I had a lot of questions and confusion in my mind. How come my memories weren't altered? The person I was an hour ago. The brimming portal, which shouldn't even exist unless summoned by the top men of the Sable Order. The supposed betrayal, the hole in my chest—all of it weighed heavily on me. But the most logical thing I could do was go with the flow. I had no influence, no power to change my circumstances.
We ran towards the portal without catching our breath. The woman stayed close behind, her face unreadable. I hadn't even asked for her name yet, and somehow, I felt like I shouldn't. What I did know was that she harbored a grudge against the Sable Order. A deep one, it seemed. The kind of hatred that could drive a person to sacrifice everything. It wasn't my place to pry, not now.
The streets around us were a surreal nightmare, filled with mindless bodies that wandered aimlessly. Shadows of players—crawling, lying on the ground, existing with dead minds. I felt no pity for them. Was it because I saw them as NPCs? Or was I too detached, too consumed by my own survival? In truth, I wasn't that different from them. I had no goal, no allies in this world, and a mind plagued with unanswered questions. The only thing that set me apart was the ability to think and make decisions—though whether the choices I'd made so far were the right ones was a matter of debate. Still, they'd kept me alive.
We reached the portal. It stood steady and brimming with aura, its shimmering surface pulsing faintly.
"How is it stable?" she asked, her voice breaking the tense silence.
I shook my head.
"Only the Sable Order or people with cyber cloaks can summon these. If one is here, that means the Order might be nearby—or someone powerful enough to create it."
The real decision now was whether to enter it. The portal wasn't shrinking; it gave us time to think. But time wasn't on our side—not if we had any hope of saving the others.
I looked at her and gave a gentle nod.
She hesitated for a moment, as if weighing something in her mind, then nodded. I took the lead, stepping closer to the shimmering gate. My foot crossed the threshold, and the world around me dissolved into pure light.
For a moment, my mind went blank. Every sensation evaporated until I felt myself pulled through and deposited on solid ground. When I opened my eyes, the scene before me couldn't have been more different from the desolation we had left behind.
Towers rose high into the sky, their gleaming surfaces polished to a mirror-like finish. Lights pulsed through the buildings like flowing veins, casting a faint glow that illuminated the streets below. Suspended walkways crisscrossed the skyline, their glass floors shimmering as streams of energy coursed through them. Above, air-borne vehicles glided silently, sleek crafts that left faint trails of light in their wake.
The roads beneath our feet were flawless—smooth, unmarked, and reflective, catching the light from the bright advertisements hovering above. Holographic billboards flashed animated figures and messages in a language I couldn't read. Automated kiosks lined the sidewalks, their screens glowing faintly with maps and endless broadcasts. The air was different here—crisp and sterile, with a metallic tang that clung to the back of my throat.
But the most unsettling part wasn't the technology or the advancements. It was the silence. For all its magnificence, the entire northeastern province was devoid of life. No footsteps echoed down the streets. No voices carried through the air. Only the faint hum of energy coursing through the structures and the occasional whir of vehicles overhead broke the oppressive quiet.
She emerged from the portal behind me, her presence cutting through my unease. A small wave of relief washed over me; at least I wasn't alone. Yet even with her here, something about this place gnawed at me, an invisible weight pressing down on my chest. It felt like we were being watched, though there was no one to do the watching.
"It's… so quiet," she whispered.
"Yeah," I muttered, my gaze drifting upward to the towering spires that scraped the heavens. This was the richest part of the city, advanced beyond anything I'd ever imagined. But without people, it felt hollow. Devoid of purpose.
Dark clouds hung heavy in the sky, yet there was no rain. Even so, the streets glistened as if freshly drenched, reflecting the neon green and blue lights of the buildings. Puddles pooled in uneven patches, scattered across the otherwise pristine pavement. Something felt wrong.
I crouched down to inspect the liquid.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tight.
Ignoring her, I extended a hand and dipped my fingers into the puddle. It clung to my skin, viscous and unnervingly warm. Under the artificial glow of the towers, its color was hard to place. I brought it closer to my nose.
The sharp tang of iron hit me like a punch.
I stood slowly, my stomach twisting.
"It's blood," I said, the words flat but heavy.
She took a step back. "What?"
My eyes scanned the streets again, this time paying attention to the ground rather than the glittering skyline. And there it was. I'd missed it before, distracted by the towering lights and the allure of a utopian facade.
Blood. It was everywhere.
It painted the streets in thick, glistening trails, pooling in places, streaking in others. And scattered across the ground weren't cars or bustling life, but bodies—some whole, others dismembered, crushed, and grotesque.
The contrast was staggering. Above us, the city reached skyward like a vision of heaven, an advanced paradise of light and steel. But down here, we stood in hell.
I didn't look at her. There was no point. Whatever expression she wore wouldn't change the reality around us. I'd seen death before—the southern slums reeked of it. But this… this was something else.
The stench hit me like a physical force, heavy and sickly sweet. I'd been to my mother's hospital as a child, seen the broken and the dying wheeled through its sterile halls. Missing limbs, shattered bodies, even the occasional corpse. I thought I'd built some immunity to the grotesque. But this wasn't the same. This wasn't orderly or contained.
This was ruin.
Without my rune to anchor me, I swayed on my feet, my stomach threatening to give way. Still, I moved forward, one step at a time, refusing to falter. I didn't ask her to follow, didn't even check if she did. It wasn't something I could demand of anyone—not even her.
The blood clung to my soles, viscous and warm, leaving faint imprints as I walked. Above, the drones and aircraft continued their mechanical routines, oblivious. Below, the ground told a story the skies didn't care to acknowledge.
The first bodies I passed were civilians. Their faces were still—some frozen in terror, others slack with the quiet permanence of death. Children, parents, the elderly—no one was spared. It was methodical, precise. This wasn't chaos; it was execution.
For a moment, I thought I knew what I was seeing. The Sable Order—only they had the reach, the power, to orchestrate something on this scale. The very idea of it brought a bitter taste to my mouth.
But then I saw them.
The uniforms were unmistakable, their black fabric and polished masks instantly recognizable. These weren't victims. They were predators. Members of the Order, lying in heaps—torn, broken, rendered into unrecognizable masses of flesh. Some were scattered like debris, others crushed into the ground as if the earth itself had risen to swallow them whole.
It didn't make sense.
A cold weight settled in my chest as I stood there, surrounded by the remnants of slaughter. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out even the faint hum of the city's machines. A single tear traced its way down my face before I realized it was there.
I was scared.
Not the fear of pain or death—I'd met both before. I'd seen friends die, family too. I'd even faced my own end, once. But this was different. This was fear without reason, without resolution. It coiled in my gut and turned every breath into a labor.
What could I do? Run? But to where?
This world wasn't designed for escape. Safety was a myth, a whisper told to children to lull them to sleep. Level 0 had been no refuge, but at least I understood it. Here, I was adrift, clinging to choices that now felt like mistakes.
Every step I'd taken had led me here. To this. And now, standing ankle-deep in blood, surrounded by the dead, I felt the weight of it pressing down. Every decision, every path—I'd walked them with purpose. But now, all I could feel was regret.
There were no runes on them. That much I noticed. It was the only certainty I had—they were dead.
I kept walking. Forward, though I didn't know where. Forward, though I didn't know why. The purpose that had driven me here was gone, dissolved into the blood-soaked streets. My legs moved of their own accord, guided by some instinct I couldn't name.
The exhaustion settled in slowly, creeping into my chest, my arms, my gaze. My eyes burned, heavy with fatigue, but I couldn't stop. Not until my body made the decision for me. My knees buckled, and I dropped to the ground.
The blood soaked into my clothes as I lay there, staring up at the gray, indifferent sky. My head struck something hard—a rock, maybe. It hurt, but not enough to matter. Pain was distant, dulled by the numbness clawing its way through my mind.
I shifted, trying to make sense of the discomfort beneath my head. My hand reached back, fingers curling around the object. Not a stone. Softer. Coarser.
Hair.
My half-closed eyes blinked sluggishly as I lifted it— twisting slowly in the air, the bloodied strands of its hair slipping through my fingers. The face turned toward me, and in that moment, the world stopped.
I couldn't breathe.
Kael had never looked so terrified before. His eyes stared back at me, wide with a terror I had never seen in him before. His mouth was slack, his lips parted in a silent scream. Blood poured from the jagged wound in his neck, pooling beneath him, streaking through his drenched hair.
I couldn't look away.
My chest heaved, and then I cried. Not quietly, not with control, but with a rawness that tore through me. I didn't care if anyone heard. There was no one left to hear.
Kael was gone.
The rock, the streets, the sky—it all blurred behind the tears. And for the first time, I didn't care about why I had come here, where I was going, or what I needed to do. All that remained was the weight of his lifeless face, and the knowledge that nothing I did would ever bring him back.
I remembered why I was here.
Slowly, I placed Kael's head on the ground, careful despite the trembling in my hands. My breath hitched as I scanned the area. His body wasn't there. None of the others were, either. Faces I should have recognized were absent, leaving me clinging to a sliver of hope.
Someone might still be alive. Someone.
This time, I walked with purpose. Not out of instinct or numbness, but with intent. My legs moved on my command, my steps heavier now, pressing into the blood-soaked ground. I wasn't wandering anymore—I was searching.
The scenery shifted as I pressed on. The province, once pristine and imposing, was a shadow of itself. Buildings stood fractured, their sleek surfaces shattered and jagged. Neon lights flickered weakly, casting fragmented reflections onto the wet streets. The sky above had darkened further, thick clouds swirling like a bruise.
The weight in my chest was unbearable. Each breath felt like I was dragging it through the blood and ash that choked the air. Yet, I pushed forward.
Whatever I found—whether it was salvation or more devastation—I had to know.
The heart of the province wasn't far, but the journey felt endless. Each step dragged me deeper into the ruins, where the weight of death hung heavy in the air. The streets widened here, lined with remnants of what must have once been pristine architecture. Now, jagged shards of glass jutted from crumbled walls, and massive steel beams lay twisted and scattered like discarded toys.
The stench grew worse with every step. Blood, ash, and something sour and chemical burned my throat and filled my lungs. I pressed the back of my hand to my nose, but it was no use. The smell was everywhere, soaking into the very fabric of this place.
The silence that had blanketed the province before was beginning to fracture. The faint sound of dripping liquid echoed in the distance, accompanied by the occasional groan of a structure straining under its own weight. Every now and then, I heard something faintly crack or shift, and I would freeze, half-expecting the shadows to move.
Then I saw it.
At first, it was just a dark mass in the distance, indistinct against the ruins. My mind didn't want to recognize it for what it was, not immediately. But as I got closer, the details came into focus.
A pile.
It stretched high into the air, a grotesque mountain of bodies stacked with a careless brutality. Arms and legs jutted out at unnatural angles, tangled in a grotesque display. Heads lolled limply, their eyes staring vacantly into the void. Blood poured down the sides of the pile like a morbid waterfall, pooling at its base and staining the already crimson ground.
I stopped.
My chest felt tight, my breath shallow. My instincts screamed at me to turn back, to leave this place and never look back. But I couldn't.
To the left of the pile, more bodies were scattered across the ground. These weren't mutilated like the ones in the heap. They looked almost untouched, lying in eerie stillness. Their faces, peaceful and serene, were a cruel contrast to the horror surrounding them. It was as if they had simply fallen asleep where they stood, surrendering to some unseen force.
On the right, the scene was far worse. Here, the remains were unrecognizable. Torn limbs, shattered skulls, and shredded torsos lay in grotesque disarray. The air was thicker here, heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the unmistakable stench of decay. These were the torn, the mangled, the shredded remains of something that could no longer be called human. It wasn't a massacre—it was desecration. Limbs severed, torsos ripped open, faces unrecognizable beneath layers of gore.
And then, I noticed him.
At first, I didn't see him. The dark, bloodied fabric of his clothing blended too well with the gore around him. But once my eyes caught on him, they couldn't look away.
Atop the towering pile of corpses sat a figure, slumped forward with their head hanging low. The posture wasn't triumphant or victorious, but weighed down. Shoulders hunched, hands gripping at the edges of the pile as though they were trying to hold themselves steady.
I froze, my heart pounding in my ears.
There was something about him—something suffocating. He didn't exude authority or power. There was no menace in his stillness. But his presence alone felt wrong, as though the very air bent around him.
I took a step closer.
The blood beneath my boots squelched loudly, and I winced at the sound. My throat tightened as I moved closer.
The figure didn't move. Their head hung as though in frustration, exhaustion, or despair—it was hard to tell. From where I stood, I couldn't see their face, but their presence alone was suffocating. There was something wrong here, something that made my chest tighten and my instincts scream to turn back.
I called out, my voice hoarse and cracking.
No response.
I swallowed hard and took another step. The pile loomed larger now, grotesque details coming into focus—the expressions frozen in terror, the blood streaked across lifeless skin.
Another step.
The figure shifted, just slightly. His head tilted, and for a moment, I thought he might fall. But then, slowly, almost agonizingly, he turned toward me.
His face came into view.
The pale, angular jaw was streaked with dried blood, his features sharp and gaunt. Shadows clung to his hollowed eyes, dark and bottomless. His gaze met mine, and the weight of it stopped me cold.
My breath hitched, and for a moment, I couldn't move.
They were the same cold, golden eyes.
"Garron," I mumbled, my voice barely audible.
He didn't react. His gaze was fixed on me, unblinking, his face unreadable. My chest tightened as my eyes fell to his neck, where the faint glow of a rune still lingered. It was cracked at the very edge—a small, jagged fracture that told me everything I needed to know. A crack meant usage. Essence had been drawn, perhaps too much.
Everything began to fall into place, but not in a way that brought relief.
I turned my head, scanning to my left. My heart thudded violently in my chest as I saw the bodies on the dry ground, separate from the pile. There weren't many, but the moment I looked closer, my gut twisted.
I knew them.
My legs moved on their own, carrying me toward the motionless figures. The blood-soaked ground squelched beneath my boots, but I didn't care. The closer I got, the harder it became to breathe.
"Zara," I whispered, the name escaping my lips like a prayer I already knew would go unanswered.
I fell to my knees beside her, my hands trembling as I reached for her head. Blood dripped from the corners of her mouth, staining her pale, lifeless face. Her eyes stared blankly at the sky, her delicate features frozen in death.
Her rune.
I didn't see it. My breath came quicker, more frantic, as I scanned her body, the ground around her—anywhere it might have fallen. But it wasn't there. My chest ached with the weight of the realization.
No.
I turned my gaze to the others. There were faces I didn't recognize, nameless casualties of whatever horror had taken place here. But then, further along the line, I saw her.
Maki.
Her thin, fragile body lay crumpled on the ground. Her small frame looked even smaller in death, as though the life she'd carried had been what made her whole. I didn't need to check for her rune. I already knew it wasn't there.
I stared at her for what felt like an eternity, willing the sight in front of me to change, to undo itself. But it didn't.
They were gone. All of them. Zara, Maki, the others I'd fought beside, laughed with, survived with.
All of them.
Except him.
And me.