The air was heavy with the stench of decay.
Collins' mental map pulsed inside his skull, glowing red dots multiplying like an infection. The three dead ghouls had been nothing more than a dinner bell. Their screeches had carried far, and now the forest was alive with shadows. Bushes trembled. Branches snapped. The wilderness itself seemed to hold its breath.
"James," Collins said firmly, though his chest rose and fell with exhaustion. "Stay close to Amara. Don't let anything past you."
James' jaw clenched. His shirt was already torn and soaked through with blood, but he tightened his grip on the battered weapon in his hands. "Damn it… plan B's just as suicidal as plan A."
Even so, he stepped in front of Amara, guiding her backward with his free arm.
Amara clutched her broken branch like it was the last thread tethering her to life. Her knuckles were white, lips trembling. But Collins noticed something in her eyes now, behind the fear, there was the faint flicker of something harder. She wasn't screaming anymore. Instead, she inhaled deeply, steadying her breath.
Then the undergrowth exploded.
The first creature that burst out made the ghouls look like vermin. Its massive frame was wrapped in stretched, leathery skin, bulging muscles twisting unnaturally beneath. Long claws gleamed like sickles, each as long as a forearm. Its face was a nightmare of exposed bone and glowing, animalistic eyes.
A Mutated Gorilla.
Collins cursed under his breath. "Figures."
The ground trembled as the beast charged, every step a thunderclap.
Collins moved first, blade flashing faintly in the gloom. He ducked under its massive swing and slashed across the gorilla's knee. Flesh tore, the monster bellowed, staggering, but it didn't fall. With terrifying speed, its other claw lashed back.
Collins leapt away, heart hammering.
James seized the opening. Roaring, he drove his weapon into the beast's side. Black ichor sprayed, but the blade barely pierced its hide. The gorilla's head snapped toward him, rage twisting its features.
"Shit!" James ducked, but the claw still raked across his shoulder, tearing flesh to the bone. He stumbled, screaming as blood gushed down his arm.
"James!" Amara shouted, dropping her stick to run to him.
"Stay back!" Collins barked, voice sharp as steel.
The gorilla reared up, raising both arms for a killing blow. Collins' mind went blank, until his map pulsed again. Another red dot closing fast. No time.
With a desperate roar, he lunged. His blade arced upward, slicing through muscle, bone, and windpipe. The gorilla froze mid-swing, a guttural gurgle bubbling in its throat before it collapsed with a thunderous crash.
Collins staggered back, arms trembling, chest heaving. Blood spattered his face and clothes. That had been too close. Far too close.
But the bushes still writhed. More were coming.
James pushed himself up with his good arm, face pale. "At this rate… we're screwed."
Collins knew he wasn't wrong. They were drained, battered, and now they had someone to protect. His jaw tightened. He turned to Amara, about to tell her to run, when he froze.
Her eyes.
They weren't trembling anymore. They were sharp. Determined.
Amara stepped forward and, with surprising ease, yanked Collins' machete from the gorilla's corpse. She met his stare, voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.
"If you think I'm just baggage… you're wrong. I'll fight."
Collins blinked. For the first time, his thoughts stumbled. Who exactly is this girl?
The ground shook again.
Three new figures emerged from the foliage, two twisted hounds with split jaws drooling strings of saliva, and a tall humanoid ghoul whose claws glistened in the dim light.
James groaned. "Round two."
Collins lifted his blade once more, his voice hard. "Fine. Then let's make it count."
In the Ruins of Akure
The once-proud city burned in silence. Skyscrapers stood like broken teeth, their hollow insides gutted by fire and shadow. Far below, faint screams echoed, humans hunted like prey by ghouls and mutated beasts. Yet it wasn't only monsters that hunted. Humans, too, carved through the darkness, desperate to grow stronger, desperate to survive.
Atop a crumbling tower, two men stood, watching the carnage unfold.
Dennis Drake.
And beside him, Diablo, once known as Dayo.
"The world has truly become something else," Dennis murmured, his tone quiet but firm.
Diablo's hollow eyes scanned the chaos, his face unreadable. "Yes. And in this world… those with evil thoughts can finally act as they like."
His gaze flicked to Dennis, voice sharpening. "But tell me, this mission of yours… do you really think everyone deserves saving?"
Dennis didn't answer at once. He folded his arms, watching the desperate scramble below. Humans killing monsters, monsters killing humans, and even humans killing humans. After a long silence, his voice came low, deliberate.
"Yes. Not everyone is bad. Not everyone is thoughtless."
Diablo chuckled humorlessly, the sound grating in the wind. "You say that only because you haven't seen the true side of humanity."
Dennis' eyes flickered, his expression unshaken. "Don't forget, you're human too. You've felt their cruelty, but you've also seen their kindness. Humans are complicated. Don't let your pain blind you to all of them."
For a moment, Diablo was silent. Old memories rose, betrayals, scars, the bitterness that had forged him into this blade of darkness.
Dennis finally turned toward him, gaze unflinching. "One day, you'll see. There are people worth standing for."
His aura sharpened, pressing against the air like a storm, yet his words carried warmth.
Diablo blinked. Then a slow, crooked smile curved his lips. "Then we'll watch and see. After all… only in a world like this can humans show their true nature."
Dennis leapt from the tower, landing effortlessly below. Diablo lingered a heartbeat longer, eyes narrowing at the chaos.
He had made his choice. He would follow, not because of Dennis' strength, but because Dennis hadn't lost himself in a world gone mad and also because Dennis was the first person to ever help him.
With a smirk, Diablo descended, blade singing as it cut through the monsters in his path.
Back in the Bushes
The two hounds circled like vultures, jaws snapping, foul drool sizzling against the dirt. The humanoid ghoul stalked forward, claws twitching eagerly.
Collins spat blood from his lips, raising his blade once more. His body screamed in protest, every muscle heavy with exhaustion, but he refused to falter.
The first hound lunged. James intercepted, smashing his weapon sideways. The beast yelped, but clamped its split jaws on the weapon, dragging James down with terrifying strength.
"Damn mutt!" James roared, wrestling against it.
The second hound darted for Amara. Instead of freezing, she shifted her stance. Collins noticed instantly, it wasn't clumsy. It was fluid. Practiced.
She moved like someone who had fought for survival long before this nightmarish world began.
Amara rolled aside, slashing at the hound's leg with her dagger. The wound wasn't deep, but enough to stagger it.
Collins' eyes widened. She can fight?
The humanoid ghoul pounced. Collins twisted, steel meeting claw with a shower of sparks. The impact nearly crushed his arms, but at the last second he slid his blade upward, burying it under the creature's chin. The ghoul screeched before collapsing in a twitching heap.
James cried out as the first hound bit deeper into his arm, blood spurting. Snarling, he smashed his forehead into its snout, forcing it back.
The second hound lunged at Amara again. This time, she didn't dodge. She waited, her eyes unblinking, then drove her dagger upward, straight into its eye.
The beast convulsed and fell limp.
Collins froze. She killed it?!
Amara's hands trembled, blood dripping from the blade, but her gaze never wavered. "I told you… I'm not baggage."
The last hound snarled, only for James, half-broken, face pale, arm shredded, to roar and swing his weapon in a desperate arc. The blade cleaved through its skull, splitting it in two.
For a moment, silence reigned. Then a chime echoed in James' mind.
«Level Up.»
His eyes widened as warmth flooded his body. The shredded flesh of his arm began to knit shut, his breathing steadied, and color returned to his face.
James fell to his knees, grinning through blood-stained teeth. "Hah… damn it… too close."
The clearing was finally silent.
Collins turned toward Amara. She stood blood-smeared, trembling, but her eyes… steady. Defiant.
Their gazes locked. Questions burned silently between them.
Who are you, really?
Before he could speak, his map pulsed again, dozens of red dots, swarming in from every direction.
His heart sank.
"We can't stay here," he said sharply. "If we don't move now, we're dead."
James groaned, staggering upright, his wounds half-healed. "Then lead the way."
Collins nodded, glancing one last time at Amara. She trembled, yes, but her jaw was set. She wasn't going to quit. Not here. Not now.
And so the three staggered deeper into the wilderness, united not by trust, but by blood, survival, and the questions that demanded answers.