The Living Are Worse
The first sign of civilization was the smell.
Smoke—old, oily, mixed with rot.
It drifted across the ash plain in thin ribbons, carried by a wind that felt warmer than it should have. I followed it cautiously, every step sending a dull ache through my legs. My body hadn't fully recovered from dying.
Maybe it never would.
The cracked stone beneath my boots gradually gave way to broken cobblestone. Ruined pillars jutted out of the ground like snapped bones. Symbols were carved into them—circles intersected by jagged lines, worn smooth by time or deliberate defacement.
[Area Identified: Forgotten Outpost – Virex Remnant]
Status: Abandoned (Disputed)
"Disputed," I murmured.
That was never a good word.
I tightened my grip on the only weapon I had—a rusted short blade I'd scavenged from a corpse half-buried in ash an hour earlier. It barely qualified as a knife, but it was something solid. Something real.
Something that reminded me I was still alive.
Voices reached me next.
Low. Human.
I froze behind a collapsed wall and peered through the rubble.
They were gathered around a fire pit in what used to be a courtyard—five of them. Armored in mismatched gear, faces scarred and tired. Not monsters.
People.
Relief hit me so hard my knees almost buckled.
Then I noticed the sixth figure.
A man knelt near the fire, hands bound behind his back. His clothes were torn, soaked in dried blood. One eye was swollen shut.
A prisoner.
"No mark," one of the armored men said, kicking the kneeling figure hard enough to knock him sideways. "He's Hollow."
Another spat into the fire. "Waste, then. Should've let the Scavengers have him."
The prisoner groaned, trying to push himself upright.
My stomach twisted.
[Observation]
[Target: Reincarnated Individual]
[Status: Hollowborn]
[Soul Stability: Critical]
Same as me.
One of the women—her armor etched with faint red runes—raised a hand. "Wait. If he crossed the plains alive, maybe he's worth something."
The leader shook his head. "Not worth the risk. You know the doctrine."
Doctrine.
Kill the defective.
They dragged the prisoner to the edge of the courtyard, toward a pit filled with glowing embers and half-burned remains. He struggled weakly, eyes wide with terror.
"Please," he rasped. "I—I can work. I'll do anything—"
The blade fell.
His head hit the ground with a dull sound.
I flinched.
[Nearby Death Detected]
The world seemed to inhale.
A thin stream of pale light rose from the corpse, drifting upward before vanishing into the red sky.
The group didn't even look surprised.
"Burn it," the leader said flatly.
My hands trembled.
So this was the truth.
Monsters weren't the worst threat in Erebos.
Survivors were.
I backed away slowly.
Too slowly.
Stone shifted under my heel.
The sound was small—but in the silence, it might as well have been a scream.
Five heads snapped toward me.
Weapons came up instantly.
"Out," the woman ordered. "Now."
I stepped into view, hands raised.
"I'm not a threat," I said carefully.
That was a lie. I just didn't know how yet.
Their eyes moved over me, sharp and assessing.
"No crest," someone muttered. "No blessing."
The leader's gaze lingered on my chest, as if he could see through it.
"Hollowborn," he said with certainty.
The word landed like a verdict.
"Kill him," one of them said immediately.
The woman hesitated. "He's calm."
"Which makes it worse."
They advanced.
My heart slammed against my ribs. Every instinct screamed at me to run—but the memory of dying burned brighter.
If I die here… I come back.
But where?
And how many times before my mind breaks?
I lowered my hands slowly.
"If you kill me," I said, voice steady despite the terror clawing inside me, "you'll regret it."
They laughed.
The leader stepped forward and drove his sword straight through my chest.
Pain detonated.
I gasped, choking on blood as the blade twisted.
He leaned close, voice cold.
"Everyone says that."
The world went dark.
I woke up screaming.
Again.
But not alone.
The fire roared louder. The courtyard was chaos—people shouting, weapons clattering.
The leader staggered backward, clutching his head, screaming in agony.
"What—what did you do?!" someone yelled.
[Death Echo Triggered]
[Effect Intensified: Shared Terminal Feedback]
I stood up slowly, chest whole, eyes burning.
They stared at me like I was something unnatural.
Something wrong.
Something that shouldn't exist.
They were right.
I smiled.
And this time, it wasn't fear that shaped it.
END OF CHAPTER 3