As Dust and Zoe continued through the forest, fighting off wolves and growing closer with each step, the quiet stillness of the woods was shattered when they stumbled upon the group of four. Two girls and two boys, all players, appeared from the trees, their eyes hard and filled with hostility.
Dust felt an immediate tension in the air as the group of players sized them up. One of the boys, a tall figure clad in armor, sneered at Dust. "A thief?" he scoffed. "You're not even a tank. What good are you?"
The second boy, shorter but stockier, joined in, his voice dripping with disdain. "We needed a tank for this quest, not some backstabbing thief. You're nothing more than a nuisance."
Dust stood his ground, his hands gripping the hilts of his daggers. He wasn't intimidated by their words, but he knew the situation could quickly escalate. "We're here to hunt wolves, not fight you."
But the girls laughed derisively, crossing their arms as they eyed Dust with contempt. "Pathetic," one of the girls said, her voice full of mockery. "You can't even protect your sister properly."
Zoe stepped forward, her bow raised, and Dust could feel the heat of her anger. "He is my brother," she said firmly, her voice unwavering. "And I'll stand by him no matter what you say."
The two boys exchanged a quick glance before one of them barked a laugh. "Brother? That's rich. You've got no tank, no fighter. You're both a joke."
The other girl stepped forward, her eyes narrowed in disdain. "You're not worth our time. We're here for real players. Maybe we should take care of you now, so we can move on to more important things."
Dust tensed, ready to fight. "If you want to fight, then we can. But know this—I'll protect her. I won't let you get away with this."
Zoe, however, was already thinking beyond the fight. She wasn't about to let Dust face all of this alone. As the group of players grew more hostile, she whispered under her breath. "I'll make sure you're not alone."
With determination burning in her eyes, Zoe dropped into a crouch and fired an arrow at the closest player, the arrow grazing his shoulder. She quickly nocked another, but the response was swift. The second boy lunged toward her with a sword raised high. She barely had time to dodge before he swung at her, missing by inches.
Zoe didn't back down. With a fierce cry, she retaliated, firing another arrow at the attackers. She was doing everything she could to hold her ground—but the group was too strong.
Dust was on the move, engaging the players, slashing with his daggers. His every move was calculated, precise, but the odds were against him. It was clear the players weren't interested in fair play—they wanted to overpower them both.
Zoe turned to him, her voice tinged with desperation. "Dust, we have to make a run for it. Let's lure them to the wolves—get them distracted so we can escape."
Dust didn't hesitate. "Stay close," he ordered.
With no time to waste, they led the group of four deeper into the forest, dodging and weaving as they moved toward a lair of wolves. The sounds of the growling beasts were growing louder as they reached the entrance of the wolves' den.
But that was the trap—the players were too focused on the two of them. They didn't realize what they were walking into. The wolves, hungry and furious, pounced on them as the group neared the entrance.
Zoe cried out, shooting arrows into the oncoming beasts. Dust fought alongside her, taking down wolves with his daggers, but there were too many. In the chaos, the players started to panic, not expecting the wolves to be so aggressive. The boys cursed and shouted at the girls to fall back, but it was too late. The wolves were upon them.
Zoe, determined not to let Dust go down alone, grabbed one of the girls by the arm and pulled her toward the wolves. "Take them with you!" she shouted. "Get them away from Dust!"
But as the girl tried to break free, she was dragged down by a wolf's jaws. Zoe's heart sank, but she kept fighting.
The wolves tore through the group, and in the frenzy of it all, Zoe found herself cornered. She could feel her body weakening as the beasts closed in. Dust fought valiantly, cutting down wolves left and right, but his attention wavered for just a moment—just long enough for one of the wolves to leap at Zoe, knocking her to the ground.
"No!" Dust screamed, rushing toward her, but it was too late. A wolf sunk its teeth into Zoe's side, and the pain was too much. She gasped for air, trying to push the beast away, but it was futile.
Zoe's vision blurred, and her breath came in ragged gasps as the life slowly drained from her. Through her pain, she managed to look up at Dust, her voice barely a whisper.
"I'm sorry," she said, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I couldn't be the support you needed."
Dust's heart shattered. "Zoe, no! Stay with me, please!"
But Zoe's hand fell limp, her final breath escaping her lips. The wolves had taken her from him.
Dust, consumed by grief and rage, struck down the remaining wolves in a frenzy, his daggers slicing through the air with vicious speed. His thoughts were a blur, his focus shattered by the loss of the one person he swore to protect.
But in the midst of the chaos, Dust couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just an attack by wolves or players—it was a message. A cruel, heart-wrenching message that would haunt him forever.
And from the shadows, Simon watched the scene unfold, a dark smirk on his lips.
As Dust stood over Zoe's lifeless body, his heart was a storm of rage and sorrow, every breath a mix of grief and fury. The wolves had torn her apart, but the weight of it all, the betrayal of the players, the cruel manipulation by Simon — it was too much to bear. He was supposed to protect her. He was supposed to keep her safe, but now she was gone.
Dust's mind raced, his vision blurred with red as his fists clenched around his daggers. "This wasn't supposed to happen," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "She was just trying to help."
He stood there for a moment, barely registering the movement around him. But then, through the haze of his grief, he saw someone approaching.
Out of the trees, Simon stepped forward, his expression twisted into a mix of anger and frustration. Dust's blood boiled as he saw the ex-player — the man who had manipulated everything from the start. The man who had orchestrated Zoe's death, even if he wasn't directly responsible for the wolves. Simon's smirk didn't even fade as he saw Dust's eyes burning with fury.
"You're angry, huh?" Simon said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "How's that feel? To lose someone you care about? You should've let her go. She wasn't worth it. And in the end, she still didn't leave you."
That was it. The words hit Dust like a physical blow. Simon's cold, casual tone, as if Zoe had just been a pawn in a game, made his blood boil.
"I'll make you pay for this," Dust growled, taking a step forward. He was shaking with rage now, his daggers ready in his hands. "This was all your doing, wasn't it? You set her up to die, to break me. And you think I'm going to let you get away with it?"
Simon looked unfazed, but his eyes flashed with annoyance. "You don't understand, do you? She was just another piece in the game. But now that she's gone, maybe you'll finally get it. She didn't leave you, and that's what triggered me. I didn't want you to be happy, Dust. I never wanted you to have what I couldn't."
Dust lunged at him, daggers aimed at Simon, but before he could strike, Simon's voice rose again. "Don't bother. You can't kill me. Not yet."
Suddenly, the air around them was filled with the sound of footsteps and voices. Players, some of whom Dust had seen before, came rushing toward him. They came out of the forest, their faces filled with smirks and glares. They had been waiting for this moment, ready to take down Dust for the sake of Simon — or perhaps, to make him suffer for daring to defy them.
The first to reach Dust swung a sword at him, knocking his dagger out of his grip. Dust twisted around, his foot connecting with the player's stomach, sending him flying back. He quickly reached for his second dagger, only to find that more players surrounded him. They were fast, too many, and his mind raced. Every part of him wanted to take them all down, but the overwhelming number made it impossible.
In the chaos, one of the boys from the earlier group jumped in front of Simon, holding a sword and sneering at Dust. "You think you can take down Simon? You're nothing," he taunted, his blade swinging at Dust's legs. The others joined in, pushing him to his knees.
Dust struggled to regain his footing, but they were closing in on him, their weapons raised. He gritted his teeth and fought back, but it wasn't enough. They took him down, forcing him onto the ground. His body burned with pain as they held him there, one of them pressing his boot into Dust's chest to keep him pinned.
Simon stepped forward, a smug grin on his face. "See? You couldn't protect her, and now you can't protect yourself. You're weak, Dust. You never had a chance."
The final blow came as Simon kicked Dust hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Dust gasped, his vision spinning, the pain from the kick searing through his body. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All he could feel was the weight of Zoe's death, the betrayal, and the crushing realization that he had failed her.
"You're nothing without her," Simon sneered, his voice cold. "And now, you're nothing without your strength. You can't even protect yourself, let alone anyone else."
Dust's body was bruised and broken, and yet, there was something inside him — something deep in his soul — that refused to let this be the end. Zoe's sacrifice, her bravery, it hadn't been for nothing. He wouldn't let her death be in vain.
Through the haze of pain, Dust's eyes narrowed, and his fists clenched. There was a name, a name that had been given to him, a name that held power. It was a name he had never called out before, but in this moment, it felt like the only thing that could save him.
"**Anxia!**" Dust shouted, his voice raw but filled with resolve. "I need you!"
The air around him seemed to shift as a faint light appeared, a soft glow in the distance. A figure, small and ethereal, materialized from the shadows. It was Anxia, the elven guide, her expression serious and focused as she approached, her presence like a beacon of hope.
"You called, Dust?" Anxia asked, her tone calm but powerful.
Dust nodded, his voice shaky but firm. "Get me out of here. Help me."
As she extended her hand toward him, the world around him seemed to slow down, the players surrounding him frozen in place. With one swift motion, Anxia summoned a burst of energy, sending a shockwave through the area. The players were thrown back, their weapons knocked from their hands, and the pressure on Dust's chest was suddenly lifted.
Before anyone could react, Dust was on his feet, the pain in his body forgotten for the moment. He grabbed Anxia's hand, and in an instant, the world around them shifted.
They were gone.
As the world around them spun, the coldness of the forest faded into a quiet, eerie calm. Dust felt the weight of his body shift, his heartbeat still pounding in his ears. His breath was shallow, but there was something else now—something stirring deep within him. He was no longer surrounded by the players, no longer at the mercy of those who sought to break him.
Anxia stood before him, her face illuminated by the faint glow of her ethereal presence, her eyes fixed on him with an intensity that seemed to see through him. The world was silent for a moment, save for the sound of his own breath and the distant whispers of his thoughts.
"You've called for help," she said softly, her voice like a whisper carried on the wind. "But help comes at a price, Dust. Do you want the strength to never be played with again? Do you want the power to have your revenge? To not just survive, but dominate?"
Dust's breath hitched in his throat. The question hung in the air, each word cutting into him like a blade. His mind raced back to everything that had happened—the betrayal, the death of Zoe, the suffering. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. He could still feel the weight of her death pressing on him, could still hear Simon's mocking words, the sneers of the players who had beaten him down.
And then, Anxia spoke again, her words colder, more piercing. "You can take it all back, Dust. Accept the darkness inside you. Embrace it, and you will no longer be a pawn, no longer be weak. Kill them all. Break them. And everything you want, everything you desire, will be yours."
Her words wrapped around him, a temptation, a promise, a whisper from the abyss. Dust's heart pounded in his chest, his body still bruised and broken, but a fire ignited deep within him. The anger, the pain, the frustration—it all mixed together. The loss of Zoe, the betrayal, the weakness he had felt—it was too much. He had been pushed too far, made to feel too small, too helpless.
He looked into Anxia's eyes, seeing the flicker of something dark within them. She was offering him power, vengeance. She was offering him a way out, a path where he would never be weak again. But it would cost him.
His thoughts were a whirlwind, but one thing was clear: he couldn't let Zoe's death be in vain. He couldn't let Simon win. And if the only way to make them all pay was to embrace the darkness inside him, then so be it.
"I accept," Dust whispered, his voice low but resolute. "I will do whatever it takes. Make me strong. I'll kill them all."
Anxia's smile was a chilling thing, cold and knowing. She nodded once, a flicker of something almost like approval crossing her features. "Very well, Dust. Embrace it."
With a swift motion, Anxia raised her hand, and the world around them seemed to warp, the air thickening with energy. Dust's body began to burn with a new power, a surge of strength and fury that was not his own, but something darker. His vision blurred, his skin tingling, as if the darkness was seeping into every pore, filling the emptiness inside him with a strange, terrifying clarity.
He could feel the change, the shift inside him as something wicked and powerful took root. The world around him seemed to stretch and bend, and in the next instant, the scene shifted. He was no longer in the forest, but standing before the players who had betrayed him, his enemies, those who had watched as Zoe died.
Dust stood tall, his body glowing with an unnatural red hue. His eyes were like fire—blood-red, filled with an intense rage and an unshakable resolve. Blood dripped from his hands, pooling at his feet. He had accepted the darkness, and it had transformed him into something else.
With a fierce, bloodthirsty grin, Dust stepped forward, his every movement now infused with newfound power. He had become the bad guy. The one who would take control. The one who would bring justice, not mercy.
The players in front of him took a step back, their faces filled with shock and fear. They were not prepared for this. They had thought they could break him, control him. But Dust was no longer the same.
"You think you can play with me?" Dust's voice was cold, the sound of it sending a chill down their spines. "You think you can break me?"
He raised his hand, his dagger glinting in the dim light, and with one swift motion, he was upon them. His blades tore through the air with inhuman speed, cutting through the players as if they were nothing more than paper. Their screams filled the air, but they were drowned out by the sound of blood hitting the ground.
Dust moved with deadly precision, his anger and pain fueling him as he slaughtered those who had dared to toy with him. His mind was clear now—his goal was vengeance. His goal was to make them all pay.
And as the last of his enemies fell to the ground, Dust stood over them, breathing heavily, the crimson light of his eyes still burning brightly. He had become the monster they feared. The bad guy.
The darkness was inside him now, and it would never leave.