The heavy iron door groaned as it slowly opened outward, the old hinges exhaling a rasping sound like a beast breathing after a long slumber. A damp, metallic chill seeped through the threshold and brushed against Wolf's skin.
The room beyond was long, rectangular, and strangely pristine compared to the cavern outside.
Glass tubes stretched out in neat rows like silent sentinels, towering from floor to ceiling. Inside each cylinder floated something alive—or once alive. Distorted silhouettes: hunched, twisted, half-formed creatures suspended in pale green liquid, their fingers or claws faintly tapping against the glass as if dreaming in stasis. Some had human faces warped beyond recognition.
Others were something else entirely.
Wolf stepped in first, boots clicking softly against the smooth white floor. His eyes flicked from one tube to the next. He didn't linger on any single shape too long; it was easier not to.
I guess I should've expected this… he thought, recalling the name of boss:
Experiment 1966.
A faint hum filled the air. Some machines still breathed—soft, electric, rhythmic. Blue lights blinked weakly from rusted terminals. Dust coiled lazily in the air where the light couldn't quite reach.
Wolf paced deeper, hands brushing over the smooth, sterile wall, until his gaze landed on something out of place—a single wooden table, sitting crooked amid the rows of glass.
Unlike everything else, it felt human in its imperfection.
He approached it slowly, the heel of his boot grinding on the floor. On top lay a thick, time-stained book.
No title. No markings. Nothing.
Wolf exhaled, leaned forward, and brushed it with the back of his hand. The dust came off in a small cloud, swirling upward like faint smoke.
"This doesn't even have a name?" he muttered under his breath.
He carefully opened the book. The spine crackled. The pages, though old, were surprisingly intact. His eyes moved from line to line, absorbing the neat, almost surgical handwriting.
Day 7 Month 1, 1310.
Project: Homunculus-I.
Subject: Initiation of the Prototype Homunculus (Attempt 001).
Objective: To determine the minimum requirements for achieving cellular viability…
His brows furrowed deeper with each line.
"The Alpha Prototype… viable… passive incubation…"
So they really started with this thing as a base…
The room's silence made the sound of each page turning echo sharply.
"Day 10… stimulant overload… failure. Day 15… matrix disintegration. Day 19… stalled viability… Day 31… catastrophic breach. Day 26 month 2… Beta Candidate stable… Day 2 month 3… Vitae purity is a critical factor…"
His throat felt dry. The neat precision of the notes was unsettling, almost colder than the tubes themselves. These weren't stories. These were steps—like baking bread. But for monsters.
Then—a soft echo of footsteps.
Wolf's fingers paused mid-turn. He shut the book quickly, the sound muffled but sharp in the empty room.
They're here already.
He slipped the book into the cabinet below the table, closing it with a quiet click. Straightening his posture, he exhaled once, pushing all the weight of what he'd just read behind a calm face.
"...Well," he said flatly as the others entered, "seems like there's no rewards here." He gave the room one last glance, shrugging like he was brushing off the unease.
Taewoo stood a step behind him, eyes scanning the tubes with wide unease.
"What… is this place…" he whispered.
Wolf didn't even blink. "A place for madman." His voice was flat as steel.
He walked past them, steps brisk, shoulders squared. Busy and purposeful.
"Well, except from some equipment left that we can use, let's head back. I'll talk with the others—set up a mining team to collect the boss corpse and strip this place clean. ore, scrap, everything."
His boots echoed down the corridor. The others exchanged brief glances but said nothing.
None of them wanted to linger near those tubes.
Taewoo nudged Teddy's shoulder with the side of his arm as they walked.
"You should've told us your skill was that strong, man."
Teddy let out a light chuckle, but there was a glint in his eyes—part disgusting, part calculated.
"Only idiots show their hand," he said, his voice smooth. "Besides… I'm not the only one hiding a few tricks."
He shot Taewoo a sidelong look. The kind that carried both a joke and a challenge.
Taewoo clicked his tongue but didn't argue.
Wolf, ahead of them, let the echoes of their voices fade as his mind pulled him backward.
Back to before the fight.
He crouched near the tree roots outside the white room, his spear scraping resin from the bark. The sticky, black substance clung to his fingers.
"I-Seul!" he had called over his shoulder.
She'd turned with an irritated sigh, rolling her eyes.
What is it this time… she thought as she walked over, hands shoved in her pockets. Her hair stuck slightly to her forehead from the damp cave air.
Wolf didn't bother with pleasantries. He spoke quickly.
Minutes later, as she walked back toward the group, she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. "Unbelievable…"
Then, he called again—"Teddy!"
The man stood, already adjusting the strap on his spear, and walked over without hesitation. His eyes held that quiet steadiness he only got before a fight.
Everything was moving, even then. Little gears. Quiet breaths. Plans in motion.
"I'll be honest with you," Wolf said quietly, leaning in just enough for his voice to not carry beyond the torchlight. His tone wasn't threatening, but it had the kind of weight that made Teddy's shoulders stiffen.
"I have a skill that lets me see others' status windows. I can't read the descriptions or what they can do, but I can see them."
Teddy's reaction was instantaneous. His body tightened—fingers curling slightly, jaw locking.
His eyes flicked toward Wolf like a wolf sizing up another predator. This man…
"Listen," Wolf continued, firm and calm, his gaze unwavering, "this fight is serious. I need to do everything I can. That includes knowing what your skills can do. Don't worry—"
His voice softened just a hair, "I won't tell anyone. The plan will stay between us only."
Wolf tilted his head slightly, almost a subtle trust me gesture.
"You're not the only one getting exposed either," he added, almost casually. "I-Seul already told me about hers. The others will, too."
Teddy let out a slow, deep sigh, his breath clouding faintly in the cold mine air. His lips pressed into a thin line as his shoulders eased—not entirely relaxed, but no longer braced to bite.
So that's why she said that earlier, he thought, remembering I-Seul's expression a moment ago.
"So," Teddy finally said, rubbing the back of his neck, "you wanna know what my skill can do, right?"
"Yeah," Wolf answered plainly. "Just active skill is fine."
Teddy exhaled once, then nodded. "Okay. My skill—Woodsman's Lie —can let me tell a lie that's guaranteed to work. It always succeeds. But the only lie I can tell is about direction."
Wolf's brows knitted slightly, interest flickering in his eyes. "...And the cost?"
"Thirty Ether," Teddy replied.
Wolf frowned a little deeper. "Do you even know how much Ether you've got?"
Teddy shook his head slowly. "No. But I think I can only use it once."
"One time?" Wolf blinked, a brief flicker of surprise cutting through his usually neutral face.
"Alright," Wolf said, his voice returning to its usual low steadiness. "You can go. Call Taewoo for me."
"Understood." Teddy stepped back with a controlled movement, turned, and walked back toward the group, his boots lightly crunching against loose gravel. His back was straight, but Wolf could tell from the way his hands twitched that the man didn't like exposing his cards. No one ever does.
Now… Xinglian. Wolf's gaze dropped momentarily, mind running.
That girl said her skill can target and guarantee a hit on weak points… plus inflict stun. That's a damn good skill. Precise. Sharp.
He exhaled through his nose. Anyway… time to get back and enjoy the meal.
They emerged from the ore mine not long after. The wind outside was cooler, sharper, a relief after the suffocating stillness of the tunnels. Leo's small figure was waiting near the entrance, crouched low, hands gripping his knees like he'd been anxious the entire time.
The moment he saw Teddy's silhouette, his head snapped up, eyes widening."Teddy!" he yelled, voice cracking a little from the force.
Teddy chuckled, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small grin. He crouched down, and without a word, Leo ran into his arms. Teddy hoisted him up easily, letting the boy's weight settle on his shoulders.
Leo clung to him with both arms, cheeks pressed against his neck, as Teddy started walking toward the base.
Because Leo wasn't on foot anymore, their return was faster—no more forced pauses, no more slowing down for the kid to catch his breath. Their boots thudded steadily against the ruin path, the occasional crunch of scattered stone beneath them.
Someone stationed near the ruins caught sight of them first.
"Hey! The exploration team's back!" a man shouted, voice echoing into the half-built camp.
People turned—faces peeking out from makeshift shelters, movement stirring like wind through reeds. Wolf leaned closer to his team and spoke under his breath.
"You guys can rest. Do what you want."
Leo, Teddy, I-Seul, and Xinglian all nodded wordlessly. One by one, they split off in different directions, shoulders sagging with exhaustion. Wolf didn't even stop; he walked straight toward the center of camp.
He found Klion exactly where he expected: near a half-finished structure. The man had a wooden beam balanced over his shoulder, sweat streaking the side of his face. When Klion noticed Wolf approaching, he adjusted the weight, set it down carefully, and gave him a subtle nod.
"Well?" Klion asked, tilting his chin toward the makeshift shelter overhead.
Wolf followed his gaze. Two thick wooden posts were planted firmly in the ground. A horizontal log was slotted on top, held in place with clean V-cuts. Above that, thinner branches were woven and layered into a slanted roof. It wasn't elegant, but it was solid.
"What do you think?" Klion asked again.
"About the roof?" Wolf responded with a flat, deadpan tone.
Klion smirked faintly. "Yeah."
Wolf ran a hand along one of the beams, testing its sturdiness. "...It's better than nothing."
"Right?" Klion's grin widened a touch. "I thought so."
"How's the Union?" Wolf asked suddenly, his eyes narrowing with a flicker of curiosity and something sharper—impatience laced beneath it.
Klion blinked, then tilted his head slightly. "Huh? What about them?"
"Status," Wolf clarified.
Klion exhaled slowly, leaning against the beam. "They haven't completely fallen apart yet. But I don't think they'll hold out much longer."
Wolf let out a low, short groan through his throat. "Hm..."
Klion raised a brow. "What? You want to kill them?"
Wolf didn't even hesitate. "Why should I over-bleed the inevitable meal for?"
His voice was calm—almost casual—but his words carried a cold weight that made Klion's fingers twitch slightly against the beam.
"...Meal?" Klion echoed quietly. He didn't push for an explanation. Something in Wolf's eyes told him not to.
Wolf broke the silence, shifting topics like turning a blade in hand. "We found an ore mine."
Klion's eyes widened. "Ore mine? In the ruin path?" His attention snapped fully to Wolf.
"Yeah," Wolf answered plainly. "Prepare a mining team. I'll lead the way. There's a monster field on the way there—I'll make sure no one dies."
Klion didn't waste time. He straightened up, wiping his palms on his pants. "Tell me when," he said sharply, already turning to round up people.
As Klion's voice rang out—announcing the successful exploration and ordering preparations—Wolf stood there for a moment, watching the camp stir awake again.
The Union.
The Union's meeting ring felt smaller than it should have, smoke from the central fire wavered between faces, and the rest of the camp seemed to listen with a dozen ears at once.
Arden sat like a taut puppet pulled by anger, while Maja's jaw worked as she processed the suggestion. Hyun-woo and Maja flanked Arden, but they were not the same flank; one was calm, the other volatile.
"What are you saying?" Maja's voice snapped, disbelief sharpening every consonant. She pushed a stray wave of hair behind her ear and leaned forward, palms flat on her knees as if to steady herself against the absurdity.
"Do you not understand me?!"
Arden slammed a hand on the bench. The sound cracked like a strike. "We need to set an example so they understand and get back to their tasks. Look at them looking at Haven of the Forsaken side. If we don't show strength they might as well just cross the line and join them."
He spoke fast, words fuelled by the raw edges of fear and grief. "We have to be the order. We have to enforce it."
Maja rose on the word enforce, indignation lighting her face. The muscles in her neck stood out as she drew herself taller. "You want to punish our people to make a point? You'll break the only thing left holding this together. You think forcing people into work will fix fear? It will bleed them dry—physically and morally."
Her tone had the heat of someone who'd thought too long on what leadership meant.
"That's not justice, Arden. That's tyranny."
Arden's eyes flashed.
"So what? If you got a better idea then fucking tell me right now!" The plea behind the profanity was ugly and raw; everyone felt it. His shoulders trembled with it for a second—anger as armor.
Hyun-woo's mouth thinned. He put a single finger to his lips when Maja rose, a quieting motion that stopped her mid-gesture. He did not debate her; he only leaned forward and spoke in a whisper, the kind that crawls under a man's skin. "No," he breathed to her—and then turned his gaze to Arden, meeting the leader's blazing eyes directly.
The firelight carved Hyun-woo's face into planes. He exhaled, measured and slow, the kind of breath that buys a man a few seconds of thought.
Is it really going to end like this?
His inner voice pressed into the question with the force of someone refusing to let a conclusion arrive by inevitability.
No! Not now... I can't let it end like this...
Under his calm, his thoughts moved faster than his mouth.