Chapter 88: "A Warning to the Others"

In the face of crisis, the travelers exchanged glances and swiftly devised a plan to make an example out of someone. No one knew whose wicked idea it was, but they collectively fell silent, lining up in an orderly queue, each stepping forward in turn.

Those with courage, those who had seen blood before, went first. Using the very knife the thug had wielded in his attack on Yuki, they chose spots on the thug’s body and stabbed him. It was as if they were performing some religious rite. Travelers who had been terrified, desperately trying to slip to the back of the line, gradually became infected by the atmosphere, growing eager—almost excited—to participate.

Back on Earth, society at least maintained a veneer of civilization. Suddenly thrown into this wild land, anyone would struggle to adapt... but under the pressure of survival, such things became negligible.

The Ferkian gradually lost all strength, no longer screaming or struggling, becoming nothing more than a slab of meat. This only emboldened the perpetrators further. Even those who had rarely seen blood could now muster the nerve to plunge the knife into wounds already mangled and torn, aiming to wedge the blade precisely into the gashes opened by others, hoping to lessen their own sense of guilt.

Yuki’s group, in fact, found themselves with little to do, for they all saw what was happening. From the first scream, the robbers—accustomed to violence but not to such gore—were cowed. The cries echoed from the heart of the human wall; the robbers, hiding behind cover, could only see the strong one guarding the large bag of supplies, with the line behind him moving forward, and each traveler emerging with blood-stained hands.

Their expressions changed, one after another.

Combined with the screams, it was not hard to imagine what was happening within the wall: vigilante justice, purging instability from the group before entering an uncertain environment.

The hunters lurking in the shadows were so shocked they barely dared move. They had seen groups kneel and beg, surrender their supplies and ask to join; they had seen groups scatter and flee. But never had they witnessed a team execute one of their own in front of them, seemingly dragging out the process to broadcast the victim’s screams and terror in every direction.

Soon, every traveler had blood on their hands. At such times, no one dared stand apart; even those reluctant had to force themselves forward. If they showed weakness, perhaps their companions would spare them, but what of the villains observing in the dark? Surely they would immediately target anyone who faltered.

They desperately needed blood—blood on their hands, blood smeared on their bodies, as if it were a protective talisman.

The “ritual” quickly ended. Everyone had taken their turn, and some impatiently dipped their fingers in the blood to smear it on their foreheads, or used scraps of clothing to soak up blood and bits of flesh.

Soya and Magna were seasoned warriors, but even they had never seen such madness, struggling to accept it.

And what of Yuki?

He had only witnessed scenes like this in horror games; never before had he experienced it firsthand. Now, Yuki could only suppress the discomfort roiling from his chest to his belly, seeking a wall with no ambush behind it and leaning there for a moment’s rest.

He had not slept for nearly two days. The relentless shocks kept him from feeling drowsy, but the fatigue was real.

“When we get into the city, let’s find somewhere to rest first,” Soya said, moving beside him, his gaze lingering on the walls with hidden figures, speaking quietly to Yuki.

Yuki nodded; the very mention of rest made his exhaustion feel even more acute.

“Let’s finish this business here as quickly as possible,” Magna said, rubbing his forehead and shaking off his discomfort. He could clearly sense that, after the travelers’ actions, the murderous intent in the air had dissipated, though the menace from their own side had intensified.

With that, his right hand dissolved and reshaped into the form of a military dagger. With a low shout, he leapt and drove the transformed blade into the ground beneath his feet.

A visible shockwave radiated from the dagger, shattering the dark brown earth nearby. Amid the startled cries of the onlookers, the ground abruptly sank an inch, as if a massive crater had appeared out of nowhere.

The piles of debris and rammed-earth barricades around the alley collapsed, exposing the hunters who had been hiding behind them.

Judging by their appearance, they seemed ready to retreat. If Magna had done this from the start, depriving them of cover, the hunters would have swarmed to attack without hesitation; there were simply too many predators, and too few victims to go around.

But now, all they wanted was to escape the nightmare. The sudden destruction of their cover caught them off guard, leaving them stunned and uncertain.

For a moment, both sides stared at each other.

The hunters saw the mangled scraps of flesh at the center of the crowd. A gust of wind passed through; those downwind could not help but retch. The air, already foul, now carried a nauseating stench of blood.

The travelers surrounding the fragments were used to the smell, unmoved. Still caught up in the adrenaline of slaughter, they looked at the hunters encircling them with no trace of fear. Instead, their blood-smeared faces wore bizarre smiles.

Yet those hunters, inexperienced with such carnage, were overwhelmed by the sensory assault. It wasn’t that they’d never seen the dead, but never so many pieces.

The reality was even more brutal than what they had imagined.

One group fled, then another followed suit.

From all directions came the sound of hurried footsteps retreating into the distance. When silence finally returned, the alarm abated, and several travelers who had been driven solely by survival instinct collapsed, unable to stand.

Those who emerged from their bloodlust looked down at their “work,” some recoiling in horror, others clutching the wall to vomit.

The butchery was far too thorough.

Watching the stark transformation in the travelers, Soya felt a sense of dissonance. He nudged Yuki with his elbow, lowering his voice: “Something’s not right... Have they been affected by something? Their personalities seem completely changed.”

“...That’s possible,” Yuki replied, having recovered somewhat. He observed the chaotic crowd; those who had gleefully dismembered the corpse moments ago were now doubled over, retching as if to expel their very entrails.

“Based on earlier investigations, it might be the influence of demon shards,” Yuki said, shifting his attention away from the chaotic mob and giving Soya a rough explanation of these “demon shards.”

“It’s definitely related to increased aggression. Current research suggests that implanting demon shards in monsters causes drastic personality shifts, making them extremely hostile.”

Soya, hearing this, had a realization: “So at the caverns, the ‘Armory’ separated us from the monsters, drove us here, and the monsters... presumably had other arrangements?”

“Yes,” Yuki nodded, his previously clouded mind growing clearer as it worked: “Those captured monsters probably serve another purpose...”

Given the tendencies of this scenario, they were likely destined to be test subjects, monster weapons, or perhaps...

Yuki skipped over that thread, saying instead, “But it’s hard to say whether demon shards have a radiation effect—that is, whether they influence targets without implantation.”

Watching those who had vomited themselves out collapse onto the ground, Yuki mused, “...It’s also uncertain whether they affect extraterrestrials at all.”