Sezel clenched his jaw, grip locked on the katana until he felt the blood rushing from his knuckles. A silent tilt of his head sent Mari behind him—she moved quickly, almost instinctively, shadowing the distance he needed. Sezel's body fell into practiced movent, every muscle engaged for silence, the predator's slow dance.
He stepped forward. The brittle snap of a twig shattered the hush—the woodland equivalent of stepping on a landmine. The lizard tore away from its grisly feast, eyes the color of faded gold. Its head whipped toward Sezel, reptilian, alert, jaw flexing with intent.
The beast studied him, whole body shifting, obsidian scales glinting between flecks of bone-white. Shadows seed to cling to its skin. Its tongue flicked out, serpentine, tasting the air—a warning Sezel didn't need translated.
_So I get the monster iguana today. Wonderful. If it asks for a password, I'm leaving._
Sezel deepened his stance, left leg forward, right braced. Simple advice: don't trip when you're about to gamble limbs. The lizard lunged, rows of ddled needle-teeth glinting. Sezel swung in a clean arc, blade slicing for the head.
Impact—followed by jarring disappointnt. The katana bit the beast's neck, only to bounce as if he'd struck a steel pipe. The lizard's scales shimred, hardening like volcanic glass.
_Is everything in this place forged by angry engineers?_ His arms rang with the impact, pain buzzing in his wrists.
The lizard kept advancing. Two balloon-like sacs on its jaw flushed sickly yellow-green, swelling with liquid that oozed toxic threat.
"Poison. Of course." Sezel held his ground, blade up. He made another feint, seeing the beast stiffen as scales folded into armor. But instead of following through, he stopped—mid-swing, holding his breath. The lizard, confused, montarily relaxed its defense.
Now. The katana whistled through the air. No resistance this ti—he carved through flesh; the lizard's head went tumbling into weeds.
A shuddering sigh escaped his chest. Relief, tinged with fatigue, as crimson shoulders sagged. [Congratulations, You have Slain a Blackthorn]
_Blackthorn, huh? Nice to et you, goodbye forever._
He flicked the sword, spots of viscous black blood spraying dark grass. As he stepped back, sothing heavier knotted his gut. The creature hadn't been alone—its al, hidden in the shadow of wild grass.
Sezel parted the thicket. The sight hit him like a punch to the solar plexus. Human bodies—three, twisted and ravaged. Rotten skin, blood pooled on the ground. Two bodies were intact, in a grim, waxen way; the third was nothing but a sar of viscera and bones gnawed clean.
His face twisted, nausea climbing up his throat. "Fuck," he spat, stumbling back a step. "Hasn't even been a day. How do they sll this bad already?"
Chemical poison; skin jaundiced, features slack. The Blackthorn had killed them—they were Slayers, pulled into this nightmare and ended by a beast even the "rank system" couldn't save them from.
Sezel knelt in respect. _Young. Not that much older than . And they didn't even get the chance to screw up properly._ A flicker of guilt tightened his jaw.
"Is everything okay, mister?" Mari called from the trees, voice edged with uncertainty.
"Yeah," he forced out, voice strained. "Just found water. I'm coming." No way could she see this. He turned away, bowed his head—a silent apology for the dead.
Their attire was different—sleek black with brown jackets. No sign of Blood Bound uniforms. He peeled off the jackets, grateful for the armor against the coming chill. Dead n didn't need warmth. He searched the packs; inside, he found gold—sealed water, fresh food, dical supplies, even a parachute. The laugh that bubbled up was short and bitter.
_Next ti, I'm applying to be a backpack instead of a rank zero slayer._
He filled one bag with supplies, pausing again. _Almost forgot._ Assessnt devices, pilfered from pockets of the dead, tucked away with grudging respect. Every tool mattered here.
He headed back. Mari waited under the wide tree, eyes wide and relieved. She ran, jacket flapping, arms thrown around his waist. Sezel let the exhaustion fade for a mont—it was the smallest comfort.
---
As evening drew in, the world faded to watercolor—the sun drowned in bruised blue and orange, purple streaking the ruined city. Sezel and Mari sat together, sharing a single sandwich and asured sips of water, conservation demanded by empty streets.
He set aside a vial of the beast's poison, jaundiced liquid glinting in the fading light. _Rank two beast, and yet three people died?_ Two rank twos and a rank three by the look of their gear. It didn't fit. Power ant nothing when stupidity led the way.
"Guess power's just a way to asure how fast you die doing dumb things," he muttered, fingers tracing the edge of the ruined bread.
Mari curled up beside him, jacket bunched around her. The dark made her seem smaller, the city ghostlike behind them.
Sezel stared upward. The sky blazed alive, unwatched by anyone but them. "You know," he said, words scraping forth with surprise, "the sky here is better than Earth's. Bright, clean. No smog, not a hint of yellow."
Mari listened. "I wouldn't know how it looks. I never saw it." Her voice was soft, devoid of mory.
Sezel felt his chest ache, but let a sad giggle slip out. "Just look at it here. You won't see anything this bright if we ever get back. Trust ."
They watched the sunset together—a brief, fragile peace. Sezel knew better than to trust the calm. Night would co savagely, with teeth in the dark. For now, he pressed his bloodied jacket tighter, checking the gear once more.
Street lamps never turned on. The only light was the last scrap of day.
He wondered—half hopeful, half afraid—if this city would ever show him just what had killed all its people. Or if it would wait until midnight, let him et the ghosts before the monsters.
'Maybe...none of them exists. Who knows, for now i guess... everything is fake'
The Night was just going to bring in more danger and mayhaps so of the explanations he had been seeking.
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