The road east was older than Shardbrook, carved by feet that had long since turned to dust. Stones jutted through dirt, roots clawed from the sides, and the fields that had once fed villages now sagged with rot. The sun was pale here, as though it had no courage to shine properly.
Zeke tightened his grip on his pack straps. His iron sword bumped against his hip with each step. Behind his eyes, the System's panels flickered whenever he thought of them—like a second world overlaying this one. He kept them dim, hidden even from his own gaze, but knowing they were there made his chest feel bigger, heavier.
It was his. No one else's.
Raven Nightwind led the way without speaking, her white armor flashing in the weak light, her silver hair trailing behind her like a banner. She didn't look back. She didn't need to. People either followed or they were left behind, and Raven was the kind of person who didn't waste thought on the latter.
Iris Vale trailed closer to Zeke, gripping her staff in both hands. Her robes had already collected dust and burrs, and she kept muttering under her breath—half prayers, half complaints.
"You know this is madness," she said finally.
Zeke raised an eyebrow. "What part?"
"All of it. Leaving Shardbrook. Walking toward the capital as though demons won't try to gut us on the way. Following her." Iris's eyes flicked toward Raven's back.
"You could've stayed," Zeke said.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I couldn't."
Zeke smirked. "So, madness together, then?"
Iris shot him a look that might have been irritation, might have been amusement. "Don't sound proud of that."
"I'll try."
The road wound upward. The hills were quiet except for the occasional crow. No farmers worked the fields. No children chased goats. Houses leaned empty, doors sagging.
"Too quiet," Reyn would've said, if he were here. But Reyn wasn't. That responsibility fell on Zeke now.
By mid-morning, they passed the remains of a farmhouse. The roof had caved in, black scorch marks licked up the walls, and bones whitened in the yard. Raven slowed only long enough to glance once, then kept moving.
"Wait—" Iris's voice broke. She stopped beside the bones, staff trembling. "They didn't even… bury them."
Zeke hesitated. He hadn't known the family—maybe they'd traded grain once or twice—but seeing them like this made his stomach turn.
"Leave them," Raven said, her voice flat.
Iris's eyes snapped toward her. "They were people."
"They're nothing now." Raven didn't even turn her head. "Burying them won't change what killed them. And stopping here only risks us joining them."
Her words were knives. Cold, sharp, true.
Iris knelt anyway, bowing her head, whispering something too soft for Zeke to catch. He stood guard, hand on his sword, scanning the fields for movement.
When she rose again, her jaw was tight, eyes glistening. She said nothing, but her steps were harder on the road after that.
Zeke glanced at her, then at Raven's back. He didn't like either option—the indifference or the pain—but he understood both. He kept walking.
The System pinged once as they passed into a thicket of trees.
[Nearby Hostiles Detected: Feral Warg Pack]
[Count: 5]
[Estimated Kill Reward: 12 Points each]
Zeke's hand tightened on his sword hilt. He looked ahead—Raven's posture had shifted. She'd already sensed them.
"We camp here tonight," Raven said, voice carrying like a command. She didn't ask.
They cleared a small space among the trees. Raven set no fire, only a cold circle of stones for their packs.
Zeke lay back against his rolled cloak, staring up through the branches. The sky looked torn still, though the seam had sealed. Clouds moved wrong, too fast, like they were running from something.
"You're awake," Iris muttered beside him. She sat with her staff across her lap, ribbon in her hair frayed from the wind.
"So are you," Zeke said.
She sniffed. "I don't trust this place."
"Neither do I."
A growl answered her words. Low. Too close.
Zeke was on his feet before he thought. His sword cleared its sheath with a hiss.
From the treeline, eyes glowed yellow. Then more. And more. The brush shifted, paws crunching leaves.
Wargs.
The first lunged, fur bristling, teeth bared. Zeke met it midair, Iron Channel flaring through his arm. The blade cut deep, heavier than it should, and the beast fell in two halves.
[Kill Confirmed: Feral Warg]
[+12 Points]
He pivoted, too fast, too smooth. Blade Flow carried him into the next strike, slashing across a muzzle before claws raked his shoulder. He hissed, but the rhythm pulled him again, cutting, stepping, thrusting—
The third came from behind. He turned late. Too late.
Its claws raked his ribs. Pain flared white. His knees buckled.
[Warning: Essence Overuse Detected.]
[Recommendation: Cease circulation immediately.]
Zeke ignored it. He pushed harder, drawing essence where his body didn't want to carry it. The System flickered. His chest burned. His limbs shook.
He slashed anyway.
The warg fell.
He staggered. His vision blurred, knees dipping. His breath came ragged, essence thrashing like fire in cracked pipes.
Then—
[Breathe slower.]
The words weren't cold. They weren't the Shop. They were warmer. Almost human.
Zeke blinked. "Who—?"
Nothing. Silence. The panel was blank again.
The last two wargs broke through. One went for Iris. She slammed her staff into its jaw, surprising herself more than it, then tripped back. The beast lunged again—only to crumple as Raven's blade of light sheared through its spine.
The final warg met Raven's gaze. It turned and ran.
She didn't chase. She cleaned her blade with a flick and sheathed it.
Zeke fell back against a tree, chest heaving, blood sticky at his ribs. His hands shook. His sword dripped.
[Kill Confirmed x4]
[+48 Points]
[Body Tempering Progress: 6% → 12%]
[Warning: Essence Strain — Recovery advised.]
He grit his teeth. The System's warnings stabbed at him, but the echo of that softer voice lingered in his mind.
Breathe slower.
He did. The fire in his chest dimmed, though the pain stayed.
Iris knelt beside him, staff clattering down. Her hands hovered uselessly before finally pressing cloth to his ribs. "You're insane."
"Effective," he rasped.
"Dead," she shot back. Her eyes shone in the dim light, more fury than tears. "You would've been dead if—if whatever that was hadn't—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "You can't keep doing this."
Zeke tried to laugh. It came out as a cough. "Seems like I can."
She smacked his arm—not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make her point.
Raven's shadow fell over them. She looked down at Zeke, her expression unreadable.
"You push beyond your body's limits," she said flatly. "That is good."
Iris's head snapped up. "Good? He's bleeding!"
Raven ignored her. Her eyes stayed on Zeke. "But you lack discipline. Reckless power dies quickly."
Zeke met her gaze, jaw tight. "Then I'll learn."
"See that you do."
She walked away, leaving silence behind.
Iris glared after her. "I hate her."
"She's not wrong," Zeke said.
"You're not right, either."
He didn't argue. The pain in his ribs made speaking feel like chewing glass. He leaned back, let Iris fuss with bandages, and stared at the dim glow of the System in his vision.
His points had risen. His progress had grown. His body hurt like hell. And in the middle of it all, that other voice had whispered to him. Not the Shop. Something else.
He closed his eyes, breathing slower, waiting for it to return.
It didn't.
But it would. He was sure of it.
By dawn, the camp smelled of iron and blood. Crows circled overhead, waiting for scraps.
Raven stood already on the road, silver hair gleaming, her stance sharp. "Move," she ordered. "The road demands payment. Last night was only the first coin."
Zeke pushed himself to his feet, sword across his back, body aching but alive. He followed.
The road stretched ahead, darker now, as though it had teeth hidden in every shadow.
And Zeke couldn't stop smiling.