The Neutral Zone was rotting.
By the third day, even the survivors could see it.
Chunks of stone plaza floated freely above the ground, drifting like broken teeth. Cracks laced the sky, lightning bleeding from one half to the other as red and pale horizons gnawed at each other. The air tasted like iron and smoke.
Every breath felt borrowed.
The system pulsed, jagged and weak.
[ Neutral Zone Stability: 68%. ][ Instability accelerating. ][ Time Remaining: 4 days. ]
Four days left.
If the Zone even lasted that long.
✦
The survivors had stopped pretending to be a team.
The old man's voice rose first, desperate and shrill. "We can't survive this. Don't you see? The beasts, the cultivators, the—whatever that was yesterday—" He jabbed a trembling finger at me. "We're not meant to be here! Murim will take us. They'll want his head, not ours. That's our chance!"
His words found a listener.
Kavya twirled her daggers, eyes narrowed, her voice calm but sharp. "For once, he's not wrong. How many more nights do you think we'll last? Neutrality's just another word for waiting to die."
I didn't answer.
Dev did.
"Then die standing." His sword rested across his knees, steady as always, his voice even. "Better than crawling to them."
The old man spat. "Better a coward alive than a fool dead."
The mother said nothing. She only held Arjun close, her eyes darting constantly to me.
And Arjun—Arjun didn't look away. His staff rested across his lap, runes faint but still glowing. His gaze burned, quiet but unwavering.
Waiting.
For me.
✦
The first attack came sooner than expected.
Claws against stone. Snarls echoing.
A pack of Beastborn spilled from the crimson rift—wolf-headed again, but this time heavier armored, their weapons jagged axes dripping fire.
"Test them," one snarled in a half-human growl. "See how long their cage holds."
They surged forward, teeth bared, laughter in their guttural voices.
Kavya cursed and darted in to meet them, her blades flashing silver arcs. Dev rose with his sword, his movements steady, measured. I felt the Inkblade writhe in my grip, shadows shrieking with hunger.
The beasts hit us like a storm.
✦
I cut the first down with a single strike, shadows exploding through its chest. Dev met another head-on, steel clashing against fire. Kavya slipped past one's guard, her dagger plunging up beneath its jaw.
But something was wrong.
They didn't fight to win.
They fought to test.
The beasts pressed hard for moments, then withdrew, circling, darting in again. They left gaps wide enough for us to counterattack, only to scatter before we could cut them down.
They weren't here to kill us.
They were probing.
Testing the cracks.
The fight ended as suddenly as it began. Half the pack lay dead. The other half slipped back into the crimson rift, their laughter echoing long after they were gone.
The survivors stood panting, bloodied but alive.
But my stomach sank.
That wasn't a raid.
That was a signal.
✦
We didn't wait long to find out who it was for.
The pale rift rippled, and figures stepped through.
Murim cultivators—three again, different faces, same robes. Their blades gleamed with qi, eyes sharp, steps deliberate.
One tilted his head as his gaze swept the battered plaza. His lips curved in faint amusement.
"So. The beasts soften them, and we collect the pieces."
His eyes locked on me.
"The script-breaker holds still."
The survivors froze.
The word rang louder this time, heavier.
They knew.
The Murim disciples drew their swords in unison. Qi flared, humming in the fractured air like a chorus of steel.
Where the Beastborn were hunger and rage, these men were precision. Their movements were sharp, deliberate, each step measured as though they fought not just with strength but with inevitability.
One pointed his blade at me.
"Neutrality is an illusion," he said calmly. "The script does not bend. It breaks. And you—" his eyes narrowed—"you are the break."
✦
They struck without warning.
The first disciple's blade screamed with qi as it cut for my chest. I barely raised the Inkblade in time, shadows colliding with shimmering steel. The impact rang like a bell, cracking stone beneath our feet.
Another darted past me, blade arcing toward Kavya. She spun, daggers flashing—but her opponent's strike carried the weight of a mountain. Her blades skidded off, sparks flying.
She cursed, stumbling back.
The third swept toward the survivors, his qi crackling as he aimed to cut down the old man and the mother in a single stroke.
Dev intercepted, his reforged sword ringing as it locked against the cultivator's blade. His arms shook with the effort, but he held.
For a moment, the plaza dissolved into chaos—qi against shadow, steel against blood, screams against silence.
✦
The disciples were fast. Too fast.
Their blades moved like lightning, their strikes carrying a weight I couldn't match. The Inkblade screamed, shadows bursting outward in jagged arcs, but every time I drove them forward, their qi slashed through like fire cutting smoke.
Kavya fought desperately, her silver daggers flashing, but she was driven back step by step. One disciple's sword carved a shallow line across her arm, blood spraying.
Her eyes flicked to me—fury, fear, calculation all burning at once.
"You've doomed us!" she screamed. "This is your fault!"
For a heartbeat, I thought she'd turn her blades on me instead.
Then the disciple's sword cut down toward her skull.
And Arjun's staff flared.
✦
Light erupted, a barrier snapping into place around her. The cultivator's blade slammed against it, qi sparking—but it held.
Kavya staggered back, untouched. Her eyes widened, staring at the boy as though seeing a ghost.
Arjun trembled, staff shaking in his hands, but the runes glowed brighter, steady, unyielding.
The cultivator snarled, blade grinding against the light. "Interference."
The staff pulsed again, throwing him back.
Kavya stared, breathing hard, her blades slick with blood. Her lips parted, but no words came.
For the second time, Arjun had saved her life.
And it broke something in her glare.
✦
The fight roared on. Dev clashed with his opponent, sweat pouring, his arms shaking as he blocked strike after strike. The mother dragged Arjun back, but his staff pulsed in time with every blow, as though drawn to the battle itself.
And me—
The Inkblade writhed in my hands, shadows exploding outward in a frenzy. The whispers screamed louder than ever.
"…devour their qi… tear the script apart… more, more, more…"
I slashed at the lead disciple, shadows raking across his chest. He staggered, blood spilling, but his qi flared to seal the wound instantly.
He laughed. "Even your weapon knows its place. It was born to consume, not to defy."
The Inkblade screamed agreement.
And for a moment—just a moment—I nearly gave in.
The hunger promised power. Victory. An end.
All I had to do was stop fighting it.
✦
The disciple lunged, blade raised high.
I roared and swung with both hands, the Inkblade shrieking as shadows tore through the air. They collided mid-strike—steel against shadow, qi against devouring force.
The Neutral Zone screamed.
Cracks split across the plaza, light bleeding upward. The air shuddered, fragments of sky falling like shards of glass.
The system's voice shrieked, glitching across the air.
[ Warning: Unauthorized interaction with instability detected. ][ Instability increased. ]
Then—
Something new.
Words that dripped like ink, jagged and broken.
[ You stand where no script exists. ]
✦
The disciples froze.
Their eyes flicked to me, wide with fury and fear.
"The gods…" one whispered.
Another snarled. "He is stepping outside."
They moved as one, blades raised to cut me down—
But the Neutral Zone pulsed.
Light flared, rejecting them, forcing their bodies back toward the pale rift.
The disciples cursed, their voices fading as the rift pulled them away.
"This is not over, script-breaker!"
Then they were gone.
✦
Silence fell, broken only by ragged breaths.
The survivors stared at me in horror and awe.
The old man sobbed, muttering prayers. The mother clutched Arjun close.
Kavya wiped blood from her face, her eyes still locked on the boy who had saved her. For the first time, her glare wavered.
Dev lowered his sword, his gaze fixed on me. "Outside the script," he said quietly. "Whatever that means."
The Inkblade writhed in my grip, trembling with hunger, with triumph.
And above it all, I felt the eyes.
The gods.
Watching.
✦
[ Neutral Zone Stability: 64%. ][ Time Remaining: 4 days. ]
The Zone was dying.
But the script was burning faster.