The Rotting Seer lunged.
Left feint. Right stab. Blade hit soft, wet tissue. Screech. Not pain—rage. Psychic, piercing.
He twisted out of the backhand. Barely.
Fast. Too fast.
He rolled back, slashed across its spine. Then neck. Numbers popped—too low.
Too much HP.
He moved fast. No time to circle. Just raw instinct.
Closed the gap. Slipped behind it.
Right between the ribs—Backstab bonus.
CRIT
The Seer jerked. Legs buckled.
For half a second, he thought that was it.
Then it screamed and burst.
Chest lit up—green flash. Shockwave slammed into him.
He flew backward, crashed into stone.
[System Notice: Hexed – Minor. DEF -10% for 30s]
"Fuck!"
It limped toward him, leaking black smoke.
He ducked low, slashed both shins. It dropped.
He pounced. Daggers in. Twist.
[CRIT - 89 DAMAGE]
[EXP +36]
1,97%
Dead.
Mar stood. Breathing hard. Cloak shredded. Shoulder wrecked. Debuff blinking.
Still no sound.
No Eli yelling "GET FUCKED!" No Discord. Just fog and cold wind.
He dropped onto a stone chunk.
"...You guys better be somewhere."
He checked the sky. Flat, colorless. No sun. No stars.
Menu: party—empty. Friends—offline. Tried using global chat.
[Message Failed: World Chat Unavailable. Requirements: Level 40 Achieved.]
"You have to be fucking kidding..."
He clenched the dagger in his palm, feeling the sharp edge press into skin that didn't bleed. Whatever this body was, it moved like his, reacted like his—but it wasn't him. Not exactly.
He needed a town. A hub. A safe zone. Somewhere to regroup. Somewhere he could think. Standing in the middle of this dead zone with his nerves fraying wasn't getting him anywhere.
He started walking again.
The fog thinned.
Path formed. Lantern posts. Ruined slabs. Signs wiped by time or code.
Ahead—rotting wooden gate. One hinge. Beyond it: dead plaza. Ruins.
He crept in, blades ready.
[New Location Discovered: Hollowrest Outpost]
Exhale.
That wasn't a town. Four wrecked buildings. Merchant stall—empty. Well—dry. Center firepit—cold.
He sat again. Daggers in lap. Eyes shut. Just for a second.
He didn't sleep. Just... stopped.
When he stood, HP was full. Debuff gone.
Nerves worse.
He paced. Circled the well. Checked everything again.
Still dead.
Suddenly, a distant shimmer. A sighting that didn't really belong here. Just like he didn't.
Floating menu. Glitched. Buzzing.
He walked to it.
[GLOBAL ANNOUNCEMENT] ERROR: Player distribution incomplete. Safe zones compromised. Developer contact failed. Logging disabled. Located Players: 3,841 / 10,000+
Mar blinked.
No logout .No support. Over six thousand gone.
His chest tightened. Not panic.
Something colder.
He stared. Then swiped the message away.
"…So we're fucked."
Something shifted in the corner of his eye.
A figure stood on the second floor of a wrecked building near the edge of the outpost—half in shadow, half in light. White robes. Hood drawn back. Long, grey hair draped across bony shoulders. The man wasn't moving. Just watching.
Staring straight at him.
Mar tensed. Hand near his blade.
"Hey," he called out.
No answer.
He tried again, louder. "You good up there, dude?"
Still nothing. No wave. No emote. Just that silent, glassy-eyed stare.
Mar narrowed his eyes, checked the surroundings. No mobs. No other players. Just him and this creepshow in a bathrobe.
The building looked barely stable. Stone steps led up along the side, half-cracked and leaning. He approached cautiously, eyes flicking between the old man and the stairs in case the dude suddenly lunged or went full glitch-mode.
Nothing.
Just silence.
He climbed.
Second floor was gutted. Roof gone. One wall collapsed. But the man was still there, standing near a broken window frame. Hands folded in front of him like a monk. Eyes locked on Mar.
No blinking. No breathing.
Too still.
Mar stepped closer, and that's when he saw it—the faint shimmer around the man's outline. Subtle, like heat haze. His stance. His idle animation. The low, humming ambient sound nearby he hadn't noticed until now.
NPC.
He waved a hand in front of the old man's face.
Nothing.
Then the NPC blinked. Once.
A subtle flicker ran across his irises—like something booting up. And finally, he spoke.
"Another stray soul, blown in by the fog," the man rasped. His voice was dry parchment—thin, slow, deliberate. "You are late. But the silence does not wait."
Mar blinked. "What?"
The old man didn't respond. Instead, he turned his head—only slightly—and looked toward the horizon.
"Ashes fall on Hollowrest once again. The winds howl for the missing, but the Tower no longer listens."
A window opened in front of Mar.
[Quest Available: Whispering Ashes]Collect 30 Spectral Residue from Remnants of Spite, Remnants of Greed and Rabid Hounds. Optional: Survive.
[Reward:EXP, 100-330 Edan (Random Amount), ???]
[Accept] — [Decline]
Mar stared at it. The box hovered midair, slightly translucent. The layout was clean, the text standard UI font—but the last reward was a question mark. Classic.
He pressed accept.
[Quest Accepted: Whispering Ashes]
The moment he did, the NPC finally turned his head to fully face him. The eyes now glowed faintly with dull blue.
"The Graves are north, past the broken bell tower. Spirits cling to what remains. They don't let go easy. Bring me what they guard."
Then he went still again.
Idle animation. Breathing loop. Eyes fixed forward.
No more dialogue options.
Mar exhaled. "Cool. Cryptic as hell."
He turned and looked out through the window opening behind the man. The rooftops stretched out, cracked and moss-covered. A broken bell tower was just barely visible in the haze. North.
"Thirty Spirit Residue..."
He adjusted his daggers, stepped back, and muttered to himself, "Well. Time to go get haunted."
He headed back down the stairs.