It was finally ti for to leave the castle.
Three days of rest, half a dozen awkward als with Effie, and one long conversation with a very offended innkeeper later, I was finally stepping outside the safety of the walls. I'd gotten used to the sll of cooked food and clean sheets again — and now, the stench of rot and smoke hit like a punch to the face.
This was my first ti seeing the outskirts, and saying I was unimpressed would've been an understatent.
Half the houses were nothing but hollow skeletons of wood and stone. Roofs sagged like they were tired of existing. Streets were buried in a mix of dust, ash, and bones. Even the air felt wrong — heavy, damp, like it carried the mory of screams.
Honestly, I was surprised anyone was still alive here.
The few that were — well, they looked like they'd crawled out of their graves just to keep suffering. Starved faces, hollow eyes, skin stretched over bones. Every step I took made feel like an intruder in a dying world.
Except for one person.
She stood out imdiately — tall, with long blonde hair tied into a ssy braid, wearing copper armor that glead even in the dim light. Sohow, she looked alive. Too alive. Like the world hadn't managed to crush her yet.
She was standing in front of a broken fountain, arguing with two n. I couldn't help overhearing.
"Why can't we just pick up two randoms from the outskirts?" she said, throwing her hands up like this was the most obvious solution in the world.
"Because we can't carry dead weight again, Sara," grumbled the larger man beside her — built like a bear, towering, his armor dented and his face covered in scars. His arms looked like they could bend iron.
The third one — short, frail, and constantly twitching — nodded. "Greg's right. We're better off going to the guards for help. Or at least soone alive."
Before I could step around them and pretend I hadn't heard a word, Effie — bless her reckless heart — strode straight up to them.
"Well," she said cheerfully, "if you need two people, and creepy over there are free."
Creepy. That would be .
Sara blinked, then her face lit up.
"Woah! What do you eat to get so big? I'm so jealous!"
Effie grinned, hands on her hips. "Mostly monsters. And bad decisions."
Greg crossed his massive arms and gave a long, unimpressed stare. I could practically hear him thinking liability.
Still, after a mont, he sighed. "Fine. It's an easy hunt anyway. Just don't slow us down."
And that was that. I didn't even get a chance to argue before I found myself drafted into whatever suicide mission they were planning.
---
We left the outskirts an hour later.
The deeper we went, the more the world decayed. Buildings leaned together like drunkards, their shadows twisting into shapes that looked almost alive. The roads were cracked, slick with a dark moss that glowed faintly when you stepped on it. Every once in a while, I'd hear sothing scuttling just out of sight — too fast to be human, too quiet to be safe.
Effie walked up front beside Sara, chatting about everything under the sun like we weren't heading into a monster-infested ruin. Sara laughed often — too often, like she needed to fill the silence with noise just to keep fear away.
Greg marched a few paces behind them, axe slung over his shoulder, muttering curses under his breath. The small guy — whose na, I learned, was Iren — stayed near , eyes darting everywhere, like he expected death to pop out of the walls.
"So," I asked, "what exactly are we hunting?"
Iren swallowed. "A Stray. So kind of serpent thing that's been nesting in the lower ruins. Ate half a patrol last week."
"Lovely."
Sara turned her head and grinned. "Don't worry, it's not that strong! Besides, first-tirs always get the easy jobs."
"That's what people usually say before dying horribly."
She laughed again. "Then you'd better make sure we don't!"
---
By the ti we reached the lower ruins, the sun had already started to fade. The city looked like a corpse — silent, still, waiting. Broken towers jutted from the fog like bones. Sothing dripped in the distance — steady, rhythmic, almost like breathing.
We set up near a collapsed wall. Greg drew a crude map in the dirt, his voice low and serious. "It lairs under that old temple. We go in pairs. Sara with Effie. with you two."
"Wait," Iren said nervously. "That's—"
Dust fell from the broken arches. The ground trembled. And then, with a wet, tearing sound, sothing clawed its way out of the hole.
It stood tall — maybe four ters, maybe more. A creature covered entirely in molten, writhing blood. Its skin pulsed like living muscle, and from beneath its surface, black spines jutted out, sharp and jagged.
A low growl echoed from its throat — deep, wet, vibrating in our bones.
Sara froze. "That's… not the thing from the report."
The Blood Hound turned its head toward us. Its eyes glowed like two dying embers. Then, with no warning, it opened its mouth — and fired.
A ray of blood tore through the air like a beam of red lightning. It hit the ground near Iren, exploding into droplets that hissed and ate through the stone.
"Scatter!" Greg bellowed.
We dove in different directions as another blast seared past us. The creature stepped forward, its claws sinking into the ground, and more lines of hardened blood began to crawl up its body — armor forming, sealing, moving with every breath.
Greg roared and charged, his axe gleaming as he swung at the beast's leg.
The hit landed — and did nothing. The blade bounced off like it struck tal. The hardened blood didn't even crack.
The creature retaliated instantly. Its tail lashed out, striking Greg across the chest and sending him flying into a wall. He coughed, wheezing, but sohow managed to get back on his feet.
Sara tried to draw its attention with quick slashes from her sword, but it barely noticed her. The thing moved like it was made of liquid fire — every wound she made simply closed, sealed by its own blood.
I aid my crossbow and fired at one of the glowing veins along its torso. The bolt struck, but instead of piercing, the blood surged outward, catching the projectile midair and flinging it aside like it was nothing.
"Greg, fall back!" I yelled, trying to draw its gaze.
It turned toward , and I felt sothing cold crawl up my spine.
The way it looked at — it wasn't just hunger. It was recognition.
I reached out with my power, focusing, trying to grasp the blood that flowed through its body — to pull it, twist it, anything.
For a mont, I thought I had it. I felt its pulse, the rhythm of its veins, the raw, living pressure.
But then, it pushed back.
The blood inside it fought . Not resisted — rejected. It felt ancient, wrong, like trying to grab fire with bare hands. My own blood recoiled violently, and pain shot through my arm, searing up to my shoulder.
I stumbled back, gasping.
Effie noticed imdiately. "What happened?!"
"I— I can't control it!"
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