Luke read the last skill and stopped. His chest tightened, his pulse quickened. A strange chill ran down his spine.

[Basic Blood Regeneration (Rare)]: The first cut is only the beginning. Whenever you make an enemy bleed, your demonic nature awakens, devouring the life that pours from your prey. You heal as they wither. Your body strengthens with every drop spilled. And your blade becomes a conduit for the insatiable hunger within. In the end, it's not just the enemy who bleeds, it's you who feeds.

Luke stared at the screen. This wasn't just power. It was something else. Something darker. Every other skill made him stronger. But this? This made him survive. If he were wounded, if he were dying, this would pull him back from the brink.

He could heal through blood. Even a single cut, a shallow wound, could trigger a hemorrhage. That alone could kill someone. But now, he was his own healer.

Luke took a deep breath. The other skills were tempting. But this, this was the one that changed everything.

He thought back to the ice fields. If his leg had snapped, if he'd taken a deep slash, he would've died. In this place, one mistake meant death. But not anymore.

And then he remembered his Profane Knife Throw. It had a bleeding effect. He could heal at range. Without ever stepping into danger. Without using potions.

The synergy was perfect. His blood surged. This was it. The right choice.

Luke tapped the skill. The screen pulsed.

[You have acquired the Class Skill: Basic Blood Regeneration]

[Your Demonic Powers intensify…]

Then the itch began. It wasn't painful, not exactly, but it spread like static crawling across his skin. Something inside him shifted. The Dark Blood stirred, alive. Hungry.

Luke clenched his fists. His muscles tensed, then relaxed. The feeling passed. He exhaled slowly. But he knew something had changed. He was different now. Stronger.

And for the first time since entering this nightmare, he felt ready. Eager.

***

A voice broke the silence.

"Sun's up," Jhonny said, crawling back into the hideout. "We can move."

The group stood immediately, packing supplies, checking gear, folding the cloth they'd used for warmth. Hours had passed, but Luke and Allison hadn't slept a second. They'd kept watch. Watched everyone.

During the night, they had exchanged stories, telling of their brutal journey through the frozen wastes. But the information flow was one-sided. Few answers came back.

"We can't say much," Anna had said, tightening the strap of her bow. "The one who handles introductions… is our leader."

Luke raised an eyebrow.

Leader?

But before he could ask, the group was already on the move. They stepped out into the ruined city. The trees began to thin. The forest gave way to shattered stone, crumbling walls, collapsed buildings.

The remnants of something ancient. This place wasn't just abandoned. It was a corpse. A dead empire, buried beneath dust and time.

***

Swoosh!

An arrow cut through the air. It landed far ahead—silent.

Jhonny closed his eyes. Stood perfectly still for a moment. Then opened them.

"It's clear."

Without hesitation, the archers moved forward.

Luke narrowed his eyes.

"How the hell does he know that?" he muttered to Allison, trying to break the oppressive silence that had settled over her.

Since the stories about the city… she hadn't really spoken. She was somewhere else—in thoughts Luke couldn't reach.

Anna, walking just ahead, caught the question.

"Jhonny has a skill," she said. "Perception Arrow. When he fires, the arrow creates a detection field. Gives him a snapshot of the area."

Luke nodded slowly.

Useful. Extremely useful.

They reached a towering wall of rubble. The group paused, scanning the surroundings. Beyond the debris—a flock of strange creatures wandered among the ruins.

Luke squinted. Ostriches. But wrong. Twisted necks. Eyes wide, vacant—insane. One of them slammed its head repeatedly into a stone column.

Crack! Again. And again. Each impact echoed like a hammer on bone.

"Headbreaker Ostriches," one of the archers said with a smirk.

"They kill by headbutting. Absolutely nuts."

When the path finally cleared, the archers uncoiled ropes and shot grappling arrows high above. Luke and Allison followed. Fast. Precise. They climbed.

And when they reached the top—they saw it.

The Safe Zone!

And the difference was obvious. The street below was walled off with debris, furniture, sharpened stakes, anything that could serve as defense. A group worked steadily, adding more.

They were building a wall. It wasn't finished yet, but it was progress.

"This is the Safe Zone," Anna said. "Monsters still slip in sometimes, but nothing like the Wild Zone."

She pointed to the archers stationed at higher ground, bows at the ready.

"Every point is watched. We eliminate threats before they reach the heart."

Luke scanned the area.

Behind them, the Wild Zone looked like a living nightmare.

A colossal castle loomed in the distance. Dark. Intact. Imposing. A relic untouched by time or ruin.

He exchanged a look with Allison.

"That has to be part of the mission," Luke said.

Allison nodded. "Too obvious to ignore."

Anna exhaled. "The closer you get to that castle… the more this world tries to kill you."

She gestured to the glowing torches lining the Safe Zone.

"At least here, we've got light. Magical torches, set up everywhere. But the Wild Zone? Not so lucky. There are a few scattered flames… but mostly darkness. And no one walks that place at night."

Luke tilted his head.

"Because of the Midnight Wardens?"

Anna nodded.

"They don't enter the Safe Zone." Her gaze turned distant. "But step outside these protected streets after dark… they'll be waiting."

Luke didn't answer. He just turned his eyes back to the castle on the horizon. The wind whispered through the ruins. Soft. Hollow. The world felt calm. Too calm. But he knew whatever was inside that fortress wouldn't be.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

***

The archers moved more freely now, their pace lighter. But even in safety—they remained cautious.

"We made it back alive!" one of them cheered.

"Barely," another muttered, clutching his arm. The bandage around it was soaked with blood.

"Don't worry, we'll head straight to the healer."

Luke and Allison followed the group a few more steps and then they saw it. People. Dozens of them. Men and women moved in organized chaos, carrying baskets, sharpening weapons, stacking wood to reinforce barricades.

The buildings were crude, surrounded by stakes and makeshift walls. But the most noticeable thing? The guards. Armed. Watching every corner. Eyes sharp. Crossbowmen and archers manned the rooftops, their eyes scanning the streets below with unrelenting focus. Every elevated point had someone watching. No blind spots. No breaks.

The streets below bustled with a strange kind of order. Improvised market stalls stood at every corner. Not selling gold. Not selling weapons. Pots. Pillows. Rusty spoons. Things that would be meaningless in a normal city, but here, even a fork was a precious commodity.

"Clean water! Fresh water for trade!"

A line had formed in front of a man holding a dented bucket. He dipped a ladle into the murky liquid, filling crude tin cups for anyone who could pay.

"Thank you," a woman whispered, handing him a bundle of misshapen fruit.

Luke and Allison exchanged a look. No currency. Everything ran on barter.

"Coats! Who wants coats?! Just back from the Wild Zone—minimal holes!"

One trader abruptly froze—his eyes widened as he spotted Luke and Allison's fur-lined jackets.

"By the gods… those are worth a fortune! If you're selling, talk to me—immediately!"

They ignored him and kept walking. But then, they stopped.

Luke felt a chill crawl up his spine.

Children.

Scattered between tents. Some laughing weakly. Some just sitting, staring.

Their eyes were empty. Not like children. Like survivors. As if they'd already seen more than any child should ever have to.

"…Kids," Allison whispered. Her voice cracked, barely audible.

Luke said nothing. But he felt it too.

How long…? How long have these people been trapped here?

He didn't want to know the answer.

Anna pointed to a large structure set apart from the market chaos.

"That's the military compound. Home of King Bartholomew and his men."

Luke frowned.

King?

"This place is the city outside Bastion. Everything here—every stall, every street—belongs to King Bartholomew." She folded her arms. "Nothing is free. If you want a tent, a bed, even a corner of a building—you pay tribute."

They continued walking, leaving the market behind. The noise faded with every step.

***

Eventually, they stopped in front of a large, weathered building. A hotel. Once majestic. Now cracked and worn.

"This is the Columbus Hotel," Anna said. "It's where Haven lives."

The archers split up, disappearing into corners, rooms, or tents nearby.

Anna turned to them.

"I'm in charge of placing new arrivals. Follow me."

Luke scanned the surroundings. Makeshift tents dotted the muddy field. Crude wooden shacks leaned against the hotel's outer walls. People washed themselves with filthy cloths dipped in cloudy water.

The smell was overpowering. This wasn't a refuge. It was a dumping ground for survivors.

The women looked worn, hair matted, skin smudged, clothes torn. The men weren't much better.

And the smell. Well, after walking through a crowd of the unwashed and half-starved, Luke had gotten used to it.

Anna tried to sound optimistic.

"Since it's so cold, we don't sweat much," she offered. "Helps us stay clean longer."

Then she sighed.

"There's a river, but it's under militia control. You want water? Pay a tribute. There are other rivers in the Wild Zone, but those come with monsters."

She crossed her arms.

"Soaps are sold by traders. I try to keep a schedule—one solid bath a week."

One bath a week?

Luke wisely chose not to ask how people handled hygiene. Or what they did for toilets.

Where's the bathroom? How do they even flush it?

…Do they flush it?

Luke was used to discomfort after days in the snow. But at least out there, he had snow—clean enough to wipe away the worst.

But now?

A more horrifying thought crept in.

I've slept next to a woman for several nights...

Without a single bath.

He froze.

Allison raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly, eyes darting away.

They approached the hotel entrance, only to be stopped. Two guards stepped in front of the door, weapons at their sides.

"Anna," one of them said, voice sharp. "Who are these people?"

"New arrivals," Anna answered calmly. "Cecilia and I found them. We're taking responsibility as veterans."

The guards scanned Luke and Allison with hard eyes.

"Hand over your weapons," one said. "Any items too. No outsiders enter armed."

The meaning was clear. They didn't trust them. More men nearby stepped forward, ready to disarm them by force if needed.

Allison's hand instinctively moved to her blade. Her posture shifted, tensed for a fight.

"I have zero intention of giving up my gear," she said, voice cold.

Luke scanned the area. A child ran past, laughing, toward a woman who scooped them up in her arms. They were just… people. Tired. Dirty. Human.

But that didn't mean he was going to surrender his weapons.

"Let's not escalate this," Luke said, tone calm but firm. "I'm sure we can talk this through."

Cecilia signed frantically to Anna, her expression panicked. Anna opened her mouth to intervene—

But then, a voice came from inside the building.

"It's fine."

Everyone froze.

"They're just fresh from the Training Field. How dangerous could they be?"

Luke turned.

A young man stepped from the shadows of the hotel, his expression unreadable.

The guards immediately backed off, sheathing their blades.

"If you say so, Paul," one of them muttered.

His eyes narrowed. Of everyone they'd encountered so far… this one felt different. Stronger. Strong enough that even Allison beside him wouldn't make a difference if it came to a fight.

Paul gave them a small, unreadable smile.

"See? Problem solved."

He looked young—mid-twenties at most—but there was weight in his stance. Confidence. Command.

"I'm Paul," he said, folding his arms. "Second-in-command around here. You're free to enter… as long as you store your weapons in your inventory."

Luke and Allison shared a look. No choice. They couldn't afford to alienate these people.

Reluctantly, they stored their gear—and stepped inside.

"I'm sorry…" Anna said softly, guilt thick in her voice. "I should've warned you. This is my first time being someone's veteran…"

Cecilia signed her own apology, her face flushed red with shame.

Allison simply shook her head.

"It's fine."

But Luke said nothing. His body was still tense, one second away from violence just minutes ago. Now…

They followed Paul deeper into the hotel.

The smell hit first. Old wood. Dust. Food.

But beneath it all, blood.

Wounded survivors lay on the floor, groaning, bandaged with whatever rags were available. Women knelt beside them, sewing wounds with shaking hands. Some had eyes that were already fading.

Death lived here. It breathed here.

Paul didn't slow.

"So," he said without turning, "how'd the mission go?"

Anna exhaled, her face dropping.

"Nowhere," she replied. "We still haven't found the mechanism… and Marco got injured."

Mechanism?

Luke frowned.

"I warned you it was dangerous to keep going," Paul said quietly.

Anna didn't answer. They kept walking.

Every room they passed offered a new glimpse of this world. In one, women patched together shredded clothing. In another, survivors cleaned meat from monster corpses. Luke couldn't tell if it was meant for food—or something else entirely.

The halls were packed. People moved with urgent purpose, carrying supplies, weapons, scraps of metal or cloth. No one walked slowly. No one wasted breath.

Then, guards appeared ahead. They said nothing when they saw Paul—just stepped aside.

He stopped at a wooden door, took a breath, and knocked.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Silence.

Then a voice—sharp, impatient. "Who is it?!"

Paul swallowed. "It's me… Angelica. It's Paul."

Silence stretched again. Then the door opened. A girl in an apron rushed out, nearly bumping into them.

"Hi, Thiara," Paul said, his tone uncertain.

She flinched slightly. "Hi, Paul…"

She looked around Luke's age—maybe a little older than Allison.

"I just… got chewed out pretty hard. I need to go!" And she was gone.

Anna sighed. "She's always like that…"

"She's getting better," Paul said softly.

They stepped into the room. Angelica was already watching. Her presence hit like pressure in the air.

She studied Luke and Allison with cold, assessing eyes. "Who are they?"

Paul stepped forward. "These are…"

He hesitated, glancing toward them.

"I'm Allison."

"Luke."

The tension thickened. Angelica exhaled through her nose, folding her arms.

"I see... newbies." She leaned back against the table, rubbing her temples. "I'll be blunt."

Her eyes were sharp as glass. "Forget going home."

Luke's heart stopped for a beat.

"Forget the mission." She clenched her fists. "No one's ever completed it."

"My advice?" Her voice was cold steel. "Accept it."

A chill ran down Luke's spine.

Angelica's voice dropped lower—measured and unshaken. "This place… has existed for eight years."

The words hit like thunder.

EIGHT YEARS!

Luke and Allison stood frozen. That number echoed in their minds, over and over. Impossible to ignore.

EIGHT YEARS!

"And no one…" Her gaze pierced through them. "Not one person… has ever gotten close to the castle."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.