A single blood-red eye stared down at Lucas, who lay on his back, gazing upward.
But there was no sky above—only a massive eyeball, suspended in an endless void of darkness.
Lucas froze, his mind clouded with confusion.
"How did I get here?"
Just moments ago, he was on the brink of death, beaten by Simon. As his consciousness faded, he heard a faint voice whisper in his mind—and then, suddenly, he was here, in this strange place.
The crimson eye blinked. Instantly, the world beneath it dimmed.
The longer Lucas stared into that eye, the more he felt his soul being pulled from his body. Panicked, he shut his eyes.
After a while, once he'd calmed his breath, he sat up and looked around. His mind felt sharper than ever—though he still had no idea what was going on.
It didn't take long for him to realize he was trapped inside a circular space about fifteen meters wide. Towering walls of darkness surrounded him, rising from the edge of the blood-red eye hovering high above.
The lighting was dim, bathed in a sickly red glow.
The stone floor beneath him was pitch black and plain—except for the bone-deep chill that seeped into his skin.
Lucas stood and checked himself. To his shock, he was completely naked.
But that wasn't the strangest part—all the wounds from his fight with Simon had vanished, as if the battle had never happened.
Even the pain was gone.
In fact, he felt stronger than ever—more alive, more complete. Not just in this life... but even compared to his previous one.
'Was this a dream? Or... had he actually died in that fight?'
"I must be dead... right?" Lucas muttered. It was the only explanation that made sense.
He stepped toward the wall of darkness—when suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows.
Lucas froze, narrowing his eyes at the man.
His brows furrowed.
The man's appearance was grotesque—his skin pale like a corpse, veins bulging in sickly purple patterns. But the most disturbing thing were his eyes: pitch black, hollow, filled with a bottomless despair.
He wore light armor—tattered, rusted, and stained. With every step, his armor creaked, and he dragged a corroded sword behind him.
He might have once been a knight.
"Hey, who are you?" Lucas called out, a gnawing sense of dread in his gut.
The man didn't respond. Instead, he stepped forward—and without warning, raised his sword and attacked.
"Wait—at least tell me what's going on! Am I dead?!"
Swiiing!
The rusted blade sliced through the air. Lucas leapt back, barely avoiding the blow.
The next swing came instantly. Lucas gasped as the tip of the sword slashed across his chest, drawing blood. He looked down at the shallow wound.
'It hurts... So this isn't just a dream.'
The man kept attacking, his sword a whirlwind of wild, deadly strikes. Lucas had no choice but to keep dodging with precision.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Lucas moved on instinct, trained reflexes guiding his steps as he waited for an opening. One thing was clear—he could feel pain here, and he could bleed. A single mistake could be fatal.
Then, the man swung wide.
Lucas seized the opportunity. He lunged forward and kicked the man's hand, sending the sword flying. Before he could grab it again, Lucas drove a hard kick into his face, knocking him backward.
Lucas grabbed the fallen weapon and slashed—cutting off the man's hand.
A hideous scream rang out—not human, but more like the shriek of a wild beast.
Goosebumps crawled over Lucas's skin. He didn't waste a second. Before the man could recover, Lucas swung again—this time, severing his head.
The body collapsed without a twitch. Blood pooled around the corpse.
Lucas exhaled sharply. He had hoped for answers, but that man clearly wasn't the talkative type.
'Was he... a zombie?'
Before Lucas could even catch his breath, two more figures emerged from the wall of darkness—nearly identical to the first. The same dead eyes. The same rusted armor.
"What the hell is this?!"
He could feel it—they were about to attack. So, before they could close in together, he struck first.
One of the zombies raised its weapon at his approach. There was a flicker of awareness in its movements—as if something human still lingered.
Lucas picked up speed, swinging his sword at the nearest one.
The zombie countered.
Sreet!
Its head flew off, the body crumpling to the floor. Lucas barely looked back—he was already sprinting toward the dark wall enclosing him.
He tapped the tip of his sword against it—it felt solid and cold, like stone.
How were they supposed to escape this place?
He wanted to test it further, but one of the zombies was already behind him—sword raised.
At the same time, two more appeared and charged at him.
Clang!
Lucas parried the first attack, twisted his blade, and stabbed the zombie in the gut.
It didn't fall.
He didn't waste time being surprised. He yanked the sword out and stepped back, dodging another strike.
He swung again—this time, cutting off its head.
No time to breathe. The other two were already upon him. And behind them—two more.
Four now.
"Damn it."
They were just as strong as him, which meant brute force wouldn't save him. He'd have to rely on skill.
He wasn't used to long swords, but he had trained with them before—for muscle conditioning. Thankfully, that training was paying off now.
The first two zombies attacked together.
Lucas stepped in, deflecting one. Then, ducking low, he sliced through the neck of the other.
He spun mid-motion, slashing the throat of the zombie he'd just passed. Blood sprayed across his bare chest.
But more were coming.
Four new ones emerged. Now there were six.
And he knew—they'd just keep coming.
After killing two more, another four replaced them. Now eight.
Lucas backed up to the edge of the strange arena, eyes rising to the giant eye above. There was something... familiar about it. Or maybe it was just in his head.
The zombies closed in.
It was too dangerous to stay surrounded, so he moved back toward the wall again—using it to guard his rear, though he stayed alert for any surprises from behind.
Six zombies were closest. Two struck first.
Lucas blocked their blades, but as steel clashed, his sword cracked and snapped in half.
Another slash tore into his side. He tried to fight back, but the remaining four rushed him all at once.
He dodged as best he could, but several strikes landed. Pain exploded across his body as steel bit into flesh.
Craack! Screeet! Thok...!
And then—only more pain.