Tom's lungs burned as he darted between broken stone arches, the slime-boy thundering after him, its gelatinous form splashing across the sand like liquid fire. Each time it struck the ground, the earth hissed and smoked.
His thoughts sharpened. That wasn't a child anymore. Something twisted it… corrupted it. He gritted his teeth. This wasn't pity. This was survival.
The monster lunged again. Tom threw himself sideways, rolling hard across the dirt. The creature hit where he had just been, stone sizzling into black ash beneath its strike.
"Damn it," Tom muttered. His hands flashed up, opening his menu in a blink. The weight of steel shimmered into his grip—two rusty daggers, plain but sharp enough to matter.
The system chimed faintly in his vision:
[ Item Equipped: Rusted Daggers x2 ]
He spun them in his palms, the familiarity grounding him. His stance lowered, steps lighter, eyes locked on the monster. It gurgled, bubbling grotesquely, before hurling itself forward.
Tom dodged again, but this time slashed outward. Metal cut through slime, sending part of the creature's body splattering across the sand. For a second, Tom felt a flash of hope.
But then, it reformed. The scattered pieces quivered, pulling back into its body like liquid snapping into place. The wound sealed, leaving nothing behind but a louder screech.
Tom's jaw tightened. So… it can regenerate.
The slime surged again. Tom leapt back, kicking off rubble, twisting midair to land behind another crumbling wall. He didn't stop moving.... if he slowed, he was done.
His eyes flicked across the terrain. Cracked stone. Shards of glass. Ruins half-swallowed by sand. Nothing useful, nothing strong enough to pin this thing down.
But he noticed something else. The monster's movements weren't random. It lunged at his footsteps, striking hardest where he had been standing seconds ago.
It's chasing my rhythm.
Tom exhaled, mind racing. He tightened his grip on the daggers, the sweat on his palms stinging his cuts.
He sprinted again, weaving, slicing when the slime came too close, forcing it to split and reform. But every time it reformed, it shrieked louder, its body rippling faster.
The chase wasn't just survival now. It was a test and Tom knew if he didn't figure out a way to end this, he'd be nothing but ash like the man who had jumped into the well.
Tom's boots pounded against the sand, each stride kicking up dust as he cut through the ruins.
The slime screeched behind him, its movements faster, sharper. Then, all at once, its body swelled, pulsing with a sickly yellow glow.
A warning screamed inside Tom's chest.
The monster launched something.
A ball of searing liquid shot through the air, hissing as it spun toward him. Tom's instincts screamed as he dove, twisting his body flat against the ground.
The acid ball struck just a breath away.
BOOM!
The sand exploded, burning hot, shards of glassy rock blasting against his side. Tom rolled hard, his ears ringing, his chest heaving with panic. His heart slammed against his ribs like it wanted to break free.
"It was… close…" he gasped, sweat stinging his eyes.
If that had hit him, he wouldn't even have bones left.
The slime let out another guttural shriek, its body rippling, preparing to fire again. Tom pushed himself up, legs shaking, daggers raised. But this time, something changed.
The shriek cracked.
It wasn't just noise anymore.... it was a voice. A child's voice, layered with agony. The slime's quivering body spasmed violently, twisting inward on itself. Its glowing core flickered like a dying flame.
Tom froze. His blades trembled in his grip.
The slime screamed again, a sound so human it cut through his fear like a blade. The shape buckled, collapsed, then shrank. The gelatinous body melted away, dripping into the dirt as though it had never been.
In its place lay the boy.
Small, fragile and unconscious. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. His hands twitched, stained with slime, his face streaked with tears.
Tom staggered back a step, his lungs straining, air rushing out in a heavy exhale. His knees nearly buckled with relief and disbelief all at once.
He lowered his daggers slowly, his whole body trembling from the adrenaline that had nearly torn him apart. He crouched closer, eyes locked on the boy, cautious yet unable to look away.
"…What the hell are you?" he whispered under his breath.
The boy didn't answer. Only the faint sound of his breathing filled the night air.
Tom's chest rose and fell, his breath shaky, loud in the silence.
The chase was over now. But something far darker lingered.
If a child could be turned into that… then what was waiting deeper ahead?
Tom stared at the boy's small, frail frame for a long time, his mind tugging in different directions. He wanted to help, but the memory of that slime shriek still echoed in his ears.
What if the thing came back? What if touching him only triggered another attack?
Finally, with a heavy breath, Tom pulled the boy gently under a broken stone arch, where the rubble created a little shelter. He brushed the dust aside and laid the child down, making sure his head rested on a patch of cloth torn from Tom's cloak.
"That's the best I can do for you," he whispered, almost guilty. "Stay alive."
As he turned to leave, his vision flickered. A message appeared in front of him, cold and plain.
[ Quest: Find and Forge a Soul Mantis Flower ]
Tom's brows furrowed. The words made no sense, yet they pressed into his thoughts like a command. He clenched his fists. Forge? Flower? The system never asked without a reason.
He pulled up his map screen. A faint pulse marked the direction of a nearby abandoned village. His eyes narrowed. If there were answers, maybe they were there.
He began walking, steps steady but his chest tight with unease.
The silence of the wasteland stretched on. The air felt heavier than before. He glanced up at the night sky and stopped.
The moon hung broken. Half of it was still there, glowing faintly, but the rest was shattered, fragments floating around it like drifting embers. The light spilled strangely, stretching shadows longer than they should have been.
Tom frowned. Time itself felt slower. Each minute dragged like an hour, the night refusing to end.
He pulled his cloak tighter and walked on toward the village, the strange quest heavy in his mind.
....
Back in the ruined plaza, the group hadn't moved far. Many sat against broken walls, others whispered nervously about food and survival. Elior stood apart, his eyes scanning the restless faces. They looked at him for guidance, but he was still deciding—how could he lead people who didn't even trust themselves yet?
Then the air shimmered.
Screens burst to life before every pair of eyes.
[ Quest: Collect 5 Glass Shards before Nightfall ]
[ Quest Failure: Lost Sanity ]
The words struck harder than thunder. People jolted, panic rising. "Sanity? What does that even mean?" one woman gasped. Another man shouted, "It's a trick! It wants to break us!"
Elior raised his hand, trying to calm them. "Listen. We can't afford to panic. The quest says collect shards. It doesn't say where yet—so let's—"
But then the system shifted.
[ Requirement: Shards can only be obtained from another Player's body. ]
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.
Everyone froze. The meaning sank in like poison. To succeed, they had to kill.
Murmurs turned into fearful cries. One person backed away, clutching their rusty dagger. Another fell to their knees, muttering prayers.
Elior's jaw tightened. He stepped forward, voice steady but strained. "No. Nobody starts swinging blades. We'll think this through. There must be another way."
But not everyone was listening. Some already glanced at their neighbors with trembling eyes, weighing fear against survival.
And in the shadows, Azmaik Veyric stood tall, a slow, sharp smile spreading across his face. His fingers brushed the hilt of his weapon, his gaze hungry.
"Finally," he whispered to himself. "The system gives me the excuse."
His followers gathered closer, whispering, eager, waiting for his word.
The tension swelled, the air heavy with the dread of what might happen when the first blade drew blood.