The flickering light of the dying torches barely illuminated the narrow streets as Naryn and Marsha darted through the twisted alleys of Block 4. Shadows danced across the blood-streaked walls, and the muffled sounds of chaos echoed in the distance.
Naryn's mind raced as he led Marsha deeper into the maze. Each corner they turned felt like another step into the unknown, yet Naryn's grip on Marsha's wrist never faltered.
Marsha's voice trembled as she spoke, her curiosity finally breaking through her fear. "Why here, Naryn ? Why Block 5 ? Why not… Latgna or one of the kingdoms ? Wouldn't it be safer there ?"
Naryn crouched beside her, his eyes scanning their bleak surroundings. The cracked walls, the distant screams, and the pervasive stench of decay served as grim reminders of where they were. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, his voice calm but firm.
"Listen carefully, Marsha," he began, his tone measured, as though weighing every word. "Dodens Omrade isn't just a place—it's a scar a no-man's-land born from a war that never really ended. Thirty years ago, Latgna crushed Daimonas and took this territory. But they didn't claim it. Neither did the Demons. No one wanted the mess this place became."
He paused, his fingers tightening slightly on her shoulder as if to anchor her to reality. "That's why it's like this—lawless, leaderless in places like Block 5. It's dangerous, sure, but here, we're invisible. In Latgna or any of the kingdoms, we'd be slaves again—or worse. Here, we have a chance to disappear."
Marsha swallowed hard, her wide eyes reflecting the flickering light of their makeshift campfire. "But why Block 5? Isn't it… the worst of them all?"
Naryn allowed a faint, bitter smile to touch his lips. "Exactly. No one controls Block 5. Not Rasmus, not any kingdom and any of the others Block administrators. It's chaos, yes—but i will use this chaos. In the kingdoms, we'd be hunted."
His voice softened, just slightly. "I promised you freedom, Marsha. And this is the only path to it. I will be the one who will take on the 6 block and start a new era."
Marsha nodded slowly, though the fear didn't leave her eyes. Naryn stood, scanning the desolation once more, his mind already turning to the next move. Block 5 was a nightmare—but it was their nightmare, and for now, that was enough.
As the darkness deepened around them, Naryn led Marsha further into Block 5, their only shelter the crumbling remnants of a once-proud district. The buildings loomed above them, their facades chipped and broken, much like the people who now wandered the streets. There were whispers in the air, as if the walls themselves held secrets, and Naryn's senses were heightened. He knew this place—the chaos, the danger—but it was the only place that offered them a chance.
Every step forward was a reminder of what they were up against. Block 5 was no man's land, a constant struggle for survival. The people who called it home were either criminals, outcasts, or those who had nothing left to lose. Law and order were mere whispers from a time long past. But in the heart of that chaos, Naryn saw an opportunity.
They stopped near the edge of the block, where a rusted sign barely clung to a pole. The air smelled of smoke and rot, a scent that had become all too familiar to them. Naryn knew there were eyes on them—he could feel it. There were always eyes in places like this, waiting for weakness to show itself.
Marsha looked at him, her expression a mix of fear and trust. "What now, Naryn ? What do we do ?"
Naryn glanced back at her, his gaze steady. "We survive. We make a place for ourselves here, and then we begin our move."
Her brow furrowed. "You… you really think you can take the six blocks? You want to control all of this? It's… impossible."
Naryn smirked, the smallest hint of a plan forming in his mind. "Impossible ? No. Chaos is the only thing that's constant here. People don't realize that in the middle of it, there's power. And power is the only thing that'll give us the freedom we need. We'll take it, piece by piece."
As he spoke, a figure stepped out from the shadows—a man dressed in ragged clothes, with a hood that obscured most of his face. He looked at them with a mix of curiosity and caution, as if trying to assess whether they were a threat or prey.
Naryn tensed, his hand moving instinctively toward the knife hidden at his side. "Who are you and what do you want ?" he muttered.
The man raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture. "You're new here, aren't you? Don't worry. Block 5 is... welcoming to those who can hold their own." His voice was rough, low.
Naryn studied him for a moment, calculating. "We're not here for your welcome old man," he said flatly.
The man's lips twisted into something between a grin and a grimace. "Quit insolent for a brat kid.
The man tilted his head. "You think you can come here and being insolent you brat ? This place isn't a kingdom, here only those strong can survive this is the most insecure block none of the other administrator can take this place and see from what side you come it seem you were in Block 4."
Naryn leaned in, his voice low. "Stay behind me marsha."
The man's eyes flicked to Marsha before meeting Naryn's again, his expression unreadable. "Well, kid, if you want to survive here, you'd better be ready for more than you're used to. Block 5 has a way of swallowing people whole."
With that, the man stepped back into the shadows, leaving Naryn and Marsha alone once again.
Naryn didn't flinch. He only looked at Marsha, his face hardening with determination. "We move."
Marsha swallowed, but nodded. There was no turning back now. They had no choice but to face what lay ahead, to fight for their freedom in the heart of the chaos.
The night seemed darker now, the oppressive silence broken only by the occasional echo of distant footsteps. Naryn could feel the weight of the moment pressing on him, but he didn't show it. His mind was already working, already calculating the next steps.
"Don't worry, Marsha," he said, his voice firm but quiet. "We've survived worse."
Marsha's eyes were wide with fear, but she nodded again, trying to steady herself. She trusted him, even if everything around them felt like it was spiraling into madness. The man's warning still lingered in her thoughts, but she knew Naryn had always found a way through. He had to. They had no other choice.
They moved quickly, staying close to the walls of the broken buildings. Naryn kept his senses sharp, always aware of the shadows and the silence that followed them. Block 5 was a place of danger, where the line between ally and enemy was razor-thin. One wrong move, and everything could go wrong.
Naryn turned a corner and paused, listening. The distant rumble of voices reached his ears, along with the sounds of something metal clinking against stone. His grip on his knife tightened, but he didn't make a sound. Not yet.
Naryn muttered, keeping his voice low. "The last thing we need is to be caught out in the open. I know someone from the Block 5 that can help us".
Marsha looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper. "You know someone from this Block, How ?"
Her question was normal it was rare to know someone from an other block since each block is directed by an administrator leave a block was near impossible. Naryn crouched beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It seem he owe me one. You just stay with me. You trust me."
Marsha nodded, a flicker of hope crossing her face despite the fear that still clung to her like a second skin.
"I can't believe you know someone here," Naryn's eyes narrowed as he scanned the street ahead, his mind already working through possible scenarios. The tension in the air was palpable. He could feel Marsha's nervousness beside him, but he wasn't about to let it show.
"I'll explain later," he murmured, his voice low. "Just stay close."
The man he was meeting could be a wild card, but Naryn trusted him. Or at least, he trusted that the debt owed was real.
Marsha, still visibly shaken but trying to steady herself, nodded. "I trust you."
They moved in silence, the only sounds the occasional scrape of boots against stone and the low murmur of voices ahead. Naryn kept his knife ready, prepared for any trouble. It was one thing to survive in Block 5, but it was another entirely to navigate the web of debts and deals that made up the chaos of this lawless part of the Omrade.
After a few minutes, they rounded another corner and Naryn spotted the familiar shadow. A tall figure leaned against a wall, arms crossed, watching them approach.
"You made it," the man said gruffly, his voice carrying a hint of surprise.
Naryn's eyes flicked to Marsha, then back to the figure. Naryn said, his tone blunt, "We don't have time for games."
The man grinned, a knowing look in his eyes. "Always straight to business with you. Fine, follow me. I'll get you where you need to go."
Naryn nodded sharply, then turned to Marsha. "Let's go."
With a final glance down the dark alley, he led her forward, trusting the man's word for now. Block 5 was full of unknowns, but with each step, they were closer to what they both needed: freedom. The man led them through a series of narrow, winding streets, his footsteps confident, steady, as if he knew the territory like the back of his hand. Naryn stayed close behind, keeping an eye on Marsha and the surroundings, every sense alert. He could feel the weight of Block 5 closing in around them—the pulse of danger was constant here, thick in the air.
"Where are we going?" Marsha asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she kept pace with Naryn.
"Somewhere safe for now," Naryn replied, his gaze still scanning the alley. He didn't trust the man completely, but there was no other option. At least not yet. He needed information, and he need this man.
The man glanced over his shoulder, catching Naryn's eyes. "Don't worry. It's not much, but it's better than being out here." His tone was a mix of reassurance and something else—something darker, like he knew the city's underbelly better than he let on.
The flicker of torchlight grew dim as they continued further into the heart of the block. The buildings here seemed older, more worn, like remnants of a past that had long been forgotten. The air reeked of sweat, oil, and the faintest hint of something burning.
After several more twists and turns, they stopped in front of an old, decrepit building. Its windows were boarded up, the door cracked open just enough to let a sliver of light spill into the dark street.
"This is it," the man said, stepping forward and pushing the door open. The creak of hinges echoed loudly in the silence.
Naryn hesitated for a moment, then turned to Marsha. Her face was pale, eyes wide with uncertainty, but she nodded, her trust still intact.
"We go in. We don't have a choice," Naryn muttered.
Together, they stepped through the door, the smell of old wood and dust filling the air. Inside, a handful of people sat hunched over tables, their faces shadowed by the dim light. Naryn's instincts told him to be cautious, but he kept his pace steady, moving toward the back of the room where the man led them.
"Wait here," the man said, disappearing into a back room without another word.
Marsha, still on edge, shifted closer to Naryn. "Is this really the place we need to be?"
"Right now," Naryn replied, his voice calm, "it's the only place we can be."
The room was thick with silence, save for the occasional shuffle of feet or the low murmur of hushed voices. Naryn could feel the weight of the eyes on him, the quiet judgment of the others in the room. They weren't exactly welcoming, but they weren't hostile either. Just... waiting.
Marsha fidgeted beside him, her nervous energy palpable. She was used to the chaos, the violence of Dodens Omrade, but this place was different. It had a stillness to it that felt just as dangerous, if not more so.
Naryn's eyes flicked toward the back of the room, where the man had disappeared. His mind was racing, calculating every possibility. He had a feeling they weren't safe here for long. No place in Block 5 could offer true safety, not unless one was prepared to fight for it.
Minutes passed, stretching longer than they should have, until finally the man returned, his expression unreadable. He motioned for Naryn and Marsha to follow him. "It's time," he said simply.
Naryn gave Marsha a brief, reassuring glance before moving forward. His hand never strayed far from the knife at his side.
They followed the man down a narrow hallway that led to another door, this one more securely closed, and the sound of movement from within was enough to make Naryn's senses flare with alertness. This wasn't just a hideout—it was something more, something deeper, and Naryn knew that every step forward took them closer to something they couldn't predict.
The man stopped before the door, knocking twice. A moment passed, then the door opened, revealing a figure Naryn had not expected to see.
"Didn't think you'd come back," the voice was rough, mocking, but there was something in the way the figure stood, something familiar that made Naryn's pulse quicken.
"Didn't have a choice," Naryn replied, his voice steady despite the sudden tension that gripped him.
The figure grinned, a mix of familiarity and danger. "Come in, then. I guess we're all stuck in the same hell now, aren't we?"
Marsha's grip tightened on Naryn's sleeve, but he didn't look at her. He was too focused on the man in front of him, the memories that rushed back in waves. Whatever happened next, there was no going back now.
Naryn stepped into the room without a word, Marsha close behind him. The door shut quietly behind them, but the air in the room felt heavy, as if the past had walked in with them.
The figure in front of him leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His grin hadn't faded, but the tension in the room was palpable. Naryn's eyes narrowed as he scanned the man. The face was the same, though a little older, a little rougher than he remembered. But there was no mistaking the eyes—sharp, calculating, and familiar.
"Didn't think you'd survive this long," Naryn muttered under his breath, but loud enough for the man to hear.
The man laughed softly, the sound dark. "I'm harder to kill than you think."
Marsha took a step closer to Naryn, her unease growing. "Who is this?" she whispered, though her voice barely reached him.
Naryn didn't look at her. His eyes stayed fixed on the man in front of him. "Someone I used to know. Someone who owes me a favor."
The man's lips twisted into something almost like a smirk. "I owe you, huh? You always did have a way of getting people in debt." His eyes flickered to Marsha, sizing her up with a calculating gaze. "Looks like you've found a new reason to fight."
Naryn didn't respond immediately. His thoughts were too tangled. The last time he'd seen this man, things had gone sideways. He never expected their paths to cross again, not in a place like this. But there they were, both standing in a hell of their own making.
"Look," the man said, pushing off from the wall. "We don't have time for the past. If you want to survive here, if you want what you came for, I can help but this will settle the debt i owe you."
This was the way of things in Dodens Omrade—alliances forged in desperation, where the price was always higher than expected.
"Fine" Naryn said, his voice cold.
The man shrugged, unbothered. "Good kid. Just don't forget it. Follow me."
Naryn exchanged a glance with Marsha. The silence between them was thick, but he didn't need to say anything. They had no other options.
As they followed the man deeper into the room, Naryn couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking into a trap—one that would either lead them to freedom or swallow them whole.
The man led them into a narrow passage at the back of the room, the dim light casting long, shifting shadows. The air grew heavier with each step, the faint hum of voices replaced by an eerie silence. Naryn kept his eyes on the man's back, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring. Behind him, Marsha clung to his sleeve, her steps hesitant but steady.
The passage opened into a small, dimly lit chamber. A single table sat at its center, surrounded by mismatched chairs. Papers, maps, and scraps of notes were scattered across the surface, illuminated by a flickering lantern that hung from the ceiling. A few figures stood around the table, their faces partially obscured by the shadows.
One of them, a tall, wiry man with scars that crisscrossed his arms, looked up as they entered. His gaze landed on Naryn, and his expression darkened.
"So, this is the one you've been talking about," the scarred man said, his voice rough and grating. His eyes shifted to Marsha, lingering for a moment before snapping back to Naryn. "And you brought a baggage."
"She's not your concern," Naryn said, his tone cold.
The man with the scars grinned, though there was no humor in it. "Everything about Block 5 is my concern, kid. But let's not waste time. You wouldn't be here if you weren't desperate."
The man who'd led them there gestured to a chair. "Sit. We need to discuss."
Naryn hesitated, but he knew he couldn't make a mistake, not here. He pulled out a chair and sat, his posture rigid, his knife still within easy reach. Marsha stayed behind him, her small frame half-hidden by his.
The scarred man leaned over the table, his grin fading into a scowl. "You want to survive here ? Fine. But survival has a cost, and in Block 5, that cost is blood. You think you can handle that?"
Naryn's eyes didn't waver. "I've been in worse."
The room fell silent, the air thick with unspoken tension. The scarred man leaned back, crossing his arms as he studied Naryn.
"We'll see about that," he said. "Welcome to Block 5 let's hope you will last long enough here."
The scarred man snapped his fingers, and one of the figures near the table stepped forward. A younger woman with sharp, calculating eyes and a thin scar running down her jawline placed a crude map onto the table. The lines were hastily drawn, showing the chaotic sprawl of Block 5 with no discernible order.
"You want to stay here ?" the scarred man said, gesturing to the map. "You're going to need to know your place. Block 5 isn't just a place where the worst of the scum gather. The power struggles here run deeper than you can imagine."
He tapped a finger on a central area marked with an X. "This is where the biggest scum gather. Call it the 'Pit.' No rules, no leaders, its not a place for a kid like you. But if you don't know how to navigate it, you're dead before the day's out."
Naryn's eyes traced the map, committing the key points to memory. "And the outskirts?"
"Pockets of territory," the man said. "Squabbled over by gangs, deserters, and opportunists. Some alliances form, but they're fragile, temporary. You'll find no sanctuary out there unless you carve it for yourself."
Marsha's voice, timid but steady, broke the tense air. "What about us ? Where do we fit ?"
The scarred man raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "That depends on what you're willing to do, little girl. You don't get to hide behind him forever."
Naryn's glare was immediate, sharp as a blade. "She's know nothing about it. Focus on me."
The man smirked, clearly amused but not willing to press further. "Fine. But if you want my advice ? Trust no one here. Not even the ones you think owe you. Block 5 doesn't forgive debts—it exploits them."
Naryn leaned forward, his voice low but unyielding. "Good. I don't plan to trust anyone. But I do plan to take control. Tell me everything I need to know, and I'll decide what comes next."
The scarred man laughed, a harsh, guttural sound. "Ambitious, aren't you ? Fine. I'll give you what you want to know. Just remember—you owe me for this."
Naryn's voice cut through the room, sharp and direct. "I need information on who holds the most strength in Block 5—and about the minor group here."
The scarred man paused, his amusement fading into something colder. He leaned back, crossing his arms, and studied Naryn with a calculating gaze. "The most strength? That's not as simple as you think. Block 5 isn't like the others. Here, strength isn't just brutal force. It's influence, and the fear you can command."
He jabbed a finger at the map, circling an area near the Pit. "If you're talking raw power, there's Harkan. Ex-gladiator from Block 2 who clawed his way here. Built like a monster, and his crew isn't far behind. They don't take prisoners—they take trophies. If you cross him, you'd better kill him quick."
Naryn's expression didn't waver. "And the Minor group ?"
The scarred man's demeanor shifted slightly, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. "That's a different kind of problem," he said, his tone lower. "They are many of them her but ii would say there are three who you should be wary of them : The Night-Walker, Zmij and Huldra but the one you should be the more concern is Huldra its a group that have emerged recently and its hard to get information about them. That all about the people you should be worry in Block 5."
Naryn's jaw tightened, his mind racing. "Zmij…"
The man shrugged, though the unease in his posture betrayed him. "What' wrong you seem unease…Anyways that all the information i have for you".
Marsha shifted closer to Naryn, her wide eyes darting between the two men. Naryn turned to her briefly, his voice softening just enough to reassure her. "Stay close. We'll be fine."
Then, his focus snapped back to the scarred man. "Tell me where I can find these Zmij."
The man smirked, his unease melting into curiosity. "You've got guts, kid. I'll give you that. But guts won't keep you alive here. You sure you want to play this game?"
Naryn didn't flinch. "I don't play games. Now talk."
The old man sighed, leaning back over the map, and began to outline the paths to the players of Block 5.
The scarred man's finger lingered over the map, tracing a jagged line that snaked through the chaos of Block 5. His voice dropped, a murmur like gravel grinding underfoot. "Zmij operates from the old warehouses near the eastern edge. No one knows how they keep that spot intact, but they do. If you go there, expect blood. They don't like visitors."
Naryn's gaze stayed locked on the map, memorizing the paths. His lips pressed into a thin line. "And Huldra?"
The man's hand hovered uncertainly before he jabbed at a spot closer to the Pit. "No one knows where they make their base. They move in shadows, rumors said that it just a single person or they don't exist i dont have any more information about Huldra".
Naryn's expression didn't change, but Marsha caught the briefest flicker in his eyes. "Night-Walker?" he asked, voice sharper now.
"Night-Walker's are a group of mercenaries you shouldn't take them alone," the man said with a shrug. "If they get there eyes on you, good luck. They work mostly in group so dont get too much attention."
Marsha clutched Naryn's sleeve. "This place is worse than Block 4," she whispered.
Naryn straightened, his voice cool. "Don't worry soon this block will be in my control".
The scarred man chuckled darkly. "I heard a lot of people spew this nonsense. At the end they never could accomplish it and find an horrible end" He pushed the map toward Naryn, his expression grim. "If you're smart, kid, you'll keep to the alleys and stay out of sight. If you're lucky, maybe Harkan or Huldra won't even notice you."
Naryn pocketed the map without a word. He turned to Marsha, his voice low but firm. "We need to do something before we prepare anything."
Marsha nodded, her fear evident but tempered by the unwavering resolve in Naryn's eyes.
The scarred man watched the siblings disappear into the murky streets of Block 5, shaking his head as they left. "Kids are like that," he muttered to himself, "They think they're different. Hope they are, for their sake."
Naryn moved swiftly, his mind dissecting the information he'd just received. Zmij at the warehouses—a known location, but full of bloodthirsty dangers.
Marsha's voice broke the silence as she struggled to match his pace. "Naryn, are you really going to go after them ? All of them ?"
"Not all of them" he replied without looking back. "They still too strong for us at this moment."
Marsha hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But if their too strong for you now why do want to take the Zmij head on ?"
Naryn stop his tone cold but steady. "Why the Zmij..?"
Naryn tone being cold.
"I think its time for you to know." he said. "Since i didn't think i would heard their name here…."
Marsha frowned. Their name ? Its this something you hide from me ?"
"They're somehow related to us." Naryn's voice hardened as he speak. "Zmij is not just any name he hold a signification."
Marsha swallowed, clutching his sleeve tighter. "A signification ?"
"Yes" he said simply. "Zmij mean Dragon to be more precise Lost Dragon."
Marsha stay quiet as she listened to him.
"The Lost Dragon are those who rejected their humanity and wanted to return to their dragonic form."
Marsha nodded, "But how are they related to us ?"
Naryn's jaw clenched, the weight of the memory pressing on him. His eyes remained fixed ahead, unwilling to meet Marsha's wide, questioning gaze. "Because" he began, his voice colder now, "our father was one of them."
Marsha froze, her grip on his sleeve loosening slightly. "What…?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Our father? You never… you never told me anything about him."
"There wasn't much to tell beside he was a dragon," Naryn replied sharply, his tone carrying a bitter edge. "He left before you were born, and i don't want to remember of him. But what I do know is that he was obsessed, obsessed with regaining his 'true form ' He wanted to abandon everything—his family, his humanity, just to chase some delusion."
Marsha struggled to process the revelation, her thoughts swirling. "But you said he was a dragon that make nonsense."
Naryn shook his head. "Our father was a dragon and our mom a demon we are hybrid. If ive never told you about it it was to protect you from them and Rasmus."
Marsha's voice trembled as she asked, "To protect me…"
For a moment, Naryn's face betrayed a flicker of uncertainty, but he quickly buried it under his usual stoicism. "Yes if Rasmus know that we were hybrid i don't want to imagine what he could do to us."
Marsha's heart ached at the hardness in his voice. She wanted to argue, to press him for more answers, but the determination in his eyes silenced her. Instead, she whispered, "I trust you."
Naryn placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch firm but brief. "Thanks. Now stay close. When we will take care of the Zmij i will tell you more about our parents and us."
Together, they moved deeper into the shadows of Block 5, the name "Zmij" hanging heavily between them. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but one thing was clear: Naryn was ready to face whatever awaited them—even the ghosts of their past.
As the siblings ventured further into the chaos of Block 5, the atmosphere grew thicker. Naryn mind consumed by the weight of his revelation and the dangers ahead. The streets, cloaked in the dim glow of scattered lanterns, seemed to close in around them.
Marsha kept close, her earlier shock tempered by the growing unease in the pit of her stomach. The silence between them was heavy, punctuated only by the distant sounds of clashing steel and muffled voices. Her brother's words echoed in her mind—"Our father was one of them."
Naryn, for his part, felt the tension building, not just in the streets but within himself. Zmij. The name alone stirred a deep-seated resentment, tangled with the faintest trace of something else—fear, perhaps, or shame. He hated to think about their father, and even more so, what that legacy might mean for Marsha.
They reached a crossroad, and Naryn paused, scanning the shadows for movement. "The warehouses is close," he muttered, his voice low. "Stay quiet. Keep behind me."
Marsha nodded, gripping his sleeve again, the reassurance of his presence her only anchor. "What if... what if they recognize us?" she whispered.
"They won't." Naryn's tone was clipped. "I don't think their the same as our father join, and it won't matter. We're not the same as them."
But even as he said it, doubt crept into his mind. Could they escape their destiny, or were they destined to follow it?