The soldiers were already watching them with suspicion. Luke spotted one stepping forward, grip tightening on his spear.

"Open the bag, boy. Now."

Allison didn't even flinch. Her hand moved with practiced ease, and her blade flashed into view. "Then try your luck."

A bitter taste crept up Luke's throat.

Damn it, Allison. This is only making it worse.

He raised a hand, trying to steady the tension before it snapped.

"We're not part of any faction," he said, voice calm, controlled. "We just got here. We didn't steal anything. But we've got personal stuff in our packs."

He scanned the crowd. It didn't matter. The soldiers didn't care. More were gathering, closing in, spears pointed. Pressure thickened with every passing second.

"Last chance," one of them barked. "The bag. Or we use force."

A chill ran down Luke's spine. They were out of options. He opened his mouth to try again—

VOOM.

The air cracked.

"You're dead."

The voice came from nowhere. Cold. Precise.

Luke froze.

A blur of movement snapped into existence between him and Allison. A figure, clad in black, a skull-shaped mask covering their face. Then—gone.

A heartbeat later, the figure was behind him. Luke felt the cold press of a blade against his spine.

Teleportation.

Instinct twisted his body around, but the presence vanished before he could react. He turned just in time to catch the figure now perched on top of a barrel, lazily spinning a dagger between gloved fingers.

The air shifted. Soldiers stepped back, spears lowering slightly, every man instantly on edge.

A Phantom Assassin!

Luke recognized it immediately. His deduction might have been wrong, but based on what he'd learned when he chose his new class, the assassin in front of him most likely had the phantom powers mutation.

The assassin chuckled, low and sharp. "Heh… hahahah..." The dagger twirled in smooth circles. "They're newbies. Doubt they pulled something that stupid." His tone was amused, but beneath it, the edge was surgical.

His head tilted, eyes fixed on the soldiers. "But the locals... the ones who feel 'oppressed'... they might've listened to the sweet little whispers of the Renegades."

The playfulness vanished. His voice dropped. Precise. Cold. "And those... are the ones with something to gain."

The dagger disappeared.

He turned as if to leave, but paused, glancing back over his shoulder at Luke and Allison. "Still..." His tone shifted again, lighter now. "I want to see your bag."

VOOM.

Air warped. A blink—and the assassin was standing right in front of Allison. His hand shot out, ripping the bag straight from her grip.

"Bastard," Allison snapped, raising her sword, but before the blade could touch him, he vanished.

A rush of air brushed her face. He reappeared several meters away, spinning the bag around his finger like it was a toy.

Another chuckle. "Heh... You didn't even hesitate." His gaze lingered on Allison, sharp with interest. "I like that. You've got guts." A small nod. "Maybe there's a brain in there too... and you'll realize joining us is the smarter move."

Luke's fingers hovered near his kukris, ready. But then more soldiers appeared—dozens now. Spears leveled. Mages whispering incantations under their breath.

Shit. Not the time to fight.

"Give me back my bag!" Allison snapped, fire in her voice.

The assassin ignored her. His fingers were already at the flap, pulling it open.

Time slowed. Luke felt his stomach drop.

He's going to see it. The canned food. The potions. Everything.

The assassin paused. His hand dipped inside... then stopped.

A beat of silence.

"What... the hell is this?"

Luke barely breathed. His hands clenched.

Then the assassin yanked something out—and doubled over laughing. "HAHAHAHA!" He shook his head, shoulders shaking. "You've got to be kidding me..."

In his hand—a piece of fabric. White. Thin. Laced.

Underwear.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Bro... you're a freak! You've got a bunch of women's clothes in here—" His hand went deeper.

Another burst of laughter. "Oh my god... even panties! This is gold!"

Luke's eyes went wide. His thoughts scrambled.

No way. She didn't... She took the clothes from the village chest?!

The assassin turned slowly toward Allison. Her face was red. Not from fear. From pure, seething embarrassment.

"Alright, alright..." The assassin laughed, tossing the bag back onto the ground. "Those two boys are innocent. Weird as hell... but innocent."

He tilted his skull mask slightly toward the camp. The playfulness vanished from his voice.

"Now listen up." His tone shifted—sharper, colder, leaving no room for misunderstanding. "If any of you are working with the Renegades... or had anything to do with the missing chest..."

The air tightened, heavy like a storm about to break.

"I'll visit you myself."

Silence. Not a breath. Not a whisper.

"And you won't like how that ends."

The soldiers immediately started pulling back, murmuring, shifting their weapons away. A long, collective breath rippled through the camp as tension finally cracked and released.

"It's alright now, everyone!" Paul called out from somewhere near the back, scrambling to restore order, his voice strained but trying to sound reassuring. "Back to your duties!"

Luke exhaled slowly, watching the soldiers scatter, pretending none of this had happened. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Allison kneeling, grabbing the bag in silence. Her face was stiff, eyes narrowed.

"Not... a word," she muttered, almost hissing.

Luke raised a brow. "I wasn't going to say anything sarcastic."

A sigh left him before he could stop it.

I almost died... because of panties.

Then another thought crept in.

Wait... there weren't any bras in there. Is she... the type that doesn't like to wear—

Her gaze snapped toward him, sharp as a blade. He felt it like a dagger pressed to his ribs.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, voice low, suspicious. "Your face looks... weird."

Luke cleared his throat, averting his eyes quickly. "Nothing. Just... thinking." His attention drifted to the soldiers as they finished dispersing.

The fight hadn't even started. And yet... he knew. That assassin could've killed him in an instant if he felt like it.

I need to get stronger. A lot stronger.

***

Inside the tent, things were quieter. The space was cramped, stitched together from faded fabric and patched animal hide. The air smelled of damp cloth and cold dust, heavy with the scent of old materials that had seen too many storms.

Anna stood by the entrance, hands fidgeting slightly. "I'm sorry about what happened earlier," she said, a little flustered. "I swear... that almost never happens."

"S-sure..." Allison muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Anna pointed to the tent walls. "This one's for newcomers. You can expand it later with more hide or scrap fabric. If you don't know how to sew, don't worry. We've got people with Crafting professions who'll help. It gives them EXP, so they're happy to take the job."

Beside her, Cecilia gestured with both hands—quick, practiced motions.

Anna smiled, understanding her instantly. "She doesn't have the profession, but she loves sewing. If you need help, she's happy to do it."

Luke and Allison both nodded. "Thanks," they said almost in unison.

The two women left, leaving them alone. Silence settled over the space.

Luke peeked out through the tent flap. Their spot was tucked near the edge of camp, half-hidden behind a cluster of stacked crates and scrap.

"Think anyone saw the women's clothes in your bag?" he asked casually.

"Shut up." Allison's reply was instant, sharp.

Luke crossed his arms, leaning against one of the tent's flimsy supports. He'd noticed it during the chaos. Only the masked assassin and Bastion's men had seen what was inside. Probably no one else. Probably.

"Look, I'm just... worried about what people might think," he added, completely deadpan.

Allison spun toward him. "What?! That's what you're worried about? We could've died, Luke!"

He shrugged. "Well... you're the one who pulled a sword on armed soldiers."

Her face twisted, caught between anger and humiliation. "I—I didn't want them to see the clothes, alright?!"

Luke exhaled, slowly. He got it. Honestly, he did. But the thing gnawing at the back of his mind had nothing to do with that.

"You're right," he said quietly. "I hated being that powerless."

The sky outside had already shifted to full night. Luke stepped out of the tent, glancing upward. The ruins stretched against a backdrop of stars, their broken shapes silhouetted in the dark. The air was cold, sharp, filled with distant echoes of life deeper within the ruins.

After a moment, he stepped back inside and dropped down to sit on the floor. "Anna said they serve food at the same time every day." His hand flicked, opening his system menu. The glow reflected in his eyes.

"I'm not going."

Allison frowned, tilting her head. "Then what are you doing?"

His gaze shifted, focusing on a notification blinking at the edge of his vision.

[Your servant Princess Charlie (Skeleton) – Lvl 3 has recovered from her injuries.]

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'm going to plan our next move."

***

Luke sprinted through the forest, boots slicing through wet grass, heart steady, breath sharp.

The rising sun painted the sky in streaks of gold, signaling the end of the Midnight Wardens' patrol. Somewhere in the distance, the city's warning bell had rung exactly at 6 a.m., offering the survivors a brief window of fragile peace.

But Luke hadn't slept. Couldn't. In this world of monsters, survivors, and silent war, every second of rest was another inch surrendered.

He skidded to a stop at the base of a massive tree, kukris already in hand. His eyes locked onto the trunk. Then he moved—fast, fluid. Blades pierced into the bark, becoming footholds as he climbed upward with practiced ease. His breath stayed steady. Grip precise. Movements automatic.

Reaching the top, he balanced on one of the highest branches, shoulders relaxed, gaze scanning the horizon.

The Wild Zone stretched in every direction. Endless forest, a sea of ancient trees clawing toward the clouds. A silver river cut through the greenery like a living vein, weaving between shattered ruins half-swallowed by moss and ivy—ghosts of a city long dead. In the distance, mountains rose, jagged and sharp, untouched by anything human.

And beyond them all... the Castle.

A colossal silhouette resting on the far edge of the world. Dark. Silent. Unforgiving. A shape that seemed to absorb light itself.

Luke narrowed his eyes. Took it all in. Calculating. Processing.

Below, velociraptors prowled the undergrowth in tight packs, lean and merciless. Down by the river, monstrous gnus drank from the shallows, their twisted tusks catching the sunlight. Grotesque boars rooted through the dirt while vine-like plant-creatures slithered between collapsed walls, dragging themselves across concrete and bone.

Predators. Everywhere.

This wasn't a forest. It was a battlefield. A constant, breathing warzone.

Only the strong lived. The weak were eaten.

Luke's hands tightened around his kukris, pulse steady but rising. Focus sharpening. Resolve turning razor-thin.

"I cleared the Forgotten Temple dungeon," he muttered.

The wind stirred the leaves around him.

"I killed thirteen armed criminals."

His heartbeat kicked harder.

"I became a Demonic Assassin."

This world wasn't going to consume him. If this was a place ruled by monsters... then he'd become the apex predator.

He stepped off the branch—and dove.

Time to hunt.

But then—a glint of blue. High in the canopy of a distant tree.

Instinct took over. No thought. No hesitation.

A knife left his hand. Clean. Sharp. Perfect.

It spun through the air—fast—

THUNK.

And then:

[Mission Orb Acquired]

The notification flashed in front of him.

Luke landed smoothly, boots hitting the dirt in a crouch. His head snapped toward the source of the prompt.

His breath caught.

"…What the hell..."

Eyes narrowed, jaw tightening as he stared.

The notification still hovered, glowing in front of him. And the second he read what it was—his eyes went wide.

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