"The sun! Is this really the sun? Oh, God! I've finally seen the sun! I've finally seen it!" Dylan Ross dropped to his knees, overcome with emotion, his eyes streaming with tears as he stared skyward, shouting incoherently.

  Captain Harris observed the boy's outburst impassively, clearly accustomed to such scenes. Beside Ryan stood a sturdy, broad-shouldered man with a simple, honest face, looking at Dylan with quiet pity.

  Ryan himself was indeed stunned—not by the blazing orb in the sky, but by his surroundings. Verdant greenery stretched endlessly, vibrant and fresh, the air crisp and intoxicating. Each breath was pure and clean, sweeter than anything he'd ever experienced back in his original time. This scenery was beyond beautiful; it was surreal.

  Looking at Dylan's emotional breakdown, Ryan wondered briefly if he ought to pretend to share Dylan's awe. But before he could decide, the sturdy man beside him leaned over, whispering approvingly, "You're doing well, Ryan. Keeping calm under these circumstances means you'll likely outlive that fool over there."

  Ryan nearly choked. He wasn't calm because of discipline or bravery—he simply wasn't awestruck by something as common as the sun.

  "Alright, Dylan. Calm down," Captain Harris finally spoke, his voice stern. "You both need to remember clearly: the surface, beautiful as it is, does not belong to us anymore."

  His eyes narrowed grimly. "For us humans, this place is nothing but death. Every year, the patrol team loses over thirty fighters—and at least one bloodline warrior."

  Dylan instantly froze, shivering at Harris's words. Bloodline warriors were legends within the settlement—figures powerful enough to shake the entire community with a mere stomp. That even they could die here was a horrifying revelation.

  "Even bloodline warriors die?" Dylan stammered, incredulous.

  Captain Harris nodded coldly. "Of course they do. How else do you think I became Captain of the Patrol Team?"

  He spoke without pride, only bitterness. "Do either of you know our settlement's primary mission?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued firmly, "Our greatest task is simply survival—ensuring the continuation of humanity."

  He glanced sharply at Ryan. "Frankly, Ryan, Tiger Girl wanting to have your child is a mistake."

  Ryan stared back speechlessly. Somehow, he'd become the one wronging Tiger Girl?

  Just as Ryan debated whether to defend himself, a tall, wiry man approached. Though skinny as a bamboo stalk, the man radiated a steely, disciplined energy. His large, calloused hands glistened with a metallic sheen, instantly reminding Ryan of the Iron Sand Palm technique he'd once failed miserably to master.

  Captain Harris glanced at the newcomer. "Lee Irons, you'll mentor Ryan. As for Dylan," he gestured at the sturdy man next to Ryan, "Derek, you're responsible for him. Help them get acquainted with the safe zones today and pick up some equipment."

  With that, Harris turned and left without another word.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Lee Irons stared coldly at Ryan, his gaze empty of warmth. "My last partner's equipment is nearby. It'll fit you perfectly."

  Just as Ryan opened his mouth to ask where exactly this 'last partner' was, Lee continued grimly, "I've already outlived six partners. Let's hope you don't become number seven."

  His cold words sent chills down Ryan's spine.

  Nearby, Dylan Ross finally snapped, his legs shaking violently as he shouted desperately, "I—I don't want to join the patrol team anymore! I want to go back to the settlement! Please, let me go back!"

  Derek immediately slapped Dylan across the face, knocking him to the ground and leaving blood dripping from his nose. "You damn coward! You think you can just quit the patrol? Without us, everyone in the settlement starves! If you threaten our survival, I'll kill you myself!"

  Dylan stared blankly, stunned by the sudden brutality of the seemingly kind and honest man. He remained quiet, his eyes glazed and defeated.

  Derek turned his icy gaze toward Ryan, the implicit warning clear. Ryan nodded quietly, understanding the harsh necessity of their situation.

  The equipment Lee Irons had mentioned lay hidden in the brush nearby: a dark green combat suit, a sharp blade, and a small black device resembling a communicator. The suit, though clearly worn, was sturdy and flexible.

  "This is an F-grade combat suit," Lee explained curtly. "It'll protect you from ordinary bugs—but anything stronger, you'll have to handle yourself." He pointed to the suit's numerous patched-up tears. "Every tear represents a fatal injury."

  Though Lee wasn't talkative, he still explained the patrol team's basic structure. Captain Harris led the team, supported by three vice-captains—each a powerful bloodline warrior. The hundred or so regular patrol members weren't primarily hunters; their critical job was guarding thousands of acres of sweet potato fields, the settlement's primary food source. If these fields fell, most of the settlement would starve.

  "Our job is simple—alert the captains at the first sign of danger," Lee said seriously. "Once you sound the alarm, your only task is surviving. Remember clearly: if danger arises, you're on your own. I won't help you, and you shouldn't expect it."

  Ryan accompanied Lee along their assigned patrol route—a narrow, 500-meter path. Lee moved cautiously, examining every step as if the ground itself might open up and swallow him whole.

  Eventually, Lee paused at a concealed spot. "Take a quick rest," he muttered, sipping from an iron flask.

  Ryan had no water flask of his own and didn't intend to share, so he simply sat cross-legged on the ground.

  "Don't sit on the dirt," Lee snapped instantly. "Sit on a hard rock—it's safer. Less risk."

  Ryan obeyed without argument. Lee's attitude was harsh, but his advice came from hard-earned experience.

  Just as they settled down, Ryan felt a subtle vibration beneath him. At first, he wondered if he was imagining it—but Lee was already on his feet, frantically pressing the communicator on his chest.

  "Giant horned earthworms! Run!"

  Information flashed through Ryan's mind immediately: H-class beasts, giant horned earthworms were over twenty meters long, their thick skin impervious to blades. Even bloodline warriors struggled against them. They were classified as catastrophic threats by the settlement because of their devastating tunneling ability.

  Ryan reacted swiftly, leaping upward. But as he did, he saw Lee Irons—mid-descent—impaled suddenly by a huge, sandy-colored horn bursting from beneath him.

  Lee tried to scream, but no sound emerged. His expression was a mix of shock, sadness—and profound relief. Ryan understood instantly: Lee was finally free from his painful struggle for survival.

  But there wasn't just one worm—there were two, and Ryan was now trapped between them.

  As gravity pulled him downward, Ryan saw another massive horn rising directly beneath him, aimed at his falling body.

  Death—is this really how it ends?

  For a moment, Ryan wondered if death might wake him from this nightmare, returning him safely home. But a deeper instinct screamed within him: if that horn pierced him, he would truly die here.

  No! I refuse to die!

  Instinctively, his hand gripped tightly around the handle of his blade—Tiger's Roar—as his world narrowed to a single desperate instant between life and death.