The footsteps grew clearer, and as Kairos waited in the shadows, he finally caught sight of them—humans.
A group of six, clad in rugged gear, each armed with a beast soul weapon of some kind. Most of them looked young, around his age or slightly older, their faces relaxed, chatting casually as they moved. They didn't resemble soldiers or high-ranking elites—just regular shelter folk, probably out on a hunting expedition.
Kairos quickly calculated the best course of action. If they were friendly—and they looked it—then this was his chance.
He dropped his guard, let his shoulders sag, and took a deep breath.
Then, he stumbled out from the bushes.
"Help... please!" he called out, adding a crack of desperation to his voice.
The group immediately stopped. One of them, a girl with short auburn hair and a spear, rushed over.
"Woah! Are you okay? What happened to you?"
Kairos looked up at her with just the right amount of helplessness, rubbing his eyes and trying to look dazed. "I've been alone for days... I don't even know where I am. I-I got separated from my group when we were attacked by a creature. I ran... I don't know how far..."
Another guy stepped closer, frowning with concern. "You're lucky you're still alive. This area is crawling with different kind of beasts, even we have stepped in too far at this point."
"I've been running and hiding the whole time... barely survived off scraps," Kairos said, forcing a small cough and lowering his eyes.
The auburn-haired girl turned to the others. "We can't leave him out here. He's clearly in no shape to survive another night."
The leader of the group, a tall man with sharp eyes and a calm voice, gave a small nod. "Alright, you're coming with us. We'll take you back to Steel Armour Shelter. You can walk, right?"
"Ah, of course." Kairos answered instantly and bowed his head slightly, trying to hide the subtle smile threatening to show on his face.
"Thank you… really. I thought I was done for."
The group handed him some water and a protein bar, even ordinary meat was too precious to be given to strangers, and then they resumed walking, chatting with him like they'd known him for weeks. Easy-going, genuine. Kairos didn't even need to pretend for long—he blended in smoothly.
Steel ArmourShelter, huh?
Things were finally starting to move in the right direction.
---
The next few days passed so smoothly that Kairos hardly noticed when he was suddenly standing in the heart of Steel Armour Shelter. Massive steel walls towered over him, enclosing a sprawl of buildings that screamed advanced tech—like a fortress built for war and survival.
"Now that I think about it…" Kairos muttered as he scanned the area, "didn't the protagonist also get assigned to Steel Armour Shelter?" His eyes darted across the faces in the crowd, searching for one unforgettable name—Ass Freak. But Kairos didn't even knew what he looked like so it wasn't long before he gave up on the task.
He had already parted ways with the group that helped him, leaving them with a polite thank you. They'd been decent people, really—took the safest path back after their hunt, clearly choosing survival over glory. From what Kairos saw of their fighting style, they were still novices, but they had heart.
But just when he thought things were settling, reality hit him with a new problem—he had no assigned room.
Of course he didn't. He hadn't teleported here through the Alliance's official process. If he had, he'd have woken up in a private shelter room like everyone else. Instead, he dropped into this world through a crack in the void.
"…So, not only I'm a homeless in the Alliance, but in the God's Sanctuary as well?" Kairos chuckled dryly, the absurdity starting to wear on his nerves.
For the next few minutes, Kairos stood still, mentally flipping through the past like a worn-out diary, trying to figure out what grand sin he'd committed to deserve any of this. Nothing came to mind. No divine crime, no karmic misstep—just bad luck. He let out a breath of frustration and stepped toward the teleport train.
But just as his foot hit the platform, a loud commotion broke out nearby. People were shouting, scattering from one side of the shelter square.
"The hell is it now?" Kairos muttered, narrowing his eyes.
His gaze caught a figure in the middle of the disturbance—a man in a half-black coat, standing motionless. Black hair, black eyes, pale skin that looked almost too smooth for a fighter. The man barely moved, but the pressure in the air around him felt tangible.
Kairos's eyes sharpened. That look. That presence. He knew who that might be.
Without hesitation, he walked toward the crowd, weaving through the onlookers, needing to confirm what his instincts already screamed.
When Kairos reached the edge of the commotion, the full scene unfolded before him—and it was as intense as it was unexpected.
One man sat atop a beast soul mount, its limbs thick and powerful, steam puffing lightly from its nostrils. The rider wore an arrogant smirk, holding a long black whip loosely in one hand, the handle gleaming faintly in the sunlight. The way he sat made it clear—he thought he owned this place.
Across from him, a lone figure stood grounded, bow drawn to its full length. His arms were steady, his expression calm, but the killing intent leaking from him was unmistakable. The arrowhead gleamed, pointed squarely at the man on the mount.
The air was electric.
No one dared to move. Conversations had died out, leaving a silence so thick Kairos could feel it pressing against his ears. Even the usually noisy steel armor shelter seemed to hold its breath.
Kairos's eyes flicked between the two figures. One of them has to be him.