The sun rose slowly over Hai Hoa, casting weak rays of light onto the devastated beach. The gentle lapping of waves, like a mournful cry, mingled with the light breeze, which was heavy with the smell of blood and ashes. The scene before them was one of utter desolation. Under the fallen coconut trees, corpses—both human and Unknown—lay piled on top of each other, making it difficult to distinguish who had once laughed and who had been a creature from the Rift. They were all just mindless husks now, mixed into the sand.
Without a word, without a sigh, Nghĩa and Nam were the first to get to work. They moved silently among the ruins, beginning to sort and bury the fallen. Every action was heavy with the weight of loss, but also filled with reverence for the lives that had been extinguished.
Hương stood in the middle of the ruined camp, clutching a piece of charred cloak in her hand, the lingering warmth like the embers of a long-dead flame. Before her lay a small boy, silently nestled in a pile of rubble, his tiny body almost buried. He had once been the little angel of this shelter, always sharing his candy with her whenever someone gave him some. His innocent laughter and optimism had always spread, motivating even the most desperate people.
That boy was now just a cold body, his hand still tightly clutching a candy wrapped in paper, as if he were waiting to share it with someone. She knelt down. Her rough, scorched hands trembled as they lightly touched the boy's cheek. His soft skin was ice cold. Tears streamed down her cheeks once more, leaving streaks on her face, which was covered in dirt and ashes after three days and three nights of desperate, exhausting fighting. The pain wasn't physical, nor was it the fear from a life-or-death battle. It was powerlessness. The powerlessness of not being able to save him, of watching that innocent light flicker out.
Hoa walked over and placed a hand on Hương's shoulder, a gentle gesture that carried deep empathy. She didn't say a word. The entire group stood silently around them, sharing this moment of sorrow. The wind sighed softly, carrying the smell of burnt sand and restless souls, like a final farewell...
Just as the group was resting, preparing to dig graves for the next set of bodies, the somber atmosphere was shattered by a strange sound. Suddenly, a rugged, dusty 4-wheel drive vehicle approached from a distance.
The sound of its engine echoed from the highway, a sound that had become so alien it was almost unreal in this post-Rift era. A group of players appeared—three men and two women, wearing worn armor and the emblem of a northern relief squad. They looked much cleaner than the survivors at Hai Hoa, with their gear intact and their eyes full of vigilance. Nam looked at Ái Hoa, his eyes filled with disbelief. Ái Hoa's eyes widened as she stared at Nghĩa, her expression exactly the same. Hương gave a small smile at their exaggerated reactions, while Nghĩa almost reflexively stood up in a combat stance. No one could believe it—a car, in this post-Rift era, amidst all this rubble and death? It was like a mirage in a desolate desert.
Nghĩa, Hoa, Nam... still reeling, stood with their mouths agape, staring at the car as if it might disappear at any moment. Then, a thought flashed through their minds, and they rushed toward it.
A woman with her hair in a neat bun stepped out of the car. She wore protective goggles and carried a heavy toolbox. The emblem on her shoulder was a hammer and a screwdriver crossed over each other, surrounded by a gear-like circle—an unfamiliar symbol to Nghĩa and his teammates. The three men, one a defender with a large shield, another a swordsman with a shining blade, and the last a healer radiating healing energy, were on their way to reinforce Hai Hoa after hearing about the Unknown wave. They were overjoyed to see Nghĩa, Hoa, and Nam in front of them, thinking that the situation had been handled, and they stopped their car to greet them.
"Hello. We're the group sent by the Survival Guild, based in Hanoi, to assist with the Unknown wave," the woman said as she stepped down.
"Oh, I thought Hanoi was too dangerous?" Hoa immediately asked.
"It's not easy, but we're gathering players to fight the Unknowns and build a shelter there. Our commander is an S-Rank, known as the Iron Fist," the male healer said as he got out of the car.
"Sounds awesome," Nam said.
"How are you able to use that car? I thought they were all broken after the energy burst?" Nghĩa asked the woman curiously.
"Don't be too surprised," the woman smiled, her expression showing a mix of fatigue and confidence. "My profession is Crafter." She patted the side of the car. "It runs on mana stones. Expensive, but convenient."
Nghĩa's group's jaws dropped even further, this time in utter shock.
"You said... mana stones?" Hoa asked again, as if she couldn't believe her ears.
The woman nodded, took off her goggles, revealing sharp eyes, and began walking toward the beach as she spoke. "That's right. An average quality mana stone can power this car for about 6-8km, or it can provide enough energy to boil water and keep a light on all night. It's worth... about 10 loaves of bread and 5 bottles of water."
Nam's eyes widened, his expression shifting from surprise to profound regret. "So... all those stones we used to... just leave on the ground... and couldn't be bothered to pick up?"
The relief team looked toward the beach and stopped. They were speechless when they saw what was left of the Hai Hoa shelter. Then they walked over to the newly made graves.
"We're too late. We thought..." one of them mumbled. The oldest man in the group took off his helmet and bowed his head before the hastily made graves...
"It was once a safe haven..." he said, his eyes gazing out at the sea.
"Now it's just a mass grave..." the man sighed.
They didn't ask why only Nghĩa's group had survived while the entire shelter was wiped out. They simply understood. In this era, where one's own survival was a fierce battle, no one had the right to judge or demand anything from others in a world where kindness was a luxury. Being alive was a great fortune... there was no room for blame. After that, they silently began helping to hastily bury the unfortunate souls. Their hands were calloused, without a word of complaint—only soft whispers, praying for the souls to find peace soon, in this decaying world.
As they were digging, a man named Khánh started a conversation with Nam:
"In Quảng Bình, near Phong Nha Cave, there's a Boss dungeon," he said in a low voice. "Level 25. Too high. No one's dared to go in."
"What kind of Boss?" Nam frowned.
"We don't know for sure. No one dared to get close. The System just marked it as a danger zone, and there's a red barrier surrounding the area near the cave. We passed by and just stopped to look; we didn't dare get closer."
Hương, who was wiping the blood from the faces of the fallen, looked up. Her eyes blazed with fire:
"If that dungeon is that strong and dangerous... then that's all the more reason for us to go there."
"What do you think, Nghĩa?" Hương asked.
Nghĩa was silent for a moment before he spoke. "After we've buried everyone, we'll head there and investigate."
After that, a few more small groups also arrived to provide aid and lend a hand...
SOULS SET FREE
After 5 days...
The sun was setting in the west. Across the beach, thousands of small grave mounds were arranged in neat rows. The wind from the sea had died down. All that remained was the smell of salt and the sorrow for the departed...
Hương knelt gently before a mound that was smaller than the rest. Her eyes were filled with infinite sadness, but a steely determination flickered within them. She placed a candy into a small, makeshift stone hollow on the mound. With a practiced and resolute gesture, a small flame suddenly bloomed on her fingertip, illuminating the sweet candy, like a sacred candle lit in the fading twilight.
"This time, I'm not sharing the candy..." Hương whispered, her voice trembling slightly but full of resolve, as if she were talking to herself and making a promise to the small soul at rest.
"But I'll share my power with my group and destroy the Unknowns so that this tragedy will never happen again. You can rest in peace."
As soon as her promise was spoken, she stood up and raised her hand high, a flame lit on her palm. Immediately, a small, flickering flame appeared on every grave across the beach, twinkling like souls being lit. Their weak lights merged, creating a sight that was both tragic and sacred, like a response from the other side.
"Rest in peace, everyone." Hương said, her voice full of solemn reverence.
The others stood behind her, their hands clasped in front of their stomachs, heads bowed, saying nothing... Hoa gently took her hand, Nam stood with his arms crossed, looking toward the lit graves. Nghĩa turned back to watch the sun as it slowly disappeared...