[07: 09: 13: 32]
...
Cassian fought to steady his breathing, pressing himself even tighter against the shattered concrete wall that served as his only shield from the approaching horrors. His heart hammered so loudly in his chest that he was certain the creatures would hear it—certain that at any moment, those unnaturally elongated heads would whip around, and a dozen milky-white eyes would lock onto him. His fingers curled, white-knuckled, around the hilt of his knife and machete.
The trembling in his hands wasn't from weakness but from raw, unfiltered adrenaline.
If he had to fight, he would.
But instinct screamed at him to remain still, to be silent—because if they found him, it wouldn't be a fight.
It would be certain death.
A part of him itched to glance over the crumbling wall, to see how many had arrived and how close they were. Yet he stayed crouched, half-frozen in place. Any movement might betray his location. Even the scrape of his boots on the gravel seemed thunderous in the tense quiet.
Don't move. Don't breathe too loudly.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, forcing a slow, controlled inhale through his nose. When he opened them again—
A silhouette loomed just beyond the rubble.
His throat clenched.
It was the closest he had ever been to one of these things—too close. Close enough to make out the ridges of bone protruding along its spine, each pulsating with an unnatural rhythm, as if something inside it were writhing beneath the skin. The thing was hunched, so unnaturally angled that its bony shoulders jutted well above its elongated skull. Through the gloom, Cassian glimpsed the glint of jagged, uneven teeth beneath a leathery, lipless mouth.
Too close. Too fucking close…
He held his breath, forcing himself to remain utterly still. One wrong shift, one scrape of metal against stone, and he would be finished. It took all his willpower to ignore the sticky warmth of blood that clung to his torn shirt and the raw stings across his body. Adrenaline numbed most of the pain, but it did nothing to calm the pounding in his ears. The air felt cold against his sweat-drenched skin, yet at the same time, he was suffocating under the tension.
The monster hissed again. It jerked its head, the movement sharp and birdlike.
First time I've seen them so close… and I never want to again… Just go, bastard… go somewhere else…
Cassian risked a slow, careful shift of his weight to keep his leg from cramping. His heart pounded so hard that he worried the monster could sense the vibrations.
A sudden screech pierced the silence. It wasn't loud—more of a strangled, rasping call—but it made Cassian's blood run cold. Another shape skulked into view, weaving on spindly legs that seemed to bend in too many places. The second monster's head twitched back and forth as if scanning the rubble for any sign of movement. Its jaws parted, revealing rows of teeth that glistened wetly. Cassian swallowed hard, trying to keep his throat from clicking audibly.
Don't move… don't even blink.
He reminded himself that these creatures were something close to a hive mind or a collective consciousness. If he took down one of them here, in the open, the rest would descend upon him like a swarm of locusts. And that was a risk he simply couldn't afford.
They can't see me and they haven't caught my scent either, have they?
He tensed, ready to leap up and sprint if the creatures' heads so much as tilted in his direction. He knew it would be a losing game if they spotted him—still, any chance to run might be better than crouching, pinned, waiting for death.
Another monstrous silhouette appeared behind them, even larger than the first two. This one moved with a strangely fluid grace, as though each muscle was coiled and ready to snap. Its elongated limbs carried it silently across the debris. Cassian's breath caught. He was certain that if any of them advanced another step, they would see him. His hand trembled on the hilt of the machete, but he forced himself to hold back.
No. Don't. You'll die.
The third creature let out a subtle hiss, head tilting back. Its spines rippled in a wave down its back, and for a moment, Cassian thought it was about to pounce. But instead, it stepped away. The first and second beasts followed, hunched low, spines bristling. He waited, not daring to breathe, as they retreated from his line of sight. His lungs screamed for air, but he forced himself to wait until he was certain they were gone.
Only when the silence stretched on did he release his breath in a trembling sigh. For a moment, he simply remained there, leaning against the cracked concrete, letting his pulse settle.
I need to move; it's only a matter of time before they find me with all the blood I've spilled…
It was almost night. The darkness was deepening, and Cassian had two choices: risk the forest beyond the facility's perimeter or delve deeper into the ruined research center itself.
While the forest might offer a chance to hide among the thick foliage, to vanish into the undergrowth where the monsters might not track him easily. But something tugged at him, an instinct or perhaps a leftover sense of reason from earlier scraps of information: the facility was important.
Maybe this is where I'll find the main quest, or at least maybe it holds what I need to survive and clear this story.
He grimaced, feeling the weight of indecision. The forest was tempting; it was the obvious route for a quick escape, but every time he thought of running away, he recalled the fleeting glimpses of flickering lights from the heart of the compound. Lights meant power. Power meant electronics or operational systems.
If there's even the slightest chance of getting answers, or a place to barricade myself with real security for some time… I have to take it.
With a soft groan, he forced himself up from the ground. Every muscle protested, his wounds flaring with hot pain, but he bit back the urge to whimper. He gritted his teeth, reminding himself that he was alive—and that was more than many others could say right now. If he could just reach the perimeter wall and slip inside, he might find a safer vantage point or at least some corridor to hide in.
"Alright," he whispered to himself, "let's do this."
He began a painstaking crawl toward the facility's outer barrier. The place had once been heavily fortified, with barbed-wire fences, guard towers, and thick concrete walls. Now, half of it lay in ruins. Sections of the perimeter collapsed, leaving twisted rebar and crumbled cement strewn across the approach. More than once, Cassian had to pause as he heard distant hisses or the shuffle of monstrous feet. Each time, thankfully, he found a patch of rubble or a blackened corner of a ruined guard post to flatten himself against. He would wait there, counting his breaths, trying not to panic as the shapes moved in and out of the flickering gloom.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. The sky continued to darken, and Cassian's body began to tremble from both exertion and the cold that seeped into his sweat-drenched clothes. At last, he reached a vantage point behind a toppled watchtower. He leaned against a rusted metal beam, gazing at the facility's main structure. It was massive—multiple stories of dull concrete and steel. The right side of the building looked as though it had been ripped open by some explosive force. Twisted pipes and broken walls jutted into the air, leaving a gaping maw large enough for a truck to drive through.
He almost let out a humorless chuckle. "No need to find the correct gate, huh?" he muttered under his breath. Indeed, the entire right wing was open to the elements, providing an easy entrance—assuming he could avoid the monsters that no doubt roamed inside. He steadied himself and peered into the building. A faint flicker of electric light shone somewhere in the distance, casting dancing shadows along the ravaged corridors.
Clenching his jaw, Cassian willed his legs to move. He tried to remain silent, pausing whenever he heard the faintest sign of movement. A hiss here, a screech there—each one threatened to unravel him. Still, he pressed on, weaving between toppled pillars and battered crates.
At one point, a monster lumbered into the corridor just ahead of him, forcing him to duck behind a partially collapsed steel door. He flattened himself, biting down on his lip to keep from making any noise. The creature ambled by, spines bristling, but never turned his way. When it was gone, Cassian took a moment to steady his shaking limbs before pressing on.
One step at a time, he reminded himself. One breath at a time… probably not that.
Finally, he stood at the edge of the gaping hole in the facility's wall. The interior was lit by that faint, flickering glow, but the corners were drenched in shadow. Cassian grimaced at the thought of twisting an ankle or stepping on a shard of rebar. He advanced slowly, his eyes darting across the wide corridor.
A sudden noise from up ahead alerted Cassian, heart in his throat; Cassian ducked behind a slab of concrete, peering around its jagged edge. A cluster of monsters—three or four of them—lurking in the corridor. Their elongated limbs seemed to twitch and shift in synchronization.
When they turned away, creeping farther down the hall, Cassian exhaled shakily. Now was his chance. He spotted a side door about ten paces behind them, slightly ajar. If he could slip in there and hide, maybe he could wait them out until they moved deeper into the building.
Summoning his courage, he rose to a low crouch and began inching forward. Every footstep was agony. As he drew closer to the door, the monsters abruptly stopped. Cassian froze, fear flooding his veins like ice. He pressed himself against the wall, practically melding with the shadows, and tried to steady his ragged breathing. He clenched his teeth, expecting them to leap at him at any second.
They can't see me… they can't see me… please, keep moving.
Miraculously, the monsters moved on, heading around a corner. Cassian resisted the urge to run. Instead, he took slow, measured steps toward the half-open door. Reaching it, he peered into the room. The space beyond was dark, but it seemed empty—just a few scattered chairs and a single desk in the corner.
A storage room, maybe, or some kind of administrative office.
Better than nothing.
He eased the door open, biting down on his lip when the hinges gave a slight creak. For a moment, he froze again, certain the monsters would rush back. When no such nightmare appeared, he slipped through the narrow gap. Inside, the air smelled stale and damp, tinged with a faint chemical odor. Cassian gently pushed the door shut, pressing his ear against it to listen for any sign of pursuit.
Regardless, he needed to block the door. He turned, scanning the room in the dim light. A single heavy desk stood against the far wall. That would have to do.
His body screamed in protest as he limped toward the desk. Slowly, quietly, he dragged the desk toward the door. The legs squeaked against the tiled floor, and Cassian winced, praying the noise wouldn't carry too far. After what felt like an eternity, he managed to position the desk in front of the door. Not a perfect barricade, but enough to make it difficult to open from the outside.
He pressed his back against the desk, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his brow. The screeches and hisses outside continued, but they didn't seem to be right at the door.
Cassian allowed himself a moment of relief. Then his knees buckled, and he sank to the cold, polished tiles. The adrenaline that had kept him going seeped away, leaving him trembling and exhausted.
He leaned his head against the desk, closing his eyes. The throbbing pain in his side returned with a vengeance, reminding him of how precarious his situation truly was.
But for now, he was alive. Combat wasn't as fun as he had imagined in his dreams, him weaving and cutting through masses of monsters.
At least I survived… Man, I should've signed up for those martial arts classes.
He took a long, shaky breath, forcing himself to remain awake. I can't stay here forever. Sooner or later, I'll have to move again. But for now, in this fleeting moment, he needs a reprieve. Even a few minutes to gather his strength might make the difference between life and death.
Let's see what mess I made this time.
"Status"
WELCOME TIMEBOUND, CASSIAN CAINE
A Story Nearing Its End:[07: 09: 02: 32]
Age: 17 years
Ascension: 0th
Origin Card: LOCKED
Current Level: Trial of Worth
Life Crystal State: LOCKED
[STATS]
❂ Creation: 0th Star [0/10]
❂ Destruction: 0th Star [2/10]
Substats:
Strength → 5
Modifiers:
Power → 2% increase
❂ Knowledge: 0th Star [0/10]
Substats:
Essence Source → 5 » 6 (+1)
Essence Conversion rate → 1x Destruction (1:1)
Effective Essence Well → 2/6 [Destruction]
❂ Sacrifice: 0th Star [0/10]
❂ Void: 0th Star [0/10]
Status Effects: Essence Source Deprivation [Negative] (32 min remaining), Essence Source poisoning [Negative] (32 min remaining)
Remark: A stupid hooman, but learning his way how to fight like cavemen
Cassian sighed, staring at the flickering overlay that only he could see. Five essence points—barely enough to cast 3-4 lightning bolts and an Expedite boost. Though the increase of one point was welcome, the red glow of Deprivation and Poisoning brought him little comfort. He brushed a finger across the phantom interface.
"Man, I really need to figure out what exactly these status effects do. If they're just short-term debuffs, fine, but my gut is telling me these debuffs cause permanent damage in some way…"
He trailed off, a cold knot forming in his stomach at the idea of carrying some slow-acting toxin or a creeping curse of essence loss. Shaking his head, he tried to push the worry aside.
"Surviving and growing stronger is the priority right now," he told himself. Answers could come later.
He leaned back against a metal rack, ignoring the dull pain where it dug into his scalp. Every muscle felt coiled, every breath deliberate. The desk he'd dragged in front of the door cast a long, uneven shadow across the floor, and he felt the ache in his shoulders from pushing it there. Even with the barrier in place, he couldn't fully shake the feeling that at any moment, those fuckers would find him… their claw bursting through the barricade I've set up.
A bitter laugh escaped him. Sorcery was powerful, and sure, it felt damned satisfying to see a monster perish under the crackling fury of red flashes. But it was also expensive.
Every cast was straining his limited well of essence reserves.
That's the issue. I've got way too low juice to keep the sorcery active for long… There may be workarounds for this… Ahh I miss YouTube guides and stats.
"Maybe the martial arts route would be the smarter bet; I'm seeing myself enter the melee more and more… Even if my Essence runs out, my body is still mine to control," he muttered under his breath, thinking of how he could possibly combine close-quarters combat with the synergy of his [A Knight's Squire] card.
As it stood, his machete was better than nothing, but it felt awkward in his hand; the balance was off, and the blade was chipped from earlier fights.
"I need a proper weapon; also, I feel a strong distaste for magic and knives or any improper weapon whenever [A Knight's Squire] is in use… maybe because of that card's characteristics."
He scrolled through the status and notifications. He winced at the memory of the first time he'd depleted his essence. Sure, it had raised his maximum capacity by one point—but the cost. The stabbing pressure around his heart had nearly knocked him out. Even now, there was a faint tightness in his chest. "Not a viable method to grow," he muttered.
Another flicker from the overhead dim lights made his eyes ache, and he blinked. "There's still more than twenty-five minutes until this debuff is cleared, so I'd better be careful." With that in mind, he resolved not to cast any spells, not to even summon his Soulkeep if he could avoid it. Any essence usage might tip him into a place he couldn't crawl back from. He glanced at the time on his watch, which fortunately still worked; it showed the current time was 7:56 PM.
I need to keep the dial underneath; I don't want this to get broken.
His eyes flickered towards his left arm, where his lifespan countdown, a grim timer ticking away.
[07: 09: 02: 32]
"Great," he mumbled. "Nothing like a little existential pressure to keep me motivated."
At least he had water. The battered steel bottle was nearly empty, but he took a measured sip; it tasted a bit metallic, but it was better than nothing. Hydration was critical, especially with how much blood he'd lost. He still felt lightheaded when he stood too quickly, but it was a small miracle that he was upright at all. Lowering the canteen, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let out a weary sigh.
Must be my increased stats doing… I'm sure constitution or vitality is related to Creation although I can't access them yet… I wonder why healing myself didn't act as a trigger to show how much health I have.
He shifted, easing himself into a more comfortable position against his backpack, which he'd propped upright for support. The room was small, cluttered with metal racks that held boxes of unknown contents. Cardboard crates were stacked haphazardly along the far wall, many half-crushed or torn open. He thought about rummaging through them now.
"I'll check everything before I move out," he reasoned, forcing himself to stay put for a few moments. "Who knows what I'll find? But first, I just need a second to breathe."
The idea of a brief nap teased him, but the risk was too high. He couldn't fully relax with monsters roaming these halls, and his makeshift barricade was hardly impenetrable. Still, the thought of just five minutes of rest was alluring. His eyelids drooped, mind drifting, imagining the possibility of a short nap. Maybe just five minutes. He could set a mental alarm, stay half-awake, maybe…
A heavy footstep jolted him upright. His heart slammed in his chest. Then came the screeches, faint but growing louder, followed by the scrape of claws. Adrenaline flooded him.
He pressed himself tighter to the wall, forcing shallow, controlled breaths. On the other side of the thin metal door, he heard more footsteps—slow, dragging, and in no hurry. Three? Four?
Fuck
He tried not to imagine elongated limbs and spined backs just inches away, heads tilting at any stray sound.
...