The group of humans pressed forward, their bodies weary but their resolve unwavering.

The once-thriving city of Norvik stretched before them, or at least what remained of it.

Once, this place had been alive—a jewel of the kingdom, filled with bustling streets, merchants calling out their wares, and the laughter of children.

But now, Norvik was nothing more than a graveyard.

Shattered buildings loomed like broken bones, their skeletal remains jutting into the sky.

Fires had long since died out, leaving behind only charred wood and blackened stone.

And through the ruins, monsters prowled.

Twisted creatures, warped beyond recognition, slithered and lurked among the debris, their glowing eyes flickering like embers in the dark.

But there was no time to mourn.

No time to linger.

They moved quickly, resting only when absolutely necessary.

Every step was a battle—monsters lunging from the shadows, gnashing fangs and slashing claws.

Yet, with each fight, the group grew stronger.

Kenta, his small frame darting like a shadow, became faster, his daggers striking with precision.

Bob, one of the captured humans, had once been weak, his body still bearing the scars of his captivity.

But now?

Now, he swung his axe with power, cleaving through enemies with each brutal strike.

With every battle, their movements became sharper, their instincts honed by the constant struggle for survival.

Asael, once burdened by his uncontrollable power, had learned to wield it with greater mastery.

And Anne, whose strength had once faded, was slowly regaining the divine light of the Saintess.

The journey was not just a test of endurance—it was transforming them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of blood, exhaustion, and marching, they reached the edge of a dense forest.

A wall of towering trees stretched before them, their dark green canopies shrouding the path ahead in shadows.

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The air here was thick with the scent of damp earth, and the distant sounds of birds and unseen creatures whispered through the branches.

"This is it." Asael’s voice was calm but firm as he turned to face the group.

"Once we cross this forest, we will reach Marquis Hector’s territory."

A ripple of relief spread through the survivors.

Anne let out a small breath, her voice soft but hopeful. "Just a little more."

Nearby, Bob clapped Kenta on the shoulder, his massive hand nearly knocking the smaller man forward.

"I hope you're not tired, little friend." He grinned, the roughness of his voice betraying his exhaustion.

Kenta smirked, rolling his shoulders. "I'm fine. I'm stronger than I look."

Bob let out a deep chuckle. "That, I believe."

Their journey had been brutal, but even in the midst of suffering, bonds had formed.

"Enough talking," Steven said, adjusting his grip on his sword. "Let’s go."

And with that, the group stepped forward, disappearing into the depths of the forest.

----

The forest was thick with towering trees, their branches weaving a suffocating canopy overhead.

Shadows slithered between the trunks, and the scent of damp earth mixed with something else—something rotten.

The group moved cautiously, their senses sharp. The silence was unnatural.

Then, it came.

A piercing scream ripped through the air.

"HELP ME! PLEASE, SOMEONE! SAVE ME!"

The desperate cry of a woman, her voice thick with terror, echoed between the trees.

Asael's body moved before his mind could think—a hero's instinct.

But just as he was about to dash forward, a strong hand blocked his path.

Steven.

"What are you doing?" Steven's voice was sharp, firm.

"Someone is in danger!" Asael argued.

Steven’s eyes hardened. "And what if it's a trap?"

Asael clenched his fists. "It doesn’t matter. I have to help them!"

Steven’s face twisted in frustration. "Why don’t you understand?!"

"It’s my duty to protect people!" Asael shot back, his voice rising.

Steven’s eyes turned cold. "You’re too weak to fulfill your duties, 'hero.'"

The words cut deeper than any blade.

Asael's teeth clenched. "Then what about you?! Are YOU strong? If so, why don't you help?!"

"STOP IT!" Anne's voice shattered the tension.

Kenta and Bob stepped between them, their expressions grim.

"Now’s not the time to fight," Bob said.

"Let’s check it out first," Anne suggested, her voice steady but urgent. "If it's a trap, we'll deal with it."

Steven didn’t answer at first, his jaw tight.

But when Kenta and Bob also spoke in agreement, he finally let out a sigh of irritation.

"Fine."

Reluctantly, they all advanced toward the source of the scream.

---

After going a little bit more, they found her in a small clearing, a wooden cage barely holding together, its rusted iron bars bent in places.

Inside, a woman lay hunched over, her body covered in bruises and deep gashes.

Blood stained her ragged clothing, and her tear-streaked face twisted in agony.

"Please... please help me!" she sobbed, her voice raw. "I-I don’t want to die!"

Asael’s heart tightened.

He couldn't stand it.

He moved before anyone could stop him.

But just as he stepped forward—

BANG!

A brutal force slammed into him, knocking him off his feet!

Dirt scraped his skin as he crashed onto the ground, stunned.

Steven had shoved him aside.

The moment Asael hit the ground—arrows rained from above.

Steven grunted as three arrows pierced his flesh.

One struck his shoulder.

Another embedded itself deep in his thigh.

The third sank straight into his side, dangerously close to his ribs.

A split second later, a sharpened wooden spike shot up from the ground—right where Asael had been standing.

A trap.

Asael's breath caught. "Steven!"

He scrambled to his feet, rushing to Steven’s side.

Blood was already seeping through his armor, staining the ground beneath him.

His fingers shook as he pulled the arrows free—the tips were coated in something thick and dark.

His stomach dropped.

"Saintess—it's poison!"

Anne was already moving. "I’m coming!"

Bob and Kenta raised their weapons, their eyes darting around the trees. The enemy was near.

But before anyone could react—

SCHLK!

A single arrow pierced the woman’s throat.

Her scream died in a wet gurgle.

Her eyes widened in shock, her fingers clawing at the wooden bars.

Blood poured from her mouth, dribbling down her chin as she collapsed inside the cage.

Her lifeless eyes stared straight at Asael.

A pit formed in his stomach.

He had rushed to save her.

And now she was dead.

"Tch." A voice sneered from the shadows.

Figures emerged from the trees, their bodies blending into the darkness.

Gnolls.

Their hyena-like grins gleamed in the dim light, their fur matted and dirty. Leimer's pack.

"Heh. Right on time."

The gnoll chief, Leimer, stepped forward, his sharp teeth gleaming in amusement.

His cruel yellow eyes locked onto Asael.

"I was hoping you'd take the bait, human."

More gnolls appeared, their clawed hands gripping jagged blades, spears, and bows.

They surrounded the group, cutting off every escape route.

The air grew thick with the scent of blood.

Asael clenched his fists, rage and grief boiling in his chest.

The game had just begun.