Longs' voice came through softer than usual. No grin. No sharpness.
"I remember what you said about the system and the code."
He paused.
"I think… I want to help with whatever you're doing. I want in!"
Cydal turned off the water and stepped out, toweling off before slipping into his uniform.
He smirked.
"You offer no help, You got lucky in the dungeons because I let the system scale down just enough for you to survive. You wouldn't last otherwise in anything I do."
Longs didn't flinch.
"Then let me be useful again, take me to your quests and scale it by using me and make it easy, we can both win."
Cydal scoffed, brushing past him.
"That's not how this works."
But Longs stepped into his path, arms wide.
"Then tell me how it works! You said I was already part of the system. Don't shut me out like I'm useless. I don't want to stand by while things fall apart. I don't want to feel like I missed the point again."
That hit deeper than Cydal expected.
He studied Longs' face. No sarcasm. No bluff. Just sincerity.
Cydal looked at Longs, his expression unreadable—cold, distant.
"Don't get the wrong idea," he said flatly. "I'm not treating you like you're useless. You are useless. You offer nothing to anything I'm doing."
Longs flinched, unsure whether to argue back or just listen. Cydal's voice carried that eerie weight again, like he was speaking from somewhere beyond this world.
"You think you want to learn about the system?" Cydal sneered. "You wouldn't understand it if it burned itself into your brain."
Then, as if offhandedly, he added:
"Your world has six days left. That's how long until it ends up just like that dungeon we saw today."
Longs' eyes widened. The panic set in.
But Cydal? He seemed to enjoy it. Like feeding off the despair.
"Remember when I told you yours was the most tragic death out of everyone's?" he said, eyes narrowing. "Want to know what happens to you?"
He paused, just long enough to raise Longs' hope.
Then he said nothing.
Because he didn't know. And that was the scariest part.
"The system tied you to a quest the moment I met you," Cydal finally said, stepping closer. "A quest I failed."
"And now… you're my penalty."
He shrugged. "Whatever happens to you is the game's punishment for me. But honestly? I don't care."
Cydal turned, starting to walk away but not before leaving one final sting:
"The game uses connections. It turns them into weapons. That's why I don't want people like you getting close to me. You're not helping me. You're causing problems for yourself and that is not smart."
His voice dropped to a chilling whisper.
"So stay away from me. If you want to live the last 6 days you have."
Longs stood frozen, heart pounding in his chest like it was trying to escape.
His thoughts spiraled, Six days? The world? Punishment?
And he… he was going to die?
"What the hell…" he whispered, barely breathing.
He wanted to believe it was some cruel joke. But the system… they'd both seen it.
The dungeon, the bodies of their friends. The monsters and the dead worlds.
This wasn't a warning. It was a countdown.
Still, giving up?
That wasn't something Longs knew how to do.
Even if the fear clung to his skin like frost, his legs moved.
He chased after Cydal, voice trembling but loud enough:
"Hey! You think I'm just gonna sit back and wait to die because you failed some messed up quest? I'm in this too, you said it yourself i was part of the system, so i won't stop helping. I will grow stronger and fight too!"
Cydal didn't slow down, but he was clearly irritated.
But then—
A voice rang out.
"S-sorry to interrupt!" Randa's voice cracked a little as she appeared in the hallway, trying to sound casual but clearly nervous. She kept smiling awkwardly and looking back at the principal's office.
"I-I couldn't wait anymore… The professor kept complaining about me taking you away, so I just… left him. Miss irari said He'll live, I hope I didn't put him through too much." She giggled nervously.
Then she smiled, too quickly, eyes darting from Longs to Cydal and then quickly down to the floor like she wasn't sure she had the right to look them in the eye.
"Oh… you found Longs already too? Th-that's good. That saves us time." She laughed awkwardly, but it came out more like a hiccup. She said she'd take Cydal to her home but she was clearly nervous now.
"We should, um, head to town… I-I guess. Lal and Isaac already left. I couldn't find Shari or Kowa either, so…" her voice softened, trembling for just a second.
"So I guess we're all that's left now."
She forced herself to look at Cydal, her eyes unsure but warm.
"Are you okay? You… look like you've been through a lot again. I heard what the principal said, the students here are a bunch of ruffians. To be honest, ignoring them is better.
" Anyways!" She continued. "I think the professor is right. We should not be at the school anymore. It's late, let's go home."
After a moment passed and they had made it to the town's highest section which was the closest stop as the school was also built at a high cliff. The air buzzed with quiet life dust swirling low and the black brooding ocean crashed at the far end of the town.
This upper part of the town was nothing like where Cydal had first entered this morning. Down below, the streets were cracked, the houses crumbling, and the people worn thin by hunger and hopelessness. But here everything was different.
The roads were clean and well-paved, the homes stood tall with polished stone and carved wood, each one a testament to wealth and stability. The people wore finer clothes, their faces healthier, their eyes sharper. This was where the privileged lived, where power resided.
But even in the presence of beauty, Cydal could feel it.
The unease.
The way eyes followed them, him and Randa they were not with curiosity, but with silent suspicion. Some looked at them as if they were troublemakers or thieves. Others stared with the wary tension of people expecting to be stolen from. No welcome. No warmth.
Longs barely took a step before he was intercepted by a flustered but very beautiful woman standing in front of her crooked door, two of her boys who looked about 12-13 years old came rushing out of the house, they were playing with wooden swords pretending to do sword fighting.
"Oh, thank the heavens!" she cried, grabbing his hand like he'd just descended from the clouds.
"My ceiling broke again, honestly, these kids are a disaster. They have no sense for damage, always playing on the rooftop and breaking holes in my house. What would I ever do to these little rascals?"
She bowed apologetically but didn't let go of Longs' hand.
"It never used to matter 'cause we don't get much rain, but the dust storms lately are a trouble aren't they?" She clutched her head. "It gets through the cracks. My whole kitchen looks like a sandpit."
She looked Longs up and down, smiling.
"You're tall and you've got big hands, you're perfect! it's like god made you for patching ceilings. And worry not, I'll make it worth your time if you help me, there'll be a proper feast tonight if you stay after work.
That caught Longs. He lit up with a grin so wide it might've cracked his jaw. "A feast? I mean… I guess I can help, I don't like to brag, lady but I'm great at building and fixing your stuff, show me the hole!" He looked at Randa and Cydal with a shrug. "Sorry, I'll catch up later!"
As the woman led him away, the kids trailed behind. One of them, deadpan and loud, asked:
"Are you going to fuck this man too?"
The woman froze, her face went crimson as she looked at Longs and immediately turned away blushing.
"Absolutely not! You two better mind your tongue boys!" she shrieked, thwacking both kids on the head as they cackled and ran inside. Laughing and teasing that woman as they kept screaming:
"Fuckers! Fuckers!"
Longs looked completely lost.
Randa was all embarrassed and red, she heard everything but Cydal acted like he didn't even hear any other words that weren't for him so he was safe.
After losing Longs to that woman's unclear motifs, Cydal and Randa kept walking until they reached the lower sanctions of the town. Unlike the section at top of cliffs, The houses in this part of town looked worn out, like they'd been standing for too long. Their walls were cracked, and the paint had peeled off years ago. The roofs were patched with whatever people could find, scraps of metal, old wood, even plastic sheets. Some wooden beams stuck out awkwardly, like broken bones.
This was not cydal's first time here, he had once lived hidden deep within the forest, cut off from the world for five long years as a baby until he was 5 years old. Then, against all odds, he was brought into the village and dragged into the same place that would later blame him for everything wrong in their lives. He remained here until the age of thirteen. Enough time to understand that this town wasn't a home. It was a hellhole, a curse that festered with every breath it took.
The skies above were nothing but a ceiling of thick, black clouds, polluted and unmoving, as if the heavens themselves had turned their back on this place. No sunlight. No rain. Not for eighteen years. The oceans had become vile and toxic, coughing up rotten fish that tasted like death. The forests had withered into silent graveyards, and the land no longer bore crops. Everything that once gave life had withered, and everyone knew when it started.
They blamed Cydal. And maybe, just maybe, they had a reason.
He was born the same year the skies turned dark. He was born cursed. His skin was reptilian and green, his eyes fierce and unnatural. Horns sprouted from his skull, and a long tail dragged behind him. His face alone was enough to send the midwives screaming. The nurses collapsed when he was born. Some whispered that he wasn't a child, but a demon mistaken for one.
The town itself was divided, a reflection of its rotting hierarchy.
At the top, perched high on jagged cliffs, lived the wealthiest and most dangerous. Their riches didn't come from hard work or honest trade, they thrived on crime. Smugglers, thieves, black-market traders all dealing with the outer cities, places forbidden to the rest of the town's people. While common folk were banned from stepping beyond the fog, these criminals embraced the illegality. They grew powerful through theft, lies, and blood.
The middle ring was home to the workers. Not just crop farmers, though there were few of those left but fishers, animal breeders, carpenters, and woodcutters. They labored with calloused hands and heavy eyes, always looking up toward the cliffside with quiet resentment or false hopes. Most of them stayed in their own lanes, speaking only when necessary. Many had turned to shady practices out of desperation. Those who weren't useful to the top section? They were left to rot or replaced. There were no second chances here.
And at the very bottom, buried under layers of smoke and silence, lived the forgotten, the ones deemed garbage. They had nothing. No land. No food. No future. Most went to bed with empty stomachs, if they had beds at all. Some died in silence. Others didn't even have the strength to scream.
The town, once a humble place of survival, had long since fallen under the iron grip of Lardo's gang. Though merely a teenager, Lardo had ruled it with an unrelenting fist ever since he was a child. From a disturbingly young age, his strength and cruelty exceeded anything human. He didn't just rise to power, he crushed his way to it, understanding early on that fear was a far more effective tool than respect, and control was easier to maintain through weakness than loyalty.
He had a talent for dismantling others, stealing positions, severing bonds, and draining people of their dignity until they became shells too afraid to oppose him. Those who stood tall were broken. Those who served were puppets. And those who begged? They were merely entertainment.
In this town, the name Lardo inspired more fear than even the rumors surrounding Cydal. At least Cydal was whispered about possibly being a demon. But Lardo? He proved it every day through torture, domination, and public displays of his sadistic rule. He didn't need rumors. He didn't need myths.
The people had given him a title not out of reverence, but because no other name seemed fitting.
High Lord Demon.
And Lardo wore it like a crown.
Outside the worn-down houses, elderly townspeople sat hunched on old stools or the edges of broken steps. Their faces were deeply lined, shaped by years of hard living. Most of them looked tired, their eyes distant and hollow, like hope had left them long ago. No one was talking. Some barely moved at all.
But that changed the moment they saw Randa.
Their expressions lit up with small smiles. Some even sat up straighter, like her presence gave them energy.
"Hi Mrs. Fuba! How's your leg doing now?" Randa called out, pointing to a sweet, round older woman.
Mrs. Fuba stood up surprisingly fast. "The pain is all gone! Even my husband's shocked at how quick it healed. Tell me, what did you do?"
Randa laughed awkwardly. "It's just the right herbs. But if you need another remedy, I'd be happy to help."
Cydal noticed how her voice trembled, how her hands slightly shook. It felt off, like she was lying. And that made him suspicious.
Still, she kept going, smiling and greeting every elder and child she passed. She knew everyone's name and asked how they were doing, if they needed anything, if their homes were holding up. The children were especially excited to see her, jumping and begging her to come play with them.
But Randa gently refused. "Not today, I'm with someone," she said, nodding toward Cydal.
When the kids looked at him, they gasped and quickly ran to hide behind their mothers.
One of the villagers called out to Randa. "Have you been to the plaza yet? That beautiful and blessed young lady, Beauty, brought back a huge hunt from the forest."
The villagers went on to praise her strength and kindness.
"We're all eating well tonight! But if you don't hurry, the food might all be gone."
Randa panicked the moment she remembered.
"Oh no! The food!" she gasped. Without a second thought, she grabbed Cydal's hand and rushed toward the plaza.
But when they arrived, it was worse than she feared.
The entire village had gathered. There were no lines, no sense of order, just chaos. People shoved, shouted, and scrambled to grab whatever they could for their hungry children or sick family members. Desperation filled the air.
Randa stopped in her tracks. Her heart sank.
"I'm sorry, Cydal," she said, guilt washing over her face. "It looks like we won't be getting much tonight. I brought you with me hoping we'd get something... but I can't even offer you that."
Cydal looked at her quietly for a moment, then asked, "Why don't you go fight for some food?"
She blinked at him. "What?"
"In nature," he continued coldly, "you don't survive by waiting for another animal's kindness. You hunt. You take what's yours."
Her eyes widened in panic. "Don't say that! We can't just fight people and steal their food!"
"You wouldn't be stealing," Cydal said, voice flat. "The food is meant for the public and whoever's sharp enough to take it."
Randa looked down, visibly torn. "Still… I think it's better to stay in line, to be patient and kind. These people… some haven't fed their kids in days."
Cydal couldn't understand her logic. The crowd was ruthless, clawing for scraps. Even the ones giving out the food were barely being treated with any respect.
"So," he asked, "you really value being nice that much?"
She nodded slowly. Her voice was soft but steady. "being nice to each other is what keeps us human. If we all let go of that, then we're just animals fighting for scraps in the dirt. I'd rather go hungry than lose that part of me."
Just then, the crowd began to disperse, the noise dying down as most of the food ran out.
Standing at the front of the plaza was Isaac, his sleeves rolled up and his face sweaty from the effort and his father beside him. He looked up and smiled when he saw Randa.
"Hey randa! I'm sorry about the food but you just missed it… we ran out," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "But—wait, there's still this." He held out a small loaf of bread.
Randa's eyes lit up. "Thank you," she said warmly, accepting it with both hands. "Where's Lal? I was hoping to see her."
Isaac chuckled. "Back at home. You know how she is, she's not great with crowds. She's got a short temper, and Dad thought it'd be better if she stayed behind to help Mom instead."
Randa smiled softly. "Tell her I said hi, okay?"
"Of course."
Lal wasn't just Isaac's girlfriend, she was practically family. After losing her parents at a young age, she had been taken in by Isaac's parents and raised alongside him. They'd been close ever since, like two halves growing up in the same wound. Maybe that was why she protected him so fiercely, even if it meant pushing others away.
Randa split the bread in half, handing one piece to Cydal with a warm smile. Just as they were about to take a bite, a small tug on her skirt stopped her.
A little girl stood there, her face smudged with dirt, clothes frayed and too thin for the weather. She looked up with big, apologetic eyes and pointed toward a quiet corner of the plaza.
"My mama's sick," she whispered. "She couldn't get any food… the people were too mean. Can you please share a little?"
Cydal stared at the girl in silence, unreadable as always. But Randa's eyes softened immediately, filling with tears.
"Of course," she said gently, crouching down. "Take me to her."
The girl led her to a frail woman slumped against a wall, eyes half-closed, her breathing shallow. Without hesitation, Randa knelt beside her, offered her the bread, and spoke to her softly, holding her hand. She had nothing left to eat herself, but she gave it anyway.
Cydal stood still, watching it all unfold.
That kind of kindness… that quiet sacrifice, it stirred something old and buried inside him.
The way she smiled despite her hunger, the way she cared even when no one was looking.
It reminded him of someone.
Of the friend he once called big brother—R'ham.
Wanting to understand the reason behind Randa's compassion, the kind that offered help without reward Cydal did something he'd never done before.
He knelt down beside the sick woman, silent and thoughtful. Then, from his inventory, he retrieved a small vial filled with a glowing, otherworldly liquid, a potion capable of curing any illness.
But before he could offer it, the woman's eyes widened in horror. She flinched and her face turned pale.
"Get away from me!" she cried, her voice trembling with fear. "Don't touch me!"
Cydal froze.
"You're the one who cursed this place, aren't you?" she shouted, her voice rising. "You're the reason the sun's gone, the reason our land is dying! It sickens me to see you pretend to be human, pretend to care. If you really want to help, then leave! Take your curse and go!"
Randa's mouth opened in shock. She tried to speak, to explain, but the woman wouldn't listen.
Even the little girl, tears in her eyes, stepped in front of her mother and picked up a small stone. She threw it.
"Go away, demon! You're scaring my mom!"
The rock barely touched him, but it echoed like thunder in the silence between them.
Randa quickly stepped in, apologizing quietly, placing herself between Cydal and the woman. She took his arm gently, leading him away, her heart pounding.
Before they left, she turned back.
"I'll come check on you later," she said softly to the mother. "Please… don't lose hope."
Cydal walked beside her in silence, his expression unreadable. But something had shifted.
The rejection still lingered in his mind, like a splinter under the skin. That woman's words… the fear in her voice, the stone thrown by a child, it all felt too familiar.
To him, this was proof. Proof that Randa's methods were wrong. That kindness was just a myth an illusion weak people clung to. It couldn't protect you. It couldn't change anything. It only left you vulnerable.
Randa kept apologizing, flustered and worried.
"I'm so sorry… She didn't mean that, she's just scared. People say things they don't—"
"I don't care," he cut her off coldly.
And he didn't. Not about what the woman said. Not about the apologies. What haunted him was something deeper, that for a second, he'd almost believed her way might work.
They walked for a long time after that, through crooked alleys and cracked paths, until finally they stopped in front of a small, worn-down house tucked in a quiet corner of the village.
Randa walked up to the door and knocked.
Cydal raised a brow. "Wait… I thought you said you lived alone. Then why are you knocking? Who're you expecting to open it?"
To Cydal's surprise, it was Beauty who opened the door.
For a moment, both of them just stared.
She looked stunned, her eyes wide, her breath caught halfway. Like she hadn't expected to see him standing there. Not today. Not ever again.
"…Cydear?" she whispered, almost like she was dreaming.
But Cydal's eyes narrowed instantly. His gaze snapped to Randa, sharp and accusing.
"You brought me here?" he asked, voice low and tense. "Why didn't you tell me this was her house?"
To be continued