Thirty minutes had slowly slipped away in the burning village.
That much time had been enough for most of the villagers to make a successful escape. The noise that had once filled the chaotic surroundings had now faded. Only the crackling of flames and the wails of the few helpless ones remained.
Currently rushing through the streets were two figures—or rather, three. Draven, dragging the hand of an old man whose clothes had been tattered by heat, carried an infant in his free arm as he made his way through the blazing village toward the exit.
"Move faster, gramps," Draven urged impatiently, glancing back at the old man.
"My legs are weak," the old man replied feebly. "I appreciate your kindness, but you can leave me behind. Save the little one instead. A man my age shouldn't be afraid to die."
"Kindness?" Draven repeated with a short, sarcastic laugh. "Please. Just keep moving, gramps."
The old man gave up trying to persuade him and continued on, his steps slow and unsteady.
After three long, uncomfortable minutes, they finally reached the empty edge of the village.
Draven handed the crying infant to the old man and told him to find the other villagers who had escaped to the stream. Before the old man could respond, Draven had already turned back and vanished into the fiery chaos.
The old man stood there for a moment, staring blankly at the burning village. I've never seen that face before… he must be a wandering kind soul, he thought, then turned away and continued down the path toward the stream, carrying the crying baby.
Meanwhile, Draven ran deeper into the village, scanning his surroundings for more survivors. Most of the houses in this area had already been reduced to ashes, especially the wooden cottages. If there had been people inside them before, they were surely gone now.
Even so, he kept pushing forward, the searing heat roasting his skin from both sides. He stayed on the streets, avoiding direct contact with the burning structures—except when he spotted signs of life inside them.
So far, he had managed to rescue a total of eleven villagers, most of them babies abandoned by panicking adults. He figured that should be enough to count his first sub-mission as a success.
Now, only the second sub-mission remained. He simply had to survive the remaining time to complete the main mission.
"But with how bad this fire's gotten and how much time is left, finding the cause of the outbreak seems impossible," Draven muttered under his breath.
"Maybe the second sub-mission's just an extra obstacle to make the survival mission harder."
He suddenly stopped in his tracks, his expression tightening. Thoughts began to connect in his mind, and his eyes slowly widened.
"The surge of missing people over the past six months… if I'm right, they're all connected to this mysterious system. My candidate tag was eighteen thousand something—that means over eighteen thousand people were chosen before me."
As he pieced everything together, the realization hit him like a cold wave. Those missing people weren't just gone—they were victims of this Survival System. They had died in their missions. And if he failed to survive, he'd end up as one of them.
A chill crept down Draven's spine. Death? To simply vanish like the rest? Even though he often found life dull and exhausting, he couldn't afford to die—not yet, not before getting revenge on those bastards who had made his life miserable.
Draven jogged through the burning streets, half-lost in his thoughts. Only the scorching air biting at his skin kept him grounded in reality.
WAAA!
The sharp wailing of an infant suddenly pierced the air from behind him, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"A baby? Still alive here?" Draven muttered in surprise. He had assumed no one could've survived in this part of the village. Guess he was wrong.
Letting out a tired sigh, he pushed aside his worries and focused on the sound. Using the baby's cries as his guide, he dashed toward it.
But before he could get close, a sharp sting shot through his neck.
His eyes widened in shock as pain spread rapidly through his body. His strength began to fade, his vision blurred, and his senses dulled. Dizziness crashed over him like a wave.
Weakened and disoriented, Draven felt the world spin around him. Moments later, his body collapsed to the ground, his gaze fixed on the night sky above.
"W-what's happening…" he stammered weakly. Even speaking felt impossible.
The sounds around him faded to faint murmurs. The baby's cry vanished entirely. In its place came distant laughter—low, guttural, and inhuman. Then, the sound of multiple footsteps approaching from behind.
Draven's body trembled uncontrollably. His instincts screamed for him to move, to fight, to resist, but his limbs refused to obey. His heart pounded, not from exhaustion, but from a raw, primal fear he hadn't felt in years.
The footsteps and monstrous laughter drew closer and closer until they were right beside him.
With his vision clouded, Draven couldn't make out their faces. But from their silhouettes, he could tell one thing for certain—these were not humans.
What are they? was his final thought before everything went black.
...
Second chapter, what do you feel about it? Leave a comment