“This whole event,” Reneal cut in, “it wasn’t charity. It was planned. All of it. An inhumane way to get rid of the slaves and slum folk in one fell swoop.”
He stared ahead, unmoving, his gaze pinned to the spot where his sister’s precious friend had vanished into the ether. “But what happened to Sophia…?”
Neville’s jaw flexed. He felt sorry that their companion had been spirited away, but his duty, as always, came first. He reached for the flustered boy, fingers curling firmly around his arm. “We have to go. Your safety takes precedence.”
“I…” Reneal faltered, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. But he nodded. He couldn’t fall apart now—not here. Not if it meant putting Neville in danger.
Together, they ran toward the barricades.
The crowd had swelled, now a writhing sea of panicked bodies. People pressed against the erected blockade, some pounding their fists against the wooden beams, others pleading, sobbing, even threatening. The guards held the line, unmoved, spears and swords raised—not at the monsters, but at the people.
Neville shoved through the crowd, one arm around Reneal’s wrist as he pushed toward a nearby soldier. “Let us through!” he barked. “This boy is Prince Reneal Ainsworth!”
The guard turned. He was young, sweat glistening on his brow beneath his helm, but the look in his eyes was hardened steel. He gave the boy one glance and scoffed. “You expect me to believe the prince would be out here with the vermin?” He spat on the ground. “Nice try, old man.”
Both Neville and Reneal stiffened.
Before they could recover, the crowd behind them surged forward in another desperate wave. The two were shoved to the side as more men and women shouted and clawed at the guards.
“Please, I have children!”
“We’re not slaves, dammit, let us out!”
“You bastards! Open the damn gate!”
One of the guards, face twisted in disgust and panic, snarled and thrust his blade through a gap in the wooden barricade. The scream that followed was sharp and short—a man fell to the ground, clutching his stomach, blood pooling beneath him.
Neville’s grip on Reneal tightened as he pulled him back. “They’re not holding the people in to protect them,” he muttered. “They’re planning to use them… to distract the coming monsters.”
Reneal looked up at him, eyes wide and brimming with helplessness. His lips trembled. “You mean… they’re bait.”
Neville didn’t answer.
The roar of the approaching horde rumbled faintly in the distance, a sound like rolling thunder echoing through the stone outcrop. The monsters were coming.
And the people?
The people had already been fed to the wolves.
***
Daisuke’s eyes gleamed a liquid gold, the light from his irises casting a faint glow as he took in their surroundings. Cold, moss-slick walls loomed around them. One glance told him everything.
They’d been teleported to the lowest floor of the dungeon. He could feel it. The air was heavy, saturated with stagnant mana and the coppery tang of blood.
This was the boss’s lair.
It’s actually a pretty low-level boss, he thought, recalling the fiend’s Status Window. But it makes up for its weakness with a space-time manipulation skill, which is annoying as hell.
He clenched his jaw, his vision expanding. The world peeled away like wet parchment—walls turned translucent, distance blurred—and there they were: hundreds of flickering white auras representing people, snuffed out one after another like dying stars. Slaughtered by crimson clouds—monsters crawling across every floor, every tunnel.
It was a bloodbath.
People were thrown into the abyss with no means of escape. Screams were muffled by stone. Monsters ripped into flesh in a mindless frenzy.
I can’t save everyone… Daisuke’s fists trembled as his sides, his gaze shifting back to the current chamber. I’m just one person. The least I can do is protect those who are with me right now.
There were over two dozen people in his midst, trapped inside the massive chamber. He barely had time to sort through the grief boiling in his chest when a harsh voice shattered the stillness.
“You damned fool!” Baron Aurelius’s voice was thick with rage. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! We gave you one task. One!”
Daisuke turned. The baron towered over Father Alvian, viciously booting him in the ribs, his once lavish robes dirtied and torn.
“We put you in charge of this operation!” Aurelius howled, saliva flying from his lips. “You said it was under control! That it was safe!”
Alvian, on all fours, whimpered, clutching his head as though it could shield him from the fury. “I-I swear, my lord! This wasn’t supposed to happen! I’ve never seen that creature before—something’s changed! The dungeon… it’s not behaving as it should! Something’s gone wrong!”
“You’ve gone wrong!” Aurelius spat. “You absolute imbecile! You’ve stranded us in here with that thing! You’ve doomed us all!”
Enraged by their utter lack of remorse and blatant disregard for everyone else but themselves, Daisuke hung his head and slowly approached. He didn’t say a word—just grabbed the priest by the collar and slammed him into the wall. The stone cracked behind him.
“You…” Daisuke hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “Explain. Now.”
“G-Get your hands off me, wench!” Alvian barked, struggling in her grip. “Do you even know who I am?!”
He kicked and squirmed, red-faced and sweating. “Y-You’re not normal… how are you this strong?!”
Daisuke pressed his forearm deeper into the priest’s thick throat until his face turned purple. “Speak.”
Alvian gasped, flailing desperately as it became increasingly difficult to breathe. “It was… it was just a culling! That’s all!”
Murmurs swept through the chamber.
Aurelius sneered. “You ingrate! Shut your damned face!”
“A culling…?” someone repeated in disbelief.
Alvian kept talking, wheezing between breaths, his eyes bulging. “The slaves… they obey. It’s easy enough to control them. But the homeless… they’re unruly. Unwashed. They steal. They squat. They have absolutely… no respect for order. So we… we thought to handle the congestion.”
The man slipped in a smirk.
Daisuke’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “So, you just served them up to the monsters to die.”
“To protect the city!” Alvian croaked. “You can’t have… a garden bloom while the weeds run rampant!”
Gasps erupted all around. The slaves and slum folk stared with wide, tear-filled eyes. Their fear transformed, the air turning acidic with fury.
“You monsters!”
“My daughter—she was just a child!”
“You lured us here to die?!”
“You bastards!” a man shouted, marching forward. “My wife is gone because of you!”
“My baby!” a mother cried, clutching a torn doll as she slumped to the ground. “I’ve lost my baby!”
The baron scoffed, straightening his coat. “Control yourselves. You’re all alive, aren’t you? I suggest you stay that way.” He said, scheming to exploit them as meat shields to foster his escape.
Suddenly, a woman broke from the crowd, her face streaked with dirt and tears. She latched onto Aurelius, clawing at his chest with desperation.
“Bring her back! Please, bring back my child!”
The man growled in disgust and backhanded her so hard she fell to the floor. “Unhand me, you mongrel!”
A middle-aged man rushed forward. “You heartless bastard!”
But Aurelius raised a single hand. “Kill him.”
The mages obeyed.
In a flash, spears of ice shot from their wands, impaling the man in three places—shoulder, gut, chest. He gasped, blood bubbling at his lips. Glancing down, wide-eyed, he watched in stunned silence as his life essence rippled down the ice like syrup.
Then he went limp and collapsed.
Screams erupted across the stone chamber.
“Silence!” Aurelius bellowed, dark lines of revulsion creasing his face. “You dare raise your hands at a noble? I should have you all executed!”
He strode forward, face now contorted in arrogance. “Do you think your lives matter? You’re the excrement of society. The rot beneath our feet. Be grateful you were given the honor of dying for the good of the capital!”
Daisuke’s daggers pulsed at his side. His breath grew shallow. Rage stirred in his chest.
That’s when the slithering began.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Slither.
The walls vibrated with it. Daisuke turned sharply. From the entrance of the chamber, they came. Monsters—reptilian quadrupeds that moved like shadows, their eyes glowing with hunger, a dark hiss rising from their maws.
The crowd screamed.
The fiends’ heads jerked toward their scrambling prey. Their nostrils flared, tasting the air. They were drawn not just by blood—but by fear and malice. The more wicked the soul, the stronger and more attractive the scent.
Like sharks in crimson waters, they converged.
Father Alvian squealed like a cornered pig and bolted, robes flapping as he fled toward the entrance. “Stay back, you heathens!” he shrieked, thrusting his staff forward.
A burst of holy light surged out, blasting several of the monsters into the walls. Their bodies crumpled with loud cracks—but only momentarily.
The slum folk and slaves, desperate for a chance to escape, chased after him.
“No—stop!” Daisuke warned.
But it was too late.
The monsters rebounded with a vengeance, like boulders with legs. Their gaping jaws caught the first woman mid-run, ripping her in half.
A man slipped in her blood, only to have three monsters pile onto him. His screams were short-lived—one beast bit into his face while another tugged at his abdomen, tearing out his intestines like sausages from a torn sack. Another was dragged away, arms outstretched, begging for help as blood trailed behind him.
The chamber resonated with the crack of bones and the wet slop of organs hitting stone. The creatures swarmed in coordinated packs, leaping onto backs, latching onto throats. Some people were pinned, their limbs twisted and mangled while they were still alive.
Over a dozen were devoured in seconds.