"Back off. Stay in the corner—no sudden moves."

The words struck like a spark to dry tinder. Tension rippled through the air, thick and immediate.

Luke raised his kukris, blades steady but eyes scanning. Allison mirrored him, lifting her sword in one clean motion. Muscles tight. Breaths short. They were ready.

Before anything could ignite, Anna stepped between the groups with a firm, commanding stride. She held up a hand—not pleading, but controlling the space like someone used to managing near-disaster.

Another girl moved in behind her. She didn't speak a word. Instead, her hands danced in the air, fingers signing something too fast for Luke to follow.

Mute? Deaf? The question passed through his mind, but there was no time to dwell on it.

The archer didn't lower his bow. His expression was sharp, jaw set like stone, and his arrowhead remained locked on Luke's chest.

"They could be Renegades," he said, spitting the word like a curse.

Luke's brow furrowed. He didn't recognize the term, but the hatred in the man's tone made its meaning clear enough. Dangerous. Unwanted. Hunted.

"You know how they work," the archer continued. "Always setting up ambushes. I didn't say anything earlier because one wrong word out there and we'd all be corpses."

Allison's blade glinted faintly in the low light. Her fingers tightened around the hilt.

"If that's how you want to play it," she said, voice icy and still, "then I won't hold back either."

The air pulled taut. The silence wasn't quiet—it was alive, humming with the threat of violence, the kind that didn't give warnings.

Then, a new voice cut through the tension. Calm. Steady. Clear.

"They're new. You can see it."

Another girl stepped forward from the group, her posture composed, her tone level but firm. Her gaze fixed on the archer without flinching.

"No idea about the factions. No idea how any of this works." said Luke.

She stepped again, slow and deliberate.

"Point your bow at monsters. Not people. That's what our instructor taught us, remember?"

The archer's jaw worked. His fingers twitched near the string. Then, finally, he exhaled, cursed low, and let the bow lower.

Anna let out a breath too, quiet but audible. "Crisis averted."

But Luke and Allison didn't drop their weapons.

Not yet.

Not after that.

Trust wasn't something that bloomed in a single gesture. Especially not here.

One of the other archers sat cross-legged near the half-built fire and took a swig from a dented canteen. Another knelt beside him and began assembling a flame with the kind of muscle memory that only came after dozens—maybe hundreds—of nights in places like this.

"You two should sit near the flame," Anna said, gesturing toward the growing heat.

"The cold here's brutal." She smiled—just a little. "Besides… Tell us something new about Earth. Been ages since I even touched a phone."

Luke raised an eyebrow.

Ages since they've used a phone...?

There was something in her voice—something that didn't match how she looked. His gaze shifted across the others. Their gear was patched, old. Their movements were careful, deliberate. Hardened by time.

His stomach sank.

"How long have you all been stuck in this tutorial?"

They glanced at each other. The silence stretched for a few seconds too long.

"I've been here a year," one of them said.

"Two for me."

Anna looked directly at him.

"Three."

Luke felt the words hit him like a punch to the ribs. His mouth was dry, his fingers still gripping the kukris tighter than he realized.

Three years…?

"What about the exit mission?" Allison asked. Her voice was quieter now, shaken. "The portal?"

Anna's answer came with the weight of experience.

"We're still trying to clear it. But this place…" Her eyes grew distant. "It doesn't fight fair. It wears you down. Breaks you."

Neither Luke nor Allison responded. There was nothing to say. Just the low crackle of the fire and the haunted look in the survivors' eyes.

"New people drop in every year," Anna continued. "Portals bring more. But the longer you're here, the clearer it becomes—monsters aren't the only threat."

Her gaze turned darker. Not fearful. Just... tired.

"There are people out there. Renegades. Survivors who abandoned the mission. Some live in the forest. Others burrowed into the ruins. They've made this place their own—and they don't want it disturbed."

Luke frowned.

"But shouldn't we all be working together? That's the only way out, right?"

A bitter chuckle came from one of the archers by the fire.

"It's not that simple."

Anna gave a small shake of her head. Her voice didn't rise, but something in it settled like stone.

"You'll understand once you reach the mission statue. Until then, we won't explain more. No words can prepare you."

Whatever this was, it wasn't just another tutorial.

Luke and Allison remained on their feet, watching the group huddled near the flames. One of them tossed a piece of dried meat into the fire. Another passed the canteen, not saying a word. Routine. Survival.

The suspicion didn't fade. Not completely. Luke met Allison's eyes, and together, they lowered their weapons, but their guard never dropped. Not for a second.

Anna gestured toward the group, her tone easy, but measured.

"You already know I'm Anna," she said with a slight shrug. "The archer who pointed a bow at you? That's Jhonny. The guy with the lantern is Raymond. Marco was the one scouting ahead, guiding us."

She turned to motion toward the two girls seated by the fire.

"Nora and Cecilia."

Cecilia, a redhead with a weary smile and half-lidded eyes, lifted her hands and responded with a few fluid signs. Her fingers moved with casual precision—comfortable, practiced.

Luke caught it immediately.

Sign language.

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He didn't react. Didn't blink. Didn't flinch. But he understood every word. She could hear; she just didn't speak.And he wasn't going to let anyone know he understood.

If this group ever tried to communicate behind closed hands, assuming he and Allison were clueless, they'd be wrong. He'd be watching. He'd know. And they'd never suspect it.

After his mother's death, the Baumanns had placed him in an inclusive school. There, he'd learned enough sign to get by.

A quiet edge. Sharpened by grief.

Allison sat down beside him, her shoulder brushing his. She leaned in, keeping her voice low.

"And the princess?"

Luke didn't answer right away.

She must've thought Charlie had just returned to his soul. That she'd faded back the way she always did.

But she hadn't seen it.

She hadn't seen Charlie destroyed.

Luke drew a slow breath. If his guess was right, Charlie would need at least 24 hours to recover. Until then, he had to stay calm. Act normal.

No one could know.

"Count only on me if things go sideways," he whispered back.

Allison gave a faint nod.

***

While the archers settled in and began unpacking their gear, Luke and Allison exchanged a glance. They weren't going anywhere for a while.

Which meant only one thing: They needed answers.

"So… tell us about yourselves," Allison said, her tone casual, but her eyes sharp with intent. "We only got here a few days ago."

She looked toward Anna, her expression expectant.

"The system mentioned a mission. How far have you actually gotten? Are there other survivors?"

Anna paused. She didn't answer right away.

Then...

"You'll understand the mission once you see the statue," she said, folding her arms.

"As for survivors…" Her eyes shifted toward the others. "There are more. A lot more. This place has more participants than you'd think."

She nodded toward the west.

"There's a survivor village in that direction. A few new people arrived recently, but I haven't had much contact."

Then she looked straight at Luke. Her gaze lingered.

Unsettling. Measuring.

"Most of them stayed in Bastion."

Luke said nothing.

Bastion? What the hell is Bastion?

He and Allison exchanged a glance, and for a moment, the fire's crackling seemed to quiet around them. This so-called "tutorial" wasn't just large.

It was layered. Complex. Alive.

And they were still standing on the surface.

The mention of other survivors brought a cocktail of emotion—hope, curiosity, unease. If so many people had lived this long, maybe there was a path forward.

But it also meant one thing clearly.

This hell was deeper than they'd imagined.

"Bastion?" Luke finally asked, breaking the silence. "Can you explain what it is?"

One of the archers stirred the meat over the fire with a thin blade. It hissed against the iron like wet stone. Luke watched it sizzle, but something about it looked wrong—too fibrous, too gray to be anything natural.

Anna's voice dropped into a lower register, her tone more deliberate.

"I'll give you the short version."

She leaned slightly forward, eyes catching the firelight.

"I've lived here for three years."

Three years.

The words echoed in Luke's mind like a death knell. This wasn't a tutorial. It was a prison dressed as a test.

"It took me a long time to adjust," Anna continued. "To let go of modern life. The early days were brutal. No electricity. Food rations."

Her gaze drifted, caught somewhere in a memory she hadn't revisited in a long time. Her voice softened, like she was speaking more to herself than to them.

Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.

"But eventually… I adapted."

Her eyes lifted to meet theirs.

"And you will too."

For a moment, no one spoke. The fire crackled. Shadows danced against the stone walls. Anna leaned back slightly and stared at the ceiling, her eyes distant.

"This place... it's a massive medieval city. The Kingdom of Midnight." She let the words hang for a moment before continuing. "I don't know much about its history. No one does. But one thing is certain—beyond these lands, there's nothing but ice."

Luke's eyes narrowed.

"That sounds like where we came from," he said. "Frozen tundra?"

Anna nodded.

"Outside the walls, life doesn't stand a chance. The temperature is lethal. Snowstorms rage day and night. The only time the weather gives us a break... is now."

She pointed at them.

"When people arrive in this world, the location is random. Most end up inside the kingdom's walls, but even that places them in the Wild Zone—which is dangerous on its own."

She paused, then continued.

"When new arrivals show up, the weather eases up for a short while. Just enough time for the unlucky ones—those dropped into the frozen wasteland—to sprint for the walls."

So that's how it works...

"Once that window closes," Anna said, crossing her arms tightly, "staying out there is suicide. The cold kills you in minutes. And food? Almost nonexistent."

She turned back toward the fire.

"But inside the city... there's still a chance. Snow is rare. The cold's bearable. Barely. The monsters... they're our food source."

She took a bite, chewing slowly.

"We harvest rain. Melt snow. Boil water when we find rivers or springs."

Luke absorbed every word.

This wasn't just survival. This was a full ecosystem. They were trapped in a self-contained world with its own rules.

Anna leaned forward, resting an elbow on her knee.

"This place is divided into three factions," she said, holding up three fingers. "Bastion. Haven. Renegades."

Then she looked at them directly, her gaze steady.

"We're with Haven."

Luke didn't respond. Not yet.

Anna continued.

"Haven is made up of regular people just trying to stay alive. I'm part of a scavenger team. We collect valuables, food, herbs—whatever we can find."

She gestured toward the ruined city beyond.

"This is the Wild Zone. The most dangerous part of the city. Midnight Wardens patrol this area."

He remembered that towering knight. If even one hit landed—it would be over.

"And Bastion?" Luke asked.

Silence settled over the group.

Anna chewed, then swallowed.

"Bastion's the most promising place. More resources. More stability. More safety."

Then she locked eyes with Luke.

"But it comes with rules. And if you can't pay the tribute… you're thrown out."

Luke didn't like what he was hearing.

A caste system. Inside a nightmare like this?

Anna continued.

"And then… there's the Renegades."

Luke had already guessed where this was going.

"They're thieves. Scavengers. They live in hiding and target anyone who walks alone. If you have a shelter far from the main factions… you'd better pray it's still yours in the morning."

But then, her tone shifted. Softer. Heavier.

"They're not the only threat."

She shot a grim look at Luke and Allison.

"Walking alone out here… is as good as signing your death warrant. Not just because of the monsters— but because of the others."

"Survivors who've turned into something else. Gangs. Killers. Raiders."

Luke opened his mouth to ask more but stopped. Allison wasn't listening anymore. Her eyes were down, lost in thought. Shoulders drawn in. Expression dark. Almost desperate.

Luke stayed quiet. Even if he wanted answers, he recognized that look. Her mind was unraveling everything, trying to make sense of a world that didn't make sense.

He inhaled deeply. He felt it too. This wasn't a challenge. It was a nightmare wearing the skin of a game. And if they wanted to survive, they'd have to accept that.

Luke stepped away from the group, finding a darker corner by the wall. With a thought, he summoned his system screen.

Name: Luke Level: 5 Rank: F Class: [Demonic Assassin (Lvl 10)] Race: Half-Demon Profession: — Titles: [Dark Lord] Bloodline: [Bloodline of the Dark Demon] Health Points (HP): 401/460 Mana Points (MP): 229/290 Stamina: 129/230 Soul Fragments: 13/1000

Stats: Strength: 42 Agility: 50 Endurance: 23 Vitality: 46 Perception: 43 Intelligence: 29 Free Points: 3

He placed one point each into Intelligence, Endurance, and Vitality.

Stats Updated: Endurance: 23 -> 24 Vitality: 46 -> 47 Intelligence: 29 -> 30 Health Points (HP): 401/460 -> 411/470 Mana Points (MP): 229/290 -> 239/300 Stamina: 129/230 -> 139/240

Luke exhaled slowly.

He could feel it. The subtle shift in his body. Muscles a bit steadier. His breath, slower. Mind… clearer.

Then something blinked at the corner of his interface. A notification.

[You have unlocked a new Class Skill]

Luke looked up briefly. No one was paying attention. Others were checking their own screens too, probably leveling up, managing inventory. Still, he didn't want to draw eyes.

He focused back on his interface. This time, it was different. Since his class evolved from Assassin to Demonic Assassin, this would be his first true skill of the advanced path. His fingers hesitated. A wrong choice now could ruin everything later.

He took a breath and tapped the notification.

[Choose Your New Class Skill (5 Options Available)]

The words glowed on the screen. Luke swallowed and read the first:

[Basic Dance of Death (Rare)]: Each kill boosts your speed for a short time. With successive executions, you become a relentless assassin, gliding across the battlefield like a ravenous shadow. The faster your blade finds flesh, the fiercer and more agile you become, until you're no longer just a killer, but a true dancer of death.

Luke held his breath. This…

This was something brutal.

The more I kill, the faster I get. But surely… there has to be a limit.

Still, it was a strong choice. If he got surrounded, he could take down one enemy and speed up. Take down another and his body would grow even sharper. The fight would turn into a deadly dance. A tempting option.

Next:

[Basic Drain Fang (Rare)]: The assassin delivers strikes that extract subtle fragments of the target's essence, draining their mana and wearing down their resistance. He doesn't overpower; he dismantles with lethal precision until the victim can no longer fight or flee.

Luke narrowed his eyes. This one was perfect for fighting humans. One hit, and they'd start bleeding strength. Keep striking, and they'd fall from exhaustion like a serpent slowly crushing its prey, coiling tighter and tighter until the last breath.

In this world, he had to prepare for the worst. If he ever had to fight another survivor, this skill would ensure he won.

Then:

[Assassin's Mark (Rare)]: Mark a target. Lock your perception onto them. No matter where they flee, if they remain within your hunting grounds, you will find them. No prey can hide. The mark lasts until removed or expired.

Luke took a deep breath. This was a pursuit skill. Tag a target, and he'd always know where they were. No beast. No human. Nothing could vanish from his sight.

But he wasn't the hunter yet. Not in this place. Not now. Right now, he was the hunted. This skill would shine later. But for now, he needed something more immediate. Something that made him deadlier right now.

Next option:

[Demonic Assassin's Claws (Rare)]: Your body is your weapon. Channel mana into your hands; your nails become blades sharp enough to rend flesh. A true Demonic Assassin is never unarmed. His hands are instruments of death, eager to feast on blood.

Luke blinked. Insane!

Even for him. But it made sense. If he ever got disarmed, if he needed to kill fast, he wouldn't hesitate. He'd be ready. No hesitation. No delay.

An assassin has to be ready to strike at any moment.

This was pure lethality. Perfect in its own savage way.

Then he looked at the last skill. And his chest tightened. This one he didn't need to think. This was the right choice.

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