Of course, that was a fleeting thought.

There was the benefit of obtaining that Dreamer's essence afterall.

Step. Step. Step–

Crunch.

Hope paused in his tracks as a crunching sound cracked beneath his boot. He looked down, lifting his leg to see through the patch of grass.

And there he saw a crumble of bones. So old and ruined that it barely held onto any white. Nearby, a fragmented skull could also be seen, gazing at him with those empty sockets.

Hope walked over the fragments, not paying much mind to coming across the decay here. But because of that realization, other shapes he had mistaken as part of the motors and buildings were revealed as bodies as well. Skins that grayed matched the ruins, bloated and grotesque ones slumped over cars.

Hope paused as he found several of them wearing Brave Arm uniforms. Tattered and stained–

'Whole damn city went loose. All the guards were called to the city's center…'

Hope blinked from the voice's sudden spring from the whispers. Right. One of the men he interrogated after coming across that Adam boy said that.

Hope turned away and continued through the fog, his hand gripping tighter onto the bone sword.

In this thick shrouded street, the sun's yellow rays couldn't pierce this deep. Not when the fog's wisps for fingers grappled between the skeletal remains of the buildings. Like the vines, they invaded everywhere, sneaking through the gaps and crevices like a pervasive spirit.

'Mm…'

The noise in his mind began to hush as his eyes scanned the environment, bouncing between each waste.

And the fog closed in more as time passed.

But in the blurred distance, Hope noticed a figure of a person.

Before Hope could lash out, he realized that…he couldn't see the outline of the figure's legs. At least not where they should be.

Instead, the figure appeared like a floating ghost in the fog, suspended in air. Hope paused and tried to innately feel the danger around. No threatening aura emitted from it… But his fingers twitched on the hilt, ready to respond to any attack hidden in the shrubs before continuing forward.

And another floating figure bled through the fog.

Then two more.

Then six.

Strung up like decorations, rows from jutted poles and streetlights, cords pulled on their necks as their bodies swayed in the breeze. Hope blinked as he saw one's face was all but sunken to bones and empty sockets. Some of them were years old, others were eerily fresh, barely recognized as human with layers of tattered clothes like a monster's furry hide or faces distorted from injuries they'd suffered last.

Each of this space called out as a graveyard.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Hope frowned.

'Lawless city…' He thought.

Just how far did these people stretch that line of freedom?

Hope looked behind. Of course, he was met with the mist wall again, but from this distance to the glass dome tower, the environment had already shifted drastically. Was this another example of 'survival of the fittest'?

"Help. Me."

Swiiish–

Mist swirled in the air.

Instantly, Hope raised his sword.

The jagged blade aimed at the possible source of threat.

But angled from its point was a man hanging. The wet words he had managed to slur squeezed through a throat clogged with blood. The cord around the pole seemed to have loosened, lowering him enough for his toes to reach a crashed car's roof for support. And another cord tied around his wrists and ankles.

"Help…me…" He slurred again. His voice losing itself in the fog.

Hope blinked.

"Why should I?" Hope nonchalantly said as he lowered his sword.

The man's bruised eyelids pulled back, his pupils directed at Hope. Begging him. Pleading him.

This man must be a stray. No affiliation to the main settlements. Far from Sector Two. A rogue. And what possible 'crime' could this rogue commit for him to be strung up in this situation?

Hope scanned the shadows in the buildings.

Where were the other people responsible for this?

As Hope showed no sign of further action, the man's eyes trembled. It was the pitiful expression of having nothing else to give but his beggar words.

Words…

That tangent thought kindled an idea.

"Nothing huh."

Hope said, tilting his head.

"Well, you still have that tongue of yours."

Hope raised his foot and walked onto the car the man was barely standing on, the metal groaning as he reached his side.

Hope then hesitated.

Reluctant of the next coming words before speaking.

"Depending on your answer…I'll grant your wish."

The man's eyes trembled again.

Hope restrained a deep frown. A deal was the same as making a promise…But it wasn't like this man could betray him if he tried.

"Do you know of an Awakened around here?" Hope waved his sword casually at the fog. "The one who sets up traps."

"...!" His mouth opened and closed. The sound of gurgling followed as he struggled to speak. "Yes–"

"Where."

"..."

Hope sighed. "Even a vague answer could be helpful."

"...!" The man coughed, blood leaking from his neck. "N-near…near…"

And as if suddenly cursed with muteness, his voice completely faltered. That scared the man. His eyes widened. Panicked as if he could see his wishful request slipping from his grasp. His body rattled against the pole as he tried to speak again but to no avail.

'Well, I guess he does have nothing to give.'

He supposed the man didn't prove any use to him. Hope was about to turn away.

But before he turned completely, the man started to mouth the words instead. A last desperate act. Hope paused as he watched the lips slowly forming out the words. What the man could form anyway with those swollen lips.

Hope blinked.

'Ah.'

"Is that it?"

The man's head trembled into a nod.

'Alright then.'

A deal was a deal.

Hope raised the sword to the man's neck and a dumb gratitude flickered across the man's face at that moment which Hope ignored.

'Right…' An instinctive voice whispered.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Shing–

The blade's teeth barely scratched the man's neck as Hope turned and aimed his sword at the other sound.

A ragged woman stood at a building's broken entrance. Her skin was stained and smudged and hair was in thick, messy locks as she held a measly knife.

Hope blinked at it.

Not much of a threat.

The woman's eyes narrowed as she met Hope's gaze. "He deserves it."

"You could waste one life." Hope said.

Rustle. Rustle.

But now it was Hope's turn to narrow his eyes.

Rustle. Rustle...

Around him, he could hear steps shuffling out into the street. Shadows loomed in the fog as they broke through the grass and crunched on the bones surrounding him.

Hope side-glanced at them.

Six men. Mundane humans.

No guns.

Crafted weapons. Pipes. And crowbars instead.

"Step down." One man said.

"…"

At that moment, Hope debated acting on an impulsive thought. But then decided against it.

It would be unnecessary energy to fight against these people.

Hope lowered his sword and then stepped off the car nonchalantly. "I'll be on my way then."

"...!" The hanging man's throat gurgled with blood again. The sound of his fidgeting increased as Hope walked further away.

"I heard what you've asked the man."

Hope blinked at the woman's words. "And?"

She sneered and spoke in a harsh whisper. "You government and Sector people are all the same. We told you guys already, we want nothing from your recruitment!"

"…"

'What?'