Nightfall bled across Ashgrave like ink poured over crumbling parchment. The city's skeleton groaned with every whisper of wind; doors creaked, shutters clattered, and broken signs swung from rusted chains.
But not every door was closed. In the dim light of the Broken Lantern tavern, three figures leaned in close over mugs of bitter ale. Greasy lamplight illuminated the bounty poster clutched between calloused fingers.
"Ten gold," one man whispered, licking his lips. "For that skinny bastard's head."
"Trash Hero," another chuckled darkly. "Bet he's pissed off the wrong lord."
Behind them, the tavern's keeper carefully lowered his shutters, glancing nervously at the bounty poster now nailed to his own door. "Bad business, that," he muttered to himself. "City's bad enough without bounties making men stupid."
A street urchin darted past the tavern's cracked window, wide-eyed. In his grimy hand, another handbill fluttered.
"They saw him near Tallow Street!" someone shouted from deeper in the merchant quarter. More torches were being lit now, not for safety, but for the hunt.
Aster and Serra moved like shadows between the decay, each careful step measured. The echo of distant shouts reached them—greed sharpening every voice.
Aster's heart beat against his ribs like a wild animal desperate to escape its cage. His whole body felt wired, stretched taut between adrenaline and exhaustion. But the system windows flickering at the edge of his vision told him one thing clearly:
[Main Quest: Survive the Hunt] [Sub-Quest: Don't Get Killed by Idiots] [Status: Mild Hunger | Fatigue: Growing]
Above the rooftops, a faint glow marked the higher districts where nobles still clung to the illusion of control. But here in the merchant quarter, law was a memory.
Serra stopped suddenly, holding up two fingers. Her violet eyes narrowed toward the alley mouth ahead. Faint torchlight flickered. Voices.
"Third sighting this way," someone muttered. A man's voice. Gruff, tired, but eager. "Boss says ten gold if we drag the bastard back alive. Half if we don't bother with 'alive.'"
Aster grimaced. They were closing in.
Serra glanced sideways at him, one eyebrow raised. "Fight or sneak?"
"Which do you prefer?" Aster whispered.
"Sneak, if I'm not babysitting." Her smirk didn't quite reach her eyes. "But if you can't keep up..."
He scowled, offended by reflex. "Try me."
"Good answer."
They moved quietly, but as they rounded the corner, Aster spotted something that made his stomach sink: handbills nailed crooked to doorframes, fluttering in the breeze. His face, sketched in rough charcoal, surrounded by bold letters: WANTED. The bounty was real.
'Trash Hero,' one note said, mockingly. Another scrawled in different handwriting beneath it: "Ten gold to whoever brings this waste of a man to the gallows."
As if on cue, a raspy voice drifted from a nearby doorway. "That's him. Saw the notice at the Broken Lantern. Trash Hero himself."
Aster stiffened, but Serra grabbed his sleeve and yanked him into a side alley. "Friends of yours?" she whispered, low and sharp.
"Not exactly."
They moved rooftop to rooftop, Serra leading, Aster following. His body wasn't built for parkour, but muscle memory stirred, old keyboard reflexes mapped to real limbs now. Climbing wasn't so different from dodging glitches, right?
Ashgrave sprawled before them like a wounded beast. Fires burned in distant districts. Somewhere, a bell was ringing—sharp, insistent. Either a warning or a call for someone's head. Probably his.
[Optional Objective Detected: Reach the Old Quarter] [Reward Unknown]
Old Quarter.
He remembered it from the game—a labyrinth of ruined estates and forgotten gardens. Most players skipped it. Too confusing. Too broken. Perfect.
"We head east," Aster whispered. "Old Quarter's a maze. They'll lose us in there."
Serra gave him another of those sideways looks, part amusement, part calculation. "You know these streets better than I expected."
You don't know the half of it, Aster thought grimly.
They dropped down into another alley. This one stank of old fish and mildew. A shape shifted near a pile of refuse—a feral dog, ribs sharp against mangy fur, too tired to bark.
Aster's boots splashed in a shallow puddle. The ripples echoed more than they should have.
Torchlight flared behind them.
"There!"
No time for subtlety now.
Serra spun, bow in hand so fast it blurred. Two arrows loosed, silent, graceful death. One bounty hunter fell with a wet gasp, another staggered, screaming as the second shaft punched through his thigh.
The third charged. Big, armored, faster than expected.
Aster's hand found the hilt of the rusted shortsword at his side—the same one from the tutorial, chipped and badly balanced. But it was better than fists.
The bounty hunter roared, blade swinging wide—stupid mistake. Aster ducked under it by instinct.
Then it happened again.
The world... flickered.
[ERROR: Combat Synchronization Lag Detected] [System Stabilization: 12%]
For a half-second, sound cut out entirely. Everything froze—Serra mid-step, torch flames frozen like paintings.
Aster's sword was already rising.
When the world snapped back, the bounty hunter blinked, confused—and Aster drove the blade up beneath his chin.
Warm blood splashed across his forearm. The man dropped like a marionette with cut strings.
Aster staggered back, panting, heart hammering.
Serra stared at him—not with fear, but with sharp, curious calculation. She'd seen him move faster than he should have. Seen the glitch—but she didn't understand it.
"I'm starting to think you're more trouble than you look," she said, voice cool, but her hand wasn't on her blade. "Useful trouble, maybe."
He wiped his arm clean on the dead man's cloak. "You have no idea."
She gestured toward the fluttering bounty notices with her bow. "Care to explain why half the city's drooling for your corpse? Trash Hero? That your name?"
"Not by choice." He grimaced. "It's... complicated."
More shouts echoed through the alleys. Someone was dragging one of the wounded bounty hunters away, cursing. More footsteps in the distance. Word would spread quickly.
"I don't like complicated," Serra muttered, eyes scanning the rooftops. "But ten gold will make anyone stupid. And I'm not about to get skewered because of someone else's problems."
Aster met her gaze. "Get me to the Old Quarter, and I'll explain everything."
"You'd better."
Together, they vanished into the hungry dark of Ashgrave.
[Main Quest Updated: Escape to the Old Quarter] [New Threats Incoming] [Reward Pending]