One blood-red eye glared down at Lucas, who lay flat on his back, staring upward. But there was no sky above, only a massive eyeball surrounded by endless darkness.
Lucas froze, confusion clouding his thoughts.
"How the hell did I get here?"
Just moments ago, he had been beaten nearly to death by Simon. As he lost consciousness, a faint voice echoed in his mind and suddenly, he had found himself in this strange place.
The giant blood-red eye blinked, and for a moment, the world dimmed beneath it.
The longer Lucas stared into the eye, the more he felt his soul being drawn out of his body. He quickly shut his eyes.
After taking a moment to calm down, he sat up and looked around. His mind felt sharp, despite not understanding what was happening.
He soon realized he was trapped inside a 15-meter-wide circle. A wall of darkness surrounded him, falling from the edge of the blood-red eye high above.
The lighting here was dim, cast in a red hue.
The stone floor beneath him was black and unremarkable, aside from its bone-chilling cold.
Lucas stood and examined himself. To his surprise, he was completely naked. But that wasn't the only strange thing—every wound from his fight with Simon was gone, as if the battle had never taken place.
Even the pain had vanished.
He felt stronger than he ever had before—more alive, more whole. Not just in this life, but even compared to the life before.
Was this a dream? Or had he died in that fight?
"That's gotta be it... I'm dead, right?" Lucas muttered. It was the only explanation that made sense.
As he stepped toward the surrounding darkness, a figure suddenly emerged through the wall.
Lucas stopped cold, narrowing his eyes to study the man.
His brow furrowed.
The man's appearance was grotesque—his skin pale like a corpse, laced with tiny, sickly purple veins. But it was his eyes that disturbed Lucas the most: entirely black, hollow, filled with an abyssal despair.
He wore tattered light armor, rusted and stained. With each step, the groan of metal echoed as he dragged a rusted sword behind him.
He might have once been a knight.
"Hey, who are you?" Lucas called, his gut warning him something was off.
The man didn't reply. Instead, he walked forward—then suddenly raised his sword and charged.
"Wait—at least tell me what's going on! Am I dead?"
Whish!
The man's rusty blade slashed through the air. Lucas jumped back, barely dodging the attack.
The next swing came immediately. Lucas gasped as the tip grazed his chest, drawing blood. He looked down at the shallow cut. It stung.
'It hurts, so this wasn't just a dream.'
The man kept attacking, his sword cutting through the air with wild, deadly arcs. Lucas was forced to stay on the move, dodging every strike with precision.
Whish! Whish! Whish!
Lucas moved with trained reflexes, biding his time and waiting for an opening. One thing was clear—he could feel pain here, and he could bleed. One mistake could cost him everything.
Then, the man swung wide.
Lucas seized the moment. He dashed forward and kicked the man's hand, sending the sword flying. Before the man could reach for it, Lucas delivered a sharp kick to his face, knocking him backward.
Lucas grabbed the fallen sword and swung it, severing the man's hand.
A horrific scream followed—not human, but animalistic.
Chills ran down Lucas's spine. He wasted no time. Before the man could recover, Lucas struck again—this time, taking off his head.
The body crumpled, motionless. Blood pooled around the corpse.
Lucas let out a breath. He'd hoped to get some answers, but the man clearly wasn't the talking type.
'Was he a zombie?'
Before Lucas could recover, two more figures emerged from the dark wall—nearly identical to the first. Same hollow eyes, same rusted armor.
"What the hell?!"
He could tell they were going to attack. So before they could close in together, he made the first move.
One of the zombies raised its weapon at the sight of Lucas approaching. They had some remnants of thought, it seemed.
Lucas quickened his pace, swinging his sword at the nearest one.
The zombie struck back.
Slash!
The creature's head flew off, its body collapsing. Lucas barely glanced at it—he was already moving toward the dark wall that enclosed him.
He tapped the wall with the tip of his sword—it felt solid and cold, just like stone.
How the hell are they coming through this thing?
He wanted to test it further, but one of the remaining zombies was already behind him—its sword raised.
At the same time, two more zombies emerged, running straight at him.
Clang!
Lucas blocked the first strike, then twisted his blade and stabbed the zombie in the gut.
It didn't go down.
He didn't waste time being surprised. He yanked the sword out and backed away, dodging another slash.
He swung his sword again—this time, cleanly decapitating it.
No time to breathe. Two more zombies were already charging. To his sides, another two emerged. That made four.
"Damn it."
Their strength seemed roughly equal to his, which meant he couldn't overpower them—he'd have to rely on skill.
He wasn't used to longswords, but he'd trained with them for muscle conditioning. Fortunately, that training was paying off now.
The first two zombies attacked simultaneously.
Lucas stepped forward, parrying one strike. Then, ducking low, he beheaded another zombie.
He twisted his body, turning mid-motion to slash the neck of the one he'd just passed. Its blood sprayed across his bare chest.
But more were coming.
Four more zombies emerged. That brought the count to six.
And he knew the number would only increase.
After slaying the latest two, another four took their place. Now there were eight.
Lucas backed toward the edge of the strange arena, lifting his eyes toward the watching eye above. Something about it felt... familiar. Or maybe that was just his imagination.
The zombies were closing in.
It was too dangerous to stay in the middle of the horde, so he moved toward the wall again, using it to cover his back—though he kept alert in case one appeared behind him.
Six were nearest. Two of them struck first.
Lucas blocked their attack, but as the blades clashed, his sword cracked—then broke in two.
Another slash tore across his side. He tried to fend them off, but the other four lunged at once.
He dodged as best he could, but several blows landed. Pain burst through his body as steel tore into his flesh.
Splat! Slash! Stap...!
And then, more pain.