Chapter 2
Above the barren and desolate land, ominous dark clouds loomed heavily.
The dark clouds neither drifted away nor unleashed rain; they merely watched in silence as the people beneath them succumbed to their end.
The stench of blood reverberated across the city. Rotting flesh, its origins unidentifiable, lay scattered throughout the streets.
“This is the end! The end is upon us! Our gods have abandoned us! As the demon’s lackeys hunt us for our flesh, abandon this futile resistance and end your own lives with your spears!”
From atop a pile of corpses in the shattered plaza, the voice of a deranged person echoed.
“…”
Hans, the remaining commander of the city’s guard, could only pity them with his gaze.
His forehead, exposed due to his short-cropped hair, was marked with numerous scars—most being deep wounds, but some resembling clean cuts by blades.
Hans’ plate armor was a testament to the fierce battles he’d fought over the past few weeks. It had become little more than a massive hunk of battered scrap metal. The steel plate covering his left shoulder had entirely detached, revealing the leather undersuit, while the plate on his right arm was barely hanging on by a thread.
To make matters worse, his armor was covered in bright green liquid, resembling some creature’s blood. Judging by its color and viscosity, it wasn’t human blood.
Hans discarded the cloth he’d been holding and picked up a torn scrap of clothing, beginning once more to scrub the greenish blood off his armor. It was a grim, dirty task that offered little success, but it had to be done to survive.
“…When is the relief force arriving?”
“It will take about three more days… You asked the same question ten minutes ago.”
“…Damn it.”
Hans threw the rag to the ground and slumped down, his joints groaning in protest. It had been three days since he’d slept.
“…How’s the condition of the soldiers?”
“They’re in bad shape. Our numbers are half what we once had, and eighty percent of these are wounded.”
“Tell the soldiers to thoroughly clean off any mutagenic blood. If an epidemic breaks out in this situation, it’ll be the end of us.”
After saying this, Hans leaned against the crumbling city wall and closed his eyes for a moment. A brief nap was the least he could afford; otherwise, he too might end up like the deranged people shouting atop the corpses.
“…Over there.”
Just as Hans began to doze off, a boy’s voice reached his ears.
He forced his heavy eyelids open and awkwardly turned his head in the direction of the voice. The armor creaked uncomfortably.
The boy had striking silver hair and deep blue eyes. His clothes were tattered and barely held together in shreds. His bare feet, dirty and scarred, bore signs of much wandering.
…Though his calm, mysterious gaze was striking, judging by his appearance, the boy was merely another of the many street urchins one could find around the city.
“Get away from the corpses scattered around here. If you stay, there’s a danger of catching a disease, and you should retreat to the inner city immediately.”
Hans sighed, motioning toward the boy with his hand.
“…”
The boy slowly placed his hand on the broken city wall and turned his gaze toward the mounds of corpses exuding foul odors. Not a hint of emotion flickered on his face as he looked at the piled bodies and the madmen screaming atop them.
He then approached Hans slowly.
“There doesn’t appear to be any resident mage. It’d be far safer to burn all the corpses.”
“Would you even waste a powerful mage just to protect a place like this?”
“…”
The boy turned around and looked back at the path he had taken.
Cannibalized rats, a prostitute skewered by a blade and left abandoned on the street, a burned-out bank, and a collapsed church filled with crazed individuals.
“Strathers is done for.”
“…Then why are you still protecting a city that’s already finished? What’s left for you to gain?”
The innocent question made Hans burst out laughing. It was absurd.
“Does the city guard really need a reason to protect their city?”
Hans answered immediately, not bothering to think deeply.
“…”
The boy’s straightforward, emotionless inquiry lingered for a moment.
“…I may not know much about war, but even from my understanding, the situation looks extremely bleak. It seems like we won’t last more than a few days… Aren’t you afraid of death?”
“Yes, I am.”
Hans responded promptly without deep thought to the boy’s second question.
“Then why don’t you flee?”
“I’m the commander of this city’s guard.”
With that, Hans answered the boy’s third question without missing a beat.
“…”
The boy seemed deep in thought, perhaps reflecting on the unwavering attitude displayed by Hans. In contrast, Hans didn’t appear particularly interested in the suddenly appeared street urchin. After all, such vagrants were a common sight across the city.
“Stop standing there idly and get inside the city. There’s too much dirty blood around here.”
Hans frowned slightly, annoyed by the boy’s proximity. He was wary of accidentally infecting the lad with the contaminated blood that still lingered on his armor.
“Shouldn’t we all be dead whether you win or lose? Whether you’re inside or outside the city, the outcome will be the same.”
Hans couldn’t begin to guess why the boy sat beside him. The boy’s calm expression contradicted any signs of giving up. His eyes were sharp and full of life.
“Well, that’s true.”
In the end, Hans gave up on shooing the boy away. After all, whether inside the city or out, their current predicament amounted to the same grim reality.
“…What a rotten age.”
Hans looked up at the sky darkened by the ominous clouds floating high above.
Back when Hans was a child, some 30 years ago, the world hadn’t devolved so far. There were skirmishes with Orcs to the west and Elves on the east, but there was at least a baseline of logic and reasoning to how things worked.
But all of that changed with the arrival of one mage.
Toca the Black Mage.
This man summoned an ancient devil, offering the world in exchange for becoming a transcendent being. In response, the ancient devil completed a full materialization into the world.
After that day, the smell of corpses filled the air everywhere, and the cries of the dying never ceased. Every moment became a struggle for survival, and the words hope and future had long since become extinct.
“Well, even among this rotten age, this city is probably the most wretched place…”
“Even so, it’s a city that must be defended.”
“Ha! You’re right about that.”
Hans laughed heartily, patting the boy on the back before stopping mid-motion, reminded of the boy’s frail state.
Even among the vagrants, the boy was shockingly emaciated. It felt like his spine might snap if Hans accidentally hit the boy with his steel-gloved hand.
“Behind the burned-out bank, there’s a forward base. There’s a bit of bread left there… take it if you need.”
“But isn’t that for the soldiers?”
“Just say you’ve come for Hans’ portion, and they’ll hand it over without question.”
“That’s wasteful. I’m just a vagrant, and eating food to replenish energy won’t help in defending the city.”
The boy’s cold calculation left Hans at a loss.
“…That’s true.”
How could he argue with that? The food supply was already scarce, and even the few soldiers left barely had enough to eat. Sharing it with someone who wouldn’t contribute anything was, indeed, a drain on their combat strength.
“Take it anyway.”
Nevertheless, Hans said this stubbornly.
Seeing that the boy wouldn’t budge, Hans trudged in his heavy armor toward the forward base behind the bank and soon returned with a thick, hard piece of bread.
The thin slice of stale bread landed in the boy’s hand.
Though coated in dust and mold, this was the last food remaining in the city.
“The higher power must be watching, and this is far from a meaningless act.”
Hans alternated his gaze between the fallen church cross and the boy’s eyes, speaking.
“If all the citizens starve to death, what good is the city guard?”
“…”
Finally, the boy silently bit into the bread.
It was the first meal he’d had since being reborn.
Though disgustingly hard and smelly with hints of mold, there were many who couldn’t even scavenge such rotten bread and had starved instead.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Just as the boy was cautiously chewing, the massive bell ringing from beyond the city gates screamed in distress.
“Large numbers of Mutants reported at 400 meters to the front! Their numbers far exceed anything we’ve seen so far!”
“The scouts have reported the appearance of the Marauders! The mobile units should immediately return to the front lines for preparation and all forces should concentrate at the city center!”
From the wobbly wooden bell tower, a young soldier shouted with urgency as droplets of spittle flew. Soldiers who had fallen into a brief slumber groaned despairingly in response to the unexpected sound of an air raid alarm, while Hans quietly stared at the sky, muttering curses under his breath.
“…Damn.”
Despair hung heavy on his face, yet his eyes still gleamed with a fighting spirit, undiminished.
“Run!”
“What did I just say? There’s no real difference whether you’re here or inside the city.”
“But still, run. There’s a small hole in the northern part of the city wall. Get out through there, run with your back to the sun. If you’re lucky, you might escape the Marauders’ encirclement and encounter the relief force heading our way.”
“But couldn’t the city guard win?”
“Did you not hear that the Marauders have appeared?”
“I did.”
“Are you aware when the Marauders appear on the battlefield?”
“When they are absolutely certain of victory.”
Marauders are cunning. Normally, they hide in deep underground or dense forests, sending only mutant armies composed of captured livestock and villagers to slowly deplete the strength of their prey.
Once the prey has been sufficiently weakened and their victory assured, only then do they emerge onto the battlefield—to deliver the final blow and confirm their dominion.
The appearance of Marauders on the battlefield is as good as a death sentence for everyone present.
Wise ones among them might take their own lives to avoid a grueling death, while the foolish will be captured, helplessly watching as their bodies metamorphose into grotesque mutants.
“If you know all this, run! Survive and spread the word of our brave struggle to others.”
Commander Hans, who had shared his bread with the boy, was among the foolish ones.
He turned his eyes from the boy and spoke to the soldiers.
“Today destiny has chosen death for us! Monsters composed of our own brothers and sisters will slaughter us, and any surviving neighbors will be torn apart!”
Hans loudly declared, his heavy steel armor creaking ominously.
“The situation is dire! Our equipment is rusted, their fangs and claws are venomous!”
One by one, the guards’ terrified and despairing eyes turned toward Hans.
“Our courage is gone, only fear remains. They’ve driven us to our limits and stolen all our arrows and weapons!”
“…”
“…”
“But! They took everything… except for our fury!”
“…”
“…”
“Do not forget the scene of our children being torn apart by their claws, our comrades and friends transformed into hideous monsters by the Marauders!”
Gradually, the flames of anger rekindled in the once-desperate eyes of the guards.
“Anyone who wishes to flee, do so now! But for those wanting to uphold our self-esteem until the end, for those still wishing to preserve the humanity within us, look with disdain upon these wicked minions of the devil…”
Inside, pride and spirit began to flare up again. The fire inflamed their hearts, and cries of wild excitement erupted from the ranks.
“Follow me onto this terrible battlefield and end our days as honorable warriors! For Estella!”
“For Estella!”
“For Estella!”
Despair quickly dissipated, excitement flowing among the remaining guards. Ignoring makeshift splints attached to their broken arms and legs, they retrieved their armor and tightly clutched the broken weapon hilts.
The boy, as he stuffed the remaining bread in his mouth, thought to himself.
‘Originally, it would be wisest for me to flee, letting them die while I escape.’
The level-15 enemy—this was a foe completely designed to be unbeatable by the average level-1 character.
Thus, every newly spawned human vagrant must choose the only option available in this tutorial: flee from the Marauders and the Mutants overrunning the city.
It was a classic tutorial method, showcasing the chaotic moments prior to an impending city’s demise, ensuring players immersed in the game’s world by starting with survival instinct training.
For the player-character, a vagrant of humanity would abandon Strathers as it collapsed and embark on a long journey toward the central city, where the game truly began—unchangeable, regardless of the player’s actions.
However, this was not a game world.
No such forced system restrictions existed here.
The boy carefully rose to his feet, leaning on the crumbling fortress walls.
With his silvery hair swishing behind him, this boy could flee anytime.
He’d memorized the terrain beyond Strathers with such precision that he knew the exact location of each small rock. He could avoid dangerous zones where monsters roamed, find safe places for overnight rest—likely even with his eyes closed.
Still, his steps were not headed north. Instead, they moved toward the battlefield.
There was no grand reason.
The bread provided by Hans had been terribly hard and coarse. Strangely, though, it felt warm as if freshly baked.
It was odd. Bread from the storage, long left untouched and possibly on the brink of rotting, shouldn’t have felt this warm.
A terrible, tasteless piece of bread.
Even that could inspire risking one’s life. Yet, there was another specific reason.
‘Ah, finally an opportunity to catch you.’
If someone had overheard the boy’s inner thoughts, they would have surely exclaimed about his madness.
The boy wasn’t invigorated by the intensity of the battle or the soldiers’ solemn resolve.
He was excited by something uniquely different—something most others might consider absurd.
The chance to capture a monster deemed “impossible” to defeat.
‘This is an opportunity. A rare, exclusive experience that only I can have in this world…’
Though stepping into this game world already granted him a special experience no one else in the world could claim, evidently, it wasn’t enough for this strange boy.
How the boy had arrived at this point, no one quite knew.
Typical individuals who describe themselves as “hipsters” often have certain peculiarities, but this boy’s excitement came particularly from twisted, deviant elements.
…Anyway.
For a disgusting, tasteless piece of bread and some deeply twisted desire…
“Awakening.”
The boy summoned a colossal bolt of lightning onto the battlefield.
