Hope in shadow
A sheet of black paper appeared, floating in the stale air. Glowing letters formed a single line across its surface:
"Commence the Thorn Rite of Binding."
Before Erden could even flinch, something sharp tore through his chest and sank deep into his heart. Agony, white and blinding, shot through every nerve. There was no wound, no blood—only a pain so pure it stole his breath and dropped him to his knees.
Something had shackled his heart. He couldn't see it, but an image carved itself into his mind. The words on the paper shifted, rewriting themselves as his body trembled. The pain didn't fade. He had to suppress it on his own if he failed, it would kill him where he knelt. He pressed a trembling hand to his chest, gasping through gritted teeth.
No explanation. No comfort. The paper remained blank until he proved he could endure it. His breaths came in ragged sobs, but he refused to break. Slowly, fighting the nausea crawling up his throat, Erden forced himself upright, legs shaking, vision blurred.
Finally, the next message appeared.
---
Erden Donhesse
Age: 16
Ordeal: Dissolve
Dissolve the life
Tier: 5
Response Tier: 4
Unbind: 0
---
Just a few stark lines, yet they carried the weight of chains. His name. His age. And this thing Ordeal. His power. Each Ordeal had a Tier, ranked from 1 to 5. The higher the Tier, the greater its potential and the steeper its price. Response measured the toll it took. A low Response Tier meant exhaustion. A high one meant death.
The paper offered a cold line of guidance:
"Newborn may view their own Ordeal. To examine another's, a special item is required."
"May you Newborn survive this world's cruelty long enough to reach the true End. Farewell."
The paper dissolved into empty air, leaving Erden shivering on the cracked floor. The pain remained, coiled around his heart like barbed wire. He drew a breath, summoning the page again. It blinked back into existence at his call.
Dissolve. Dissolve the life. Tier 5. A smirk twitched at the edge of his lips was this luck? For once? But his gaze fell to the next line.
Response Tier 4.
Almost the highest. If Tier 5 could kill instantly, Tier 4 was a blade on a hair trigger. He might lie bleeding out before he could even understand what he'd done. There'd be no one to help him. Alone, the Ordeal was suicide. He needed allies.
There was no sign of life in this half-broken ruin. No wind to hint at morning or night. This world a dangerous world, the paper had called it. Somewhere, maybe, his mother and sister had survived too.
---
The bitter air no longer bit at him. He shrugged off his heavy coats until only one remained. Silence pressed in on him, memories flickering through the stillness. School. Friends. A life before the storm swallowed everything.
One name surfaced. Yaval. His only true friend. They'd met for the dumbest reason.Erden couldn't find a group for a project. Yaval had stuck to him ever since, loud, impossible to ignore. A good kid, never a bully. A boy who'd talk too loud at the worst times.
A laugh slipped out of Erden's throat. He remembered how Yaval would shove snacks into his hands to give to the girl he liked. Her name was Eve. Thinking of them eased the tightness in his chest until the reality crept back in. Did they survive?
---
Thud.
A noise in the shadows of a nearby alley. Not hidden. Not shy. He saw the shape a human figure, moving in jolting, unnatural steps. A corpse that hadn't rotted yet, flesh crawling forward on borrowed hunger.
It lunged.
Erden flung his coat at it and bolted. He needed a weapon anything. The ruins had to hold something that could kill. He ducked behind a shattered wall, heart hammering as the thing's rasping moan followed him through the dusk.
A flash of metal an iron bar wedged in broken stone. He ripped it free, ignoring the concrete that scraped his knuckles. The thing staggered closer, slow but relentless.
He swung the bar once missed. Again connection. Bone crunched. The corpse staggered back, then lurched forward again. A second swing crushed its skull. The thing fell, its body crumbling into drifting black dust.
Erden exhaled shakily. He dropped the iron bar, brushed the grit off his clothes. The paper flickered into sight.
By now, he'd begun calling it the Assistant. It didn't crumple like paper more like a window floating in air.
"You have slain a Failborne.
+2 Er."
So this was how he'd earn currency by killing the things that walked after death. Wonderful.
"Congratulations. You may now access the Coin Pouch."
A tiny icon of a pouch with "2 Er" glowed, then faded.
---
It wouldn't be enough. Erden's mind raced. If he stayed, he'd die here, torn apart by more Failborne. He needed transport some way to reach another settlement. The cold returned, gnawing at the edges of his resolve.
He turned to retrieve his coat. A voice cut through the silence.
"There's someone here!"
A boy's shout, echoing far too loud.
"Can't you talk quietly?"
A girl's voice, exasperated.
Erden winced. He hated loud voices, but that one familiar. He edged forward, peering into the empty street.
A red-haired girl with a blunt fringe. A black-haired boy standing beside her.
Yaval. And Eve.
His chest clenched. His breath caught. He stepped out into the open.
"Hey!" he called, voice cracking on the word.
They turned as one. Yaval's eyes widened.
"Erden!"
Eve stared, then broke into a grin.
" Hi... "
He laughed, half a sob, half relief, and they crashed into each other, three kids clinging together in the ruins of a world gone mad.
---
They sat together under the broken walls. Yaval pelted him with questions.Was he hurt? Had he eaten? Erden asked the same in return.
Yaval started first.
"I… I think I was asleep before I came here. Something was over my face, but I thought it was a dream. So I just… slept on. Then I woke up, and Eve was right there."
Incredibly, Eve nodded as if that explained anything.
Erden tilted his head.
"And you? Where'd you come from?"
Yaval shrugged.
"Same city. Other side. Some stray wolf led us here docile as a house dog. No clue why."
They all laughed. A fragile warmth, fragile hope, huddled between the ruins.
How long would it last?