"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!!"
Seth stumbled forward along the cracked riverbed, his breath ragged, each step heavier than the last. His legs burned, his chest ached, and his throat was so dry it felt like sandpaper.
The jagged stones beneath his boots tore at his feet, every sharp edge reminding him he hadn't stopped running since Eldran forced him away.
He wanted to stop but every time his body screamed for rest, his mind snapped back to the same image.
Eldran's silhouette, blade flashing, surrounded by enemies. The old man standing tall against impossible odds, buying him the chance to escape.
The guilt was a weight that pressed harder than exhaustion.
'I shouldn't have left him. I should've fought. I could've—'
The thought cut off as the System's icy blue glow flickered before his eyes.
[Mission Reminder: Reach Draemhollow.
Do not turn back.]
[Failure = Death.]
The words lingered, stark and merciless, until Seth clenched his jaw and shoved the guilt down. The System wasn't just a guide—it was a chain around his neck. Eldran had made his choice. If Seth ignored it, they'd both die.
Still, the image of Eldran's face—stern yet calm in those last moments—gnawed at him.
"I'll come back," Seth muttered, though his voice cracked. "I'll… I'll find you. Somehow."
The forest around the riverbed was quieter now, though the silence was no comfort. The trees seemed to bend inward, their bark split and glistening, their branches curling as if reaching for him.
The air itself seemed warped, heavy with an unnatural hum. Every shadow looked like it might break open into another bandit ambush.
Seth tightened his fists. If it does… 'I'm not ready. Not yet.'
He trudged onward until the System chimed again.
[Sub-Mission Progress: Draemhollow in Sight.]
[EXP: +100.]
[Stat Points: +2.]
He blinked, startled. "In sight? Already?" He turned his head, scanning the horizon, but saw nothing but the same cracked riverbed winding into darkness. Still, the words filled him with a small, fragile relief.
His interface flared, showing his stats. His hands itched to tap into them, to throw the new points into strength, endurance, something.
He could feel how drained his body was—if another fight came, he wasn't sure he could hold his own.
But as he hovered, another menu opened.
[System Store Available.]
[Temporary Weapons – 3 Points]
[Survival Supplies – 2 Points]
[Basic Armor – 4 Points]
A wooden spear, a rusted dagger, a leather jerkin—all floated in glowing images before him.
Seth's throat tightened. He could buy one. He could arm himself, maybe stand a chance. But his gut twisted. Three points would be gone in an instant. For something temporary.
He dismissed the screen with a frustrated swipe. "Not yet. Not until I know what I'm walking into."
The choice left him uneasy, but it was the only one that made sense. The System wasn't generous. Every reward came with a price. He wasn't about to spend recklessly.
He pressed on.
The night slowly morphed into gray as dawn began to creep across the sky. Seth lifted his head—and froze.
There, far ahead, rising from the warped horizon, was a city.
Draemhollow.
The first actual human settlement he'd seen in this twisted world. Relief surged in his chest, so sudden it nearly buckled his knees. He laughed once, breathless, the sound raw in the still air. "Finally… I made it."
But the longer he looked, the more his relief curdled.
Draemhollow was no ordinary city.
Its walls weren't stone as he knew it—they were jagged, black, veined with red fissures that pulsed faintly like living flesh.
They climbed high, taller than any fortress wall he'd seen back on Earth. Watchtowers jutted at impossible angles, leaning and bending like warped spines clawing for the sky.
Above the gates floated massive wards, glowing circles etched with runes he couldn't read.
They shimmered with a faint, almost hungry light, and he had the gut-wrenching feeling that the wards weren't just guarding the city—they were watching.
Seth swallowed hard, his earlier relief turning into unease.
The city looked alive.
The closer he walked, the more wrong it felt. The gates themselves writhed faintly, as though the black stone they were forged from shifted in the corners of his vision. The air grew heavy, buzzing with energy that prickled against his skin.
This wasn't just a city. It was something else entirely. Something that didn't belong in any world he knew.
Seth slowed, his feet dragging, his heart caught between relief and fear.
This is where Eldran wanted me to go? This place?
But even as the unease gripped him, he knew he couldn't turn back. The System demanded he reach Draemhollow. Eldran had entrusted him to it.
And if he wanted to survive, this city was his only chance.
He clenched his fists and forced his legs to keep moving, even as the gates loomed higher, their shadows swallowing him whole.
The gates of Draemhollow towered above Seth like the maw of some colossal beast. Up close, the black stone pulsed faintly, the veins of red light throbbing in uneven rhythms.
The wards overhead crackled with power, sparks snapping against the warped dawn sky.
And before the gates stood the guards.
They weren't like any soldiers Seth had ever seen. Their armor wasn't forged from steel or iron, but from the same black, veined stone as the walls—jagged and sharp, almost grown rather than crafted.
It seemed to breathe, plates expanding and contracting subtly, the glow within pulsing like a heartbeat.
Seth froze as their eyes turned to him.
The nearest guard stepped forward, his voice echoing through the hollow mask of his helmet. "Halt. State your origin."
Seth blinked. "My… what?"
The second guard tilted his head. "He doesn't even understand the tongue properly." His tone was laced with suspicion. "A runaway, then. Probably a slave that slipped free from the markets."
The first guard's hand fell to the jagged spear at his side. "No brands visible. But that doesn't mean he's clean. Strip him. We'll find the mark if it's there."
Seth's blood ran cold. "Wait, no—I'm not— I'm not a slave!"
His words tumbled out too fast, his voice cracking with desperation. "I was traveling—attacked—my companion—he told me to come here—"
The guards stiffened. Their weapons lifted, points glinting like fangs. The first one barked, "Companion? Who? Speak, boy, or lose your tongue!"
Panic shot through Seth. His mouth opened, ready to spill everything—Eldran's name, the bandits, even the System if it kept them from skewering him—
"Enough."
The word cut like a blade through the tension.
From the shadow of the gate stepped a new figure. Taller than the guards, draped in a long black coat embroidered with faint crimson sigils, he moved with unhurried confidence.
His face was hidden behind a mask of dried bone carved into the shape of an impassive visage, its hollow eyes staring straight into Seth's soul.
The guards immediately bowed their heads. "Welcome back, B."
The masked man ignored them. His gaze lingered on Seth. Studied him. As if peeling back his skin layer by layer.
Seth swallowed hard, every instinct screaming at him to look away—but he couldn't. The air around this man pressed down like invisible weight, heavy and suffocating.
Finally, the masked man spoke, voice smooth but low, tinged with amusement. "This one is mine."
The guards stiffened. "Uhm, he reeks of foreign air. He may be—"
"I said he's mine." The words carried no heat, no anger—yet the guards shrank back as if struck. The mask tilted, sharp and deliberate. "Let him pass."
The guards exchanged uneasy glances, but neither dared to argue further. They stepped aside, their breathing armor hissing faintly as they moved.
Relief washed over Seth in a flood, though it was laced with confusion and unease. Saved—just like that? By someone he'd never seen before?
The masked man turned, his coat whispering against the black stone. "Follow me."
Seth hesitated, then forced his legs to move. He stepped past the guards, resisting the urge to glance back. The gates loomed behind him now, the city yawning ahead.
Draemhollow swallowed him whole.
The streets writhed with life—and with strangeness. Buildings of twisted stone leaned over narrow alleys, their crooked windows glowing faintly as though watching.
Lanterns flickered with blue fire, casting distorted shadows that seemed to crawl of their own accord.
People moved through the streets, but even they weren't normal—some bore faint glowing marks across their skin, others whispered to objects that whispered back.
Seth's relief of reaching civilization crumbled into dread. This place… it's worse than the forest.
The masked man walked at his side without slowing, without looking at him. His presence alone parted the crowds, heads bowing as he passed.
When he finally spoke, it was low, just for Seth to hear.
"You're not from here."
Seth nearly tripped. "…What?"
The mask turned slightly, though the carved expression never changed. "I can smell it on you. The air of another place clings to your skin like rot."
Seth's chest tightened. His mouth went dry. "I-I don't know what you're—"
"Save your lies." The man's tone sharpened, then softened again just as quickly. "If you want to live, stay close. Draemhollow is not kind to outsiders. This city will eat you alive."
They walked on, the warped streets twisting deeper ahead.
Seth's heart pounded. Relief and unease tangled inside him, both sharper than ever. He'd escaped the forest, escaped the bandits, even escaped the guards. But as the masked man's words sank in, he realized something bitter.
He hadn't escaped anything.
He'd just stepped into a place far more dangerous.