O.I.G.S

Time bled into itself. Hours? Days? The desert's heat still clung to my skin like a curse, but now I was here—jostling in a rusted train car, the stench of sweat and iron thick enough to taste.

Sunlight sliced through barred windows, painting stripes on faces too young to wear exhaustion this heavy. Kids my age, maybe younger. Hollow eyes. Trembling hands. All of us cattle packed into this metal coffin, rattling toward a warzone. 

Marlenia. 

The name hissed through the car like a death rattle. A country bleeding out, desperate enough to conscript strangers at gunpoint. Far from the desert's buried labyrinth. Farther still from Koldavia, if "home" was ever a word that fit me. 

That bastard old man. The one who'd dragged me from the sand, patched my wounds with grimy hands, and spat promises of "safe passage." Turns out "safe" meant selling me to press gangs for a handful of coin. My bad luck, as always. 

The train screeched, wheels grinding like broken bones. A girl across the aisle vomited into her hands. No one reacted. We'd all emptied our guts days ago. 

"Colonia's got war machines," a boy muttered, voice cracked with fear. He couldn't be older than sixteen. "Heard they melt tanks with… with lasers or some shit." 

A scoff from the corner. "Lasers? Try poison fog. Dissolves lungs in seconds." 

"Shut up," someone hissed. "Just… shut up." 

The war had been chewing through lives since before I learned to walk. Decades of bloodshed, and no one could even name the why anymore.

A land dispute? A dead diplomat? A god's pissing contest? Didn't matter. The only truth was the grinding machinery of it—the way it swallowed villages, futures, and now us. 

I'd shouted myself hoarse at the recruiters: "I'm Koldavian! Look at my papers!" They'd laughed, tossing my documents into a fire. "Congratulations," one sneered, ash clinging to his teeth. "You're Marlenian now."

The train stank of despair—sour sweat, stale urine, the metallic tang of fear.

Kids barely old enough to shave. Girls clutching lockets with trembling fingers. All of us packed into this rattling steel tomb, hurtling toward a front line that devoured battalions like snacks. 

When the train lurched to a halt at the roadblock, nobody panicked. We'd already hollowed out. Two gunmen boarded, their boots crunching over silence. One counted heads with a rifle barrel, lips moving soundlessly.

Twenty.

He spat, jabbing his weapon into the gang leader's chest. "Fifty, you said. Fifty."

The gang leader—a gaunt vulture of a man—shrugged. "Market's dry. Take it or leave it."

The gunman's glare could've peeled flesh. But he stormed out, barking orders. The train groaned forward again. 

"So this is how we die, huh?" A boy muttered, his voice frayed at the edges. He couldn't have been older than sixteen, acne still raw on his cheeks. 

"At least we'll be remembered," a girl replied, her tone brittle as old bone. She clutched a tattered photo—a family, maybe. "Heroes of Marlenia."

"Heroes?" A laugh cut through the gloom, sharp and icy. A Nordavian girl—of course she was Nordavian—sat coiled like a cornered cat. Even in grime, she reeked of privilege—crisp vowels, manicured nails bitten to bloody nubs. "I'm not from this shithole. I'll die a stranger's death for a stranger's war. How's that heroic?"

The boy with acne shriveled under her glare. Another girl—small, mousy, her arms scarred with old burns—shrugged. "Dying's dying. Wrap it in a flag, it still sucks."

Another girl stared out the barred window, where the horizon boiled with storm clouds. "My brother volunteered," she said softly. "Thought he'd 'make peace' with his sword. They sent back his boots. Just the boots."

No one answered. The train wheels screeched a dirge, and the boy with acne began to cry—silent, shameful tears that dripped onto his shaking hands. 

I didn't want to get involved with them—not now, not ever—but one guy marched over anyway, his shadow falling across me as I leaned against the cold, metallic wall. He thrust out his hand with a grin too bright for this dim-lit hellhole. "Hi, I'm Max." His voice grated like rusted gears, all forced cheer. I turned my face away, refusing to meet his eyes, and let my body slump backward until my spine hit the floor. His hand lingered in the air, fingers twitching awkwardly before retreating. A hollow scoff escaped me as I summoned my Screen. 

"YES."

The void-black interface bloomed in front of me, its crimson grin stretching wider than Max's pathetic attempt at camaraderie. Notifications pulsed like infected wounds: 

{ REWARD PENDING:1 (blue) }

I blinked twice. Since when? The last thing I remembered was the desert, the sword, the girl's tears. Had I completed a task while bleeding out? I opened the reward

{ SKILL UNLOCKED: MEND }

{ TOTAL SKILLS: 2 (blue) }

Max hovered nearby, his breath reeking of stale ration bars. "Look, we're all gonna die anyway, so maybe—"

"open" I blinked twice, ignoring him. The total skills unfurled in jagged text

{WATCHER:"..."' (blue) }

{ MEND: GRADUALLY REPAIR DAMAGE TO.... (blue) }

I didn't even bother opening watcher description.

{MEND: Gradually repairs damage to your physical form, restoring health and mending wounds rapidly.

This skill accelerates the natural healing process, allowing you to recover from injuries more quickly.

EFFECTS:

-Restores health

- Accelerates healing process

- Repair damaged tissues and repair damaged limbs

PROPERTIES:

- Passive skill that activates automatically when injured}

{LEVEL: 28%}

{UPGRADE (blue) }

"I am definitely going to dump all my SLP into this skill, if I've had this earlier, at least I would have stand a chance against her."

{UPGRADE}

{20 SLP: 1% (blue)}

{40 SLP: 2.5% (blue)}

{60SLP: 4% (blue)}

{1080 SLP TO MAX (blue)}

My jaw unhinged like a broken trapdoor. This was the cost? I'd nearly been disemboweled for 110 SLP, and now they wanted 60 just to nudge a skill by four percent? Sweat pooled in the hollow of my throat, thick as motor oil. But what choice did I have? Rot in a trench with paper-thin durability, or gamble on surviving long enough to hate myself later. 

I jabbed at the upgrade option. 

The System didn't bother asking. Just devoured my SLP in one gulp and spat back 

{ UPGRADE COMPLETED }

{ SKILL UPGRADED: MEND }

{ LEVEL: 32% } 

{ DESCRIPTION: MENDING PROCESS INCREASED BY 4%}

{BACK(blue) }

{CLOSE SCREEN (blue) }

Before I could navigate {BACK}, a breathy gasp cut through the stale air. "Wow… that's so cool."

I whipped around. The Nordavian girl hovered inches away, her wide eyes reflecting the System's faint glow. Shit. quickly closed the screen.

Her pout was theatrical, lip quivering like a kicked puppy. "Why'd you hide it?"

"Hide what?" I rasped, feigning confusion. 

"That game." She leaned closer, her perfume clashing with the train's reek. "Shadow Storm. Level 32? Impressive. You're using a neural lens, right?" 

My pulse thundered. Neural lens? Game? Panic warred in my gut. She did see my screen, just play along. "Y-yeah. Contacts. Fancy ones."

"What model?" Her grin sharpened. "I've tried the X9s, but the latency—"

"It's actually A gift," I blurted. "From… a friend."

"A girlfriend?" Her eyebrow arched, voice syrupy with faux innocence. 

"Yes. Fiancée, actually." The lie tumbled out, desperate. Wanting her to just stop asking "She… uh… gave them to me. For our engagement."

She didn't budge. Her face inched closer, close enough to spot the flecks of gold in her green eyes. "She must be adorable."

"Yep. Adorable. The cutest." My spine pressed into the wall. 

"Hmm." Her smile turned venomous. "I'm Sarah by the way, from Nordavia. I'm an Investigative journalist. Came here for a war story…" She tapped her nails against the train wall "…but instead,I'm now a part of the story I wanted to write about"

"Ren," I croaked. "Cool." 

The train shrieked to a halt, plunging us into darkness. Distant floodlights clawed through the windows—harsh, clinical beams that stripped the car bare. With guards on watch.

The guards were less human than machines—all matte-black armor, faceless helmets, and rifles slung like third limbs.

They herded us into lines, gloved hands patting down limbs with the clinical detachment of butchers inspecting meat.

One paused at Sarah's locket, snapping the chain with a metallic twang. "Contraband," he grunted, tossing it into a rusted bin full of wedding rings and prayer beads

The dorm was a concrete crypt, its walls stained with phantom outlines of long-gone recruits. Bunk beds stood like skeletal remains, thin mattresses reeking of mildew and despair. No windows. No clocks. Just a single bulb swinging from the ceiling, casting shadows that writhed like hanged men. 

We'd barely collapsed onto the cots when the door exploded open. 

"Attention, maggots."

The general's voice cuts through. He stood framed in the doorway, His uniform was pristine, medals glinting like fresh scars. Eyes like frosted gun barrels scanned the room, lingering on the trembling, the tear-streaked, the hollow-eyed. 

"Sleep well tonight," he barked, lips twisting into something that wasn't a smile. "Tomorrow, you meet the front. Pray to whatever rotting god you worship. By dusk, half of you will be paste in Colonia's treads." 

He left without another word. The bulb flickered, then died. 

In the dark, someone vomited. Someone else wept. 

I closed my eeye.

Meanwhile

In the shadowy, labyrinthine streets of Koldevia, the night was a thick, inky black, pierced only by the faint glow of a half-moon.

Two figures in school uniforms moved through the alley, their breaths visible in the chill air. They were not lovers, merely friends, but the boy, with his cunning and charm, had other plans. He had a reputation for exploiting the fears of those around him, and tonight, he was determined to take advantage of his friend's terror.

The boy pressed closer, his breath hot against the girl's neck. "Heard it again," he whispered, lips brushing her earlobe. "The scraping. Like claws on concrete."

She stiffened, knuckles whitening around her backpack strap. "S-stop it, Jax. This isn't funny anymore."

"Funny?" He feigned offense, stepping into her sightline. Moonlight glossed his smirk. "You think the Alley Demon jokes? It doesn't want hugs, Lia. Not tonight." His hand slid to her waist, possessive. "It wants heat. Life. Only one way to throw it off our scent."

She recoiled, but the brick wall bit into her spine. "You're lying. Last week you said holding hands—"

"It's evolving." His fingers dug into her hips. "C'mon. You wanna die virgin meat?"

A rat scuttled past, splashing through a puddle. The water rippled—too thick, too black. Lia's voice trembled. "A-after this… we're done. Done, Jax."

Jax didn't care. All he could think about was the prize that was about to be his. He watched, his breath ragged, as the girl began to undress, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. But as she slipped off her bra, she froze, her expression a mask of horror. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, the only words that escaped her lips were a chilling whisper.

"Behind you."

The boy scoffed, thinking it was another one of her jokes. But as he slowly turned, his smile faded quickly, replaced by a look of sheer terror.

Standing behind him was a monstrous figure, towering over him, its body made of muddy water from the sewers. Its mouth was a gaping maw, filled with razor-sharp teeth.

He screamed, a high-pitched, blood-curdling sound, as he tried to run. But the demon was faster. With a swift, brutal motion, it caught him, its teeth sinking into his flesh, splitting him in two.

The girl screamed, her naked body shaking with fear and shock. She turned to run, her breasts bouncing with each frantic step.

But as she fled, she found herself running straight towards another demon, its eyes glowing in the darkness.

With a swift, deadly motion, it struck, its claws slicing through her flesh, splitting her in two. The demons feasted, their moans of pleasure echoing through the alley as they devoured the remains of their victims.