Allison's words echoed in Luke's mind. The idea that Bastion, Bartholomew's fortress, might house one of the mechanisms that could help everyone escape the tutorial felt both logical and unlikely at the same time. Yet, as he thought it over, the notion of one of the three mechanisms being hidden within that fortress no longer seemed out of place. In fact, it made perfect sense.

Allison crossed her arms, gaze sharp as a knife. She watched Luke process it. "If you really think about it... doesn't it make sense?"

Luke frowned. Something about the equation felt... wrong. "No," he muttered. "If he already activated one of the mechanisms... why wouldn't he announce it? He could push everything forward. Speed the process up."

Allison let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Because you're thinking like someone who wants to leave the tutorial."

His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You. Me. Everyone else here—we want out. That's the whole point. Escape. Survival. But..." Her arms tightened across her chest. "What if Bartholomew doesn't?"

Silence stretched between them. The idea hit harder than it should have. He'd always assumed everyone wanted out. Desperately. Obsessively. But what if someone was... stalling?

Allison's voice sharpened. "Look at Angelica. Look at Bastion. You think it's a coincidence she runs a whole faction inside his territory? You think that happens without permission?"

Luke's jaw tightened. "You think she knows something."

"I think she knows a lot more than she lets on."

The pieces slid into place. If Bastion was hiding one of the mechanisms... then Bartholomew wasn't a key to escape.

He was the wall keeping them trapped.

***

By the next day, Luke was back at the edge of camp, pack heavy with scavenged supplies. The strap dug deep into his shoulder—a quiet reminder that he was getting stronger. Faster. Sharper.

He walked straight to Paul, the man in charge of logistics for the Haven. "Here. Think I got everything on that list."

Paul took the bag and peeked inside. His eyes widened. "Damn... this usually takes our teams weeks. You're ridiculously fast."

Luke shrugged, keeping it casual. "Got lucky." Too much attention was dangerous.

But Paul was still staring, visibly impressed.

Before Luke could change the subject, someone stepped quietly beside them—small, familiar. Silent as always.

Cecilia.

She signed rapidly.

Paul squinted, trying to follow. "Uh... something about spices? Oh—she says the herbs you brought are used to season food. She works in the kitchen. I think she's thanking you."

Cecilia offered a polite nod, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Luke scratched the back of his neck. "R-right... no problem."

With the delivery done, he turned to leave—then paused. Someone was sitting quietly away from the crowd, hunched over a collection of glass vials, sorting them with steady hands.

Thiara. The healer.

Luke hesitated. His left shoulder ached—a sharp, grinding pain he'd been ignoring. Turns out Basic Blood Regeneration was great for cuts and surface wounds... but less effective for fractured bones. He didn't want to waste one of his last potions.

So he walked over. "Thiara."

She jolted, nearly knocking over a flask. "M-Mister Luke! You scared me!"

Luke blinked. Not the first time. His footsteps had become... problematic. Another note for the mental checklist: start making deliberate noise around camp.

"Sorry," he said.

Thiara pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her breath. "You... really don't make a sound when you move..."

"I know." His voice stayed even. "I need a quick heal. Left shoulder's wrecked. Not sure how the payment works, but I'll compensate you after my next run."

Thiara shook her head, letting out a soft laugh. "Don't worry. I heal people for free."

Luke frowned. "For free?"

She nodded. "My class gives me experience every time I heal. So technically... the system pays me. I prioritize Hunters and Explorers, though. The ones who keep the Haven running."

That made sense. If he wanted to keep pushing deeper into the Wild Zone... having a healer in his corner wasn't optional. It was survival.

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Thiara reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder. A faint green glow bloomed beneath her palm, soft but radiant. Warmth flooded the joint. The ache vanished, replaced by a soothing clarity that spread through his ribs, his spine, even the fatigue in his legs.

His breath escaped in a slow exhale. Relief. Pure and absolute.

The glow faded. Thiara pulled her hand back. "There. Good as new."

Luke rolled his shoulder. Smooth. No pain. Not even the dull soreness. "...Incredible." He checked his status. "Even my HP's back to full."

Thiara smiled, gentle but steady. "That's how healing magic works."

For a moment, Luke just stood there—genuinely impressed. Having someone like her in a world like this... felt like a luxury.

"You're valuable," he said quietly, meeting her eyes.

But her expression shifted.

Softer now. Hesitant.

"I use a lot of mana to heal," she admitted quietly. "And I only really level my class through healing. I don't go into combat. I don't... have any offensive skills. So... I'm not that amazing."

Luke caught the tremor beneath her words.

"Couldn't you awaken combat skills eventually?" he asked. He'd seen it happen. Charlie developed a punching skill just from fighting barehanded.

Thiara looked away. "I could... but..." Her voice dropped. "I'm scared."

He didn't answer right away.

Yeah. He understood. More than anyone.

"...That makes sense," he said at last. "It's dangerous out there. But knowing someone like you's here—ready to patch us up... honestly, that gives me more courage than you think."

Her eyes brightened, a small, genuine smile forming.

Luke returned it. "Anyway... I'm glad you're here. Next time I get smashed into a wall, I know exactly where I'm running."

"It's my pleasure, Mister Luke," she said softly.

He turned to leave.

But he felt it. Her gaze. Still lingering.

"...Mister Luke," Thiara called, quieter now.

He paused. "Yeah?"

She glanced around. Subtle. Checking the crowd. Making sure no one was listening.

Then... she leaned in. Close enough for her breath to brush his ear.

"I saw it," she whispered. "That day... what was inside Mister Allison's bag."

Luke froze.

His brain flatlined.

She saw it?!

The... the women's clothes?!

A cold spike crawled down his spine.

But then—her hand touched his shoulder. Gentle. Warm.

And she smiled.

"It's okay, Mister Luke."

A beat.

"I don't judge gay couples."

His soul left his body.

WHAT?!

***

Days had passed. Luke and Princess Charlie carved their way through the Wild Zone. Relentless. Precise. Ruthless. Each fight fed into the next. Each kill pushed their levels higher.

And now... he was here.

Perched in the shadows. Motionless. Eyes sharp. A predator.

The bandit camp sprawled below, nestled against the ruins of an old mansion. Even after losing several men, they hadn't moved.

At first, it didn't add up. Until Luke caught pieces of their arguments. A fracture. One of them wanted to side with the Renegades. The others... didn't trust him. That's why they stayed.

Luke memorized every patrol path, every guard rotation. Every lazy glance, every blind spot. The camp sat perfectly balanced—right at the border between the Safe Zone and the Wild Zone. Neutral ground. A limbo.

And the Midnight Wardens... didn't cross it.

Luke had noticed it days ago. The Wardens steered clear of this place—the ruins, the mansion, the forests around it. At first, he thought it was coincidence. Now he knew better.

Each Lord controlled territory. The Wardens avoided stepping into domains that weren't theirs.

His lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. It didn't change anything.

He opened his system. Fingers flew across the interface, dragging points into place.

Because tonight... none of them were walking out of here alive.

Name: Luke Level: 6 Rank: F Class: [Demonic Assassin (Lvl 11)] Race: Half-Demon Profession: — Titles: [Dark Lord] Bloodline: [Bloodline of the Dark Demon] Health Points (HP): 510/510 Mana Points (MP): 288/330 Stamina: 231/250 Soul Fragments: 21/1000

Stats: Strength: 47 Agility: 55 Endurance: 25 Vitality: 51 Perception: 48 Intelligence: 33 Free Points: 4

He was stronger than he had ever been.

Not just in stats. In mindset.

He wasn't the same person who arrived in this nightmare.

He eyed the floating system window and made his choice without hesitation.

Stats Updated: Intelligence: 33 -> 37 Free Points: 4 -> 0 Mana Points (MP): 288/330 -> 328/370

Heat surged beneath his skin as mana pulsed through every nerve. The more mana he carried, the more life he could drain. Someday soon... he'd be able to rip the soul straight out of anything that bled.

His gaze locked onto the camp. Time to begin the hunt.

The crossbowman stood watch near the forest's edge, perched atop the skeletal remains of an old outpost. Farther ahead, the others laughed around the fire, oblivious.

Then—

A whistle. Soft. Precise.

The sentry turned. Alert. Searching.

Too late.

A hand clamped over his mouth. Fingers dug into his jaw. He was yanked backward, vanishing into the dark behind the outpost—silent, weightless, like prey pulled underwater.

His back struck the dirt. Breath punched from his lungs. His vision spun—until something blocked the moonlight. A skeleton. Looming. Blade raised.

For a split second, the edge caught the moon. Then it fell. Fast. Surgical. Final.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

[Princess Charlie has slain a Human – Lvl 5 (Crossbowman – Lvl 10)]

*The [Death Knight] class of Princess Charlie has reached Level 8! (Class Bonus Points Acquired)*

[Princess Charlie has gained a new Class Skill]

Luke smirked from the shadows.

Charlie had leveled up. More free points. More strength. More speed. More lethality. But what truly mattered... was the new skill.

Then he noticed it. Level 8.

His eyes narrowed. His breathing slowed. It was almost like feeling something snap into place inside his mind. He looked at her. The smile sharpened.

"Now I can equip you with armor pieces."

The system interface popped up in front of him. As he dragged the items into Charlie's inventory, a thought settled in his mind.

Now I have an armored knight guarding me.

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