SKRRRRREEEEAAAAUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHH—!
The mutant's scream scraped across the stone like claws on iron. It echoed through the ruins—rage, hunger, madness, all wrapped into one chilling note.
Kade didn't wait to see who won the undead brawl.
He ran.
Or limped, really—one hand clutching his bruised ribs, the other guiding his half-flickering phone light as he slipped into the loot room he'd spotted earlier.
He ducked inside, back against the cold wall, breath ragged. Behind him, the sounds of tearing flesh and bone-cracking combat raged on. But in here—it was quiet.
For now.
He swept the beam of light forward.
Then froze.
His eyes widened.
Near the center of the room, half-buried in rubble, lay a wax-sealed cloth bundle—thick, weather-stained, the red wax glinting under his flashlight.
And next to it...
A body.
Not a zombie. Not decayed.
Just dead.
A figure clad in cracked but once-proud armor. Dull silver plates. A broken spear across the chest. No rot. No bite marks.
Kade's brain kicked into overdrive.
Loot. Real loot.
He stared at the wax seal, his face breaking into a disbelieving grin.
"Jackpot," he whispered.
He crouched—wincing—and brought the light closer. The cloth looked heavy. Worn, but intact. The wax still held. Whatever was inside had been sealed shut deliberately—protected.
His hands itched.
He glanced at the armored corpse. A full set. Ancient, maybe. But the chestplate alone could be worth something. And if it's enchanted—
He swallowed.
His injuries screamed at him to rest. To breathe.
But greed whispered louder.
He reached for the bundle.
And paused.
The sounds outside—had they stopped?
His eyes flicked back toward the doorway.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
Then—
A crunch.
Stone.
Getting closer.
Kade's blood turned cold.
One of them was still alive.
And it was coming.
Kade didn't have time to think.
Crunch. Crunch.
Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Getting closer.
He dropped to his knees beside the wax-sealed cloth and began tearing at the seal with trembling fingers.
"Come on, come on—" he hissed under his breath.
The red wax cracked. Flaked. Peeled away as he tugged the bundle open.
Inside—papers, scrolls, vials. Dried ink. Old markings.
His heart leapt when he saw blue shimmer-thread along the edge of a scroll.
Recognition struck.
Escape Scroll.
Common in the MythOnline—used when players were trapped deep inside Laybrites or ancient dungeons. Tap it, and poof—you'd be ejected to the surface or the last safe zone.
It wasn't fancy.
But right now, it was everything.
"Yes," he breathed. "Please work—"
He snatched it from the bundle just as another crunch sounded outside the room.
Closer.
Kade gritted his teeth.
He could stay and loot more—the corpse might have a full armor set, maybe a ring, maybe something rare—
But if he stayed too long, he wouldn't make it out at all.
His thumb hovered over the scroll's activation sigil.
"Not today," he whispered—and pressed down.
The scroll burned white-hot in his grip.
And with a sound like wind sucking inward—
Kade vanished.
.
.
.
.
The sun dipped behind the hills, dragging long shadows over the broken terrain.
A breeze rolled in, carrying the earthy scent of cracked stone and wild grass. By the time they reached the old stone outcrop, the sky had turned a deep violet.
"This'll do," said Velra, dropping her rucksack with a relieved grunt. Her voice was calm but alert, eyes scanning the area before setting down her gear.
The glow of dusk caught her braid as she began clearing space for the campfire.
Garron kicked a chunk of old stone loose and sat on it, pulling out a piece of smoked meat. "You said we'd be near the south ruins by now," he said, chewing. "This doesn't look like south to me."
Renn, ever the quiet one, was already unpacking the tent canvas. He didn't reply—just nodded once, eyes darting over the terrain. His hands moved fast, efficient, practiced.
Mira, crouched near a patch of dry moss, struck flint to steel. Sparks danced before catching. Flames bloomed.
She whispered a short incantation, and the fire flared brighter—controlled, steady, enchanted.
"Well, I did say we'd reach something," she said, flicking her fingers once more. A small orb of light floated up from her palm and hovered beside her shoulder, casting a soft blue glow.
Scroll tubes clinked at her belt, and an etched charm pulsed faintly beneath her cloak.
She gave a small smirk, then leaned back, warming her hands by both fire and magic.
Maybe not the correct ruins, but these have character." She gave a small smirk, then leaned back, warming her hands.
The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows across the jagged rocks. Overhead, the stars began to peek through the fading light.
"Let's not complain," Velra said, pulling her cloak tighter. "Rest now. We move at first light."
Somewhere far off in the hills… a crunch of distant movement. Heavy. Uneven.
Garron stiffened. "You hear that?"
The firelight danced in their wide eyes.
Something was coming.
The fire crackled.
Velra turned her head, gaze narrowing toward the slope beyond the rocks. "That sound again," she muttered.
Crunch.
Another step. Heavier this time. More deliberate.
Then they saw it—lumbering through the haze of dusk.
A beast.
Not man. Not quite animal.
It dragged itself across the stone—four limbs bent wrong, head tilted unnaturally. Its fur was mottled with patches of rot, skin hanging loose from exposed bone. One eye glowed faint blue, the other nothing but a socket.
An undead hound. No—larger. A corrupted direwolf, ribs showing through its chest like knives.
Renn reached for his blade without a word.
Mira hissed, "That confirms it. Ruins of the Dead. We're close."
Garron stood up slow, meat forgotten. "And it's already hunting."
The creature snarled, a low, wet noise as it padded closer.
Then—
CRASH!
Something slammed into its back from above.
A body.
A person.
The beast let out a strangled howl as it collapsed, crushed under the unexpected impact.
Dust and limbs tangled in the chaos.
Velra stepped forward, half-drawn sword in hand. "What in the—?"
The dust cleared.
Atop the twitching undead…
Was a groaning, dirt-covered boy in torn pajamas.
Kade.
He blinked.
Looked around.
And croaked, "...Did I make it? Must've dropped me from ten feet up. Great design, guys…""
"The hell?"