The air was heavy with tension as Yeon-ah and the woman made their way through the ruined streets. Every shadow seemed to hold a threat, every echo a reminder of the dangers lurking just out of sight. Yeon-ah's heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her pace steady, following the woman's lead.
After their encounter with the Deborers, Yeon-ah couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. The unnatural way those creatures had stood motionless, only to spring into action—it unnerved her. The woman had handled the situation with her usual cold efficiency, but Yeon-ah couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to all of this. Something she wasn't seeing yet.
"Are we going anywhere specific?" Yeon-ah asked, her voice low, trying not to break the fragile quiet of the morning.
The woman didn't glance back, but her response came quickly. "We need to find shelter before nightfall. Somewhere safe."
Yeon-ah bit her lip, the weight of exhaustion settling into her bones. Safe. That word had lost its meaning in this world. There was no safety, only survival.
They continued on, passing crumbling buildings and abandoned vehicles, remnants of the life that had once thrived here. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustling of debris in the wind. As they turned a corner, the woman suddenly halted, her hand going to her sword.
Yeon-ah stopped in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat. Ahead of them, at the far end of the street, was a group of figures. They were too far away to make out clearly, but the way they moved—slowly, almost cautiously—made her stomach churn.
"More Deborers?" Yeon-ah whispered, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her sword.
The woman's gaze remained fixed on the figures, her body tense. "No. These are different."
The figures moved closer, their shapes becoming more defined. Yeon-ah squinted, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. They weren't twisted or grotesque like the Deborers—they looked almost... human.
"People?" Yeon-ah's voice was filled with a mix of hope and fear.
The woman didn't answer, her hand still on her sword, ready for whatever was to come. Yeon-ah's heart raced as the figures approached, her mind racing with possibilities. Could it really be people? Survivors, like them?
As the figures came into view, Yeon-ah's hope quickly faded. There were three of them, all dressed in mismatched, ragged clothing. Their faces were gaunt, eyes hollow, and they carried weapons—makeshift spears and knives, fashioned from scavenged metal and debris.
One of the men, tall and muscular, stepped forward. His eyes locked onto the woman, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The tension was palpable, like the crackle of electricity in the air before a storm.
"You two lost?" the man asked, his voice rough and gravelly.
The woman didn't respond immediately. She stood tall, her hand still on her sword, her gaze unflinching. Yeon-ah could feel the hostility radiating from the man and his companions, the unspoken threat hanging in the air.
"We're passing through," the woman said finally, her tone cold and authoritative.
The man smirked, glancing at his companions. "Passing through, huh? Looks like you've got more than enough to share." His eyes drifted to Yeon-ah, sizing her up.
A chill ran down Yeon-ah's spine. She instinctively stepped closer to the woman, her heart pounding. She could feel the malice in the man's gaze, the way he was calculating their chances.
The woman didn't flinch. "We have nothing for you. Move aside."
The man's smirk faltered, and for a moment, Yeon-ah thought he might back down. But then, his expression hardened, and he took a step forward, his hand going to the makeshift knife at his side.
"I don't think you understand the situation, lady," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "We're taking what we want."
Yeon-ah's breath caught in her throat as the woman's grip tightened on her sword. There was no doubt in her mind now—this was going to end in violence.
Before the man could make another move, the woman acted. Her sword flashed in the dim light, a blur of motion as she stepped forward, striking with precision. The man barely had time to react before the blade sliced through the air, cutting deep into his arm.
He let out a howl of pain, stumbling back as blood poured from the wound. His companions rushed forward, but the woman was already on the offensive, her movements fluid and deadly. Yeon-ah watched in stunned silence as the woman dispatched the other two men with swift, brutal efficiency, her sword moving like an extension of her body.
It was over in seconds.
The men lay on the ground, writhing in pain, their weapons scattered across the street. The woman stood over them, her sword dripping with blood, her expression cold and unfeeling.
Yeon-ah swallowed hard, her body trembling with a mix of fear and awe. She had seen the woman fight before, but never like this. There was no hesitation, no mercy. It was as if the woman had become something else entirely—something deadly.
"Let's go," the woman said, her voice as calm as ever.
Yeon-ah hesitated for a moment, her gaze lingering on the men. They were still alive, but barely. The sight of their bloodied bodies sent a shiver down her spine, but she knew there was no time for pity. In this world, mercy was a luxury they couldn't afford.
She followed the woman without another word, her mind spinning with questions. Who were those men? And why did it feel like they had just crossed a line they couldn't come back from?
The sun was starting to set as they continued through the city, the light casting long shadows across the ruined streets. Yeon-ah's legs felt heavy, her body screaming for rest, but there was no stopping. Not yet.
As they walked, the woman finally spoke, breaking the heavy silence between them.
"There's no room for weakness in this world, Yeon-ah. Remember that."
Yeon-ah nodded, her throat tight with emotion. She didn't need to be told. She had seen it firsthand.
But that didn't make it any easier.