A week had passed since the ambush. Since Luke had bled inside those ruins, hunted by bandits deep in the Wild Zone. It had been a heavy week. A quiet one. Because in that silence, he'd accepted something he'd spent years refusing to face.

The truth about his mother.

Not a theory. Not a hope waiting to be disproved. Just truth, final, merciless, undeniable. And now, the weight of it sat with him. Heavy as stone.

The blade sliced through the air, clean, controlled. Princess Charlie pressed forward without hesitation, moving like steel wrapped in bone.

A wet crack echoed through the trees. Flesh split. Muscle tore. The velociraptor shrieked, a raw, piercing note of panic, before folding into a heap of blood, teeth, and scales.

[Princess Charlie has slain a Cunning Velociraptor - Lvl 10]

*The [Death Knight] class of Princess Charlie has reached Level 7!*

*[Death Knight Class Bonus: +3 Strength, +3 Endurance, +2 Agility, +2 Vitality, +2 Intelligence, +1 Perception, +2 Free Stat Points]*

Luke blinked, surprised by the sudden notification. It was the first time Charlie's class had leveled up since she'd evolved into a Death Knight.

A second notification followed:

[Mission Orb: Hunt the Cunning Velociraptors Objective: Slay 10 Cunning Velociraptors Progress: 10/10] [Mission Complete] [Reward Received]

Charlie casually wiped her blade clean, then lifted her chin like a knight accepting applause after a duel.

Luke smirked. "Nice work, Charlie."

Over the past week, he'd uncovered a few important facts.

First, according to Anna, a person could hold up to three active orb missions at a time. Trying to claim a fourth would simply fail.

Second, and far more interesting: Charlie could pick up missions too.

And then came the final surprise—

[Boots of the Cunning Velociraptor (Uncommon) Description: Crafted from the durable hide of a Cunning Velociraptor, these boots offer speed, flexibility, and surprising resilience. Ideal for quick-footed warriors. Bonus: Increases movement speed slightly. Requirement: Lvl 5+ in any class or race.]

Luke tapped the item in his system. The boots materialized instantly, slipping onto Charlie's skeletal feet and tightening into place like they'd always belonged there.

This world might be brutal… but it rewarded the bold.

Charlie now wore the Ironfang Boarhide Pants and the Velociraptor Boots. She was getting closer to looking like a fully armored warrior. Once she hit level 8, he planned to give her a chestplate and gauntlets. Then all she'd need was a helmet to complete the illusion.

Allison had helped confirm something critical: Charlie couldn't be identified.

Just like with regular humans, the system blocked her data from others. Which meant… unless someone saw her materialize from Luke's soul, they'd have no idea she was a skeleton.

He closed the inventory screen and pulled up her status.

Name: Princess Charlie Level: 4 Rank: F Class: Death Knight (Lvl 7) Race: Skeleton Title: [Servant of the Dark Lord] Health Points (HP): 201/230

Mana Points (MP): 80/80

Stamina: 157/180

Stats: Strength: 27 Agility: 16 Endurance: 18 Vitality: 23 Perception: 9 Intelligence: 8 Free Points: 3

Princess Charlie was getting stronger. But Luke knew there was still plenty of room for improvement.

Her speed was excellent. Her strength, too. But her reflexes… they could still be sharper.

He opened her stat panel and allocated the remaining points.

Stats Updated (Princess Charlie): Vitality: 23 -> 24 Perception: 9 -> 11 Free Points: 3 -> 0 Health Points (HP): 201/230 -> 211/240

Over the past few days, he had continued running more tests on Charlie's damage recovery.

If Charlie was injured or running low on stamina, he could simply return her to his soul. Inside, she would begin to regenerate.

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The only drawback was time—depending on how badly she was hurt, full recovery could take up to 24 hours. Still, it made his summoning skill far more strategic.

Charlie stretched, rotating her shoulders like she was testing her new physicality.

Luke nodded. "Let's move."

Without a word, she retrieved her blade and stepped into formation beside him—silent, watchful, and ready.

***

Luke moved through the crumbling ruins with quiet precision, eyes scanning the area for anything remotely useful. His pack was already heavy, but he always found space for more—wooden mugs, broken buttons, lengths of durable rope.

In this world, even scrap could be worth gold.

The Haven had split its survivors into two main roles: Hunters and Scavengers.

Hunters worked in teams, going head-to-head with monsters to bring back food. Scavengers, on the other hand, worked alone, combing through abandoned homes, shattered buildings, and piles of debris for anything salvageable.

Luke belonged squarely in the second group.

Some buildings still held loot caches. Others had stashes of preserved clothes, basic utensils, or something far more valuable: potions and seeds.

But the so-called Safe Zone? That name was generous.

It was free of Midnight Wardens and orc patrols, sure — but that didn't mean it was safe. Vicious beasts still roamed the outer edges. No one could afford to drop their guard for even a second.

Bastion controlled the heart of the Safe Zone, guarded by Bartholomew's private militia. Around it sprawled makeshift shelters and scavenged homes. And beyond that, on the fringes, lay the Haven.

The position was dangerous. Always exposed. Always watching.

A single pack of raptors could rip through the outer barricades. Or worse: a raid from one of the roaming bandit clans that haunted the Wild Zone's edge.

Luke tucked a few gathered herbs and plants into his pack—requested ingredients. Then his gaze fell on something buried at the bottom of the bag.

The map.

The one he'd taken off a bandit's corpse a week ago. He'd been watching their base since then. The disappearance of several of their members had left them anxious, but strangely, they hadn't moved. They were still holed up in that ruined mansion deep in the Wild Zone.

At first, he thought they might be Renegades. But the more he watched, the more certain he became—they weren't part of any faction. They were independent. Dangerous. Isolated.

He pushed the thought aside for now and focused.

Then, with a quick gesture, he opened the system interface, tapped the mission tab, and saw the special mission orb he'd picked up the other day.

*Special Mission Orb: Find the Treasure* Objective: Locate the treasure of Samael the Inventor Location: Church Reward: Artemis Invention]

His brow furrowed, thumb tracing the edge of one of his kukris. He'd already spent a week searching—rummaging through ruins, chasing old trails, climbing broken rooftops. Nothing. No sign of a church.

He'd considered asking a veteran. Maybe someone who'd survived longer in this hell knew where to look. But the moment he had that thought, he dismissed it. It was a Special Mission, which meant nobody else had it. Asking questions would only put a target on his back.

And then, one night, while returning from another fruitless search, he realized something painfully obvious. The bell. Every night at exactly midnight, a distant toll rang through the Wild Zone. Soft. Eerie. Carried on the wind like a whisper from the grave. And every morning, at precisely six, it rang again—right as the Midnight Wardens returned to their dens.

The sound wasn't random. It came from somewhere. It came from the church. That was the clue. That was the answer. But it also meant something else.

To find the treasure, he'd have to track the bell. Which meant diving deeper into the Wild Zone while the Midnight Wardens were awake. While they hunted. While the worst monsters in this world were on the move.

This wasn't just another quest. This was his kind of mission. And the only way forward... was through the dark.

He had to get used to moving while the Midnight Wardens were active. If he wanted to survive here, he couldn't afford to keep running from them forever.

Luke closed his eyes and drew a slow breath. "So that's it... I'll follow the sound of that bell."

***

He stepped quietly into the tent. It was just a tent—shared between him and Allison—but a fabric divider split the space into two sections: one for him, and one for her.

Allison was asleep, curled near the fabric wall, breathing steady. The last week had worn both of them down. Back when they were just two survivors trudging through snow, sleeping close was just a survival tactic. Warmth meant life. Nothing more. But ever since he found out Allison was a woman, things had gotten... awkward.

He set his pack down carefully, trying not to make a sound. But Allison stirred almost immediately. Her hand shot to the hilt of her sword, and the blade was out before she was even fully conscious. Her half-lidded eyes flared with cold, deadly instinct.

"It's me," Luke said quickly, voice low.

Allison blinked a few times, registering his face. Then sighed, lowering the blade.

"Sorry…" she muttered.

Luke sat down beside the pack, fatigue weighing on his bones.

He'd learned a few things about Allison over the past days. One of them explained a lot. The reason she always looked tired? The artifact that masked her gender drained mana constantly. It explained why she rarely used spells in combat—if her mana ever hit zero, her disguise would shatter.

Allison had also explained that she'd acquired a Race Skill that allowed her to meditate and accelerate the recovery of mana and stamina. According to her, it was a standard skill all humans received upon reaching Race Level 5. However, since both of them had unlocked a bloodline, the order of available skills had shifted. That was why Luke hadn't received the skill yet.

"What about your scouting?" Allison asked, voice raspy from sleep.

"Still nothing," Luke shook his head. "There's a stretch of the Wild Zone that runs toward the mountains. Just forest. Might be hiding a mechanism."

He paused.

"But… word is, that's orc territory."

Allison sighed and sat up, rubbing her face.

"I've been volunteering for hunting parties," she said. "Trying to earn their trust."

She looked at him, eyes shadowed with frustration.

"Jonathan's group hunts and scouts deeper in, but they don't accept just anyone."

Luke nodded slowly.

That made sense. The deeper you went into the Wild Zone, the more even a dropped coin could summon a predator.

"And I think…" Allison glanced at the tent flap, even though they were alone. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I think they're hiding something."

Luke tilted his head.

"What do you mean?"

She hesitated.

"You've noticed it too, right? There's only one healer in the entire camp."

"Thiara," Luke said quietly.

Allison leaned closer. "Bartholomew monopolizes all the other healers. Every single one of them is under his thumb."

Luke was silent, but the pieces started clicking into place.

"And yet," Allison continued, "Thiara is allowed to stay here."

He frowned. Why would a man who called himself a king—who ruled Bastion with absolute control—allow another faction to operate inside his territory? Especially one not under his command? It didn't make sense.

"Why let another 'kingdom' exist inside your borders?" she whispered.

Luke's eyes narrowed.

Unless...

"Angelica knows something," he said slowly. "Something Bartholomew doesn't want getting out."

Allison nodded.

"And maybe…" She bit her lip, brow furrowing. "Maybe it has to do with the location of one of the mechanisms."

"Something right under everyone's nose," Allison whispered. "And no one's noticed."

Luke met her gaze.

"Where?" he asked.

Her answer was soft. Certain.

"Bastion."

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