teravoll

Dathweet spent the entire day training with Onbe — from meditation and sensing energy to aligning his sword strikes with the natural flow of air.

Every slash, every breath, had to sync with his inner self.

Only when the sun began to dip below the horizon did the two return to camp.

The shared sleeping quarters — an old warehouse converted for emergency use — were already packed to the brim. Sounds of shoving, arguing, and exhausted sighs filled the air. Some curled up in corners with only a coat to lie on. Others had nothing at all.

Dathweet scanned the room and spotted Lyun leaning against a wooden post, her face weary.

Dathweet:

"Did you find a spot to rest?"

Lyun:

"Not yet… You?"

Dathweet:

"Me neither. Wanna look for a better place together?"

They eventually found a spot behind the warehouse — quiet, sheltered from the wind. It wasn't much, but it was enough to sit down and rest. Back against the wall, heads resting on their arms.

Suddenly, Lyun pulled out a small ceramic bottle from her coat.

Lyun (smirking):

"Drink? Just scored it."

Dathweet (surprised):

"Liquor? In a place like this… rare stuff. Hell yeah.

Reminds me of when I was sixteen. First time I drank — was in a place just like this…"

They passed the bottle back and forth. The alcohol wasn't strong, but it burned in the throat — like the taste of surviving another day.

The faint oil lamp light cast shadows on the cracked walls. In the fragile calm, the two leaned on each other. No words needed.

Dathweet turned to her. Their eyes met.

Lyun gently held his hand — a subtle question: "Is this okay?"

Dathweet didn't answer. But he didn't pull away either.

She leaned closer, placing a hand on his chest, her face nearing his — lips brushing his cheek, then moving closer to his lips. But just before they touched…

Dathweet turned away and stood up abruptly.

Dathweet (awkwardly):

"Sorry, Lyun… I don't think we should cross that line yet. We barely know each other…"

Lyun (brows furrowed):

"What do you mean? We've been living together, sharing everything. I'm by your side every day. And now you say this?"

Dathweet:

"It's not that… I just think… we need more time to really understand each other."

Lyun (eyes flaring with hurt):

"Don't give me that 'understand each other' crap. You're just running. You can't accept me — because you still haven't let go of the girl who stabbed you and left you for dead.

To you, I'm just a bandage for the cracks inside. Right?"

Dathweet said nothing.

Lyun stared at him for a long second. Then turned and walked off into the sea of sleeping bodies.

He didn't follow.

He just sat down again, back against the cold wall.

The warmth from her hand still lingered on his.

While most civilians were huddled in the camp, something new had risen in the ruined town center:

A coliseum of blood.

Hundreds of virus-infected lunatics gathered in a square, howling and shrieking with rabid delight.

They formed a circle, cheering for the death matches inside — no rules, no limits.

Whoever survived kept fighting. The fallen… were dragged away as prizes.

In the middle of it all stood Coss — tall, shirtless, muscles and scars bathed in blood, wielding a massive battle axe.

He had just decapitated a man mid-charge. Blood sprayed like rain.

Coss (roaring with laughter):

"Who's next!? COME ON!!"

Another rushed at him. Didn't even raise his blade before Coss split him from shoulder to chest with a single swing.

Coss (screaming):

"I! AM! FUCKING! INVINCIBLE!"

The crowd howled and cackled with wild ecstasy.

Then suddenly, Coss stopped.

His eyes locked on something — or rather, smelled something.

Fear.

Real, living, uninfected fear.

Without a word, he shoved through the crowd, swatting bodies aside.

He reached the end of a street. A rusted sewer grate.

BOOM!!!

He smashed it open with his bare hands.

From below — screaming. Survivors.

Coss (eyes gleaming):

"Where the fuck are my dogs at?! Time to hunt!"

And before the echoes faded, dozens of infected came charging down the street behind him — howling like the dinner bell had rung.

What waited below, no one could say.

But the scent of fresh blood was already seeping through the sewers.

The next morning, thin sunlight filtered through layers of heavy grey clouds. Back at the camp, scavenging teams were being assembled.

Most teams had 8–10 people.

But Dathweet's team… had only 6. And he didn't know a single one of them.

Sun — a fiery Fion girl with bright orange hair and explosive personality. Fire magic, mid-tier.

Kal — a tall, burly Fion guy with messy green hair and a massive greatsword. Quiet, no-nonsense.

Buny — a blonde, soft-spoken Fion girl with round glasses. Healer.

Rupler — a thin, wiry Fion with star-shaped pupils and a longsword.

Jimmer — black-haired, gold-eyed Fion. Carried a staff, rarely spoke. Could generate powerful gravitational pulls.

And Dathweet — the sixth.

They set out from the camp's side gate, heading toward the western outskirts — an area no teams had explored yet.

But something felt wrong.

Too quiet.

Not even the buzz of bugs.

Dathweet (whispering):

"This place is too silent… Something's off."

Rupler (waving it off):

"Relax. They're just zombies. They swarm where there's noise or smell. A place this quiet is probably safer."

Kal:

"They've probably all gathered at the town center. No scent here, no reason for them to wander in."

Dathweet:

"I hope you're right."

They split up, checking houses along the street. The mission was simple: find food, medicine, batteries, salvageable tools.

Dathweet entered a small, two-story home that was oddly intact. He swept the first floor, found some water bottles and old protein bars, and stuffed them into his bag.

Then — click.

A faint noise from the second floor. Quiet. But enough.

He tightened his grip on his sword. Didn't call for backup.

Step by step, he climbed.

The noise came from the last door at the end of the hall.

He counted in his head: 3… 2… 1—

BANG!

He kicked the door open — a figure lunged at him from behind it.

Dathweet slammed the door back into their face, knocking them flat.

In a flash, he straddled them, knee pinning their chest, sword drawn at their throat.

Stranger:

"Wait! Don't kill me! I'm normal! I'm not infected!"

Dathweet looked closer — a man in tattered clothes, bruised face, but no red eyes, no bleeding, no signs of mutation.

He eased the blade back.

Dathweet:

"Sorry. Thought you were one of them."

Then he turned his head slightly—

A faint moan. Choked. Like someone trying to cry but too weak.

He looked.

And froze.

On the bed lay a girl — young, barely teen — wrists and ankles bound, mouth gagged, pale and trembling.

But her belly… her belly was grotesquely swollen, something inside it twitching under the skin.

Blood trickled from the corners of her eyes. Her limbs jerked sporadically.

Dathweet: (staggering back)

"What… the actual fuck…"

He moved to draw his sword — to end her suffering.

But the man screamed and lunged at him.

Man:

"NO! That's my daughter! The baby in her belly… is my blood too!"

Dathweet froze.

His lips trembled. Hands clenched the hilt.

"You… did this… to your own flesh and blood? While she was infected?"

Something primal erupted inside him.

The man swallowed a vial and charged like a wild beast.

They crashed through a rotted wall, tumbling down the stairs.

The struggle was brutal — fists flew, blood splattered.

Until finally — one last punch.

The man's face was a red smear. Unrecognizable.

Dathweet:

"You sick fucking bastard… You'll haunt me forever."

He staggered back upstairs.

Silence.

He opened the door.

The girl was now sitting upright on the bed. Her belly… no longer swollen. Blood everywhere.

In her hands — something small, red, shapeless, and soaked.

She looked up. Mouth stained crimson.

And smiled.

Girl:

"Do you… want to try it?"

Dathweet's blade flashed.

One clean strike.

Silence again.

He stepped outside. Collapsed to the floor. Sword clutched, tip pointed at his own eye.

"…What the fuck did I just witness…"

Ken (inside his head):

(Breathe, Dathweet. Like Onbe taught you… Regulate. Center yourself. Don't let it take you.)

He inhaled — again, and again.

But the horror clung to him. Like ink soaking into his soul.

Dathweet stepped out of the house just in time to see Rupler being dragged out of the kitchen, his left eye gushing blood.

A scream echoed — a crowd of infected charging down the street, barefoot, eyes wild, groaning like starving animals.

He propped Rupler against a wall, drew his sword, and stood between him and the approaching mob.

Dathweet:

"Alright then…

Come and get it, you fucks."

He charged head-on — a beast with steel in hand.

One slash. Two. Three — blood flying in arcs. Four. Five. Six — bodies hit the ground, twitching.

But just when he thought the wave was thinning—

A blade sliced across his neck.

He pulled back by instinct.

Out from behind the infected walked an old Fion man — wild hair, beard down to his chest, bloodshot eyes dripping with black slime.

In his hand: a white-hilted sword, caked with dried blood.

The man grinned, voice like a rasping hiss:

Kat:

"I've been watching you swing that blade, boy. It's making me horny.

Don't worry… when you're down, I'll go nice and slow. Wouldn't want it to sting too much."

Before Dathweet could reply, Kat lunged.

Too fast.

Dathweet barely blocked, the force ripping through his shoulder and chest — blood soaked through his torn clothes instantly.

Dathweet (thinking):

I can't beat him…

Just as he stepped back to reset his stance — the world shimmered.

FWOOM — light enveloped him.

In a blink, the group reappeared underground — in a foul, damp shelter.

Stone walls, flickering mana lamps, the air stinking of blood and sweat.

Kal (panting):

"We're surrounded. This place… it's just a temporary hideout."

Sun (shaking):

"That bastard Kat's out there… I saw him.

He's not just insane… He's a fucking monster."

Dathweet:

"White-hilt sword guy?"

Sun:

"Yeah.

Back in his prime…

He almost earned the Master rank."

Dathweet sat on the dusty floor, breathing heavily. Blood and sweat dripped down his face. He gripped his sword tighter, still staring at the doorway — as if Kat might burst in any second.

Rupler leaned against the wall, covering his face. Blood seeped through his fingers, dripping steadily onto the ground.

His left eye… was gone.

Buny knelt beside him — no longer calm and composed like before.

She pressed a cloth hard against the bleeding socket, voice shaking:

Buny:

"The eye's gone… I'll stop the bleeding. Just don't pass out, okay?"

Rupler gave a slight nod. He didn't cry. He didn't scream.

But his shoulders trembled.

Rupler:

"That… that was my dominant eye. I… won't be able to fight like before."

Kal slumped against the opposite wall, green hair matted with blood. His face pale, dazed.

Kal:

"That bastard Kat… he looked straight at me and grinned.

Said something like, 'Don't worry, kid. I'll go easy on you when I pin you down. I'm gentle.'"

Rupler (muttering):

"Was he always that perverted back in the day?"

Kal:

"Honestly… he's scarier than any of the infected."

Dathweet remained silent.

His eyes had dulled — no longer sharp, no longer alert.

Like his soul had quietly left the room, leaving only the body behind.

Buny finished tending to Rupler, then turned to Dathweet.

Buny:

"You okay? When we found you… you looked like you'd just crawled out of hell."

Dathweet leaned back against the wall. Eyes closed.

Dathweet:

"I just killed a father.

And the daughter he called… his 'family.'"

The group fell silent.

No one asked anything more.

Only the sound of breathing filled the space — a quiet confirmation that, for now… they were still alive.

Jimmer had said nothing the whole time.

He sat in the far corner, back turned to them, hand resting on his staff. His eyes lost in the shadows.

Jimmer:

"Next time…

We don't split up. Ever again."

Sun sighed:

"There might not be a next time.

One's lost an eye.

Another… lost their mind.

We're the worst team here."

Dathweet opened his eyes — calm, but colder.

Dathweet:

"As long as we're breathing, we can still fight."

No one replied.

But somehow… the air in the bunker felt a little lighter.

Outside, the howls of the infected echoed like beasts in the distance.

But inside… at least for now, they were still here.

Still alive.

— End of Chapter —