The sun treacherously hid behind the horizon, leaving us in cold darkness.

  Using the sword’s ability, I frantically hacked at trees, trying to carve out a couple of planks—even remotely resembling proper ones—to fashion a tourniquet. But I was getting fucking nowhere. I had to butcher a dozen trees, and even then, the planks were far from perfect.

  Let me repeat—I was no doctor, but I had a rough idea of Vergo’s condition. His right thigh was broken. Thankfully, a closed fracture, but the swelling wasn’t reassuring. He also complained of mild pelvic pain, but compared to the leg, that was nothing.

  I took off my belt and tied the tourniquet, accompanied by the historian’s screams.

  "Hold on. Hold on," I muttered through gritted teeth, biting my lower lip.

  The man was pale as death, but he endured the pain like a champ—no whining, no tears.

  It was getting colder, and we didn’t even have a way to start a fire. No food was left either, let alone medicine. I could’ve gathered some of the herbs growing everywhere, but neither Vergo nor I knew a damn thing about them.

  "We need to get back to the main road. Maybe we’ll run into someone," I said, trying to lift him. "I’ll carry you."

  "You can’t, not with the tourniquet... And who the hell would we even meet out here?" Vergo replied in a weak, distant voice.

  "Then we’ll try something else."

  Grabbing my companion under the arms, I dragged him along. His leg scraped against the ground, sending waves of pain through him, but at least it stayed straight. The man stifled his screams, but occasional whimpers still escaped.

  Once we reached the main road, I asked, "How long to the capital?"

  "In this state... hah... at least a full day," Vergo panted.

  "That won’t work. Any villages closer?"

  "Just abandoned ones. Talonia’s been in decline since the Grand Sizo tragedy... You saw how many ghost towns we passed."

  "There’s gotta be something!" I snapped.

  "Unfortunately... hah... nothing left here."

  I stopped for something important. Pulling the book from my gauntlet, I flipped to the map. It showed the area within ten kilometers. On the very edge, I spotted an old village. Far from the main road, but we had no choice.

  "Where are you... going?" Vergo asked, noticing the change in direction.

  "An abandoned village. Yeah, we probably won’t find people, but maybe there’s something useful left."

  "Like what?"

  "Hell if I know! But it’s better than just leaving you here!"

  An awkward silence settled between us, which Vergo finally broke. "Thanks."

  "Thank me when you recover. For now—don’t bother!"

  No idea how much time passed, but the massive moon loomed high above us. The village looked no different from Apelfaund, except the houses were covered in ivy and moss, and the single street was overgrown with bushes. No time to pick the comfiest spot, so I hauled Vergo into the first house I found. Inside reeked of mildew, and it was pitch black without windows, but I managed to feel out a bed and laid him down.

  "I’ll try to find something to light the fireplace," I said, my breath fogging in the cold. "How are you holding up?"

  "You ask like it could’ve gotten better... I feel like shit, Q... absolute shit."

  "I mean, are you at least not dying?"

  "You really know how to ask the right questions," the historian chuckled weakly. "With your abilities, you’ve probably forgotten how hard it is to break a man. I’ll starve or die of thirst before this fracture kills me. But we still gotta do something about the fever... I’ll sleep for a bit, alright? Don’t panic if I don’t answer."

  "Sounds like a dying man’s last words."

  Vergo chuckled again.

  "Fine, I’ll look for water and food too. Maybe there’s some pickled shit or dried meat left."

  Slamming the door behind me, I stepped back into the moonlight.

  After ransacking every house, I found a sack of old grain and a flint—or as they call it here, a "sparking stone." Plenty of pots and wooden dishes, but no river ran through the village, so cooking porridge was out of the question. The locals had relied on a well, but it was bone dry now.

  Desperate, I opened the Echo book, scanning for another village or a river. No need to drag Vergo there—I could make a quick run myself. Wouldn’t take long since I don’t tire.

  But within ten kilometers, there was nothing—no villages, no rivers. Frantically flipping through the book, I stumbled upon a function Vergo hadn’t mentioned.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  "Emergency Signal," I whispered aloud.

  Activating it, I rushed back to Vergo. I wanted to tell him help might be coming, but I didn’t want to wake him, and honestly, I had no clue if it would work. Or how long we’d have to wait.

  After lighting the fireplace, I sat beside his bed.

  "Q... the pain’s gone," he murmured. He wasn’t asleep.

  "Bullshit," I said.

  "Seriously. I can’t feel my legs. Can’t move my toes either." For the first time, his eyes glistened.

  Was it the pelvic injury? Damn it!

  "I sent a distress signal through the book. Help’s coming. Just hold on," I said, then it hit me.

  Wait—my location’s on the map. And Vergo can’t feel pain anymore?

  "It can do that too? Didn’t know..." the sweating man breathed heavily.

  No more pity. I could carry him on my back without worrying about his leg and reach the capital in ten hours. And if someone sees me on the map, they might intercept us.

  Only one problem—the cold. But wrapping him in a blanket would help.

  "What are you doing?" Vergo asked.

  "Changed my mind. If I just sit here waiting for a miracle, you’ll die."

  I won’t lie—since the golem fight, I haven’t been myself. A creeping panic poisoned my thoughts, making me doubt every move. I didn’t know the right call, so I just had to do something.

  I...

  I didn’t want to lose a friend.

  (From an unknown guy’s POV)

  Tonight, we got a job. The boss took four of us, including me. I wasn’t thrilled about leaving camp, but I had to prove myself, so I rode out with the others in the dead of night.

  "Hey boss, you sure we should answer this distress signal?" I asked, eyeing the gloomy night sky. "Wouldn’t an ambush be better?"

  "What, you pissin’ your pants already, rookie?" Barrow sneered.

  The bastard had only joined a couple months before me but acted like hot shit. Loved taking jabs at me every chance he got. Fucking annoying.

  "You saw how many hunting quests there are in that area!" I argued. "What if some monster ate the poor bastard and the signal’s coming from its guts? I’ve never fought beasts before!"

  "Quit whining, kid. All main roads are protected by the World Serpent’s contract or whatever the fuck this monster’s called. Beasts avoid ‘em. This poor sod’s been moving along the road for hours," the boss explained.

  I barely understood, but if the boss said it was safe, it must be. About that contract—I remembered something else.

  Hanging from the boss’s belt was the severed hand of some Echo asshole. We killed him to steal his book and track other Echoes. Usually, they’re either escorting rich folks or hunting beasts. After a hunt, we’d loot their kills and sell ‘em on the black market. And Echoes themselves carry a decent amount of stones. But sometimes, like tonight, someone screams for help, and we come "running."

  Because of the contract, an Echo’s gauntlet won’t work for anyone else. So we had to lug around a rotting hand. And the weirdest part? After a whole month, it still hadn’t decayed.

  "Think I see a silhouette up ahead," said Snow, the boss’s daughter.

  She’s always had sharp eyes.

  We reined in the horses. Snow and her husband Floyd went to meet the poor bastard.

  "Where’s his horse?" I asked, glancing at the boss.

  "Yeah, that’s weird," Barrow chimed in. "How’d he get this far on foot?"

  From here, I couldn’t tell if our victim was a man or a woman. But they were exhausted. The heavy panting was spooking the horses.

  "He’s carrying something," Barrow said, hopping off his horse.

  But before he could reach the pair, I saw the torchlight jerk.

  "Looks like Floyd decided not to waste time," the boss laughed. "Squashed the roach."

  "Good. Why bother with formalities?" I agreed.

  The five of us stood over the dead kid. Blood dripped from his slit throat. He was a little bit younger than me. Tough luck, I guess.

  "Here’s why he called for help," Barrow said, unwrapping the blanket around the unconscious man.

  "Rookie, finish him and check his pockets," the boss ordered.

  Me? Shit.

  Reluctantly, I approached the middle-aged man. His breathing was ragged, like he was already halfway to the afterlife.

  "Cut off the dark-haired one’s hand. We’ll sell it to the black market," the boss commanded.

  "Too easy," Snow said, slicing off the teenager’s hand.

  "Wish all jobs were like this," Barrow remarked.

  "They got jack shit besides the gauntlet, fucking hell," Floyd grumbled, clearly disappointed.

  Once they were done with the kid, all four turned to me.

  "What’re you doing? You haven’t killed him yet?"

  "Huh? I was thinking—strangle him or stab him? But then I’d have to clean blood off my blade... Last time, I cut myself washing it," I said, showing the scar on my palm.

  "Then strangle him, what’re you waiting for?"

  "Yeah, yeah, on it."

  I placed my hands on the unshaven man’s throat—then heard the unmistakable sound of steel slicing through flesh and bone.

  "AAAAAAAAH!" Floyd shrieked.

  His torch-bearing arm hit the ground, blood gushing like a fountain, dousing the flame and plunging us into darkness. Next, the light in Snow’s severed head faded as it rolled near my feet.

  "AAAAH! WHO’S THERE?!" I panicked.

  Were these two just bait?!

  The horses screeched and bolted. Only the boss’s mare stayed calm—until a blow landed, sending her fleeing in terror. The old man yanked the reins, but his foot caught in the stirrup, and his skull smashed against the rocks, spilling his brains.

  Barrow flailed blindly with his daggers, clueless about our attacker. Seconds later, I watched his upper body fly past me. What kind of strength does that take?!

  A sword slid back into its sheath. Was it over? No! The blade was drawn again, and Floyd’s groans stopped.

  I’m next... I’M NEXT!

  Crawling backward, I drew my sword, holding it out in front of me.

  My hands shook. My breath came in gasps.

  The clouds parted, letting moonlight spill into the grove.

  A teenager walked toward me with slow, deliberate steps. His blue eyes glowed.

  "H-how?! W-we k-killed you...! R-right?" I stammered, voice trembling.

  He knocked my sword aside and punched me in the face, shattering teeth. Pinning me down, he kept hitting until blood poured from my split lips—then stopped.

  "This won’t do. I need your clothes, buddy. Mine are ruined," he said, completely deadpan.

  He started choking me. I fought back, punched him, even gouged an eye—but nothing worked. This monster didn’t feel pain.

  As my vision darkened, I braced for death.

  Sorry, Mom... Grandma...