The air thickened as the sun sank behind the ruined skyline. What little light had left to the horizon faded away.
Above, the massive hourglass ticked slowly. Its grains of sand dripped upwards.
Thirty seconds left to begin the Night hunt....
Everyone felt it. The strange feely.
The pull in their chests.
A weight of knowing something irreversible was about to begin. Faces glistened with sweat, hands clutched at weapons or cloaks and feet shuffled nervously on the ground.
Then the bell rang loudly from the horizon.
It tore through the city like thunder. Some people there flinched, others dropped to their knees, palms pressed to their ears. Grace slightly stiffened.
One by one, glowing screens snapped into existence before every pair of eyes. Blue light flashed over the frightened faces. The words appeared in visible lines,
[ First Night : Passive Phase : No Horror appear tonight ]
The plaza fell into stunned silence. They are confused as always they were. Others frowned in suspiciousness of the wording.
"No horror tonight.…" Grace muttered having numerous questions knotted in her mind.
Tom's eyes narrowed like he had discovered something new far away of comprehension.
His calm gaze studied the screen as though peeling away its meaning. Passive Phase. That means active phases do exist. And if they chose to warn us now, then worse nights are coming.
Around him, voices began to rise in panic, shaky laughter mixing with exhausted sobs.
Yet the fear didn't fully leave, Tom thought, It was very annoying how everyone were panicking in every act made, even those rotten mice at the corner of toilet.
Tom glanced toward Elior, who stood unmoved. His bloodstained vest caught the blue glow. Elior didn't look relieved. He only stared at the sky, expression steady, as though he knew the reprieve was only a borrowed death.
Tom sat on a broken stone near the edge of the plaza.
The others were busy. Loosening their grips on weapons, gathering in small circles to show up, and a few even daring to laugh nervously at their unexpected luck.
Tom's eyes drifted back to the words. Passive Phase. It rang in his head like a riddle. His jaw tightened as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
Could this be more than a night of safety? he thought. Maybe…. it isn't about sparing us. It's them, entertaining some kind of high dimensional being.
Tom rubbed his temples, forcing his breathing steady. If this is an observation phase, then every word, every fight, every alliance is being judged.
Whoever built this game…. they're not done with us. They're learning us.
Elior sat apart from the others, on a cracked stone near the ruins of a fountain. His daggers glinted as he drew a whetstone across their edges with patient rhythm.
Each scrape rang sharp, steady, a sound both soothing and unnerving.
Then, without warning, a screen flashed before his eyes, bright enough for nearby faces to notice.
Elior leaned back slightly, his calm gaze widened as the glowing words spread before him,
[ Limited Time Event ]
[ Hawking's Trojan Chair, Face ]
[ It is available in The Endless Black Ocean ]
[ The time to inherit it is one day ]
[ Additional Rewards : 1000 Coins, Kakin Kingdom's Yari, Dream Fossil ]
A murmur spread among the group. Some craned their necks, some whispered greedily about the treasures, others grew tense at the name,
"The Endless Black Ocean"
Tom, however, stayed quiet. He sat there, eyes scanning on the dark screen that had appeared for him as well.
A "Face" again. The very thing he lacked.
If the System itself was pointing them toward a place where one could inherit a Face…. then this was no coincidence. He needed it.
He rubbed his palm against his trousers, staring at the faint map now flickered inside his menu.
A jagged coastline, stretch of obsidian waves marked only by a blood-red star.
The Endless Black Ocean. Its name alone carried an intense that scraped at the nerves.
Three days.
Three days to reach it. Three days to prove himself worthy or remain powerless in this world.
Tom exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing. He had seen what Grace could do with her Fox-shaped Face. He had felt her warp time itself in a fragment of second, saving lives without even meaning to.
He had watched Elior disarm Azmaik with measured skill. His Face's presence was like iron forged in fire. And Tom…. Tom had nothing but his mind.
That wouldn't be enough for the nights to come. Maybe not.
What creatures will crawl from the shadows next night? What horrors will walk under that bleeding sun?
His fingers brushed the menu again. The map glitches, as if inviting him forward. The Endless Black Ocean was a place he had never went before. However, this whole world is unknown to him.
It was a gamble. To chase it meant leaving safety. Walking into something unknown, perhaps never coming back.
But to stay behind meant to be hunted without claws, to fight without fangs.
Tom clenched his jaw. There was no real choice here.
The Face was survival and survival was everything.
Elior rose to his feet, sliding both sharpened daggers back into their sheaths. The firelight of makeshift torches caught the faint lines of age and resolve across his face.
His calm eyes swept over the gathering before he spoke, voice deep and steady,
"We cannot stay here."
The noise dulled instantly. Even the few who disliked him quieted, if only to listen.
"This place will not protect us. It's already broken, stripped. Food is scarce and the System's message proves the game has only begun. If we remain in these ruins, we might die either facing any horror or starving ."
He paused, letting the impact of his words settle between the people.
"We need to move, together. We have to search for an alive place or people who still endure this world. Shelter, resources, knowledge. That is the only way forward."
Most faces turned toward him with silent agreement. Fear etched into their brows, but fear could bend beneath strong words. The majority nodded, murmuring their support. They needed direction. Elior gave it.
But not all.
The Dominion Seekers stood rigid, Azmaik's glare fixed like a blade at Elior's back. "You speak like a shepherd, dumb guy. But we are wolves. We do not move for survival. We move for conquest." His hand rested lazily on his sword's hilt, and the people around him nodded, fierce and hungry for domination.
From the other side, a lean young man in tattered black grinned wide, raising his voice for the Liberators. "Why follow? Why obey? The System is chains. Break it, and we are free. Free or dead, what's the difference?" His followers cackled nervously, as if laughing against their fear.
Lastly, cloaked figures from the Covenant of Faces bowed their heads together, whispering chants under breath. One lifted their hood slightly. "The Face is the key. The Developer, the God of whatever built this will guide us. We will not abandon this holy ground."
The plaza split, three currents of resistance breaking the calm surface Elior tried to cast.
Their gazes drifted between Elior's steady stance and the snarling edges of ideology.
Tom observed without interruption. His thoughts churned but his expression remained calm as ever.
He could see the cracks forming some following Elior's reason, others dragged into chaos by belief or hunger for power.
Soon I'll have to move, too.
The map to the Endless Black Ocean printed faintly in his menu by the system itself. Blooming its promise of strength. If he was to survive what was coming, he needed his Face. He needed it before the next bell tolled.
For now, though, he stayed still, listening as the weight of Elior's words tested the fragile unity of the group.