Hope couldn't help but think that the city wanted to trap him.

If not, then the damn Spell was rolling the dice of odds for his journey.

'Alright then…Dead end.'

Hope stood at another blockaded street as the rain drizzled overhead.

A heap of cars and barbed wire cluttered over each other as if someone had made a bad imitation of a barricade. Nonetheless, the dirty work did the job because Hope had to change direction.

Again.

Some streets also led to collapsed buildings, bodies of Nightmare Creatures and people sticking out through the wreckage like broken dolls. Arm-thick vines crept all over the tight gaps and slithered through their mouths and ribs. Destroyed structures that served as large barriers were painted with dark hues of blood—the splintered metal frames and shattered windows like hundreds of abysmal eyes rejecting his entry.

'Mm...'

Hope then turned to another street corner.

But not there either.

What about the next one?

'Nope.'

The next one?

Not there either…

Splish… Splish…Splish–

!!!

Footsteps.

Hope slid behind a car. Just in time before two monsters stepped out into the street.

Their steps sloshed through the rain puddles, ignorantly announcing themselves in the surrounding. Or maybe they had enough pride to handle any obstacle in their way.

Hope scooted to the side, tilting his head up to see in the car's rearview mirror. Two skeletal, hunched figures slowly walked down the street. Swaying forward with an awkward gait.

Splish...splish—

Their long arms were stiff with vicious claws slightly grazing the feathered grass.

He saw their demented eyes, face, and their jaws full of razor-sharp fangs like rows of knives. Creeping along forward like dead men towards…him

'Two this time huh.'

Hope thought as he rested his head against the rusted metal car.

Some monsters he was able to avoid. But the few last ones he had to face because they stubbornly chose to go in his direction as if pulled by an invisible string.

Hope brought his spine sword up to his chest.

'Well...let's get this over with.'

It would have to be quick and easy.

Splish…splish…

"..."

Hope's eyes stared into the rearview mirror, watching their hunched figures drawing in closer. The water sloshed from their heavy steps, growing louder in the chilled air with each second.

Inhale.

Twenty-eight yards away.

He had to pierce the head. Or sever it completely. Their limited movements Hope had learned earlier was actually a facade, up until a real battle was in play.

So they were typically fast.

But that just meant he had to be faster.

And if not fast, then carry the element of surprise which lasted ten seconds or less before they gained the upperhand.

'Just think of it as battling humans.' Hope simplified in his head.

Grab.

Hope grabbed a skull next to his boot, the two holes and rotted teeth greeted him. And, if it could speak, it would probably wonder why it was chosen of all things.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

'In death, you're still useful.' Hope silently answered. Of course, it was dead. Hope would really pitch it across if it spoke.

Splish…splish…

Now fourteen yards away.

Exhale–

Hope tossed the skull behind him over the car like a grenade–the piece of bone arcing towards the sky then splattering in a rain puddle to their left.

Skskshh!

Suddenly, like a lizard, their bodies dropped on all fours at the sudden sound and scurried towards the skull.

Swsh!

Hope jumped for the opening.

Low to the ground, he lunged to the nearest distracted figure even if it was distracted for a moment.

A moment was priceless on the battlefield.

Shng— Shng!

His sword instantly found a throat.

Then an eye.

The edge hitting its target with a satisfying flesh and bone rip through its skull. All right before the other skeletal figure lashed out its long limb with unnatural speed.

Sqlch!

But Hope was still in constant motion.

He pulled his sword back, a squelching sound emitting from the stabbed flesh, and deflected the blow in time.

Klang!

"..."

Hope then calmly feinted right.

Its vicious claws brushed a hair's breadth past his face and scratched the air instead.

Hope took that opportune moment to break forward.

He hooked his jagged blade around the figure's leg, putting it flat on its back, then thrusting his sword in its fanged mouth till the blade vibrated to a halt—the jagged point stabbing into the street's asphalt.

The distorted eyes were opened, darting back and forth across the scene as if wondering what just happened.

Hope then stabbed deeper till the jagged blade's teeth tore more of its upper jaw and head.

'Just to be sure.'

Hope thought as it convulsed.

...

Then it was silent.

Both figures were stilled.

Their distorted long frames became nothing more than a collected mass of dead flesh beneath him. And it didn't help that the rain encouraged their stench as well, clouding around his nose and mouth. But it was over.

'That shall do it.'

Sklsh–

Hope pulled his sword out, watching black blood glinting off the jagged edge.

Flk. Flk.

He then began flicking bits of flesh off like they were crumbs. But interrupting his nonchalant behavior was–

[You have slain an Awakaned Monst–]

'Don't.'

Hope thought as he stared up at the gray drizzling sky.

'Just don't.'

"..."

But as if to mock him–and also to finish its second announcement–the Spell teasingly whispered again more sinisterly in his ear:

[You have slain an Awakened Monster…]

Hope's eyebrow twitched.

"Cut it ou–"

[...Blood Fiend!]

"..."

Hope took in a deep breath.

He counted.

Then let out a long sigh.

'Bastard.'

Was it possible to mute this thing?

Hope then tried to redirect his bitterness as he began reaping for the soul shards.

A chilling pulse echoing inside of him as each orb of silvery-blue flames broke.

Then hushing the next as if it were silenced.

***

Hope picked his way among the broken concrete, torn banners, and corroded metal in another street—the remnants of the old world sinking deeper into the rained earth, and yet the way they were placed almost seemed intentional. As if wanting him to look and be curious of their history, of what was forgotten.

The rain continued to fall in a soft, unrelenting drizzle—coating him in a light blanket unlike its heavy tears and thundering groans from earlier.

And a hazy sheen veiled over the ruins.

Blurred were the peaks of skyscrapers and ends of streets.

They slipped down crumbling facades. Down on those speckled bullet holes or coughs of explosive cinders marked along their surfaces.

And all the while, the voices were…a little louder than usual.

Almost excited even.

Rain did tie a lot to his childhood, in which—before his First Nightmare—Hope had thought of it in passing. But the familiar sight and sound of it invited those specific crowds of memories to loudly hum in the back of his mind. Maybe back in the 'Daycare Center' it wasn't so bad, but if the rain was the bridge to the memories, then that was where Hope stood.

Completely at its center.

'At the wasteland I collected 70 soul shards…' Hope thought as he tried to distract himself.

'Want me to sing you a song?'

'Killed that annoying Grieve Crawler…'

'Yes yes!' Yura cried brightly.

'Haha alright which one?'

'Then obtained essence from that Sleeper…'

Wait. Should he count all the Dormant humans as well? He didn't necessarily feel essence when they died.

'How…do soul shards work again?'

No it couldn't be that complicated. A death didn't automatically count in the system. Announced, yes, but numbers probably not.

But as Hope tried to stick to that train of thought, the memories kept calling out to him.

It made him question again if they had a conscience of their own—especially, with the way they'd been acting. If they spoke from a specific past, underlying their recorded voices felt like mockery. As if they stepped close to his ear, bumping against each other to throw the first distraction. Goading him with the stolen sound of his mother's voice. Then sister's. And now his brother's–

!!!

"Ah."

Hope paused in his tracks.

Another barricade of collapsed concrete and twisted metal appeared in front of him, pulling his focus towards the sight.

His eyebrow twitched again. Another damn inconvenience.

But then a second later, like clockwork, his eyes began tracing a rough trail over its surface—plotting points and angles to grab from. It was climbable. However, seemingly a rough structure.

But Hope was going to climb it anyways.

His patience was wearing thin at this point.

No more compromise.

No more changed routes at every other street corner.

Hope clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Up we go."

Shaking his head to hush the voices one last time, Hope then grabbed a slab of wet stone and scaled up the wall. His boot would find a gap for support, another finding a corpse to push off of in which a muffled crack resounded—all their clothes clinging wetly to their cold, lifeless forms which he passed.

His backpack brushed against his back with each pull until finally, he reached the top.

Grunting over the crumbled edge, as he stood up, there was a whole other scene that made him pause.

Hope blinked.

Wiped his sleeve over his eyes.

A gaping crater, deep and foreboding, yawned in the ground. It darkly gazed up at its new visitor, and like the voices, invited him in. Wanting to swallow him whole. Its layers of destruction spiraled down with twisted steel and torn cables dangling. Even in its darkness, particular shadows Hope noticed were carrying an eeriness to it that subtly moaned.

Oooooong–

Hope frowned as something stirred inside him.

'Huh…deja-vu. Is that what they call it…?'