They had been walking for a while now.
Three days had passed since the brutal training session with Nefer—three long, draining days under the cruel, blistering sun of the Soulrealm. The skies above were painted with a cracked mosaic of ash-colored clouds and a jagged, pale sun that seemed too close, too oppressive. Its searing rays poured down on them like molten metal, stripping moisture from the very air and setting fire to the dust beneath their feet. Every breath felt dry, every step heavier than the last.
The ground beneath them was baked solid, fractured like a shattered plate, glowing faintly with residual heat. It cracked underfoot with every movement, each sound echoing like brittle bones snapping. Hope trudged forward silently, sweat glistening on his brow and dripping from his jawline, soaking the collar of his dark tunic. His back ached, screaming in protest, but he didn't show it. Not even a flinch. He was too used to pretending, too used to bearing pain without voice. The last thing he wanted was to look weak before Nefer or Massa.
The trio moved in single file, Nefer always taking the lead like a silent ghost, her posture regal despite the fatigue that clearly weighed on her too. Her white armor shimmered faintly beneath the sun, streaked with dust and blood. Massa followed next, quiet and pensive, her white skin glistening with sweat as she dragged her staff across the ground for balance.
Hope was last, his cloak trailing behind him like a banner, catching the hot wind and snapping with each gust. But he paid it no mind. Instead, he pulled up his attribute board with a simple mental flick, letting it materialize before his eyes.
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Darkness Fragments: 50/ 5000
Soul Essence: 4850 / 5000
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A small, tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It wasn't much, but the gain in darkness fragments was something. A sign of progress, however pitiful. Compared to five thousand, fifty felt like a joke—but it was his joke. His battle-earned, blood-drenched joke.
His Soul Essence, though lower than usual, had maintained a healthy flow—burning and replenishing constantly as he kept his armor up. It was a draining practice, but necessary. The carapace scavengers they'd encountered along the way were slippery bastards—masters of ambush and misdirection. You only saw them after they'd already struck.
So Hope wore his armor like a second skin. The brown ethereal plating clung to him, responding to his thoughts, ready to react at a moment's notice. Nefer and Massa had both been forced to do the same—none of them were foolish enough to let their guard down out here. Not in this place where the shadows breathed and the ground itself felt like it could open and swallow you whole.
They'd been walking in relative silence for hours when Hope started to notice it—claw marks.
Not just one or two, but many. Deep gouges in the cracked ground, sometimes overlapping, sometimes forming unnatural spirals or zigzagging trails that seemed to dart in and out of existence. The more he looked, the more there were—hundreds, maybe thousands. The hair on the back of his neck stood upright.
Even Nefer had slowed, her eyes narrowed into slits. Her usual calm expression was replaced with something else. Something closer to grim anticipation. And if she looked disturbed...
Hope tried to keep his composure. Massa, walking ahead of him, had already begun to tense up, her eyes darting to every shadow, her fingers tightening on her staff. The air was heavier now. Thicker. Like it had turned to smoke.
He didn't want to alarm them. Panic could be contagious—and deadly.
So he inhaled slowly, then said in a quiet, calm voice that didn't quite match the dread clawing up his spine:
"Don't worry. There's nothing to be afraid of."
A lie. But a necessary one.
They continued walking.
A few more cautious steps… and then they saw it.
The sound of their footsteps stopped—not because they chose to halt, not because of any command—but because their bodies froze.
A field of them. Thirty at the very least. Carapace scavengers.
They were clustered ahead like a grotesque army of insects, chittering and twitching in eerie synchronicity. Their armored bodies shimmered with oily reflections, their sharp claws dragging across the ground with a grating hiss. Some clung to low rocks, others skittered atop each other, antennae twitching in the wind. Their mandibles clicked in anticipation, a grotesque chorus of hunger and violence.
Hope's breath hitched. Cold sweat rolled down his back. His mind raced, calculating, panicking, trying to find an escape route that didn't exist. He knew what these things were capable of—fast, coordinated, and utterly merciless. They weren't intelligent individually, but in numbers like this? They might as well be a hive-mind. A death sentence.
"Crap…" Hope muttered under his breath, barely audible.
Beside him, Massa trembled. "What do we do now?" she asked, her voice wavering like a child's. She clutched her staff tighter, her knuckles white, her pupils wide with fear.
Hope swallowed, suppressing the panic building in his throat. "We… we'll move back. Slowly. Maybe we weren't seen."
He looked to Nefer.
She didn't say anything at first. Just gave a grim nod.
All three of them began to step back slowly. One step. Two. Three.
But then, one of the scavengers tilted its grotesque head, mandibles twitching, and let out a loud screech—a signal.
The others turned in unison. Dozens of red insectoid eyes locked onto them.
Hope's heart dropped to his stomach.
"…Crap. Crap. Crap." His hands were shaking.
Nefer didn't flinch. She stood there, resolute, lifting her hand and summoning her sword in a flash of black and silver light. It landed in her grasp with a soft hum of restrained power.
Turning back to the others, she said with terrifying calm, "If we run, we'll be hunted down and torn apart. But if we fight… we might survive. Small chance. Still better than none."
Hope let out a long breath, forcing the panic down, summoning his sword with a flicker of dark light. The blade materialized in his palm, cool and steady—far steadier than he felt.
"I'm not a knight," he muttered. "And I sure as hell ain't a samurai." But he still stood beside them. He didn't know why he said it because he didn't know what a knight nor a samurai is..... Maybe one of those history books he found he in trash back at the outskirt
Massa said nothing. Her eyes were wide, lips pale. But after a moment, she nodded too and summoned her staff, holding it tight with both hands. Her lips parted as she began murmuring under her breath—incantations. Her fingers glowed faintly.
The carapace scavengers shrieked in unison and charged.
The ground trembled with the weight of their approach. Dust exploded beneath their claws as they barreled forward like a swarm of nightmares.
Hope closed his eyes, just for a moment.