Blood left a rusty flavor in his mouth.

Aiden Cross sprawled across the icy rock slab, sight foggy, plating torn wide like cracked wood. That hall - once proud, full of big speeches - now just hazy gold beams mixed with mocking grins. Footsteps tapped near, steel soles dragging on polished stone. Noise oughta fade out, yet each thud banged behind his eyes.

“You did well, Aiden,” a familiar voice said above him, smooth and lazy. “You killed every enemy who dared to touch this kingdom. Shame you were too loyal to see the real threat.”

Aiden squinted hard. Above him loomed Prince Kael, decked out in gleaming white plate - pristine, as if he'd skipped the fight entirely. Just past, highborn men and armored warriors looked on with crossed limbs and smirks playing at their lips, silken outfits clean, no trace of soot or gore.

Aiden struggled to rise. But his arms shook - then gave out. "Why... did you do this?"

Kael cocked his head, like he was mulling over something tricky. “You had value before - now you're a risk.”

A figure moved from behind the prince. Not smiling this time - Lady Seris stood there, blonde hair catching the light, eyes once soft but now sharp like glass. She studied Aiden, face blank. No kindness showed. No sorrow either. Just quiet planning in her stare.

Aiden's chest squeezed - sharper than the cut from the blade. "Seris... didn't you mention..."

“I said many things,” she replied calmly. “You were always easy to guide. Loyal dogs are like that.”

Chuckles spread through the room.

Aiden gripped the rock tight. His pulse thudded loud at first, then softened, grew distant. He’d battled - not just enemies, but fear itself - fighting for home. For peace among ruins. Season after season of conflict dragged on. Round after round of bloodshed stacked up. Year upon year trusting it meant something - even if that meaning cost him everything.

A steel boot slammed against his ribs, pressing down on the gash. As it dug in, Aiden choked - his sight blurred, fading at the sides.

The captain of the royal guard smirked down at him. “You were strong, Cross. Too strong. People whispered your name more than the prince’s. We can’t have that.”

A blade lifted over Aiden's head, shining under the glow inside the hall.

“So,” Kael said lightly, “this is where your story ends. Take pride—you died for your king.”

The knife dropped fast.

Pain shot through. Then the light faded.

Silence.

A moment passed - total silence. Not a noise. No air moving in or out. No sense of shape or form. Only void, wide and heavy, as if pulled under a black ocean with no surface above. He stayed still, expecting... he wasn’t sure. Punishment maybe. Blazing pain. Or just eternal night.

Yet suddenly, he picked up the sound.

[Ding.]

A sharp, glassy ring sliced the emptiness.

Aiden scowled - maybe. His face? Numb, everything numb, yet awareness hit, like an idea drifting through darkness. Then came another noise, steady but cold.

[System initialization complete.]

[User found: Aiden Cross.]

[Status: Deceased.]

Deceased.

"So this is what dying feels like?" he wondered. His words vanished without a trace. Silence swallowed everything - no sound bounced back, just emptiness stretching forever.

Another chime.

[Error detected.]

[The user's spirit won't let the shutdown go through.]

A fury rose within, sharp and sudden. Visions tore across the dark - Kael’s quiet grin. Yet Seris stared blank, unfeeling. Then pressure: the captain’s heel pressing hard on his ribs. Their mocking voices echoed. Even now, they’d breathe easier knowing he was gone.

Refuses.

Yes. He refused.

He wouldn't believe it was over just 'cause they were standing over him. He wouldn't buy that he'd died like a loyal pet for people who didn't even see him as real.

Sour feelings have built up past breaking point

[New path unlocked.]

[Unique Title acquired: The Dead Man.]

Light cut into the dark.

Aiden jerked awake - each breath hit like a spark in dry grass. Air clawed down his throat, sharp and hot. His chest seized, then he gagged, mouth flooded with something sour and heavy. Rolling sideways, muscles tight, he coughed hard. Gobs of blackish fluid shot out, hitting the rock floor with a wet slap.

He was flat on his back, breathing hard, staring up with wide-open eyes.

A roof hung low over his head - gray, split wide open, near enough to touch. Just an ancient room built from rock blocks. Moist air sat still, thick with grit and rotting traces. His fingertips pressed into the floor beneath - bumpy, icy, lopsided.

He was... alive?

No. Not alive.

He stood there, listening - hoping - for a beat. A sign. Just once. No pulse. No rhythm. Just breaths slipping in, automatic. Like his body forgot to stop.

His hands trembled when he lifted them up. Pale they looked, nearly white, with thin blue lines underneath - like icy streams under snow. Scars that should’ve been there weren’t. That long cut from fighting, back then. The burnt spot near his left hand. All vanished.

He rose slowly into a seated position. Moving felt off - not heavy enough, almost gliding, like his body lost its old mass. Instead of armor, rough black fabric hung loosely on him.

He looked around.

Stone slabs lined up in rows. Inside dusty niches, old candle stumps clung to rusted metal stands. Not a royal hall - this place felt dead. Cold ground. Burial air.

He swallowed. “Where…?”

[Ding.]

A flash of blue lit up the space ahead. It zipped through the open area just there. Light popped into view right before his eyes.

A see-through screen popped up, hovering just a bit away from his eyes. Words lit up on it, sharp and pale.

[Welcome, User: The Dead Man.]

Aiden stiffened. Yet his breathing drifted into the air like a thin mist. Still, the panel stayed right there.

“…I’m hallucinating,” he muttered. “This is—”

[System online.]

[Integration complete.]

New windows popped up, one after another. They covered parts of each other without warning.

[Status.]

[Quests.]

[Skills.]

[Inventory.]

Every term buzzed softly, almost like an order ready to take flight.

Aiden just stood there, frozen. Sure, he'd come across tales about old relics, spooky objects, or rumors of forgotten powers trapping spirits. Yet what sat before him? Something different - almost alive - a device built from glowing ideas. It hummed faintly, shifting like breath held too long.

“What are you?” he breathed.

The panel flickered.

[Designation: System.]

Help you rise, strike back when wronged, get full control. Not just survive - push ahead no matter what stands in your way

A single thought stuck - more intense than anything else.

Vengeance.

His hands balled up tight. That moment - when it ended - came back clear, now he had touch once more. Their eyes. The way they grinned. How calm they looked.

If this was crazy, then it felt oddly useful somehow.

“Fine,” he said, voice low. “Show me my status.”

The pop-up bar stretched out.

[Name: Aiden Cross]

[Title: The Dead Man]

[Race: Undead (Bound Soul)]

[Level: 1]

[Strength: 7]

[Agility: 6]

Endurance: zero - heart’s not beating

[Magic: 10]

[Resentment: 100/100]

Aiden’s eyes narrowed.

“Undead,” he muttered. “Bound soul.”

That’s why there was no pulse, his skin felt icy, his muscles stayed weirdly still. He wasn’t breathing life. Not really. Some force pulled him up from below, shoved him into this empty shell.

A shape hung before his eyes - almost like a cruel twist on holiness.

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “You brought back a corpse and gave it a menu.”

The system just ignored his sarcastic remark.

A fresh alert popped up instead.

[Main Quest unlocked: Vengeance of the Dead.]

You must make them pay - the ones who got you killed

[Primary Targets:

Prince Kael Varion.

Lady Seris Elwood.

– Captain Darrin Holt.]

[Reward: ???]

Failing means your soul gets wiped - gone forever

Aiden went still.

Forever gone - no trace left behind. Not merely dying. Not simply blackness. Total nothingness.

He shut his eyes briefly. Cold from the rock under him crept into his frame - whatever passed for bones these days. Dread climbed his back, not as fast as before life slipped away, yet still present.

Relive life though you're gone. Chase those who killed you - otherwise, fade into nothing.

Some choice.

His lips twisted. “You really know how to motivate someone.”

He blinked awake, then rose up slow. Legs wobbling - still kept him upright. Each tiny step he took, those System screens didn’t shift, just hung there, tied to his spirit, not his skin.

A message popped up again. Yet another alert showed up right after.

[Starter Skill unlocked: Deathbound Instinct (Passive).]

Your body doesn't rely on air, meals, or sleep like before - pain feels distant, fear barely registers; focus sharpens whenever revenge is near

There it was - the odd quiet. He felt the terror deep down, yet somehow muffled, like behind glass.

He stared at his white hands, moving each finger one by one. "Guess I'm just a tool these days."

Silence answered him.

Aiden moved ahead. Around his bare toes, dust rose up. Beyond him lay the crypt - long, dim, lined with racks full of brittle bones and rotting cloths. Way at the back, a slim stair climbed out of sight, lost in blackness.

Overhead, that’s where everything lived.

Overhead lay the realm which once rejoiced at his passing.

Another step forward. Cold crept into the air, yet no tremor ran through him. Focus tightened in his mind. Distant drops tapped overhead, while old wind slipped through gaps in the rock.

After that - just barely - hear a low sound. Not far off, some feet moving. People talking.

Aiden stilled.

The sound of steps got louder, bouncing off the stairs. Clanking metal came closer, slow but steady. Light from a flame danced ahead, painting warm tones on the stones below. Dark shapes moved along the walls, shifting like they were alive.

Someone was coming.

He checked his stats once more. Just level one now. Empty-handed, basically. Not a single weapon on him. Zero protection either. Zombie or not, one wrong move - and he’s sliced up for sure.

The System chimed.

[Optional Quest detected: First Blood.]

[Goal: Take down a trespasser.]

[Reward: Experience + Basic Skill Shard.]

A faint, chilly grin pulled one side of Aiden’s lips upward.

“Perfect,” he whispered. “Let’s see what your ‘System’ can really do.”

He stepped closer to the flat rock nearby. On top of a worn-out body, covered in grime, rested a blade eaten by rust. His fingers closed around the handle. At first it stuck, locked in place by years of rot - then suddenly came loose, sending up bits of debris.

The blade had gone blunt, broken along bits of its edge - yet it stayed metal. He flipped it in his palm. Not heavy. Known.

The sounds became sharper all of a sudden.

“…down here, I’m telling you. The priest said they heard something.”

“You think a corpse got up and went for a stroll?” another voice replied, mocking.

Aiden slipped into the dark space behind two columns, pressing against the icy rock, blade held close to the ground. He didn’t have a heartbeat - yet tension wound tight in his chest, just like before a storm hits. One breath. Then another.

He passed away on his knees before them.

He refused to drop to his knees once more.

The first flicker of light hit the crypt’s ground. Footsteps showed up, followed by limbs, after that silhouettes of soldiers in armor moving down, clueless that the corpse they’d ditched long ago was right there, hiding, ready - a wraith with a knife, a system craving carnage.

The first guard's boots slammed on the crypt floor - torch glow warping his shadow into something crooked on the rock. Next came another set, bulkier, along with faint chimes of steel. Pair of guys. Wearing armor. Carrying blades. Breathing hard. Hearts pounding.

Aiden stayed still.

Leaning against the stone column, he tucked himself into the shadowy gap beyond the fire’s glow. A chipped blade sat heavy in his palm, its frayed handle peeling with every squeeze. Shifting slightly, he balanced on tiptoes, skin barely brushing the icy ground.

"Stinks more than my sister's gym socks down here," a guard grumbled, words bouncing off the stone around him.

The other snorted. “It’s a crypt, Jor. What did you expect, roses?”

The first guard, Jor, lifted his torch up a bit more, fire flickering. Light spilled across cracked bones and flat stones, moved past thick webs and grime, yet died before reaching the dark spot where Aiden stayed still.

“Priest swore he heard something,” Jor grumbled. “Said a corpse was moving. I’m not paid enough for cursed dead.”

The second guard laughed. “Relax. We’re just making sure the traitor’s body is still here. You know how nobles are. Paranoid.”

Traitor.

Aiden's grip on the blade got stronger.

He sensed the anger inside him - it flowed slow, like icy liquid, steady and deep. Fear didn't rattle his fingers; it just lingered far off, faint. His mind stayed focused, crisp.

A quiet bell echoed through his thoughts.

Surprise attack is better. Right now, your numbers won't last in a straight fight

Aiden took a breath in - then let it go, little by little.

“Yeah,” he thought. “I noticed.”

The guards moved further into the tomb, their boots dragging across old dust. Jor went first, holding up a torch that barely cut through the dark; behind him came the other guard - bigger, wider - with his fingers loose on his sword’s handle.

Aiden held back till they moved past his column.

One step. Two.

He moved.

He lunged ahead, weightless somehow, everything fading except the open slit in Jor’s neck. A chipped blade cut the air, hissing like dry reeds.

The guard hardly got a chance to react.

Flesh tore under steel. Blood arced through the air - hot, thick, turning black in the flickering glow. Jor gasped, pupils huge, fingers scrabbling as fire hit stone with a clatter. Gurgling noises burst from his neck while his legs gave way beneath him.

The torch dropped, then rolled - fire flickering across the rock until it stopped by a cracked piece of stone. After that, shadows darted and twisted.

The second guard twisted fast. "Huh - ?!"

Jor dropped down by Aiden's feet, lips moving without sound while red spread under his face. One hand jerked - then nothing.

Aiden looked straight at him.

He expected to feel sick. Instead, nothing rose in him - no guilt, no dizziness. Just clarity, sharp and quiet, like scratching a notch into wood. A chill settled inside, not from regret, but something darker that stayed.

[Ding.]

[Optional Quest: First Blood – Completed.]

[Reward: Experience + 1 Basic Skill Shard.]

[Experience gained.]

[Grow stronger: 1 becomes 2.]

A flash of heat ripped through his lifeless frame - like boiling liquid surging into ice-cold blood. His arms and legs turned weightless, awareness cutting deeper. But just as fast, it faded, gone without warning; now he stood above the body, exhaling on instinct though no longer required.

“You—! What in the hells—”

The second guard staggered backward, pupils huge. "Wait - you? You should’ve been gone by now!"

Aiden looked up at him, a faint grin tugging one corner of his mouth. "Used to be."

The guard’s face twisted. “Monster.” His sword rasped from its scabbard. “The captain said your corpse might be cursed. I should’ve burned you myself.”

Captain.

The moment a boot slammed into his ribs popped up in Aiden’s mind.

He lifted his blade, aiming straight at the soldier - go on, give it a shot

The guy yelled out loud then rushed forward, his steel boots banging on the ground. As he swung his weapon downward in a wide curve, trying to cut Aiden apart from shoulder right down to thigh.

Aiden stepped back.

The blade crashed into rock, sending up bright flashes. With a swear, he tore it loose - then swung once more, aiming near the ground in a broad arc.

Speed.

Aiden moved fast, way ahead of his mind. He ducked - steel zipped past his skull - then drove his shoulder into the guard's ribs. Pain shot through him, yet the guy still wobbled backward, caught off guard by the raw force from someone who shouldn't even stand.

“Thought you were just a corpse,” the guard snarled, regaining his footing. “Fine. I’ll cut you into pieces this time.”

He charged, faking a left then striking right. This wasn't random - Aiden saw it coming, his body reacting fast from old routines burned deep through endless practice.

His blade hit the guard's with a sharp clang. A jolt ran up his arm - less intense, though still present. With force behind him, the guard pushed ahead.

He was stronger.

Living tissue. The heart keeps going. Blood moves through veins.

Aiden's feet slipped through the loose dirt. With a smirk, the guard showed his teeth. "Just fall right."

A sharp sound echoed inside Aiden's mind.

[Basic Skill Shard integrating.]

[New Skill Unlocked: Grasp of the Grave (Active).]

Make ghost-like hands pop up from the floor to hold a live person still for just a sec - if they’re close enough to touch. Lasts two seconds flat. Uses 5 points of Resentment

Aiden looked up - held the guard's gaze.

Two seconds.

It was enough.

He moved his stance, jaw tight. "Hold from the deep."

The ground under the guard shifted, moving like water after a splash. Out shot pale arms - thin, see-through - popping up from the rock. Their bony fingers grabbed his legs, wrapping tight just above the feet. One by one, more hands broke through, cold and silent.

The guard's eyes widened. "Huh - ?!"

He tried pulling away, yet the ghostly fingers clung tight, yanking him forward with eerie force. His footing slipped. Just for an instant, his weapon hand sagged.

Aiden moved.

He tore the blade loose from the clash, closing fast - slammed the corroded steel into the space where armor met neck. A screech of iron on iron... then it bit deep into muscle.

The guard yelled - harsh, shattered. Blood drenched Aiden’s fists while he drove the knife farther in. Ghostly fingers melted into rock when the guy lost power, legs giving way.

Aiden ripped the blade out, then moved fast - the corpse hit the dirt behind him.

Silence took over the crypt once more, interrupted just by the gentle snap of the dropped torch.

The scent of blood got heavier - metallic, salty, mixed with a hint that ought to’ve turned Aiden’s stomach. Yet he just registered it, sorta like how a tracker senses which way the breeze blows.

[Ding.]

[Enemy defeated.]

[Experience gained.]

Aiden breathed out, eyes dropping to his hands. Blood ran off his fingertips - thick, shiny under the shaky glow.

He flexed them.

Nothing trembled.

One time, right after taking a life in combat, he puked beside a smashed cart - his hands trembled so much he struggled to undo his helmet strap. Screams. Burning air. Stench. For days, those memories wouldn't let up.

Now, looking down at two dead bodies, he didn’t feel rage - just a slow peace, a low sense of relief they were left behind instead of him.

“Undead,” he murmured. “You changed more than my pulse.”

The system didn't say a thing.

He jumped past Jor's corpse, then squatted next to the other soldier, cleaning the knife on the guy’s shirt. His eyes locked onto the badge stuck to the uniform - tiny silver lion standing up, got a crown on its head.

Royal insignia.

He used to wear that exact thing too.

Aiden’s jaw tightened.

He took off the badge, flipping it around to check the reverse side. There, a small mark read: V.S. 13th Company.

He’d seen that unit before - city patrol, right? Meant for quiet jobs, mostly running tasks around town. Not much action involved.

“You weren’t here by accident,” he said quietly.

He checked the guard's belt, spotting a crumpled parchment shoved in a small leather bag. Opening it up, his eyes moved across the sloppy handwriting.

“Confirm corpse is intact. Report any unusual activity. Do not open coffin without priest present. — Captain Holt.”

Holt.

Aiden crushed the parchment in his hand. In his head, the guy's laugh echoed - cold, teasing - while that heavy boot pushed down on his ribs.

Way too powerful. Folks say your name way more than the king’s son. Not happening. Can't allow it.

His fingers loosened bit by bit. Then he tucked the rolled-up paper into his torn pants' edge.

“Good,” he whispered. “One of my targets still cares whether I’m here.”

He took off the guard’s armor fast, without wasting time. Though the pieces hung slightly baggy on his thin build, he adjusted them with the buckles. It didn't matter much - the load felt light, since his lifeless form never got tired.

From the second guard, then, came the sword - neither old nor dull like that junk from the body table. Swung it a bit to check how it felt; gave one quick nod after.

“Better.”

He looked toward the floating menus dimly lit along his sight line.

[Name: Aiden Cross]

[Title: The Dead Man]

[Race: Undead (Bound Soul)]

[Level: 2]

[Strength: 9]

[Agility: 8]

Stamina: none - heart’s not beating at all

[Magic: 11]

[Resentment: 95/100]

[Skill: Grasp of the Grave (Lv.1)]

Anger was down by five - this time, that’s what the move set him back.

He slid the sharp blade into its holder by his side, then headed for the stairs across the dark room.

Stone steps led up into the dark, their corners softened by years of footsteps. From somewhere overhead, a weak breeze drifted down, bringing along a touch of cleaner air - also faint murmurs, hard to make out.

Life.

Aiden moved forward - once, twice. His armor made faint sounds, metal sliding against worn leather. The torch stayed where it fell, left behind without a second thought. Darkness closed in, yet his gaze held steady, seeing clearly through lifeless eyes.

Midway through, a new alert popped up.

[Main Quest: Vengeance of the Dead – Active.]

New info: A top enemy still leads the king’s army. Because of them, power reaches every part of the city

Gather the facts first. Check how strong they are. Stay away from main threats right now - wait for a better moment

Aiden’s lip curled. “So even you think I’m weak.”

[Current Level: Insufficient for direct confrontation.]

He exhaled through his nose, something almost like a laugh slipping out. “Don’t worry. I’ve died once already. I’m in no hurry to repeat it.”

One foot after another, he kept going till the tight staircase led into a tiny room made of rock. In front stood a thick wood door, held together with rusted metal strips, ancient and stiff. Faint glow slipped through cracks around it.

He put his ear close to the wooden surface.

Silence. Just empty air. Nothing moving. Not a sound anywhere.

He pressed his palm on the door, then shoved. The hinges creaked - stiff from disuse. A gap grew bigger, letting a rush of cold air hit his skin.

He stepped out.

Night greeted him.

The sky arched overhead - pitch dark, dotted with icy pinpricks of light. Below, the moon sagged near the horizon, a pale sliver slicing weak mist. Wind bit sharply, pulling at loose fabric wherever metal plates left gaps, hauling along damp soil smells mixed with far-off burning.

He was standing by an old cemetery, left behind years ago. Broken tombstones tilted every which way, many hidden under weeds that grew high. A bent railing, part of it gone to rot, marked where the land ended. Past that line, thick woods pressed close - silent shapes seeming to keep watch.

Far off, past the trees and low hills, lights glowed on the edge of sight - one hundred or more, soft yellow, unblinking.

The capital.

His capital.

The city he’d given everything to. Yet it celebrated the day he was gone.

A quiet anger crept through his empty ribs, gripping his spirit like frost. While it grew heavier, the chill sank deeper into who he was. Though silent, its weight pressed hard against every thought.

[Ding.]

[New Quest Unlocked: Return to the Kingdom That Killed You.]

[Objective: Reach the outskirts of the capital.]

Reward: you gain experience - unlock fresh spots

Aiden gazed at the far-off glow, his hand tightening on the handle of a blade he'd taken - leather groaning under pressure.

Somewhere past those stone walls, Prince Kael dozed off on a bed covered in silken cloth; meanwhile, Seris flashed that fake grin while mingling with nobles at court - over by the barracks, Captain Holt joked around with his soldiers, mocking the knight they'd tossed away like rusted metal.

He was stuck in a cold cell, or so they believed.

He moved ahead, his boots cracking through parched weeds.

“If they want to celebrate my death,” Aiden murmured, voice low and steady, “let them. When they realize I’m not where they left me…”

He grinned - sharp, like a blade’s edge.

“…it’ll be too late to start praying.”

The chill never got to him.

Aiden slipped across the cemetery like smoke, metal rustling low with every stride. Light from above crept over cracked markers and bare branches, drenching the ground in pale gray and deep dark. The air seemed hollow, yet never still - birds hooted beyond the hills, blades of turf tapped together in gusts, while miles away a lone dog cried toward the stars.

He heard every word yet stayed calm - somehow grounded through it all.

No tiredness weighed down his arms or legs. But no ache filled his chest either. Since he ordered himself to go, he kept going - simple as that.

He stopped by the fence. Part of the old wood gave way, opening up space to squeeze through. Through that break, a thin trail ran downhill, vanishing into open land dotted with trees. Way off in the distance, barely visible, light from the city held on at the edge of sight.

Aiden moved through the opening, then reached the trail.

[Ding.]

[Quest: Return to the Kingdom That Killed You – In Progress.]

Three-day walk from the capital - if you're healthy. For your shape now? Maybe two

He raised an eyebrow. “Undead gets a speed bonus. Good to know.”

His boots cracked against the ground when he began moving. Night clung close, quiet and uncaring. With every stride, he left the burial site behind - not just the dirt mound where he’d opened his eyes - but also the town that dumped him out like trash.

Faces drifted into his mind, unexpected.

Kael. Seris. Holt.

Back then, hearing those names might’ve caused doubt, pain - perhaps a quiet wish it wasn’t true. Today, everything felt sharp, real. Because they’d made their choice.

He passed away because of that decision.

They would, too.

He kept going till the graveyard hill turned into a shadowy bump behind. Down below, the trail slipped through patches of woods, where treetops tangled above, blocking bits of moon glow. Darkness pooled near the tree bases - dense, like it was paying attention.

Aiden let his fingers hang slack near the sword's grip.

He picked up their voices first, then spotted them moments later.

A faint shuffle… then footsteps snapping twigs, veering from the trail on his left. A gasp - short, shaky. Muttered words, half-suppressed.

One person made an effort - though it didn't work - to stay quiet.

He stopped. “You might as well come out. You’re loud.”

Silence.

Then, a voice, high and panicked. “D–Don’t hurt me! I don’t have anything!”

A shape staggered into view - just a kid, couldn't have been older than fourteen, built like a stick with oversized rags hanging off. Hair matted, face smeared with grime from who knows where. He dragged a tiny bag by one strap, gripping it tight as if someone might snatch it away.

He looked at Aiden's armor, then the sword - his eyes widened. "Huh."

Aiden studied him. “Relax. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have heard me.”

That didn't help settle the kid one bit. His throat tightened, voice shaky. "Were you in the army?"

The silence sat heavy. Yet no one spoke.

One time, it was clear. A true protector of the realm. Guarding the throne without question.

Right then, he sported the emblem of those he aimed to wipe out while hauling a blade snatched off a dead body.

“Something like that,” he said.

The kid moved side to side, stuck - like he couldn't decide whether to bolt or just stand there. "Uh... you going into town?"

Aiden glanced at the far-off glow, paused a moment. “Yeah.”

The boy chewed his lip. “Then we’re… going the same way.”

“We?” Aiden asked. “Who’s we?”

The kid paused - then tugged the bag up a bit. It squirmed. From within, a tiny annoyed cry slipped out.

Aiden stared. “You’re traveling with… whatever that is?”

The boy let out a breath, then loosened the sack slightly - just wide enough for a small gray kitten to push through. Its fur was messy, eyes squinted like it didn't trust anything around. Staring at Aiden, it looked upset, somehow proud too, the way cats do when bothered.

The boy winced. “She wouldn’t stay behind. And if my uncle finds her, he’ll…” He trailed off, eyes dropping.

Aiden studied him briefly. His shoulders stayed stiff, body ready to run if things got rough - yet a defiant look lingered in his eyes.

“Name,” Aiden said.

The kid opened his eyes again. "Wait?"

“Your name.”

“Oh. Rowan.” He swallowed. “You?”

“Aiden.” He turned back to the road. “If you’re going to the capital, keep up.”

Rowan stared, dumbfounded. “You’re… you’re not going to rob me?”

Aiden looked at the little bag, then the torn shirt, then the tiny cat. Yet none of it seemed valuable enough to take. He figured there was nothing here anyone would want

Rowan flapped his lips like a fish, quick-stepping to catch up. The tiny cat, annoyed by the rush, dug itself further down into the bag - letting out an irritated squeak.

They moved quietly along the trail, weaving through trees and small bushes. Crickets chirped from the tall grass while a light wind skimmed by.

Rowan peeked at Aiden’s ghostly skin, his still gaze. "You seem... off," he said quick, then tensed up right after. "Not awful or anything - just drained. Like you’ve been awake forever."

Aiden thought about it. "Close enough."

“You from around here?” Rowan asked.

“Once.”

Rowan shifted the sack strap on his shoulder. “I’m from a village two valleys over. Well. I was. My uncle said there’s work in the capital. For boys. Whatever that means.” His mouth twisted. “He told me to go or starve. So here I am.”

Aiden stayed quiet, letting things settle. Out past the wall, hardship showed up plenty. The city never struggled to act like none of that was real.

“Why the armor?” Rowan asked cautiously. “You don’t… walk like the regular soldiers.”

“How do they walk?”

“Like they own whatever they see.” Rowan shrugged. “You walk like you’re looking for something to kill.”

Aiden almost smiled. “You’re not entirely wrong.”

The System sat there silent, buzzing just beside his thoughts - much like a hidden pulse he’d never felt. A steady undercurrent, almost alive, lingering without weight or sound.

[Observation: Companion detected.]

[Note: Living friends might share details or open doors you can't reach right now.]

It was almost amusing. “You want me to keep the boy?”

Call’s yours. Right now it seems safe, might even help out

Rowan nudged a small rock from the trail. "Hey, Aiden... heading to your job now?"

“In a sense.”

“What kind?”

“The kind that ends with certain people buried deeper than that graveyard back there.”

Rowan stopped talking right then, his eyes opening a bit wider. Yet he didn’t push for answers.

The woods opened up when daylight crept across the horizon. Stars vanished gradually, like someone lifting a blanket off their eyes. Far away, a wisp of smoke twisted upward.

Rowan squinted. “That’s… an outpost, I think. Or a checkpoint. Traders pass through there before heading to the capital.”

Aiden looked where he was staring. Rough wood walls stood ahead. A short tower loomed nearby. Something shifted up above - just a shadow, really. Most likely? Some tiny outpost on the edge, guarded by a few tired guys killing time.

Soldiers carrying identical crests across their taken gear.

“Do they check everyone?” he asked.

Rowan nodded. “Sometimes. Mostly they just harass folk who look poor or suspicious. No offense.”

“None taken.”

He eased off a bit, lost in thought. Showing up wearing shiny armor, looking like some ghost kid with cold eyes - yeah, that’d draw attention fast. Yet a kid on his own, tagged by a regular guard? Nah, nobody blinks at that.

He looked down at Rowan. “You said you’re going to the capital to find work.”

Rowan frowned. “Yeah?”

“Then for now,” Aiden said, “I’m your escort. You walk in front. I walk behind. If they ask, I was ordered to make sure you reach the city.”

Rowan stared. “Ordered by who?”

“Do you know many names with authority?”

Rowan hesitated. “There’s… Captain Holt. People curse his name a lot.”

Aiden’s grip on his sword tightened slightly. “Then use his. Say he didn’t want to waste troops escorting peasants, so he sent me alone.”

“That sounds like him,” Rowan muttered.

The idea obviously spooked him, yet he straightened up. “What’s your reason for backing me?”

Walking in solo draws attention - too much noise. A regular tale about him works fine as cover. The city’s simpler to reach when you’re beside some innocent kid instead of drifting like a quiet shadow.

“Because you’re going the same way,” Aiden said. “And I could use someone who knows how these people think.”

Rowan snorted. “I don’t know how they think. I just know they don’t think about us.”

Aiden's mouth curled a little. "Stop right there."

They got close to the camp just when sunlight peeked through, washing the land in soft yellow. Guys wearing uneven gear slumped by the entrance, propped up on their spears, looking drowsy from routine.

A guy snapped upright after spotting Aiden's emblem and gear - his stance shifted right away.

“Soldier!” he called. “What’s your unit?”

Rowan glanced at Aiden - fast, uneasy.

Aiden met the guard’s gaze, dead eyes steady. “Detached from the 13th Company on Captain Holt’s orders. Escorting a labor recruit to the capital.”

The guy's eyebrows lifted when he heard the captain's name, yet suspicion faded from his expression. Nobody ever mentioned Holt without meaning it.

Rowan swallowed and lifted his chin. “My uncle sent me. I’m… I’m strong. I can work.”

The guard barely looked at the kid, just motioned him forward with a noise. "Get moving now - city's short on workers again."

Hungry for hands. Craving bodies.

Aiden moved through the gate, sensing stares behind him.

When the outpost was out of sight and the path got wider, marked by heavy wheel tracks and a few folks passing through, he started making out the city’s edge - high up, strong-looking, no gaps in it.

Somewhere within those walls, his murderers stayed - carrying on as if no crime took place.

"Nearly done," Rowan murmured under his breath.

Aiden nodded once.

"Yeah," he said quiet-like. "Close enough."