The silence that followed was heavier than the screams had been.
Not because the corridor was calm.
But because everything inside it was waiting.
Kael could feel it.
The broken stone beneath his boots.
The survivors' breathing — uneven, afraid.
The sword in his hand — not warm, not cold, but present in a way nothing else had ever been.
It did not hum.
It did not pulse.
It simply existed, bound to him as surely as his heartbeat.
And the pain—
The pain was constant.
Not sharp enough to overwhelm him.
Not dull enough to forget.
It sat beneath his skin like a reminder carved into bone.
[Outstanding Cost: 37 Units]
The number hovered at the edge of his vision, faint but undeniable.
Kael swallowed.
So this was the price of clarity.
The scarred woman stepped back another pace, her spear trembling despite her grip.
"That thing—" she said hoarsely. "Put it down."
Kael didn't move.
Not because he refused.
Because he realized something disturbing.
He couldn't.
The sword did not resist him.
It simply made the idea meaningless.
Putting it down felt the same as trying to drop his own spine.
The young man beside her whispered, "He's changed."
Kael met their eyes.
There was no rage in him.
No bloodlust.
Just understanding.
They weren't enemies.
They were witnesses.
"Move," he said again.
This time, the word carried more than sound.
It carried decision.
The air itself seemed to compress.
Not violently.
Inevitably.
The survivors staggered back as if pushed by invisible hands.
One of them fell.
Another cursed.
The corridor behind them cracked further, dust raining from above.
Only then did Kael realize—
The world was reacting.
Not to his strength.
To his commitment.
The scarred woman's gaze dropped to his chest.
To the faint symbol burned beneath torn fabric — lines etched too precisely to be natural.
Her expression shifted.
Fear gave way to something else.
Recognition.
"…You bound it," she whispered.
Kael frowned. "You've seen this before?"
Her jaw tightened.
"Once."
The word came out bitter.
She took another step back, spear lowering despite herself.
"The man who did it didn't live long."
Kael didn't look away. "Because the sword killed him?"
"No," she said quietly.
"Because he couldn't pay."
The number pulsed.
[37 Units → 38 Units]
Kael sucked in a sharp breath.
The pain spiked — not enough to cripple him, but enough to warn.
So that was how it worked.
Movement.
Choice.
Existence.
Everything added to the bill.
The sword did not care whether he fought or fled.
Only that he acted.
And action cost.
"How do you pay it?" Kael asked.
The woman hesitated.
Then said, "With what you're willing to lose."
That wasn't an answer.
But the sword accepted it.
Something stirred inside him — not a voice, not a command — but an awareness.
Like a ledger opening.
Not written in words.
Written in possibility.
His vision fractured briefly.
He saw flashes—
—his stamina draining
—his senses dimming
—blood thickening
—memories blurring
—something deeper, more terrifying, held far away… untouched for now
Kael's breath came slow.
So the price wasn't fixed.
It was chosen.
Or taken.
A tremor shook the corridor.
From deeper within the ruin came a sound — wet, scraping, patient.
The thing stalking the lower levels had heard them.
The survivors froze.
The young man whispered, "It's coming."
Kael closed his eyes for half a second.
He felt the sword waiting.
Not urging.
Not demanding.
Merely ready to collect.
When he opened his eyes again, his focus narrowed.
"Which way out?" he asked.
The woman pointed left. "Collapsed stairwell. Narrow. It might slow it."
Might.
Kael nodded.
He stepped forward.
[Outstanding Cost: 39 Units]
The pain deepened.
Not stronger.
More intimate.
Like the ache had learned his name.
The survivors flinched as he passed them, instinctively moving aside.
They didn't block him.
Didn't speak.
Something about his gait had changed.
Not confident.
Certain.
They followed.
The corridor twisted downward, debris crunching beneath their feet.
The scraping sound grew closer.
Too close.
A shape emerged from the darkness behind them — elongated limbs, too many joints, its flesh pulled tight as if stretched over something unfinished.
One of the survivors screamed.
The creature lunged.
Kael turned.
Not fast.
Not dramatic.
Just in time.
He raised the blade.
Not to strike.
But to decide.
The sword responded.
Not with power.
With accounting.
[Select Payment]
The options were not words.
They were sensations.
—fatigue
—blood
—time
—precision
—future strain
Kael chose instinctively.
He let go of fatigue.
The cost hit instantly.
His muscles screamed as exhaustion flooded him all at once — weeks of hunger, days of fear, hours of pain crashing together.
His knees nearly buckled.
But his arms—
His arms moved with terrifying clarity.
The blade cut once.
Not wide.
Not strong.
Perfect.
The creature's forward momentum carried it directly into the edge.
Its head separated without resistance.
The body collapsed.
Silence followed.
Kael gasped, sweat pouring down his face.
[Outstanding Cost: 41 Units]
The survivors stared.
"That was…" the young man breathed. "You didn't even hesitate."
Kael almost laughed.
He hadn't had time to.
That was the truth of it.
The sword didn't allow hesitation.
It only allowed payment.
They reached the stairwell moments later.
Broken concrete formed a narrow slope upward.
The woman helped pull one survivor through.
Kael went last.
Halfway up, his vision blurred.
The pain surged again.
The number flickered.
[41 Units → 43 Units]
He clenched his teeth.
So even survival carried interest.
When they finally emerged into gray daylight, the sky above was cracked with drifting ash clouds.
The world beyond the ruins looked worse than before.
Buildings leaned like corpses.
Smoke columns marked distant violence.
Somewhere far off, something massive roared.
The survivors collapsed to their knees.
Kael stood.
Barely.
The sword remained steady in his hand.
The woman looked at him one last time.
"If you keep using it," she said, "the debt will climb faster."
He nodded.
"I know."
She hesitated. "Then why accept it?"
Kael looked at the ruined horizon.
At the world that had already decided what people like him were worth.
"At least now," he said quietly, "the cost is honest."
The number pulsed again.
[Outstanding Cost: 44 Units]
He exhaled.
Volume 2 had begun not with hope—
But with a ledger.
And somewhere deep within the sword, something ancient took note.
The crownless world had found a payer.