.*


    When the blade was finished, Haldor inspected it with a critical eye, running his fingers along the edge. He nodded once, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression, and handed it back. ¡°It¡¯ll do. For now.¡± He looked at Throne, his eyes filled with a deep concern. ¡°You¡¯re pushing yourself too hard, Throne. What¡¯s driving you so?¡±


    As Throne lay in the dim glow of the dying embers, his mind refused to settle. Haldor¡¯s confession weighed heavily on him. The man who had seemed so indestructible bore his own scars¡ªburdens Throne had never fully understood until now. *He lost his family¡­ just like I did. Just like I will again¡­ unless I change things. But how can I be sure? What if I make it worse? What if¡­* He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the intrusive thoughts, the haunting images of the past, the fear of the future. *Oakbridge¡­ I have to prevent Oakbridge.*


    Throne¡¯s thoughts wandered to the tattoo on his forearm, glowing faintly beneath his skin. The past was a cruel master, and he had been given the power to defy it. Yet with every step he took, every choice he made, he felt the weight of the unknown, the crushing weight of potential consequences. Could he truly rewrite the ending of this tale, or was he simply delaying an inevitable fate? *What if I¡¯m not strong enough? What if I¡¯m not¡­ worthy? What if I fail them all?*


    The wind howled outside, a mournful sound that seemed to carry the voices of those who had fallen¡ªHaldor¡¯s family, Throne¡¯s people, the countless others who had been consumed by the chaos of war. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the images, the sounds, the *feelings* of that other life, that other failure. *I can¡¯t let it happen again. I won¡¯t.*


    ¡°I¡¯ll change it,¡± he whispered to the darkness, his voice steady but quiet, filled with a desperate resolve. ¡°No matter the cost.¡± *I have to. For them. For him. For everyone. I swear it.*


    He rolled onto his side, staring at the faint outline of Haldor¡¯s resting form across the room. The older man¡¯s breaths were deep and steady, a rhythm that spoke of a peace Throne envied, a peace he knew Haldor had not truly felt in years. *I won¡¯t let him down. I won¡¯t let anyone down. I swear it on my life.*


    Tomorrow would bring new trials, as it always did. But for tonight, Throne clung to the fragile hope that his second chance would be enough. That he, and Zara, and Alex, together, could somehow be enough. *We have to be. We have to succeed.*


    The embers in the forge flickered one last time before fading into darkness, leaving the forest and the two warriors within it to the cold embrace of the night¡­ and the looming shadow of the monstrous shape he knew was coming, the shape that haunted his dreams, the shape that would bring death and de


    struction to everything he held dear¡­ *the shape that would bring the fires of Oakbridge.*

 10 : The Hollow Whale

    Chapter 10 : The Hollow whale


    This time, she wasn¡¯t the naive girl she had once been. She knew exactly where this road led¡ªbecause she had walked it before. In the fragmented threads of her memory from the future timeline, Zara had experienced this moment, felt the cold iron of failure. Back then, ignorance had been her downfall. This time, her capture was part of a larger, calculated risk.


    Her goal was clear: steal the Alexia.


    The Alexia was no ordinary prize. It was power bottled in liquid form, a key to psychic abilities beyond imagination¡ªor a lifeline to restore what was suppressed. Zara knew what it could do. In a fractured future that now felt like her past, she had seen the Alexia auctioned off in the depths of the citadel¡¯s black market, the Hollow Whale. She had also seen how it had destroyed her life, marking her for death and betrayal. Yet, it was her only hope to survive and navigate the treacherous layers of the citadel¡¯s underworld.


    But the plan had failed¡ªor seemed to.


    Dragged through the towering halls of the citadel, Zara watched as the psychic detector hummed to life. The guards smirked as it confirmed what they already suspected: she was a psychic user. They clamped a suppressor collar around her neck, a cold, unforgiving weight that dulled her abilities to nothing more than a whisper in her mind. She was thrown into a cage with other captured kids¡ªterrified faces, too young to fully understand what awaited them.


    She understood.


    The descent into the Hollow Whale was long and foreboding. Chains rattled. Shadows grew longer, thicker, consuming the narrow paths. The air turned cold, stale, tinged with the metallic scent of rust and despair. They were moving deep beneath the citadel, past forgotten ruins, to a place where no light reached.


    The Hollow Whale wasn¡¯t a mere black market¡ªit was the citadel¡¯s festering core of corruption. Here, the unspeakable became currency. Lives were sold alongside weapons, contraband, and relics of the psychic wars. The arena loomed below, vast and echoing, its cages suspended like grotesque ornaments above a pit of desperation.


    Zara¡¯s cage was lowered into this abyss, her mind racing. She wasn¡¯t afraid. Fear had burned away long ago, leaving behind a sharper edge: determination. The Alexia was here. In her fractured memories of a life she had lived before, she knew exactly where they would stash it. Before the auction, after the auction¡ªshe had seen every angle, learned every detail.


    The guards barely glanced at her as the cage halted. They unlocked the doors and barked commands, shoving the captives forward like cattle. Zara didn¡¯t resist. She moved when they told her to, lowering her gaze, letting them believe they had broken her. But inside, she was already preparing.


    The psychic suppressor dulled her abilities, but it couldn¡¯t suppress her resolve. The plan began the moment her feet touched the ground. She had been here before¡ªshe knew the timing, the patterns, the weaknesses in their system. She knew the risks, and she knew the cost.


    This was no longer about survival. It was about seizing the opportunity.


    Zara¡¯s moment was coming.


    ---


    Beneath the bustling heart of the most fortified city in the world lay a hidden labyrinth known only to a select few¡ª*The Hollow whale*. It was a place whispered about in shadows, a black market thriving under the unlikeliest of places. Its existence was both a bold defiance of authority and a testament to human greed and ingenuity.


    The entrance was concealed in plain sight, tucked beneath a revered temple said to be sacred ground. Worshippers climbed its pristine marble steps daily, oblivious to the dark dealings happening below. For those in the know, a simple prayer whispered to a specific statue triggered a hidden mechanism. The floor shifted, and a staircase descended into the depths. The air grew cooler, tinged with the faint smell of damp stone and smoke as one ventured deeper.


    At the heart of the subterranean expanse lay the market itself¡ªa sprawling maze of chaos and commerce. Makeshift stalls, fashioned from scrap metal and rich silks, lined narrow pathways lit by flickering neon signs and torches. Every corner seemed alive with activity. The clang of weapons being tested, the low hum of whispered negotiations, and the distant roar of the arena blended into a cacophony of sound.


    The **buildings** were a mismatched assortment of brutal functionality and eerie luxury. Some were little more than reinforced concrete bunkers, their doors guarded by hulking mercenaries. Others gleamed with ostentatious wealth¡ªgold accents, velvet drapes, and chandeliers that sparkled like stolen stars. The disparity reflected the market¡¯s clientele, which ranged from desperate smugglers to corrupt nobles.


    In the central plaza, the **arena** loomed¡ªa circular coliseum of iron and stone, shrouded in a suffocating aura of despair. Here, the cruelest of trades took place: the auctioning of slaves. Beneath harsh, unflinching lights, captives stood in ragged chains, their faces hollow, their spirits shattered. Bidders shouted from tiered seating, their voices filled with greed and indifference. High above, private balconies shielded the wealthiest buyers from the rabble.


    Beyond the arena, the air grew thicker, tainted with the stench of forbidden goods. **Rare and deadly weapons**, some rumored to have toppled biggest cities in the past , were displayed brazenly on racks. **Drugs**, their colors as vibrant as they were lethal, were bartered over in hushed tones. A corner shop specialized in **enchanted artifacts**, with a robed figure promising curses or blessings, depending on the buyer¡¯s coin.


    The most harrowing section of the market was the **flesh trade**. Under dim, flickering lights, caged humans and exotic creatures were paraded before eager buyers. The auctioneer¡¯s voice boomed, inciting a frenzy with promises of rare skills or unique bloodlines. Bidding wars erupted, sometimes ending in violence when tempers flared too high.


    Despite its chaos, **The Hollow whale** was meticulously organized. An unseen council ensured that no deal went unpaid and no betrayal went unanswered. Even whispers of cheating were met with swift and brutal punishment. The air always carried a sense of unease, like a taut wire ready to snap.


    But the market wasn¡¯t just a place for illegal goods. It was a hub for the darkest **crimes** imaginable. Assassins advertised their services with subtle gestures, while spies exchanged intelligence in coded phrases. Deals were struck in blood, and fortunes were made or lost in the blink of an eye.


    The atmosphere was electric, a mix of danger and allure. Every visitor felt the weight of the unspoken rule: **"Trust no one. Betrayal is currency here."**


    In the shadows of The Hollow Hollow , morality was a distant concept, and survival was the only law. For those brave¡ªor desperate¡ªenough to descend into its depths, the market offered both unimaginable riches and the ever-looming threat of destruction.


    The boy''s footsteps echoed in the tunnel, a hesitant shuffle against the cold stone floor. His wrists were bound, the rope digging into his tender skin, and his small chest heaved as he struggled to keep up with the line of captives being marched deeper into the unknown. Around him, the sound of soft weeping filled the air, but no one dared to speak.


    The guards flanking them were silent, their faces hidden behind featureless black masks that gleamed faintly in the dim torchlight. The boy glanced at the nearest one, searching for a flicker of humanity behind the empty eyes of the mask. There was none.


    When they reached the end of the tunnel, the air shifted. It grew thicker, heavier, charged with something unnatural. The boy¡¯s heart sank as the group passed through a massive iron gate. Beyond it lay a world that he couldn¡¯t have imagined in his darkest nightmares.


    ---


    The Hollow Whale unfolded before them like a living, breathing thing. A massive cavern stretched into an endless abyss, its towering buildings carved from jagged stone and glinting metal. Every structure seemed to lean precariously, connected by a web of swaying bridges and narrow staircases. At the center of it all, a glowing pit pulsed faintly, casting the entire place in an eerie, shifting light.


    The boy¡¯s senses were assaulted by the sheer chaos of it all. Merchants shouted over each other, hawking wares in voices thick with greed. The clinking of coins and the dull thud of crates being dragged across the ground created a dissonant symphony that filled the air.


    ¡°Exotic beasts from beyond the Wastelands!¡± one vendor cried, pulling a snarling creature from a cage.


    ¡°Rare enhancement serum , weapons and cybernatics¡ªillegal in every stronghold above!¡± called another, holding up a vial that shimmered with colors no eye should see.


    The boy stumbled as a guard shoved him forward. He caught himself just before falling and looked up to see the crowd. They were nothing like the people of his village. Nobles draped in luxurious cloaks, their faces obscured by jeweled masks, moved through the market with practiced indifference. Mercenaries, their weapons gleaming and their armor scarred, stood as silent sentinels for their wealthy employers. Shadowy figures, cloaked in darkness, bartered in whispers over goods that reeked of danger and death.


    ---


    The captives were led toward the center of the market, where a massive arena loomed. The boy¡¯s breath caught in his throat as he saw the iron bars that surrounded it, lined with glowing runes that hummed faintly. A thick crowd had already gathered, their eyes glinting with anticipation as they awaited the night¡¯s ¡°entertainment.¡±


    He was shoved into a line of children and adults, each one trembling as they faced the raised platform in the center of the arena. The auctioneer, a tall man with a gaunt face and a smile that made the boy¡¯s skin crawl, strode onto the stage.


    ¡°Welcome, welcome,¡± the man¡¯s voice rang out, smooth and sickly sweet. ¡°Tonight, we offer the finest selection the Hollow Whale has seen in months!¡±


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The crowd erupted in cheers and murmurs, their hunger palpable.


    One by one, the captives were dragged forward. The boy watched in horror as a girl, no older than him, was yanked onto the platform. She tried to resist, but the guards were too strong. The auctioneer grabbed her chin, tilting her face toward the crowd.


    ¡°A rare gem,¡± he purred. ¡°Strong, healthy, untouched by the filth of the surface. Who will start the bidding?¡±


    The boy¡¯s stomach churned as paddles shot into the air, accompanied by shouts of increasingly obscene sums of gold. The girl¡¯s cries were drowned out by the frenzy.


    ---


    The boy¡¯s turn came too soon. His legs felt like lead as he was dragged onto the platform. The auctioneer¡¯s icy fingers gripped his arm, holding him up for all to see.


    ¡°This one,¡± the man announced, his voice dripping with mockery, ¡°is young, agile, and full of potential. Perfect for labor... or perhaps something more creative.¡±


    The boy¡¯s vision blurred as the bidding began. The faces in the crowd melted together, masks blending into one another until they became a single, monstrous entity. He wanted to scream, to run, but the weight of the moment pinned him in place.


    ---


    As the auction continued, the boy noticed something beneath the surface¡ªa quiet tension among the guards and merchants. He overheard snatches of whispered conversations.


    ¡°Too many died tried escaping lately,¡± one guard muttered to another.


    By hearing that , The boy''s ears drooped. He felt hopeless, like there was no way out. It was like a dark prison with no escape..


    ---


    As the boy was led away, sold to a merchant whose cold eyes promised years of toil, he couldn¡¯t help but think about the world above. He had always believed that Citadel stronghold was a city of light, a place where good triumphed over evil. But now he knew the truth.


    Where light existed, shadows always followed. The Hollow Whale was the price of Citadel¡¯s perfection, a festering wound hidden beneath its golden facade. It was a world where innocence was traded for profit, and hope was a currency more fragile than gold.


    The boy resolved that, one day, he would escape. And when he did, he would find a way to bring the light into the shadows. For now, he would endure. He would survive. And he would never forget the truth of the Hollow Hollow : **where there is light, darkness waits beneath.**


    The world outside the cage was a blur of muted light and muffled noise. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, fear, and damp stone. Zara sat cross-legged on the cold iron floor of the cage, her arms wrapped loosely around her knees. She looked small, frail, her malnourished frame blending in with the other children huddled around her. To anyone watching, she was just another frightened captive.


    But Zara Voss was far from ordinary.


    The Hollow Hollow ¡ªan infamous black-market underworld hidden deep beneath the Citadel¡ªwas her destination, though not by choice. Few in the world above even knew of its existence. The place was a fortress, a secret kept by the most powerful and the most vile, where the unspeakable thrived under a veneer of shadow. Its halls were carved into the earth itself, a labyrinth of stone and steel that swallowed hope whole.


    ---


    The rickety cage groaned as it swung slightly from the chain suspending it above the stone floor. Around Zara, children her apparent age whispered in hushed tones or cried silently into their sleeves. Most of them were too terrified to speak, their eyes darting to the slavers who prowled nearby like wolves guarding their prey.


    Zara, however, was calm. Her gaze was steady, her breathing even. The others saw a quiet, withdrawn girl, no older than thirteen, with tangled hair and hollow cheeks. They didn¡¯t know she was nineteen, a regresser trapped in the body of a malnourished adolescent. They didn¡¯t know she had once walked these halls freely, her steps silent as she carried out contracts in the shadows.


    And they didn¡¯t know she was watching, memorizing every detail¡ªthe guards¡¯ movements, the creak of the cage¡¯s hinges, the flickering torches along the walls.


    ---


    The cage jerked suddenly, lowering toward the stone platform below. The children yelped in alarm, clutching at one another as the chain clattered loudly. Zara remained still, her hands gripping the bars lightly as she peered through them.


    The descent revealed more of the Hollow Hollow . The platform below was crowded with figures cloaked in shadow, their faces hidden by masks or hoods. Zara recognized the types immediately: slavers, black-market merchants, and the occasional buyer who fancied themselves bold enough to wander into this underworld.


    The guards barked orders as the cage settled onto the platform with a final clank. The children were dragged out one by one, their chains rattling as they were lined up for inspection. Zara moved with them, keeping her head low, her expression carefully blank.


    ---


    The Hollow Whale was alive with activity. Merchants shouted over one another, peddling everything from illegal weapons to rare artifacts. But the loudest voices came from the auction block, where captives were paraded like livestock before eager buyers.


    Zara felt a flicker of disgust as she was herded through the marketplace. She knew this place too well. In her past life, she had seen its inner workings, memorized its secrets. She had even taken contracts from the same people who now eyed her like a commodity.


    But this time was different. She was on the other side of the bars, a prisoner instead of a predator.


    ---


    They were led to another cage, larger but no less confining. Zara was shoved inside along with the others, the door slamming shut behind them. She sank to the floor, leaning against the bars as she listened to the guards talk in low voices outside.


    Her mind raced. She couldn¡¯t afford to waste time. The suppressor collar around her neck was still active, its hum a constant reminder of her limited power. She needed to get it off, and for that, she needed to get out of this cage.


    The children around her whispered among themselves, their voices tinged with despair. Zara ignored them at first, her focus on the guards and the layout of the area. But then she caught snippets of their conversation¡ªstories of where they¡¯d been taken from, of families left behind, of hope that had long since faded.


    Something stirred in Zara, an old, buried part of her that remembered what it was like to care. She pushed it down, hard. She couldn¡¯t afford to think about anyone else. Not now.


    ---


    Instead, she turned her attention to the cage itself. The hinges were rusted, the lock worn from years of use. It wouldn¡¯t be easy, but it was a weakness. She filed it away, adding it to the growing list of details she would use to escape.


    For now, she waited. Zara Voss was nothing if not patient. She had lived through hell once before, and she had no intention of dying here.


    As the children huddled closer, seeking comfort in their shared fear, Zara allowed a small smile to touch her lips. Not one of kindness, but of determination.


    The Hollow Whalethought it had captured her. It would learn soon enough that Zara Voss was no ordinary prey.


    Zara sat in the cage, her keen eyes darting from the guards to the chains, to the torches flickering along the cavernous walls. The muted hum of the psychic suppressor around her neck buzzed faintly, a constant reminder of her limitations. But Zara wasn¡¯t focused on what she couldn¡¯t do. She was focused on what she could.


    ---


    The guards were sloppy. They relied on fear and brute strength to keep their captives in line, their laughter echoing as they casually leaned against the walls, weapons slung lazily at their sides. Zara noted every lapse in attention, every moment one guard glanced away or stepped out of position.


    She counted supplies on the slavers¡¯ tables¡ªoil flasks for the torches, loose chains, a bundle of rags stained with grease. Her sharp mind, honed from years of being a platinum-ranked assassin in her former life, began piecing together a plan.


    ¡°Distraction first,¡± she thought, her gaze flicking toward the children crammed into the cage with her. Most of them were terrified, but some, she noticed, still had sparks of defiance in their eyes.


    ---


    Zara leaned closer to the group nearest her. ¡°You want to survive?¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din of the market.


    The children hesitated, but a boy with dark, determined eyes nodded.


    ¡°Then listen to me,¡± Zara said. ¡°When the moment comes, you need to run. Don¡¯t stop. Don¡¯t look back. Run toward the chaos, not away from it.¡±


    The boy frowned. ¡°Chaos? What do you mean?¡±


    Zara¡¯s lips curved into a small, cold smile. ¡°I¡¯m going to give them something to chase.¡±


    ---


    The guards came to unlock the cage, dragging out a group of children for the next auction block. Zara made sure to stay in the middle of the pack, her head bowed, her movements unassuming. As they were herded toward the platform, she let herself stumble, falling near a stack of supplies.


    ¡°Get up!¡± barked one of the guards, yanking her to her feet.


    Zara obeyed, but not before her nimble fingers snatched a small flask of oil and a scrap of cloth. The movements were so fluid, so practiced, that the guard didn¡¯t notice a thing.


    As they neared the auction block, Zara¡¯s sharp eyes caught sight of an exposed torch near the edge of the stage. Perfect.


    ---


    Once they were lined up, Zara glanced toward the children she had spoken to earlier. She caught the dark-eyed boy¡¯s gaze and gave him a subtle nod.


    Then she acted.


    Zara dropped the cloth she had swiped, soaked in oil, near the torch''s flame. In a single swift motion, she kicked it closer, the rag catching fire instantly. The flames licked upward, spreading rapidly across the stage¡¯s wooden beams.


    Panic erupted. The guards shouted as they scrambled to put out the fire, their focus completely diverted. Zara seized the moment, grabbing the boy¡¯s hand and shouting, ¡°Run!¡±


    The children scattered, their chains clanking loudly as they bolted in every direction. The guards, caught off-guard by the sudden chaos, chased after them blindly.


    ---


    Zara moved like a shadow, slipping through the confusion with practiced ease. She stayed low, darting between stalls and overturned tables. She made her way toward the storage area she had memorized during her time in the cage¡ªa section of the Hollow Whalewhere confiscated items were kept.


    Her instincts were sharp, her movements silent. She reached the room quickly, her eyes scanning for tools. There, among the clutter, she found what she needed: a small metal rod, perfect for picking locks.


    The suppressor collar around her neck hummed tauntingly, but Zara ignored it. Her fingers worked deftly, and within moments, the collar clicked open and clattered to the ground.


    ---


    With her psychic abilities no longer suppressed, Zara felt the familiar rush of power flood back into her mind. The slavers¡¯ scattered thoughts buzzed around her like insects, chaotic and disorganized.


    She used her abilities sparingly, subtly nudging the minds of guards to look the wrong way or to double back unnecessarily. The confusion in the air thickened, buying her more time.


    As the fire spread and smoke began to fill the cavern, Zara made her way toward one of the hidden exits she knew existed. Her memories of the Hollow Whalefrom her past life guided her steps, her knowledge of its secret pathways her greatest weapon.


    -


    By the time the guards realized what had happened, Zara was gone, her figure disappearing into the narrow, winding tunnels that led out of the Hollow Hollow .


    Behind her, the chaos she had unleashed consumed the slavers, the fire and panic spreading like wildfire. The children she had motivated to flee would scatter into the shadows, their chances of survival slim but not impossible.


    Zara didn¡¯t look back. Her focus was already on what lay ahead¡ªfreedom, vengeance, and the first steps toward reclaiming the life she had lost.


    The Hollow Whale thought it could cage her. It would learn, too late, that Zara Voss was uncontainable.


    The **Hollow whale ** was as foreboding as Zara remembered¡ªa sprawling network of underground chambers carved into the very bedrock beneath the Citadel, hidden from all but the most powerful and ruthless. Only those with bloodied hands or gilded connections could gain entry, and Zara knew that her capture was no mere coincidence. This was fate¡¯s cruel irony: she had returned to the place she had first sworn vengeance on the world, now shackled and powerless.


    Her younger body, starved and fragile, did little to diminish her sharp mind. Zara knew exactly why she was here. It wasn¡¯t just the slavers¡¯ greed for coin¡ªno, they had unknowingly delivered her to a pivotal moment. The **elixir**, auctioned only once every few years, would appear tonight. It was an item she hadn¡¯t been able to obtain in her first life but was crucial to her rise as a Platinum-Ranked Assassin in the future.


    This time, she wouldn¡¯t let it slip through her fingers.


    ---


    The cart rattled and groaned as it descended into the Hollow whale ¡¯s hidden tunnels, a place shrouded in secrecy and corruption. Zara and the other captives were unloaded roughly, her slight frame earning only a dismissive shove from the guards. They muttered about her worth, laughing at the scrawny ¡°urchin¡± who wouldn¡¯t fetch much. She didn¡¯t care about their words¡ªher focus was on the layout, the guards, and the patterns of movement.


    The memories came flooding back as she observed the grand chambers and auction halls. Though disoriented by the psychic suppressor around her neck, Zara silently mapped out the exits, the storage areas, and the auction stage where the elixir would be displayed.


    ---


    Zara waited patiently in her cage, observing the others¡ªa mix of terrified children, defiant teens, and hollow-eyed adults. She didn¡¯t waste energy trying to console anyone, knowing that survival in this place demanded cunning, not compassion. Yet, she also understood that a distraction was essential to her escape.


    The opportunity came when the guards began escorting captives out in groups for processing and auctioning. Zara was among the last group called, just as she had anticipated. As her cage was unlocked and she was yanked to her feet, she stumbled deliberately, earning her a harsh yank on the collar.


    ¡°Move it, runt!¡± one of the guards barked, but she caught the flicker of his gaze toward the other guards¡ªan opening.


    ---


    Her first move was subtle. Zara nudged a fellow captive, a wiry boy trembling beside her, whispering a single command: ¡°Fall.¡±


    He didn¡¯t understand but obeyed, collapsing dramatically in the center of the hallway. The guards shouted, distracted by the commotion as they tried to pull the boy to his feet. Zara used the moment to swipe a thin sliver of metal from a guard¡¯s utility belt¡ªbarely noticeable, but perfect for what she needed.


    As they reached the main auction chamber, Zara¡¯s sharp eyes scanned for the elixir. There it was¡ªencased in glass, glowing faintly with a soft, otherworldly hue. Its aura sent a shiver down her spine; she could almost feel her suppressed psychic energy stirring at the sight.


    She had to act now.


    ---


    The auction was underway, and the room buzzed with tension. Zara subtly worked on the suppressor collar, using the stolen sliver of metal to pick at the lock. Her heart raced as the mechanism clicked. The instant the collar fell away, a wave of relief washed over her, followed by the familiar hum of her psychic abilities returning.


    She wasted no time. With a focused thought, she sent a telekinetic burst toward the rows of cages, shattering several and sending the captives scattering in all directions. The guards, caught off-guard, scrambled to regain control.


    Zara didn¡¯t stay to fight. She darted toward the auction stage, blending into the chaos. Her small frame and nimble movements allowed her to slip past the panicked crowd unnoticed.


    ---


    Reaching the stage, Zara snatched the elixir from its glass case, tucking it securely into her tattered clothes. The moment her fingers touched the vial, she felt its energy pulsate through her, promising untapped power.


    But there was no time to savor the moment. Alarms blared, and reinforcements poured into the chamber. Zara¡¯s eyes darted to the nearest exit¡ªa ventilation shaft she remembered from her past life.


    ---


    Using her psychic powers, she launched herself upward, propelling her light body into the shaft. Behind her, the guards shouted, their footsteps fading as she navigated the narrow tunnels. The


    further she climbed, the louder her heart pounded.


    Finally, Zara emerged into the cold night air above the Citadel, her lungs burning but her spirit soaring. She clutched the elixir tightly, her lips curling into a rare smile.


    This time, she wasn¡¯t just surviving¡ªshe was rewriting her destiny.

 11 : Resources Gathering

    **Chapter 11: Gathering the Resources**


    Alex stared at the tattoo on his arm, the intricate lines blurring as he focused. The TRI UI interface shimmered into existence, a translucent overlay on his vision. *Vitality Absorption: Locked. Body Strengthening: Level 1. Subspace: Level 10 (Capacity: 1 item).* He scrolled through the information, his mind racing. One week. Seven days. Forty-two hours until the world changed forever.


    He had to be efficient, ruthless. His ¡°modern man¡± sensibilities were a liability now. He needed to think like a survivor. He had one advantage: knowledge. He knew what was coming. He''d *seen* it.


    His first move was financial. He emptied his meager savings account¡ªa little over a thousand dollars¡ªnot even enough for a month¡¯s rent. That wouldn¡¯t cut it. He needed real money, fast. The banks were the first stop. He applied for personal loans, maxed out his credit cards, and signed up for new ones.


    He visited three major banks, dressed in his best business casual attire, a fake story rehearsed for each application. "I need the loan for a startup," he told one banker, a nervous tic developing in his left eye. "Home renovations," he told another, his palms sweating beneath the crisp fabric of his shirt. He feigned confidence, showed fabricated expense sheets, and signed documents with steady hands, a cold knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach. The approval rates were slow, but the money trickled in¡ªfive grand here, ten grand there.


    The online lenders came next. High-interest rates didn¡¯t matter when the world was about to end. He filled out forms, fabricated reasons¡ª¡°medical emergency,¡± ¡°home repairs,¡± ¡°business investment.¡± It was a gamble, but desperation worked in his favor. The money flowed within 24 hours, deposited into his accounts in large sums.


    Then came the more dangerous sources. Loan sharks. Back-alley lenders who didn¡¯t care about paperwork, only about repayment. His first meeting was in a rundown pawnshop on the city¡¯s outskirts. A burly man with tattooed arms listened as Alex explained his "business needs," his voice barely a whisper. A briefcase of cash was placed before him with a warning: "Two weeks. No delays."


    His second meeting took place in the back of a smoky bar. A middle-aged woman in a sharp suit sat across from him, sipping whiskey, her eyes like chips of ice. "I don''t loan to desperate men," she mused, a plume of smoke curling from her lips. Alex kept his voice even, his gaze unwavering. "I''m not desperate. I''m investing in my future." A moment of silence. Then she slid an envelope across the table¡ªtwenty thousand in crisp bills. "Thirty percent interest. Miss a payment, and we find you."


    The final loan was the riskiest. A local crime syndicate. Alex had no choice but to meet their contact in an abandoned warehouse. Three men, all with dead eyes, listened as he made his case, the only sound the dripping of water from a leaky pipe. No small talk, no pleasantries. Just business. The leader tossed a duffel bag at his feet¡ªfifty thousand dollars. "You miss a payment, we take collateral¡ªstarting with fingers."


    Within 48 hours, his bank accounts swelled. Tens of thousands of dollars. It was nowhere near enough to last forever, but enough to start. Enough to prepare.


    With cash in hand, Alex moved fast. The first priority was land. He scoured property listings, avoiding real estate agents who asked too many questions. The Midlands¡ªless populated, better for long-term survival. He found a remote plot of land, a desolate patch of scrubland that no one wanted. Cheap, isolated, defensible. He paid in full, cash, no paper trail.


    Then came the supplies. He started with the essentials:


    - **Food:** Bulk orders of canned goods, dried meat, rice, beans, and MREs. He bought them wholesale, sometimes under fake business names to avoid suspicion.


    - **Water:** Industrial-grade water barrels, purification tablets, a portable desalination unit. A rainwater harvesting system.


    - **Medicine:** Antibiotics, painkillers, antiseptics. Black-market insulin and EpiPens. He bribed a pharmacy tech to ¡°misplace¡± certain items, the guilt a dull ache in his chest.


    - **Clothing & Shelter:** Thermal blankets, boots, gloves, military-grade tents.


    Security was next. He started small¡ªbarbed wire, cement bricks, steel plates. Then, the real weapons. Bows, knives, crossbows¡ªsilent, reusable. But he needed firearms. He knew a guy. A black-market dealer who didn¡¯t ask questions. The meeting was tense, cash exchanged in a dark alley. He walked away with a duffel bag¡ªhandguns, rifles, ammunition. He wasn¡¯t a killer, but he wouldn¡¯t be defenseless.


    Finally, power and communication. He bought solar panels, gas generators, deep-cycle batteries. A high-powered radio transceiver¡ªhis emergency link to the world.


    He stored everything in a warehouse attached to the largest supermarket in the city. It was a strategic choice¡ªeasy to buy supplies without raising suspicion. The warehouse was massive, stacked high with everything imaginable except weapons. Every trip, he loaded up more essentials, filling the space with goods he knew would be priceless when society collapsed.


    With his stockpile secured, he turned his attention to his abilities.


    He accessed the TRI UI again. His stomach was full from a quick, cheap meal¡ªhis satiety points were maxed out at 100%. He clenched his fists. *Time to test Body Strengthening.*


    He activated it, and his body immediately responded. A surge of power coursed through his muscles, his limbs thrumming with newfound energy. His legs, the first part he had strengthened, felt solid, spring-loaded with strength.


    The interface displayed the consumption rate: **1% Satiety per minute.** He had an hour at full charge.


    He sprinted down an empty street near his warehouse, pushing himself to his limits. His speed increased. His stamina held strong. His heart pounded, but he wasn¡¯t winded. The world blurred past him¡ªhe was faster, stronger. **But it wasn¡¯t permanent.**


    A new interface appeared:


    *Body Strengthening (Legs) Progress: 1% toward permanent upgrade.*


    So that was it. **He had to fill an experience bar before permanently strengthening any part.** Just using the ability wasn¡¯t enough¡ªhe had to push it, test its limits, work it to the bone. He can strengthen his ability 1% for every hour he uses it and one part the body can only be strengthened once a means 1% and 1 part body gets strengthened everyday and now he had to grind.


    Gritting his teeth, he launched into another sprint. He needed every advantage. The world was ending, and he refused to be weak when it did.


    The warehouse loomed ahead as he slowed, his satiety bar ticking down. He was burning through energy fast. He¡¯d need food, lots of it, to sustain his training.


    *One week left.*


    He exhaled sharply, wiping sweat from his brow. The clock was ticking, and he had a long way to go.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Alex knew that gathering supplies was only half the battle¡ªhe needed people. Skilled, resourceful survivors who could help him build a future once the world fell apart. He couldn¡¯t do it alone. And if he wanted to get them on board, he had to move fast. The apocalypse was only days away. These weren''t just random people; they were the cornerstones of the most successful settlements he''d witnessed in his previous timeline. He knew their strengths, their weaknesses, their potential. He''d seen what they were capable of.


    His first targets were those who had been indispensable in his past life¡ªthe ones who had either saved him or built something worth protecting. He had a list, faces burned into his memory: Ben, the engineer who had designed the sturdiest shelters; Dr. Emily Hart, the trauma surgeon who had held a settlement together; Malik, an ex-military survivalist who had trained scavengers; and even Sunny Torres, the bully turned warlord, whose ruthlessness had made him a necessary evil.


    He started with Ben. Finding him wasn¡¯t difficult¡ªhe was still working in a small workshop downtown, repairing machines and electrical systems for scraps, his brow perpetually furrowed in concentration. Alex approached him cautiously.


    ¡°Ben.¡±


    The man looked up, confused. ¡°Do I know you?¡±


    Alex forced a small smile. ¡°Not really. But I know *of* you, Ben. I know what you¡¯re capable of. And I know you¡¯ll be one of the most important people in the world soon.¡±


    Ben scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s a hell of a pickup line.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± Alex said. ¡°I know what¡¯s coming. The world¡¯s about to fall apart, and I need an engineer. Someone who can design shelters, power grids¡ªhell, even fortifications. I saw what you built, Ben. It saved lives.¡± He let the weight of that statement hang in the air. ¡°You did it before. You can do it again.¡±


    Ben frowned, setting down his tools. ¡°You sound insane.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Alex admitted. ¡°But I


    ...¡°Maybe,¡± Alex admitted. ¡°But I¡¯m prepared. I have land, supplies, and money. I just need people who know how to make it all work. People like you.¡± He hesitated, then added, ¡°And I¡¯m paying upfront.¡±


    That got Ben¡¯s attention. ¡°How much?¡±


    ¡°Enough to make you listen,¡± Alex said, handing him an envelope filled with cash. It was an investment¡ªBen¡¯s knowledge would be worth more than any amount of money in the days to come. ¡°Think about it. Meet me at this address in three days if you want to survive. And if you want to build something that lasts.¡±


    Next was Dr. Emily Hart. Convincing her was harder. She was always skeptical, even in the future.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have time for nonsense,¡± she said, barely glancing up from her desk at the clinic, her face etched with exhaustion. ¡°If you¡¯re not injured, get out.¡±


    Alex took a deep breath. ¡°Dr. Hart. I know you. I know what you did. You kept people alive when everything collapsed last time. I know what¡¯s coming, and I know that people are going to need you¡­ more than ever.¡±


    She finally looked at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°You keep saying ¡®last time.¡¯ What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m offering you a chance,¡± Alex said, ignoring her question. ¡°I have supplies, a safe location, and resources you won¡¯t get anywhere else. You¡¯re going to be overwhelmed soon. Hospitals will collapse, supplies will run out. You can either be swallowed by the chaos, or you can be ready for it. You can be the difference between life and death, like you were before.¡±


    She studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. ¡°And why should I trust you?¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t,¡± Alex admitted. ¡°But you should trust the fact that I have antibiotics, painkillers, and surgical tools stocked in a secure location. I also have a generator, a water purification system, and a dedicated medical bay. You¡¯ll have everything you need to do your job, to save lives. And I¡¯m willing to share.¡±


    That made her pause. He¡¯d appealed to her pragmatism, her dedication to her profession. ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡±


    ¡°Completely.¡±


    She sighed, a flicker of weariness crossing her face. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it. But I¡¯m not making any promises.¡±


    That was the best he was going to get for now. He knew she¡¯d come around. She always did.


    Then came Malik. Finding an ex-military survivalist wasn¡¯t as easy as looking up a clinic or workshop. Alex had to dig through old connections, pay off a few informants, and track down rumors before he finally found him at an underground fight club. Malik was a ghost, moving from place to place, always one step ahead of anyone looking for him.


    Malik was in the ring, effortlessly taking down a man twice his size, his movements precise and deadly. When the fight ended, Alex waited until he was alone before approaching.


    ¡°You fight well,¡± Alex said.


    Malik wiped the sweat from his face, glancing at him. ¡°Who the hell are you?¡±


    ¡°Someone who knows what you¡¯re capable of. And someone who *saw* what you built, Malik. You trained an army of survivors. You can do it again.¡±


    Malik raised an eyebrow. ¡°That so?¡±


    Alex nodded. ¡°I need a trainer. A survivalist. Someone who knows how to fight, hunt, and keep people alive. Someone who can build a fighting force from the ground up.¡±


    Malik laughed, a dry, humorless sound. ¡°And why would I do that? I¡¯m done with that life.¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯m paying,¡± Alex said, offering another envelope of cash. ¡°And because I know what¡¯s coming. You can keep fighting for scraps, or you can prepare for the real war. A war you¡¯re uniquely qualified to win.¡±


    Malik stared at the money, then at Alex. Finally, he smirked, a glint of something akin to excitement in his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re either crazy or brilliant. Either way, I¡¯m in.¡±


    Finally, there was Sunny Torres. The part Alex dreaded the most. Sunny had been a force of nature in the future, a brutal but effective leader. But he was also a bully, and Alex still felt the sting of past humiliations.


    Sunny was still an arrogant bastard, working at a construction site, barking orders at workers like he owned the place, his voice booming across the site. Alex watched him for a while, the familiar knot of resentment tightening in his stomach, before approaching. He remembered the sting of Sunny''s fists, the casual cruelty in his eyes. But survival trumped old grudges. He needed Sunny¡¯s ruthlessness, his ability to command.


    ¡°Sunny,¡± Alex called out, his voice neutral.


    Sunny turned, smirking when he saw him. ¡°Well, well. Look who it is. What do you want, Carter?¡±


    Alex kept his face neutral. ¡°I need someone strong. Someone ruthless. Someone who isn¡¯t afraid to make the hard choices.¡±


    Sunny laughed, a harsh, grating sound. ¡°And you think that¡¯s me?¡±


    ¡°I *know* it¡¯s you,¡± Alex said, meeting his gaze. ¡°You bullied people because it gave you power. You commanded respect, or fear, whichever worked best. That power is going to be real soon. And if you want to be on the winning side, you¡¯ll listen.¡±


    Sunny¡¯s smirk faltered slightly. ¡°You¡¯re serious.¡±


    ¡°Dead serious.¡± Alex stepped closer, the memory of past humiliations fueling his resolve. ¡°I have resources. A safe place. I¡¯m building something bigger than you or me. Something that *needs* someone like you.


    You can either join me now, contribute your¡­ *talents*¡­ or you can fight for scraps later, maybe even end up under someone else¡¯s boot. Or worse.¡± He let the unspoken threat hang in the air. He knew Sunny understood the language of power.


    Sunny studied him for a long moment, his eyes narrowed. Alex could see the calculation in his gaze, the weighing of options. Then, finally, he smirked, a flicker of the old arrogance returning. ¡°Fine. But don¡¯t think I¡¯ll take orders from you.¡±


    ¡°You will,¡± Alex said, his voice hard. ¡°Or you¡¯ll be left behind. This isn¡¯t about old grudges, Sunny. It¡¯s about survival. And I know you understand that.¡±


    Sunny¡¯s smirk faltered again, a hint of uncertainty crossing his face. But he said nothing, just nodded curtly.


    One by one, the pieces were falling into place. The supplies were secured. The people were coming together. The apocalypse was approaching.


    And Alex was ready. He had a score to settle, a world to rebuild, and he wouldn''t let anyone, not even Sunny Torres, stand in his way. He knew what these people were capable of. He''d seen it. And he was betting everything on them.


    Alex stood at the edge of his new base, sweat pouring down his face as he stared out at the clouds gathering above. There was no time for hesitation, no time for weakness. The clock was ticking, and every minute brought him closer to the inevitable¡ª60 hours until the meteorite hit the ocean. The weather had already begun to change; the winds were picking up, and a storm was brewing on the horizon. He could feel the pressure mounting, and it was almost suffocating.


    His tattoo buzzed on his arm as the TRI UI interface flickered to life. The system¡¯s voice echoed in his mind, reminding him of what was at stake.


    ¡°Time Remaining: 60 hours.¡±


    He clenched his fists, his mind racing. The meteorite wouldn¡¯t just cause destruction¡ªit would bring the X Genome, a virus so virulent that it would wipe out entire populations within hours. Once the rain started, the infected would begin their spread. The coastal cities, the islands, the territories around the world¡ªthey would fall, one by one, devoured by the infection.


    Alex had seen the news reports, the warnings flashing across every screen, but it had always seemed so distant¡ªuntil now.


    He had no intention of being one of those swept away in the chaos.


    His body had already been through a transformation since the Rain of Awakenings, but now he needed to push it further. The stakes were too high. He wasn''t just building walls around his survival; he was preparing for something far worse.


    Training Schedule:


    * **Strengthening:** One hour of full-body strength training, focusing on his legs. He needed to be fast, adaptable. The infection spread quickly, and mobility would be key to evading the hordes of infected.


    * **Combat Drills:** His fists were becoming lethal weapons, but it wasn¡¯t enough. He needed precision. He focused on hand-to-hand combat, knowing that there might not always be time to draw a weapon.


    * **Endurance:** His Satiety was already fueling his strength, but he needed to maintain a balance. One hour of running with a weighted vest, followed by sprint drills to build explosive power. Every second counted.


    ...With each round of exercises, Alex could feel the burn, but he ignored it. Pain meant growth. He knew that once the storm started, there would be no going back. He needed to be stronger, faster, and more resilient than ever before. The infection would spare no one.


    When the first drops of rain began to fall, signaling the start of the infection''s spread, Alex was still training. His hands were raw, his muscles screamed for rest, but he ignored them. The rest of the world might fall apart, but he was going to survive. He had no choice. He *had* to survive. Too much depended on it.


    As the final hours counted down, Alex felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. He wasn¡¯t just preparing for his own survival¡ªhe was preparing to lead others. Mrs. Kim, Ben, even Sunny Torres¡ªhis old bully¡ªhe had to protect them all. He''d seen what they could become, the crucial roles they played in the future he knew. He was gambling on their potential, on the hope that they could rise to the challenge again. He knew their strengths, their weaknesses, how they worked under pressure. He''d witnessed their triumphs and their failures, and he was using that knowledge to build a team he could trust, a team that could survive what was coming. He was building a future, brick by painful brick.


    The rain grew heavier. The infection had begun its advance. The first distant screams echoed on the wind, a chilling reminder of what was to come. The sky darkened, the wind howled, and the first flashes of lightning illuminated the desolate landscape around him, the flashes mirroring the chaotic thoughts in his mind. The storm was upon them.


    ¡°60 hours,¡± the voice in his mind echoed again, the words now tinged with a sense of finality, a countdown to oblivion. The TRI UI, his constant companion, the source of his power and knowledge, was about to go silent. He¡¯d have to rely on his instincts, his training, and the people he¡¯d gathered. He¡¯d have to trust his memories of the future, even as the present threatened to shatter everything he knew. And then the system shut off, the translucent interface vanishing from his vision, leaving Alex with nothing but his resolve and the ticking of the clock¡­.!!

 12 : The beginning after the end

    Chapter 12: The Beginning After The End


    The first meteorite streaked across the twilight sky like a fiery tear slicing through the heavens. Alex Carter stood frozen in his small apartment in Auteria, the Blue Planet¡¯s bustling metropolis now eerily silent under the weight of impending doom. His tattoo pulsed beneath his fingertips¡ªa swirling map of lines that seemed alive with energy. It was more than just ink; it was a tether to something far greater, a connection he could neither fully understand nor ignore. A cold fist clenched around his heart as the realization hit him like a freight train: this wasn¡¯t just another apocalyptic event. This was d¨¦j¨¤ vu, history repeating itself, and he was powerless to stop it.


    ¡°Not again,¡± Alex muttered, his voice barely audible over the distant wail of emergency sirens. He glanced at the glowing tattoo on his forearm, its intricate design shimmering faintly against his skin. The **TRI UI** interface flickered into existence before his eyes, displaying stats and abilities he had spent weeks preparing for¡ªbut none of it felt enough. Not when the end of the world was hurtling toward him at breakneck speed.


    He reached out mentally, his thoughts cutting through the void like a blade. ¡°Zara, you seeing this?¡± His voice carried an edge of forced calm, though inside, panic clawed at his chest. He imagined her somewhere far away, perhaps in Aurelia¡¯s sprawling Citadel or amidst the ruins of its forgotten slums. Wherever she was, he knew she¡¯d feel it too¡ªthe same ominous pull, the same sense of dread.


    The ground trembled beneath his feet as another meteorite struck somewhere in the distance. Alex ducked instinctively, clutching a framed photograph of his family so tightly his knuckles turned white. Their faces blurred in his mind, replaced by visions of fire and darkness. Outside, the city descended into chaos. People screamed, cars screeched, and glass shattered as panic erupted in every corner of Auteria.


    Alex¡¯s TRI UI interface updated in real-time, showing his current stats:


    - **Strength:** Enhanced muscle fibers allow for superhuman feats.


    - **Agility:** Reflexes honed to peak performance.


    - **Vitality:** Increased endurance and resilience.


    But numbers meant nothing without action. Alex swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus. He had one advantage this time¡ªknowledge. He knew what was coming. He had lived through it once before, survived long enough to be given a second chance. And now, he intended to use that chance wisely.


    His apartment shook violently as another impact rocked the earth. Debris rained down outside, and the power flickered intermittently. Alex grabbed his backpack, already packed with essentials: food, water, medicine, and weapons. Among them was a machete he had purchased days earlier, its blade gleaming ominously in the dim light. He strapped it to his belt and secured the bag over his shoulder.


    ¡°60 hours,¡± the voice in his mind echoed again, the words tinged with finality. Sixty hours until the meteor storm gave way to something worse¡ªsomething ancient and malevolent. Alex didn¡¯t know exactly what it was, but he could feel it in his bones. The tattoo on his arm pulsed rhythmically, syncing with the pounding in his chest.


    ¡°Zara, Throne,¡± he called out mentally, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. ¡°We need to move fast. Whatever¡¯s coming¡­ it¡¯s big.¡±


    ---


    In Aurelia, Zara Voss crouched low in the shadows of the Hollow Whale, her eyes scanning the horizon beyond the towering walls of the stronghold. Her emerald-green eyes narrowed as she watched the meteorite burn across the sky, its light casting eerie reflections on the metallic surfaces of the city. She clenched her fists, feeling the vial of Alexia press against her thigh¡ªa constant reminder of the power she carried, and the cost it demanded.


    Her mind buzzed with static as Alex¡¯s voice broke through their shared mental link. *Loud and clear,* she thought, her response sharp but controlled. *Brighter than last time. Like fireworks¡­but the sky¡¯s screaming.* Her hands trembled despite her best efforts to steady them. She hated the weakness, the vulnerability that came with fear. But this wasn¡¯t ordinary fear¡ªit was primal, instinctual, a warning etched into her very soul.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    She remembered the taste of ash, the sound of crumbling buildings, the screams of those who couldn¡¯t escape. And now, here it was again: the beginning of the end. Only this time, she wasn¡¯t alone.


    Zara¡¯s thoughts interjected, cutting through the tension like a knife. *Noodles? I¡¯ve got protein bars. And water. Remember last time?* Her voice carried a mix of humor and bitterness, a fleeting attempt to lighten the mood. But behind her words lay a deeper truth: she remembered everything. The thirst, the hunger, the desperation. She remembered watching people die because they couldn¡¯t find clean water. And now, here they were again, staring down the barrel of annihilation.


    Alex nodded, though she couldn¡¯t see him. ¡°Yeah, I remember.¡± His voice softened, tinged with gratitude. For all her sharp edges and hardened exterior, Zara had become someone he trusted implicitly. Someone who understood the stakes without needing explanations.


    Zara¡¯s gaze shifted back to the vial of Alexia. Its cool glass contrasted sharply with the heat rising in her veins. She stared at it, her resolve wavering for the briefest moment. ¡°This is going to hurt,¡± she breathed, her voice hoarse. She thought of Aurelia¡ªthe world of dust and bone she had sworn to rebuild, the lives she had sacrificed to save. And now, here she was again, standing on the precipice of ruin.


    With trembling hands, Zara uncapped the vial and tilted it toward her lips. Pain exploded in her bones, white-hot agony consuming her, ripping through her body like a tidal wave. She gasped, her knees buckling as she collapsed against the cold stone wall. ¡°Okay,¡± she rasped, her voice barely audible. ¡°Maybe a little nervous.¡±


    Despite the torment, Zara felt the power surge within her. Her psychic abilities amplified exponentially, her cybernetic limbs humming with newfound strength. She pushed herself to her feet, gritting her teeth against the lingering pain. ¡°Let¡¯s do this,¡± she whispered, her emerald eyes blazing with determination.


    ---


    High in the northern mountains of Drakhelm, Throne Ironhand stood atop a jagged cliff overlooking Eldoria. The village below was quiet, its people unaware of the storm about to descend upon them. The wind howled around him, carrying with it the acrid scent of smoke and decay. His hammer rested heavily in his grip, its surface glowing faintly with an emerald aura¡ªa manifestation of the strength coursing through his veins.


    Throne¡¯s thoughts drifted to Haldor, his mentor, his father figure. He had promised to protect him, to shield Eldoria from whatever horrors lay ahead. But as the meteorite blazed across the sky, Throne felt the weight of that promise pressing down on him like a mountain.


    ¡°Aye,¡± he replied to Alex¡¯s query, his deep voice resonating in the mindscape they shared. *Ominous. They smell of ash and old magic.* He didn¡¯t need to elaborate. The others would understand. Their bond transcended worlds, weaving them together in ways no physical proximity ever could.


    Monstrous shapes emerged from the flames, their grotesque forms shifting unnaturally as if made of liquid shadow. Some had elongated limbs tipped with razor-sharp claws, while others crawled on writhing tendrils of flesh. Their movements were deliberate, almost calculated, as if they were hunting with purpose rather than instinct.


    ¡°They¡¯re here,¡± Throne announced, raising his hammer as the first wave of monsters surged forward. His muscles burned with exertion as he swung his weapon with devastating force, each blow sending shockwaves rippling through the air. The creatures screeched in agony, dissolving into shadowy mist only to reform moments later, larger and angrier.


    Throne gritted his teeth, channeling the alchemical powers awakened within him. With a roar, he slammed his hammer into the ground, summoning a barrier of emerald flames to hold back the horde. The villagers fled behind him, their terrified cries spurring him onward.


    ¡°I won¡¯t let them take you,¡± Throne vowed silently, his thoughts reaching out to Haldor. ¡°Not this time.¡±


    ---


    Through their mental link, the trio coordinated their efforts seamlessly. Throne held the line in Eldoria, buying precious time for the villagers to evacuate. Zara fortified hers defenses. And Alex ensured that their enemies couldn¡¯t cripple humanity¡¯s last bastions of hope.


    ¡°We¡¯re stronger together,¡± Alex said, his voice echoing in their shared mindscape. ¡°This isn¡¯t just about survival anymore. It¡¯s about making sure no one else suffers like we did.¡±


    Zara nodded silently, her emerald eyes blazing with determination. Throne tightened his grip on his hammer, his jaw set in grim resolve.


    The meteorites continued to fall, painting the sky in hues of fire and ash. Screams filled the air, raw and guttural, echoing the chaos in Alex¡¯s soul. He ducked under the table, clutching the photo tighter, willing himself to focus. To survive.


    Meanwhile, Zara held the vial of Alexia in her hand, its cool glass contrasting sharply with the heat rising in her veins. She stared at it, her resolve wavering for the briefest moment. ¡°This is going to hurt,¡± she breathed, her voice barely audible. She thought of Aurelia¡ªthe world of dust and bone she had sworn to rebuild, the lives she had sacrificed to save. And now, here she was again, standing on the precipice of ruin.


    ¡°Zara, you okay?¡± Alex¡¯s voice broke through her thoughts, concern lacing his words.


    She hesitated, then admitted silently, *I¡¯m terrified.* But aloud, she said, ¡°Anticipating. Like a brain freeze. A really bad one.¡±


    Throne¡¯s voice joined theirs, steady and reassuring. *Zara, be careful.*


    ¡°Relax,¡± she replied, forcing a smirk. ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing. Mostly.¡±


    But as she uncapped the vial and tilted it toward her lips, pain exploded in her bones. White-hot agony consumed her, ripping through her body like a tidal wave. She gasped, her knees buckling as she collapsed against the cold stone wall. ¡°Okay,¡± she rasped, her voice hoarse. ¡°Maybe a little nervous.¡±


    ---


    As the night wore on, the trio fought tirelessly, their bond growing stronger with each passing moment. Though separated by worlds, their shared destiny united them in a way that defied logic. They weren¡¯t just survivors¡ªthey were warriors reborn, ready to face whatever horrors awaited them.


    And as the first rays of dawn pierced the horizon, Alex, Zara, and Throne stood tall, their hearts ablaze with hope. Together, they would rewrite their fates¡ªand the fate of their worlds.


    ---

 13: The pit and mercenaries

    **Chapter 13: The Pit and Mercenaries**


    In the village of Eldoria, Thorne stood beside his master, Haldor, awaiting the first wave of monsters to invade the northern side of Drakhelm. Though called a village, Eldoria was comparable to a large modern city, at least in the memories of Thorne from Alex.


    No one knew how the monsters began appearing from the north, but that region was a perilous place. Most adventurers and mercenaries avoided it due to the inherent dangers.


    The northern mountains were vast and largely unexplored. Monarchs who attempted expeditions there often suffered heavy losses. This was why Eldoria was ignored by the nobles of the kingdom of Ferma, where local lords'' greed ran rampant.


    few Years ago, a young noble from the northern mountains had formed his own faction, creating the dukedom known as the Land of Glacia.


    After years of constant monster attacks and losses, Glacia crumbled, leaving only a few settlements like Eldoria holding their ground.


    Thorne, now regressed with knowledge of the future, knew he couldn''t remain weak and unsupported. Haldor, an elder of Eldoria, was still alive and well. In Thorne''s previous life, Haldor had been among the elders trying to save the village.


    While the monster waves were currently weak, in about five years, a massive and terrifying monster would emerge from the northern mountains, forcing many villages to retreat with heavy casualties. Thorne''s master had lost his life saving him during one of these retreats.


    Even in the future, the origins and nature of the monsters remained unknown. The northern mountains were a desolate land where anything could happen. Thorne wondered what sustained these bizarre creatures and what kind of terrifying beings they were. The thought sent chills down his spine.


    Thorne and Haldor were moving from an abandoned mine pit near the northern mountains. The pit gaped open like a jagged wound in the earth, its edges rough and unstable where the heavy snow had caused further collapses.


    The ground around the opening was a churned mess of mud and half-melted snow, littered with discarded rocks and the remnants of mining equipment ¨C broken carts, rusted tools, and lengths of rotting timber that once supported the mine''s workings. The air hung heavy with the damp chill of the earth and the faint, acrid smell of old metal and something else¡­ something earthy and unsettling that hinted at the pit''s current inhabitants.


    The entrance itself was a dark, shadowed maw, promising nothing but blackness and the unknown depths below. From the edge, one could see the beginnings of rough-hewn steps or a precarious, sloped path leading downwards, disappearing quickly into the gloom.


    Above, the snow-laden branches of stunted pines clung precariously to the unstable ground, their needles a dark contrast against the white blanket that covered the surrounding landscape.


    The whole scene spoke of neglect and danger, a place best left undisturbed, yet now a temporary trap for those seeking shelter or profit within its depths. With Haldor and Thorne were several others who had come to mine ore for trade, and some, like Haldor, for forging.


    Haldor: "You little shit! Put some more strength into your digging! Your posture is sloppy, your mining is sloppy, and your forging is sloppy! Do you think you can become my successor with that kind of attitude?"


    Thorne chuckled inwardly, enjoying the moment. It had been over a decade since he''d heard his master''s scolding. Haldor noticed his smile and a hint of amusement crossed his own face.


    Thorne: "Ouch!" (Haldor smacked Thorne''s head.)


    Haldor: "You little runt! Do you think I''m joking? Now, pick up the ores, put them in the bags, and move them near the pit entrance."


    Thorne, regretting his earlier amusement''s, obeyed.


    The miners worked diligently, the rhythmic clang of picks against rock echoing through the damp air. Thorne, despite his earlier grumbling, found a rhythm in his work, the familiar motions a comfort in the otherwise unsettling atmosphere of the abandoned mine. But the relative peace was shattered without warning.


    A low rumble, like the growl of some slumbering beast, resonated from the depths of the pit. The ground beneath their feet trembled subtly at first, then more violently. A long, jagged crack snaked across the frozen earth near the pit''s edge, widening with alarming speed.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Small stones and clumps of dirt began to crumble and fall into the darkness below.


    "Cave-in!" someone screamed, the cry cutting through the rising panic. Miners scrambled back from the widening fissure, dropping their tools and scrambling for safety. Another, deeper groan echoed from below, followed by the distinct sound of earth giving way.


    A larger section of the pit''s edge, perhaps ten feet across, sagged precariously, then broke off with a resounding crash, plunging into the darkness. A cloud of dust billowed upwards, momentarily obscuring the already dim light. Those closest to the collapse stumbled backwards, some losing their footing on the uneven ground.


    Panic seized the group. Some fled blindly, while others found themselves trapped between the crumbling edge and the press of panicked miners. As the day ended, the miners began returning. Haldor and Thorne brought up the rear. Thorne, though trying to move quickly, was hampered by his young and untrained body, slowing down Haldor and the mercenaries hired to protect the miners.


    Haldor, Thorne, a mercenary named Klien, and his three companions found themselves in a precarious situation. Klien was a veteran warrior from the north, and his companions had joined him during an expedition into the mountains.


    Before returning, they had taken on the task of escorting the miners and blacksmiths in exchange for weapon and armor repairs from one of Glacia¡¯s finest blacksmiths. Now, they were trapped.


    Klien: "Ugh! Why does this have to happen now?"


    Archer: "Haha! Our expedition to the north was a disaster from the start."


    Tank: "Always think positive, Archer. We might find another way out."


    Dealer: "It''s all because of your greed, Klien!"


    Klien was taken aback.


    Klien: "Stop it! This route might be closed." He shouted to the miners, "Does anyone know another way back to the village, a safe way, before the pit kobolds come looking for us?"


    Haldor: "I know a way, but it''s long and close to a kobold dwelling. We might have to fight them."


    Archer: "Does anyone know a *safe* route?"


    Tank: "How did you become a mercenary if you''re this cowardly?"


    Dealer: "Klien, you greedy bastard! This is all your fault!"


    Thorne chuckled. Klien glared at him, but Thorne avoided his gaze, hiding his smile.


    Haldor: "Stop laughing, you runt!" (Smack)


    Klien and Haldor huddled together, making plans to return to the village safely.


    ...Klien and Haldor huddled together, making plans to return to the village safely.


    Alone for a moment, Thorne focused on his tattoo. His gaze seemed to shift, as did his hearing.


    Alex: "Are you alright, man? I saw you stuck in that cave-like thing. In your memories, Haldor seems like a strict master, but in my world, that''s called child abuse."


    Zara: "He was kind to Thorne. Nobody in my world cares for a child unless they have some worth."


    Alex: "I also saw that, compared to you guys, I sometimes feel like I had it pretty good in my world before the infected appeared. Is that why I was so weak?"


    Thorne: "It''s the mind that makes you weak, not you. Remember, you survived in that apocalyptic world for almost a decade without magic or awakenings. And you think you''re weak?"


    Zara: "Sometimes I forget I was an assassin, used as a living weapon. Seeing your world through your memories¡­"


    Alex: "Well¡­"


    Thorne: "Wait. Have either of you used the Tri-Skills? I''m using the Inventory skill. I can store anything, any size or weight, but it''s limited. I can store multiple of the same item if they''re bundled."


    "I''m using it to carry food, water, and some weapons."


    Alex: "Something''s wrong with mine. It says ''one-time use'' and I can only store one item per level."


    Zara: "When I put some of my broken cybernetics in the inventory, it seems to rewind time or repair them. The Chain of Oath seems to create a connection for an absolute master-servant contract, but nothing''s working."


    Alex: "Slaves are a bad word, you know. But you said the contract can be made with anything, depending on level, right? How about making a contract with your cybernetic parts? It might help."


    Zara: "You''re right! I didn''t think of that. The description says I can make anything my subordinate if they''re willing. Let me try, even though you look dumb, you''re smart, Alex."


    Alex: "What do you mean by that?"


    Zara giggled. Thorne interrupted.


    Thorne: "I have skills too. I''ve only tested Blacksmithing, but the results were amazing. It seems even with the knowledge, we have to level up the skill before we can use it effectively."


    Alex: "I might be the first awakener in my world. I don''t know what the Rain of Awakenings will bring. If I can level up these skills, I can survive the apocalypse more bravely."


    Zara: "See you guys later. I''m on the run. The Hollow won''t leave you alone if you covet their stuff. Thanks for the help, Alex. I think I have a way to use this unknown skill from the Tri-UI."


    Alex: "You''re welcome. Do you know why we were sent back in time? And this tattoo¡­ doesn''t it resemble the pendant I had?"


    Thorne and Zara shook their heads. They were just as clueless.


    Alex: "We have to figure it out. What do you think of that pentatope thing at the top? Do you recognize it? Could it be connected to the synchronization part of the UI?"


    Zara: "I don''t know. It''s like our souls are bound to it."


    Suddenly, the symbol spun, and doors to their respective worlds opened.


    Thorne: "Time''s up. Let''s meet again if we survive and try to figure this out."


    As they were about to leave, their UIs appeared, displaying in golden letters: "Two hundred and forty hours until Stage One opens. Please be prepared." Dumbfounded, the three disappeared into their own worlds.


    Thorne opened his eyes to see Archer and Dealer looking at him enviously.


    Archer: "Look at this kid, trying to sleep in this chaos. You seem brave for your age."


    Dealer: "It''s because of that damn Klien''s greed!"


    Thorne was surprised by their reactions.


    Haldor: "In loud it seems we can''t move out today. We''ll make camp here and move tomorrow towards our exit. Get a proper rest, and people will take turns guarding the camp."


    The miners were still uneasy, but no one objected. Haldor was a blacksmith, a respected elder, and a warrior.


    Thorne knew what was going to happen. There had been no incidents in the future he remembered, nothing dangerous.


    Unbeknownst to Thorne, something else was present in the depths of the pit. It smelled something delicious, opened its eyes, and only fate knew what would happen next¡­..!

 14 : The hollows and factions

    **Chapter 14 : The hollow''s and factions**


    The air beneath the Citadel was thick with ozone, carrying the faint metallic tang of rusting machinery and desperation.


    Beneath its gleaming towers, where power was displayed in polished steel and cold glass, the true pulse of Hollow Whale thrived in the shadows. It wasn¡¯t the upper levels that mattered here¡ªit was the labyrinthine network of tunnels and caverns carved deep into the earth.


    These subterranean veins housed the city¡¯s beating heart: the black market, a den of secrets where anything could be bought or sold.


    Deals were struck in dimly lit corners, whispered promises carried on the humid breeze like ghosts haunting the living.


    At the center of it all loomed the enigmatic figures known only as the Hollows. They ruled not through brute force but through influence¡ªa web so intricate that even the most cunning factions dared not cross them without careful consideration.


    Their presence was felt everywhere, yet they remained unseen, their motives obscured behind layers of secrecy.


    To speak their name aloud was to invite misfortune; to defy them outright was to court death.


    Hollow Whale¡¯s factions weren¡¯t born of ideology or shared beliefs¡ªthey were forged by necessity.Each specialized in a particular brand of criminal enterprise, their identities shaped by survival rather than morality.


    The Smugglers controlled the flow of illicit goods, trafficking everything from black-market tech to rare and dangerous creatures.


    The Tech-Shades dealt in information, hacking secure systems, stealing secrets, and selling them to the highest bidder.


    The Flesh-Carvers, the most brutal of the factions, operated in the darker recesses of the underworld, their trade built on exploitation and violence.


    And then there were the Iron Ravens, led by Raven himself, masters of acquiring rare artifacts¡ªa pursuit that often blurred the lines between theft, extortion, and outright bloodshed.


    Raven stood in a hidden observation post overlooking one of Hollow Whale¡¯s busiest trading hubs


    . His sharp gaze swept across the scene below, analyzing the flow of goods, the movements of rival factions, and the subtle shifts in power dynamics.


    Information was currency in Hollow Whale, and Raven was a master at extracting it. Every transaction, every whispered deal, told a story¡ªand Raven had always been a keen listener.


    But now, his focus was singular: the enhancer. Its loss gnawed at him like a festering wound. It wasn¡¯t just the value of the artifact itself¡ªit was the message its disappearance sent.


    To the Hollows, it was a sign of weakness, a challenge to his authority. They demanded results, and Raven knew the price of failure. Failure meant more than losing face; it meant annihilation.


    Either the Hollows would destroy the Iron Ravens entirely, or worse, turn them into pawns for another faction. Time was running out.


    He turned to Kael, his second-in-command, a hulking figure whose cybernetic enhancements gleamed faintly in the dim light. ¡°Any word on the girl?¡± Raven asked, his voice low and gravelly, each syllable weighted with barely contained fury.


    Kael shook his head. ¡°Our trackers have lost her trail. She¡¯s good, Raven. Too good.¡±


    Raven¡¯s jaw tightened. He had underestimated her. He had thought she was just another desperate scavenger, someone easily manipulated.


    But she had outsmarted him, slipping through his fingers like smoke. A flicker of grudging respect surfaced, quickly smothered by a surge of anger.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°Double our efforts,¡± he ordered, his tone cutting through the tension like a blade. ¡°I want every corner of Hollow Whale searched. Contact our informants in the upper levels. Someone must have seen something.¡±


    Kael nodded, his expression grim. ¡°And what about the Hollows?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re growing impatient,¡± Raven admitted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. ¡°I¡¯ve bought us some time, told them we¡¯re close to recovering the enhancer. But that won¡¯t last. We need to find her, and we need to find her soon.¡±


    His gaze returned to the bustling marketplace below, his mind racing. This wasn¡¯t just about reclaiming the enhancer¡ªit was about proving his strength, reaffirming his position within the tangled web of power in Hollow Whale. It was about survival, ambition, and securing his future.


    A subtle movement caught his eye. A figure slipped away from the main thoroughfare, disappearing into a shadowed alleyway.


    There was something about the way they moved¡ªthe fluidity, the precision, the ease with which they blended into the darkness¡ªthat sparked Raven¡¯s interest. He gestured sharply to Kael.


    ¡°Follow them,¡± he said quietly, his voice laced with urgency. ¡°See where they go.¡±


    Kael nodded and melted into the crowd, vanishing into the maze of alleys after the mysterious figure. Raven watched intently, his gaze fixed on the spot where the figure had disappeared.


    He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that this might be more than a random encounter. Perhaps it was a lead¡ªa thread he could pull to unravel the mystery of Zara¡¯s whereabouts.


    Perhaps it was the break he needed to reclaim the enhancer, restore his authority, and secure his place among the Hollows.


    For now, all he could do was wait¡ªand hope his instincts were right.


    ---


    Meanwhile, miles away, Zara lay hidden in a secluded cave beneath Brackish Lake. Few knew of this place¡ªit was a sanctuary buried deep within the outskirts of Hollow Whale, protected by ancient agreements between factions.


    These pacts, forged under the previous founder of Hollow Whale, ensured that certain territories remained untouched unless war broke out. For now, it kept her safe.


    Unaware of the frantic search underway, Zara stirred awake, her gaze falling on the enhancer resting beside her.


    She picked it up, turning it over in her hands. ¡°Maybe I can regain some of my strength with this,¡± she muttered to herself.


    Focusing on the tattoo etched into her skin, an interface flickered to life before her eyes:


    ```


    NAME: ZARA


    AGE: 19


    JOB: ASSASSIN


    Strength: 7


    Agility: 10


    Vitality: 9


    Psychic: 10


    Skills:


    SHADOW ASSASSIN: (F)


    +SHADOW BLIND


    +SHADOW BIND


    +SHADOW SLASH


    +SHADOW STEALTH


    +SHADOW MOVEMENT


    INVENTORY: (F) STORAGE SUBSPACE (3x3x3)


    CHAIN OF OATH: (F) CAN BIND ANYTHING WITH A MASTER AND SERVANT CONTRACT AS LONG AS HE HAS OWNERSHIP OR CONSENT.


    SYNCHRONIZATION IN PROGRESS 9.5% (238:13:18 until Stage One opens.


    Please be prepared.)


    ```


    Zara paused, recalling Alex and Thorne¡ªthe ethereal figures trapped in the realm she¡¯d accessed through her tattoo.


    Time there seemed frozen, disconnected from reality. Exiting the realm felt like stepping back into the same moment she¡¯d left, unchanged by the passage of time.


    Shaking off the thought, Zara prepared the enhancer. Carefully filling a syringe pump, she positioned it near her ventrogluteal site and injected herself, ensuring not a single drop went to waste.


    As the liquid coursed through her veins, a surge of energy ignited within her. Heat and cold clashed violently inside her body, as though fire and ice battled for dominance.


    Her muscles spasmed, bones shattered and reformed, nerves burned and rewired themselves. Pain consumed her, forcing her into a crouching position as the energy cocooned her like a chrysalis.


    When the transformation finally subsided, cracks formed across the glowing shell encasing her. Emerging from it, Zara felt reborn. Her presence radiated a chilling aura, so potent even her own shadow seemed to shiver.


    Opening her eyes, she focused on a small rock nearby. With a mere thought, it levitated into the air. She hurled it toward the wall, where it struck with enough force to crack the stone and send echoes reverberating through the cave.


    Eager to test her newfound abilities, Zara examined her UI again. Nothing new appeared, so she attempted to connect with the rock directly.


    As she focused, something shifted. Suddenly, she saw herself from the corner of her vision¡ªbut when she tried to move, her body refused to obey.


    Just as quickly, her perspective snapped back to normal. Looking at the rock, she noticed new information displayed above itappeared:


    ```


    Rock: Lv 1


    Can share body functions with the rock.


    Chains of Connection: (F) (1/5)


    Rock: Lv 1


    Connect / Disconnect


    ```


    Curious, Zara chose to disconnect. Instantly, the rock crumbled to dust. A profound sense of loss washed over her, as though part of her senses had been severed. After several minutes, the feeling faded, leaving her drained both mentally and physically.


    She glanced at the loot scattered around her¡ªa mix of salvaged tech, data chips, and fragments of weapons. Testing her skills further, she realized maintaining her *Shadow Assassin* state cost one psychic point per minute.


    Currently, she had only one point remaining. Overexertion triggered a nosebleed, a stark reminder of the toll her powers took on her body. Exhausted, Zara collapsed onto the cold floor of the cave, her body surrendering to sleep.


    Miles away, beyond the sprawling metal structures of the Citadel, a monstrous shape stirred in the desolate wasteland. Its bioluminescent eyes pulsed rhythmically, scanning the horizon.


    The Scavenger¡ªa grotesque fusion of flesh and machine¡ªhad detected something. A faint trace of psychic energy lingered in the air, drawing it inexorably toward Brackish Lake.


    Its mechanical limbs whirred as it began to move, each step shaking the earth beneath its massive, clawed feet.


    The hunt was on.....!

 15 : The Seed of the apocalypse

    **Chapter 15: The Seed of Apocalypse**


    Now that Alex was in the warehouse alone, he thought about the people he had proposed to help during the apocalypse: those with useful skills, those with potential, and even his former tormentor.


    A part of him believed they could survive without him, but to help them become the people he envisioned, he knew he had to support them during this crisis.


    Alex began his routine, glancing at the clock which ticked down the hours: 12 until the descent of the apocalypse.


    He had hidden for at least a month and needed to collect the cores that the infected would leave behind when they died.


    Although they wouldn''t be powerful in the early stages of the apocalypse, they would become absolute devils later on.


    Alex thought about the cores, which looked like spherical, sponge-like balls. They formed inside the infected and were squishy and soft yet firm at the same time, giving off an eerie feeling.


    Early in the apocalypse, when shelters started to form, some interesting, or perhaps even crazy, people used the cores in experiments. They discovered that these cores were the power source of the infected. By extracting a sort of viscous liquid from them, they could strengthen, evolve, and in some cases, even grant more impressive abilities to themselves.


    People who awakened during the Rain of Awakenings were strong, but by using this awakening liquid, they could achieve even greater strength. Some people even gambled by drinking the liquid while remaining unawakened. Some were successful, but others transformed into unimaginable monsters.


    Later in the apocalypse, rumors circulated about a mad scientist from another shelter who had created a liquid that could awaken an unawakened person without the side effects. Some people doubted these claims, while others wholeheartedly believed them. Many ventured towards that shelter, but none ever returned.


    With these thoughts swirling in his mind, Alex stood in a daze, gazing at the tattoo on his arm. He began concentrating on it, and soon his mind seemed to be sucked into something. He had been here before, but each time he entered this place, it felt different.


    The place was an endless expanse of darkness, with stars twinkling in the vast emptiness, reminding him of his insignificance. Doors opened and closed at his will, but he couldn''t stay for long. As he approached the center of this space, a pentatope hung suspended, as if it had a mind of its own.


    His body began to collapse, returning to its original position, as if trying to say, "I am sustaining this realm for us." It moved upwards with each passing minute or second he spent in this place. Once it reached a certain height, it began to rotate and opened the doors leading back to their world.


    While Alex marveled at this experience, like winning a grand prize in a lottery, he suddenly sensed another presence. He knew who it was without looking: Thorne. He greeted him, and after a few seconds, Zara also entered the realm.


    They soon began discussing their understanding of their skills. Alex had previously explained to them how this "tri ui" was like the status windows in his world, and they both nodded in agreement, acknowledging that he had shared his memories.


    Alex gave Zara a suggestion regarding her skill, and she thought it might be useful, thanking him sarcastically. She then began teasing Alex, "Yours is too small to¡­!"


    Thorne chuckled, and the pentatope began to rise, opening the doors back to their world. As they moved back, they each tried to view the screen:


    * (240:00:00 till the first stage opens)


    * (Synchronization 9.7%)


    He tried to turn back, but he was already back in the Happy Supermarket warehouse. He looked at the time and noticed no difference between entering and exiting the realm, even though he had spent almost an hour within it. It seemed that even after exiting the realm, a part of their brains remained connected, allowing them to share thoughts or even senses.


    Alex looked at his mobile phone. There were still two hours until the apocalypse, when a meteorite would appear out of nowhere, strike the ocean, and initiate the Rain of Awakening. While lost in thought, he closed his eyes in this seemingly peaceful world, devoid of fear.


    After a few hours, he heard a rupturing sound, as if the entire planet was about to be swallowed whole. Countries around the world panicked upon hearing this sudden news. Some countries began preparations to evacuate their populations, releasing disaster alerts.


    However, the top leaders in some countries suppressed the news, while the most powerful country in blue was in a daze, looking at the meteorite and asking their intellectuals why and how such a phenomenon could exist.


    Finally, after a hasty consultation with leaders from all countries, they decided to divert or strike the massive piece of meteorite, breaking it into smaller parts to lessen the impact on the blue planet and reduce the potential for significant losses.


    Soon, the news spread throughout the world, causing widespread panic. Some people tried to capitalize on this news, claiming it was a lie or a conspiracy from another country, throwing the world into chaos. However, the more sensible individuals were already on the move, securing food and disaster shelters. Survival channels and social media platforms were in an uproar as people frantically searched the internet for survival tips in the face of the apocalypse.


    Alex was still asleep amidst this chaos. The countries, in unison, began firing their most powerful weapons of destruction towards the meteorite as it passed Earth''s gravity and began to propel itself towards the planet.


    Another phenomenon baffled the scientists. When they tried to bombard the meteorite with the wrath of modern weapons, it seemed to have a mind of its own, easily dodging them and hurtling towards the planet at twice the speed of sound. With each kilometer it descended, its speed seemed to increase, and a sort of protective shield that enveloped the meteorite began to thin. Then, the missiles struck it, but there was no reaction from the meteorite, as if mocking the planet''s inhabitants. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The ice on the meteorite had completely melted into the atmosphere, and now it resembled a giant egg or a seed of destruction. At a certain height, it split apart and began moving towards all the major cities, as if it had detected the large gatherings of people as offerings for the apocalypse.


    It landed with a boom, sending shockwaves through the heavens and the earth. All the towering buildings and metropolises that had been built over a long period were now reduced to rubble in real time. With this impact, most of the population was wiped out.


    The main part of the meteorite, or the seed, landed in the sea and sank deep into the ocean, beginning to grow rapidly. When it reached the height of the sky, it seemed as if it could touch the heavens. Soon, the entire planet was covered in thick clouds, and the Rain of Awakenings began.


    The entire planet seemed to shudder and convulse, transforming every part of it. The climate changed, vegetation grew rapidly, and people who witnessed the phenomenon felt a shift within their bodies. Some became infected, along with every other organism on the planet.


    Finally, Alex opened his eyes to the Rain of Awakening, and soon the text appeared in his tri ui:


    **NAME:** ALEX CARTER


    **AGE:** 19


    **JOB:** SOLDIER, HUNTER (NEW)


    **Strength:** 12


    **Agility:** 15


    **Vitality:** 14


    **Energy:** 20


    **Skills**


    * **Vitality Absorption:** (F) Absorb the vitality of the thing you come in touch with.


    * Store and use it later.


    * Compress and make a pill out of vitality.


    * You can use it to fill your satiety.


    * **Storage:** (F) Evolved from inventory to storage.


    * You can store one thing in the storage subspace and you can only store one thing every level.


    * **Body Strengthening:** (F) Can strengthen any part of your body temporarily or permanently.


    * Parts that can be strengthened as follows:


    * UPPER BODY: + UPPER INNER, + UPPER OUTER


    * MIDDLE BODY: + MIDDLE INNER, + MIDDLE OUTER


    * LOWER BODY: + LOWER INNER, + LOWER OUTER


    * **Shelter:** (F) (NEW) Can designate anything as your shelter. One-time use, and the designation part will be erased. Every level, the shelter size will grow, and you can add more facilities and accommodate more people.


    * **DESIGNATION:** WILL BE ERASED COMPLETELY ONCE A PLACE IS DESIGNATED AS A SHELTER


    * **SHELTER GUIDE:** AN ORGANISM THAT WILL SUPPORT THE SHELTER WITH THE USE BY PROVIDING INSIGHTS AND GUIDANCE


    * **FACILITIES:** Living area, hygiene area, workout area, warehouse, and a watch tower


    (237:00:00 TILL THE STAGE ONE OPENS BE PREPARED)


    (9.7% SYNCRONIZATION)


    Honestly, Alex was dumbfounded as he looked at his newly changed skills. He carefully read each and every word from the ui and analyzed his skills. His stats also seemed to have improved due to the Rain of Awakening.


    While reviewing his skills, Alex thought of something and tried to act on it. He tried to use the newly evolved "Storage" skill. The items he had previously stored in the subspace seemed to have disappeared. He was disappointed because the crate of guns and bullets he had stored for safety issues had vanished.


    While thinking about it, he looked at the large warehouse nearby. His mind seemed to read something, and he approached the warehouse and touched it.


    A prompt appeared: "Would you like to store this thing? Once you store it, there is no going back."


    Alex was both excited and terrified as he looked at the notification. Without hesitation, he nodded his head. The entire warehouse, along with the Happy Supermarket, of which he had rented a portion, and a few other attached warehouses, vanished without a trace.


    Alex was shocked by this ridiculous turn of events. His past life as a scavenger and survivor now seemed like a distant joke. He was dazed for a moment, as if he had lost some energy. He then moved towards the nearby abandoned mountain and searched for the cave where he had survived in the early stages of the previous apocalypse.


    He saw a small opening that looked deep, but Alex already knew how to navigate it with some acrobatic moves. With his newly enhanced agility, he moved with the grace of a trained acrobat.


    Once inside the cave, he sat down and tried to process what had just happened. He looked at the other new skills: "Shelter" and "Vitality Absorption." He attempted to absorb vitality by touching the cave wall, but there was no response: "(NO VITALITY DETECTED)."


    Then, he touched a small patch of algae growing on the cave wall, and it reacted: "(SMALL AMOUNTS OF VITALITY ABSORBED)."


    Next, he focused on the "Shelter" skill. He opened his storage and looked at the storage subspace. He muttered, "Designate," and the system reacted: "(WOULD YOU LIKE TO DESIGNATE (SUBSPACE) LUCKY''S SUPERMARKET AS A SHELTER?)"


    Alex was dumbfounded. This kind of thing should be considered cheating, not a gift from heaven, especially considering his tragic past life.


    Alex clicked "Designate," and the world seemed to turn upside down.


    * **Satiety:** 5%


    * **Energy:** 1


    Energy had been spent on using the skill. Alex tried to recall what had happened before he fainted. He heard a murmur from something unknown.


    Alex awoke in a completely different space. He looked around, disoriented. He seemed to have woken up inside a building. The light outside was somewhat bright, so he slowly walked towards the window with great difficulty and tried to see outside.


    He was shocked to find himself inside the main office of Lucky''s Supermarket. Alex stepped out of the building, trying to understand what had brought him here. He shouted, "Thank God for helping me!"


    While he was uttering his prayer, a metallic ball-like object floated towards him. It had a white metallic appearance and wing-like structures on its sides. It was looking at the man who was gazing at the ceiling of the shelter (LUCKY''S SUPERMARKET), thanking someone else.


    The robot made a move, sending a jolt of electricity towards the man. It declared, "It''s not some God, man. It''s me who saved you from that damp place. Now worship me."


    Alex suddenly turned around towards the voice, but there was nobody there except for the flying white ball. He tried to move towards the ball, but it repeated, "It''s not some God, man. It''s me who saved you from that damp place. Now worship me."


    Alex was pleasantly surprised by this turn of events. He remembered what he had done and heard before he fell unconscious. Now he remembered the "Shelter" skill. He had expected a booklet or an interface like the ui, but it had come in the form of an arrogant AI.


    While his thoughts raced through his mind, the guide heard him and said, "What do you mean, arrogant AI? I am millions of years more intelligent and advanced than you."


    It murmured to itself, "Every single one of my masters until now has been polite to me, but now this man is mocking me openly."


    It tried to use force but couldn''t move because it was bound to Alex as the shelter owner, and the ball was the manager of the shelter.


    The ball said, "Well, the meteorite hit. Now that I am connected to you, I can only access certain parts of your brain, but most of it seems to be locked. Do you know anything?"


    Suddenly, Alex felt like the ball had changed the topic. Had it accepted defeat? He asked, "Why do you want access to my brain? Do you want to control my mind like a zombie?"


    The ball replied, "You look worse than a zombie."


    Alex was dumbfounded. "Leave it at that. Who are you?"


    The ball replied, "I don''t remember exactly. It seems I have been erased, except for the guidance and insight part."


    Alex asked, "Are you the shelter guide?"


    The ball replied, "Yes."


    Alex asked, "Where are we?"


    The ball replied, "Inside the shelter."


    Alex asked, "And that is where it is?"


    The ball replied, "Inside your subspace."


    Alex exclaimed, "What?"


    The ball replied, "It seems some of your skills evolved along with some unknown influence."


    Alex asked, "What?"


    The ball replied, "If I knew that, wouldn''t I be telling you?"


    Alex said, "Okay, but what can you do?"


    The ball replied, "I can manage and run the shelter."


    Alex asked, "You said we are in my subspace, but how is there electricity and light outside? And most importantly, how are we alive¡­?"


    He was shocked and fainted.


    The ball muttered, "This man¡­ huuuuuuuuu¡­"


    The ball seemed to be frustrated.


    In the mental world where Zara and Thorne were with Alex, they were dumbfounded when they witnessed Alex''s progression until now.


    Thorne exclaimed, "Is that even possible? For that kind of¡­ It''s even more amazing to see it in that spherical thing that has its own consciousness."


    Zara said, "Yeah, we have it too, but only the wealthy use it."


    Thorne said, "And also the skills. The way he used it¡­ He doesn''t look that smart."


    Zara said, "You stole that part from my mouth! Ha ha ha!"


    "Well, whatever. It''s good that he survived until now. And Alex woke up."


    Zara said, "Hello, Smart Pants. Want some milk?"


    Alex replied, "You stop teasing me."


    Thorne said, "Well, you did something. We saw it."


    Alex said, "Isn''t it a cheat?"


    Zara said, "Well, it is."


    Their conversation continued in the realm while the robot tried to wake its new shelter owner.


    Outside, the world had changed. All organisms ¨C animals, plants, and even humans ¨C had been affected.


    The mountain trail, cave, and forest now resembled a vast Amazon rainforest. New infected beasts and creatures were now running around, tearing up the city surrounding the mountain.


    The giant tree looked like it had reached the core of the planet, and the planet shook once. Unknown structures were erected all over the planet, and the Blue Planet''s voice echoed:


    "The initiation has started. Now every being will be in hibernation until the process is complete."


    With that, the entire world fell asleep.


    The planet expanded, new lands were added, and new mountains, rivers, and continents appeared.


    ("PROCESS PROGRESS 12% WORLD EVOLUTION")

 16 : The Kobolds Ambush

    **chapter 16 : The Kobold''s Ambush**


    Now it seems that Alex seems to be in hibernation. He seemed to be in the realm but all of a sudden, even his soul left the realm, and they saw that he was being protected by some strange orb in the cave around the city mountain.


    Zara and Thorne were relieved and got busy with their own worlds.


    Meanwhile, Throne concentrated on his surroundings, noticing people busy making makeshift tents.


    Haldor was talking to Klien about something beside the makeshift tent, which looked like it could fall at any moment.


    A campfire was lit beside the tent, and Klien¡¯s companions appeared exhausted. Others who had stuck close to Throne, Haldor, and Klien also gathered near them.


    Haldor and Klien noticed Throne approaching, and Klien moved slightly on the makeshift rock used for sitting. Throne saw this and sat beside Klien.


    **Archer:** "Here you go, boy, have some. We need everyone at their best to get out of here."


    **Throne:** "Thank you."


    **Tank:** "You look sturdy. What is your age, young man?"


    Without thinking, Throne replied, "38."


    Everyone looked at him with a hint of confusion and started laughing.


    **Haldor:** "You runt, don¡¯t tell lies. Tell them your real age."


    Snapped into the current situation, Throne replied, scratching his head,


    "Ha ha ha, I was just joking. I am 19 currently."


    **Klien:** "So, for the night here in the pit, we will make groups of five people guarding in shifts.How about joining me in the meantime?"


    Throne didn¡¯t object and replied, "I am okay with that."


    Then, tasting the soup, he added, "This soup tastes great, thanks, Archer."


    **Archer:** "Thank you, hehehe."


    **Dealer** glared at the archer, pointing at the sword''s hilt, "Don¡¯t take compliments for others'' work.


    " **Archer:** "Oh, oh, oh, sorry, sorry. I was just about to tell him that you made this great soup."


    **Tanker:** "Don¡¯t fight while eating; it¡¯s bad manners."


    Both Archer and Dealer went silent at Tank¡¯s words and returned to their tent, with Tank following them.


    **Klien:** "Haldor, do you know how deep this mine goes?"


    **Haldor:** "Well, most people or miners think that before the monster wave, you needed at least two days to reach the deepest part. But as far as we know, we never went below the fourth level of the pit because the kobold dwelling was discovered when some miners descended to the fifth level."


    **Klien:** "Well, before we took this mission in Eldoria, some mercenaries warned us about that. They also mentioned hearing occasional howls from the deepest part of the pit. Do you have any idea what  it might be?"


    Throne thought for a while. He had seen many monsters while being from the future¡ªearly monsters that came to the village when he was 19 included northern wolves, ice trolls, winter orcs, frost goblins, blizzard birds, and other sorts of creatures¡ªbut Throne couldn¡¯t pinpoint which monster might dwell below the pit.


    **Haldor:** "Well, Klien, there are many rumors going around. Someone from the village saw kobold soldiers and scouts near the pit every once in a while.


    In the worst-case scenario, we might have to face them while being at this level of the pit. No need to worry, though. Even if we descend by one level, I know the safest route from there on."


    **Klien:** "We trust your knowledge and instincts, Haldor."


    And Throne muttered, "Kobold lord."Klien and Haldor looked at him sharply.


    **Throne:** "It¡¯s nothing. I was just muttering thoughtlessly."


    **Haldor:** "Go get some rest. When it¡¯s your turn to guard, we¡¯ll wake you up."


    Klien watched Throne leave his side and stared at him until he vanished into the tent.


    **Haldor:** "Are you trying to poke a hole through your eyes on that boy?"


    **Klien:** "Nothing. I was just curious about what that kid said."


    **Haldor:** "No need to worry. In the last year''s wave, we subjugated the Kobold Lord."


    **Klien:** "Well, that¡¯s good to hear." **Klien:** "Even though you look strong, as well as your disciple, everyone else is lame."


    **Haldor:** "In the north, everyone knows how to survive in the wilds."


    They both laughed, and the flickering embers of the campfire still emitted some light. In the distance, a creature with the face of a dog, the body of a human, and covered in fur seemed to be looking for sounds and light sources.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    It retreated upon seeing the people and returned to its dwelling. Though they looked monstrous, these creatures possessed intelligence. Every time humans tried to enter the pit, the kobolds trapped them and killed them.


    Their reasoning was that before winter, they needed a Kobold Lord, and for that, they required sacrifices. For months, no humans were seen, so the kobolds devised an elaborate plan: retreating below the floors to lure humans into gathering resources.


    Because of this strategy, the kobolds succeeded in their plans but never expected armed humans. They planned to kill them when they descended the lower floors, where another exit existed.


    With that, the kobolds thought they had won the lottery. Haldor looked at Klien seriously and said, "Even though it looks like this right now, don¡¯t think we¡¯ll peacefully get out of this pit.


    They might be monsters, but they have the intelligence of teenagers. It might seem accidental, but we may have already fallen into their traps."


    **Klien:** "Well, I thought I was just seeing things in the distance. Am I wrong?"


    **Haldor:** "Villagers don¡¯t call me elder for no reason, ha ha ha. Don¡¯t react. We should prioritize safety. They should never know we¡¯ve sensed their presence."


    **Klien:** "What do you mean by that part?"


    **Haldor:** "What part are you talking about?"


    **Klien:** "About the Kobold Lord in the pit."


    **Haldor:** "There might be possibilities where we might never know anything."


    **Klien:** *Sigh.* "Let me get some sleep. Wake me up if you sense anything ominous."


    **Haldor:** "Get some rest. I¡¯ll wake you up. You guys were already tired before coming here with us."


    Klien nodded and left for the tent. Haldor stood watch with four other members of the group. Later, he woke Klien and Throne, who were scheduled to guard with Klien.


    **Haldor:** "Wake up, you bastard. I don¡¯t have all day." Throne sat upright from his position upon hearing that voice.


    This continued until morning, and no disturbances occurred during that time. --- While packing their belongings:


    **Tanker:** "Did you notice those things last night? It felt like they were trying to spy on us."


    **Klien:** "Yeah, I noticed."


    **Archer:** "Yeah, they were coming and looking at our camp from afar. Do you think there might be something down below?"


    **Klien:** "Well, we¡¯ll never know what possibilities lie ahead. Right now, we just need to focus on surviving this pit and returning safely to the village. That¡¯s our priority."


    **Dealer:** "What are you guys talking about? Did you see something in the night? Ghosts or monsters?"


    **Archer:** "Haaa, how did you survive this long as a mercenary without a sense of awareness? Yes, we noticed some kobold scouts all night."


    **Dealer:** "Kobolds?! Hey, Klien, you never said anything about kobolds being here in this pit. I was right¡ªyour greed will kill us all today!"


    **Tanker:** "Stop it. You¡¯re strong enough to take them down. Don¡¯t worry."


    **Klien:** "Stop complaining. Did you think this expedition to the north was my choice? If it weren¡¯t for the bastards from the guild, we wouldn¡¯t be here. Let¡¯s just focus on surviving for now. Once we get back, you can eat and drink whatever you want."


    **Dealer:** "DIE DIE DIE DIE YOU BASTARD!"


    **Tanker:** "Stop acting like children. See, everyone¡¯s waiting for us. Let¡¯s move before the shaft collapses and the monsters attack us."


    The mercenary group of Klien moved toward the next level of the pit, where they could descend further to escape this damp place.


    While moving, Throne still had a lingering thought about the Kobold Lord. "Why does it feel like something is missing? It feels like I¡¯m ignoring something very important."


    **Haldor:** "What are you thinking about?" *Smack.* "Ouch!"


    **Haldor:** "While I¡¯m here, no need to worry. People call me Warrior blacksmith for a reason. Now move your ass fast before I kick you again!"


    Throne moved forward. Suddenly, Throne heard Zara in his mind.


    **Zara:** "While you were on guard last night, I sensed something from afar. It felt like someone was watching you. Did you notice that?"


    **Throne:** "Yeah, I noticed that, but it feels like I¡¯m missing something more important than that."


    **Zara:** "Well, whatever. I just wanted to warn you becareful of your sorroundins"


    **Throne:** "Thank you."


    Zara¡¯s voice faded in his head. After walking for a few hours, they reached a place to descend to Level 4.


    **Klien:** "Wait here. We¡¯ll scout down there first before descending."


    Archer descended and, after a while, shouted, "It¡¯s safe. Come down!" One by one, they descended, with Throne and Klien being the last ones.


    **Klien:** "Yesterday, you said something about a Kobold Lord. Do you know anything about it that might help us in a precarious situation, even a little bit?"


    **Throne:** "Not anything that I know of.


    **Klien:** "Okay, tell me if you recall anything."


    **Throne:** "Okay," he replied while descending.


    From now on, they had to be cautious. They moved silently, not making any sound, guarding their front and back. Some miners were still carrying ores despite being exhausted.


    Soon, they took a break near the entrance to the next level. They knew they had to move cautiously from now on, so they formed a party: Haldor, Dealer, and Archer went on reconnaissance before descending, while Klien guarded, leaving Throne, Klien, and Tanker behind. Soon, they heard something.


    Tanker and Klien got into position, giving a warning: "Never go astray. Huddle together and guard your backs." Their bad premonition came true. Tens of kobolds emerged through small caves from the surroundings, surrounding them.


    The miners panicked, and Throne remembered what he had forgotten and said to Klien:


    **Throne:** "Klien, I might be wrong, but I think the Kobold Lord is behind all of this situation."


    **Klien:** "You¡¯re a little late, boy."


    **Throne:** "You already knew about it?"


    **Klien:** "Yeah, me and Haldor came to this possible conclusion last night."


    **Throne:** "Then you might also know about the Kobold Shaman."


    **Klien:** "Say what now?" The kobolds began attacking without much delay.


    Down below the pit, the Kobold Shaman was preparing a ritual to raise a Kobold Lord again.


    The shaman thought, "Last time¡¯s wave, they were attacked and killed by humans and lost a key person for the kobolds¡ªthe Kobold Lord, who would bring glory to their tribe, considered weak in the monster hierarchy."


    To raise a Kobold Lord, they needed sacrifices and various items. Although they had gathered most of what they needed, they lacked a strong warrior for sacrifice.


    What better than the warrior who defeated the previous lord of theirs? Along with him, there were four others¡ªa kid and three mercenaries.


    The Kobold Shaman amused himself, imagining how strong the new Kobold Lord would be if all these people were used as sacrifices.Laughing to himself at his own intelligence, he reveled in the opportunity fate had provided him.


    In the upper levels, Klien, Tanker, and Throne defended the people, shouting:


    **Klien:** "Don¡¯t be scared! Hold them back! Push them back! Don¡¯t show your backs!" Miners struggled.


    Some tossed rocks at the kobolds, and some even threw precious ores at them. One man, struggling against a kobold, was dragged and stabbed by multiple makeshift daggers and spears.


    Miners were terrified, watching the scene unfold. Taking advantage of the kobolds falling back slightly, Klien slew the fallen kobolds mercilessly, severing their heads. Throne smashed their heads with a baton equipped with a long hull attached to the front like a hammer.


    Tanker parried and pushed them back. Soon, the number of kobolds dwindled, and the remaining ones retreated, disappearing into the pit''s darkness.


    **Klien:** "Treat the wounded. Those who can¡¯t fight, stand in the back. Don¡¯t stay still. Show your courage to stay alive. Even though we are here to protect you, you must defend your lives."


    The wounded began wrapping bandages around their wounds, and the stronger ones positioned themselves in front and back.


    In the darkness below depth of the pit , the Kobold Shaman prepared something unseen, seizing this great opportunity fate had provided. He started make moves with signalling to others in the tribe.........!