Meanwhile, Vale, Scarlett, and Silas continued their journey through the vast Wasteland, following the compass they had brought into this realm. Ishy walked with them — not because he wanted to help the Hunters, but because he hoped to find the prisoners he had helped escape.
His face remained cold and distant, hiding the deep distrust he felt. His eyes constantly scanned the barren landscape, watching for any sign of an ambush by Unholy Creatures. The distance from the collapsed tomb to the deeper parts of the Wasteland was long and grueling, especially on foot.
Their cart and horses had been completely destroyed during the fight with the Tomb's Guardian. The cart was crushed into splinters, and the horses had been feasted upon by the massive beast. Walking was their only option now.
Silas, however, seemed in a good mood. He smiled as he patted the heavy bag of Blood Stones strapped to his side. He turned to Ishy and spoke cheerfully.
"You know, Ishmael... these bad boys will make a good living for us Hunters. It's an easy way to get rich but the hardest way to survive. The currency from Blood Stones beats the real world's money by a huge margin. Some people think it's too easy to get them, but they don't know how dangerous it is to defeat Unholy beings—especially the Hollowed ones. A single Hollowed-rank beast has the strength of five or six adult men. The higher the rank, the stronger they become."
He chuckled while adjusting the heavy bag. "These stones are rarer than diamonds in the real world."
Ishy didn't respond. He didn't care about getting rich. He was just a soul trapped in this wretched realm—a temporary body given to Hollowed humans for their trials. He could only withdraw the Blood Stones he had collected through the system menu after he finished his Fallen Dream.
His movements were growing slower, though he tried to hide it. The Whistle of Death's curse still lingered, draining his strength. While Silas kept talking loudly — annoying both Vale and Scarlett — Ishy quietly opened his [STATUS] menu.
A new notification appeared.
[Congratulations, Ishmael. Your Blood Rune has evolved.]
[Your Blood Rune has evolved from Blood Rune (1): Hollowed to Blood Rune (3): Vessel.]
Ishy's eyes widened in silent excitement.
"'Damn… my Blood Rune upgraded? From level 1 to level 3?'"
Then the realization hit him—he had killed the Awakened Beast that possessed a Blood Rune (3).
Curious, he checked the [PERSONA] menu next.
Name: [Ishmael Farron]
Epithet: -
Blood Rank: [Hollowed]
Blood Rune: [Vessel] [Blood Rune (3)]
Hunter's Gift: [Whistle of Death] [Cloak of Wyrm]
Spirit's Ashes: -
Attributes: -
Persona: [A Bounded Prisoner]
Persona Description: A prisoner who has endured overwhelming pain, whether physical or emotional trauma, in their life. Therefore, they have no other way but to face the resistances.]
Ishy was speechless. He didn't get the powerful upgrade he had hoped for. Instead, the Persona menu felt like a cold reminder of his current reality. The news hit him like shattered glass.
The [STATUS] menu faded away before Ishy's eyes. He continued walking beside Silas, his gaze filled with quiet sorrow after the disappointing news from the Catalyst Anchor.
Silas noticed the heavy look in Ishy's eyes. He hesitated for a moment before reaching out and gently squeezing Ishy's shoulder.
"Ishmael, what's wrong?" he asked, glancing sideways at him with genuine concern.
Ishy replied with a short, weary answer, hoping it would end the conversation.
"Nothing… I'm just tired."
Silas nodded softly and didn't press further. He understood that Ishy was still just a prisoner in this realm — a trapped soul forced to wander the Fallen Dream alongside him and his fellow Hunters.
Meanwhile, Vale's stern voice cut through the air as he supported the wounded Scarlett at his side.
"Heads up! We're reaching the Undead Wasteland!" he warned. "Prepare yourselves. Don't get eaten by those bastards!"
As they drew closer to the Undead Wasteland, Vale's gaze grew increasingly intense and focused. Without a word, he performed a quick safety check on his hunter's pistol—a revolver with a wooden camo grip. He flipped open the cylinder, inspected the remaining bullets, which are two bullets left, and snapped it shut with a sharp click, ensuring it was ready to fire at a moment's notice.
Silas noticed the sudden shift in Vale's demeanor. His usual casual expression vanished, replaced by tense alertness. He quickly drew his Glock and began his own safety check, remembering he had fired several rounds at the Tomb's Guardian back at the abandoned tomb. He ejected the magazine, counted the bullets, and let out a soft sigh. Only seven rounds remained, and he had no spare magazines left.
Ishy, walking slightly behind them, did nothing of the sort. He had no firearm, no blade—nothing but the burning chain mark on his ankle and the lingering pain from the Whistle of Death. His eyes constantly scanned the barren landscape, alert for any sign of danger.
The Undead Wasteland loomed ahead, its skeletal horizon promising new threats in the dying light.
Scarlett gazed at the vast, eerie expanse of the Undead Wasteland stretching before them. She gulped softly, her face paling as she took in the terrifying landscape—a barren domain teeming with Awakened and far stronger Unholy Beasts. Her mind raced with dreadful possibilities: ambushes in the dark, sudden attacks from hidden predators, or worse—becoming nothing more than another meal for the monsters that ruled the night.
Vale noticed the panic flickering in her eyes. He gently shook her shoulder and leaned in close, whispering firmly,
"Remember, you need to be strong. You're a Hunter, not a prisoner like that brat behind us. Don't make a fool of yourself here… or you'll end up dragging all of us down as those bastards' next meal."
He continued supporting her weight as they moved forward into the Undead Wasteland, with Silas and Ishy following a few steps behind.
The night sky was dreadful to behold — a deep, oppressive black scattered with strange, blood-tinged stars. The air was bitterly cold, cutting through their clothes like knives, far harsher than any winter in the real world. Unlike Antarctica, this frozen wasteland was alive with danger. Countless Awakened Unholy Beings prowled the darkness, hunting under the moonlight.
Every shadow seemed to move. Every distant growl carried the promise of death.
From behind Vale and Scarlett, Ishy let out a quiet sigh after overhearing the lead Hunter's harsh whisper. He paid it no mind, even though he had been openly belittled. He knew what was good for him and what wasn't. Staying silent and following them was currently his best option.
He continued walking into the Undead Wasteland, enduring the constant burning pain from the scorching chain around his ankle.
The moment his feet touched the wasteland ground, the freezing cold stabbed into his soles like thousands of icy needles. The sudden contrast—the scorching heat from the chain combined with the dreadful frost of the land and the lingering dizziness from the Whistle of Death's curse—made him hiss sharply through gritted teeth.
"Shit… These things can't even let me take a break!" he cursed under his breath. "Why in the hell does the Anchor want from me?!"
He dragged his freezing feet forward, the added weight of the heavy chain making every step slower and more painful.
Silas was the first to notice Ishy's deteriorating condition. He slowed his pace and moved beside him, then slipped Ishy's arm over his shoulder to help support his weight and keep him moving faster.
However, the help was short-lived. The heavy chain around Ishy's ankle dragged them both down, making their progress noticeably slower.
Vale, walking at the front while supporting the wounded Scarlett, soon noticed the slowdown. He glanced over his shoulder, his sharp eyes narrowing with irritation.
"What the hell is taking so long back there?" he growled. "If you two can't keep up, we'll leave you for the scavengers."
At that exact moment, a loud chorus of harsh caws echoed across the wasteland. In the distance, a large flock of giant scavenger crows descended upon the fresh remains of the Whitemane Warriors and stray dog beasts—the very spot where the Bounded Shroud had easily slaughtered them earlier. The massive black birds tore into the corpses with aggressive greed, their razor-sharp beaks ripping through flesh and bone.
The sight served as a grim reminder: they were now entering the true heart of the Undead Wasteland. The area around the Undead Cave was notoriously dangerous, especially at night.
Silas tightened his grip on Ishy's arm, his earlier casual demeanor completely gone.
"Keep moving," he muttered. "We're getting close to the Undead Cave territory. Those crows are just the beginning."
Silas glanced at Ishy with genuine concern and spoke in a low, steady voice.
"Don't worry… I got you. Just stay strong," he said, tightening his grip to support more of Ishy's weight. "I know the pain too. I was once an Infected, just like you. But I passed it… same as those two up front."
He nodded toward Vale and Scarlett walking ahead of them.
The group pressed on through the icy, frozen ground of the Undead Wasteland, careful not to draw the attention of the giant scavenger crows feasting on the fresh corpses in the distance. Each step was a struggle. The ground was brutally cold, like walking on shards of ice, while the burning chain around Ishy's ankle continued to sear his flesh. The combination of scorching heat and freezing pain made him wince with every movement, but he had no choice but to endure it, leaning heavily on Silas for support.
Vale led the way, deliberately steering the group on a route that kept them far from the flock of massive crows. His eyes constantly scanned the horizon, ensuring they wouldn't be noticed by the dangerous scavengers.