The fires burned until the next morning, filling the choked air with even more smoke and ash. The clouds rolling above were darker too, fed by the rising pillars of thick smoke that billowed from the churning sea of flames. The fires had spread far and wide in most directions, the winds sparing mine. I awoke not too long ago with one side of my face lying against the dirt, having been knocked unconscious by whatever the hell I had done that caused the inferno in front of me. It was a miracle that the winds were in my favor, a sign of goodluck amidst an otherwise horrible night.

The wolves, or at least the few bones that remained of them, melted between the flames. Whatever those creatures were, they were nothing short of monstrous. A grim reminder of what I had to face in this dying world.

I was sat cross-legged, my back against the very same tree where I attempted and failed to get a goodnight’s rest the first time. From here, I watched over the sea of yellow and orange, listening to the crackle of burning wood. Despite spending most of the night unconscious, my body was nowhere near rested. I felt exhausted. My eyes burned. My tongue was dry. My muscles were sore. Dirt and grime covered my body and whatever was left of my ragged clothes, which was not much anyway.

Last night was a victory, but it was a close-callnonetheless. It did not bode well how the wolves managed to sneak up on me without making any sort of sound until one of them decided when it was already too late for me to run away. If that wolf had not startled me awake, then I would have most likely died soon after.

Despite the near death experience, my mind was not too bothered. In fact, there was a sense of triumph within me, accompanied by relief. The sword - my sword - had done what was expected of it, empowering my weak body towards superhuman ability and guiding my unskilled self to victory. It felt so natural during that time, but looking back, it was obvious that it was the sword in control, not me. The superhuman abilities and the skills, no matter how natural they felt, were still inherently alien. If I was to grow stronger and prevent an early death, I had to learn.

But first things first, I had to continue onward. The direction I followed proved somewhat unlucky, but it was unfair to put the blame solely on the shoulders of a concept. This forest, dead and rotten, stretched for many kilometers in all directions. There was no sun to wash away the gloom of the day and neither was there a moon to act as a guide in the darkness of the night. The world was also in the process of an extinction-level event. It was understandable that there were monsters up and about.

With a deep breath that felt like a rush of relief, I marched off into the same direction as before, bringing with me the only things I had. Myself and my sword.

As the day rolled by, I found myself deep in thought. There were many things for me to think about, most of them questions with no clear or forthcoming answer. The glowing of the sword, the existence of those monstrous wolves, this dead forest I was walking through, the gloomy and depressing landscape that surrounded me, and where was I really expected to go? Also, there was the question of: where the hell was everyone else?

I could not help but wonder if I was somewhere far away from whatever frontlines that existed. If so, then how was I supposed to reach civilization? There was also the problem of my main enemy. The harbinger of this world’s doom. I had no idea who or what they were. Remembering what I saw from when I was shown this world by the old man, they were beings that wrought fire and left behind nothing but death and destruction in their wake. There was a comparison to be made here with a certain kind of otherworldly monster from back home, but I decided to hold off with my assumptions until I could say for certain what I was up against.

After a few hours of quiet walking where the only sound accompanying me were the snapping of dried twigs underneath my ragged shoes, the forest began to wane. Elated by the fact that I was about to leave this expanse of dead trees, I picked up the pace, stumbling upon a clearing. A field of dead grass. Beyond, however, was something that made me grip the handle of my sword a little tighter.

Surrounded by patches of ruined fields long since trampled and covered by layers of ash and debris, a collection of stone buildings loomed in the distance. The buildings made up what looked like a small town, or at least what remained of it. A village, perhaps? Despite my instincts warning me that there was something amiss, I decided to investigate. After all, there was nothing else for me to do in this wasteland. Maybe I could find out what happened here.

As I walked between the abandoned fields, my feet found the firm but mangled remains of a cobblestone road that led into the ruined settlement. Making use of the path, exploring the town proved less tedious than expected, though there was not much for me to explore in the first place.

The architecture of the buildings reminded me of a medieval town. With rows of buildings between narrow and winding streets, it would have been easy to get lost if you were not familiar with the place. That said, it was also burned down. Most of the buildings were eroding from the tip and bottom. Whatever wooden supports or materials that once made up parts of the buildings had all since rotted or turned to ash. There were also black stains on some walls. Most looked like ash. Others looked like dried blood.

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As I rounded a corner and approached what looked to be the center of the town, a sense of dread gripped my heart. With sword raised and a heavy heart, I approached the remains of a large stone well in the center where all the roads branching across the town converged. I had seen wells before in videos and in real life, but this was the biggest one yet, taking up most of the town center.

The gaping mouth of the well whistled as an unexpected wind blew through the narrow streets and bounced off its walls. There had been no wind for a few hours. Something was amiss, but I had to know what. I walked forward, sword ready, and reached the wall of the well.

Then I looked down.

A chill went down my spine as my heart was seized by dread. Despite the screams of my instincts and the begging of my mind, I could not stray my eyes away from what I saw. Whatever water that used to linger at the bottom of the well was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a massive pile of human bones inside, stacked until they reached more than halfway across the height of the hole. The bones varied in size and shape. Some were small, others big, most broken, but there was no mistaking the skills within the pile.

With a burst of strength and accompanied by the sudden shine of my sword, I managed to pull myself away from the gruesome sight, gagging as I fell on my knees to pant. They were not whole bodies of flesh and blood, only bones, but the pain and disgust was all the same. There looked to be hundreds of skeletons in that well alone, all of them jammed together. A few looked too small and too young.

I hauled myself away and settled down against the cold wall of a nearby building, holding my head and squinting my eyes as the gravity of what I had seen bore down on my mind like an avalanche. It was also accompanied by flashes of the dead and dying from during the shooting, their red blood pooling around unmoving bodies, their moans echoing in my ears.

Monsters. There were monsters there, and there were monsters here. They were one and the same. Dread had seized my heart, but there was something else brewing within. A rising rage. A smoldering fire.

Whoever or whatever did this would find its doom through me, I swore it.

Returning to relative calm, I pulled myself together somewhat. There were a few things that needed doing, and finding. The next hour was then spent exploring the rest of the ruins. Most of the buildings, upon inspection, were simply houses with some rooms and living spaces, containing the property of families and people long gone. I tried my best to steel my heart as I explored, but there were rooms that proved too much for even my bold heart.

One such room had a crib with bones. Little bones. I did not linger there long, but the floor became privy to a few of my tears. It was heartbreaking.

Unfortunately, most of the buildings had indeed burned down, leaving only their stone base which made up the first floor of each. There were skeletons and bones here and there, alongside smudges and stains that looked both like ash and dried blood. I was unsure which was which. A few of the buildings looked like the remains of workshops and stores, containing rusted trinkets, tools, a few pieces of clothing, protection, and some weapons. There was also a leather backpack hidden inside an iron chest, the locks of which were easily severed by the swing of a sword. It was a miracle that anything survived whatever blaze that spread through this place.

What I was doing, searching and breaking in, felt like robbery, but there was little else for me to do besides checking out what I could loot. With that in mind, despite living in the streets, I never gained the guts to steal from anyone else aside from the occasional trash bin. And I was not even sure if that counted as stealing.

After an hour or so, I had brought most of the things I found that I could use into one of the more sturdy houses, placing and arranging them onto a table that still stood inside what appeared to be a dining room.

It was a modest haul: a crude leather backpack that was somewhat worn, a boot for each foot that were not the same make and had seen better days, a dark tunic that had a long gash running down the left shoulder but was otherwise intact, a dark trouser with some cuts and holes that were not too egregious, two leather pouches that looked like they were stitched to carry water but were empty, and a tarp that was mostly whole.

None of the things were fresh, clean, or new. In spite of that, they were enough. I could clean them out somewhat with my hands if needed, but other than the leather pouches, the cleanliness of the rest did not matter too much. I was, after all, used to working and wearing the ragged and filthy.

After wearing my new set of clothes and packing the rest of the things into the backpack and wearing it against my back, I went back into the streets and made my way towards the well. Despite my misgivings about what remained there, it was the best place for me to see all of the roads.

My sword rested within my right hand, so far dim and muted. I was beginning to suspect that, if it glowed, then something was about to happen. Thankfully, it had not done so yet after the scene at the well.

The dimness of the sky spoke of an ending afternoon, warning of the impending arrival of dusk then night. If I wanted to, I could continue on my journey by following one of the few roads that led outside the town and into the country, perhaps finding myself somewhere better, or worse.

That said, I considered the state of my body. Hunger was soon to become a problem, while thirst was already one. I had to secure myself some food and water if I were to continue. The problem was, however, there was nothing in this town. Everything else that was not made of treated wood, stone, iron, or leather had rotten or dissolved. There was also nothing liquid to be found. This place was as barren as the wastelands that surrounded it.

Then came a trickle from the sky, followed by a drizzle, then a pour. Rain had somehow come, washing away the ash. It was as if someone had heard of my plight, sending down what I needed the most. It seemed like I would be spending the night in this town after all. That said, I could not help but be suspicious. This rain was not natural. I was sure of it. I wondered who was responsible, was it the old man? Maybe. Or perhaps someone else? Possible.

Still, if this was done out of goodness, then I was grateful. If not, well, goodluck to me.