It was night.
Nine o'clock.
I sat alone at the table, the room lit only by the soft glow of the television and the city lights bleeding through the curtains. In my hand was the encrypted card, its surface cool and smooth between my fingers.
On the sofa behind me, Nola was asleep, curled into a small, warm ball. Her breathing was steady. Peaceful.
The news played quietly.
"…Three criminals are still at large. Authorities urge citizens to remain calm. Photos and details are now circulating—"
Images flashed across the screen.
Blurry. Incomplete.
I watched without expression.
Inside and out, I was calm.
After a few minutes, I lowered the volume and turned my attention to the card. I typed the web address exactly as written.
The page loaded.
A login screen appeared.
I entered the password.
The site opened.
THE SECRET HUNTERS SOCIETY
I nodded faintly.
Forums filled the screen—discussions, reports, fragmented footage. Mentions of dungeons, of drops, of efficiency. The tone was casual. Technical.
I frowned.
"…Dungeons?"
Then I noticed a new upload.
Pinned.
Posted moments ago.
[ADMIN] — LIVE FOOTAGE ARCHIVE
I clicked it.
The video loaded.
At first, the image was shaky.
Then it stabilized.
Seven figures stood in a line.
In front of them—
Children.
Young.
Terrified.
Their clothes were thin. Their faces dirty. Orphans.
They were shaking.
No explanation was given.
No justification.
The seven raised their hands.
Skills activated.
I didn't hear everything clearly—just screaming. Then silence.
The screen shook.
When it steadied again, the children were gone.
Potions appeared where they had stood.
Behind the footage—
Other screens.
Hundreds of them.
Two hundred and forty.
Each one showing people watching.
Applauding.
Cheering.
I felt something crack.
The panel burst into view.
Sanity: 3%
4%
7%
12%
18%
25%
30%
My breathing stayed even.
My face didn't change.
But something inside me pulled tight, stretched past what it should endure.
The video kept playing.
I didn't blink.
I didn't move.
Then—
The screen went black.
Nola was suddenly in front of me.
She grabbed the phone with both paws and shoved it into the beast-taming space.
Hard.
"No," she said sharply.
"That's enough."
The room fell silent.
The TV continued murmuring in the background.
I sat there, staring at nothing.
Sanity at thirty percent.
And for the first time—
I understood why some truths weren't meant to be known all at once.
I woke up at exactly midnight.
The room was dark and still, the digital clock on the wall glowing faintly: 12:00.
On the sofa, Nola was asleep. Curled into herself, breathing softly, completely unaware of the weight pressing down on my chest. I watched her for a moment.
Thank you, I said silently.
I didn't wake her.
I needed air.
After everything I'd been through, the walls felt too close.
I stepped into the corridor, the door closing behind me with a soft click. The inn was quiet. Most doors were shut, lights off. Somewhere down the hall, someone turned in their sleep. Further away, faint murmurs leaked through thin walls—people awake for reasons far simpler than mine.
I walked.
Down the stairs.Out the front door.
The night greeted me with cool air that brushed against my face and slipped under my shirt. The road outside was empty, washed pale under the moonlight. Crickets chirped intermittently, their rhythm uneven but steady. Bushes rustled as the breeze passed through them, leaves whispering against each other like they were sharing secrets.
I didn't have a destination.
I just kept walking.
Minutes passed. Maybe more. Time didn't matter.
My expression stayed flat.My breathing stayed even.
Then my vision blurred.
Tears slipped out quietly, one after another, trailing down my cheeks. I lifted a hand and wiped at them, annoyed—but it only made it worse. More came. My throat tightened.
I stopped walking.
I stood there, alone in the middle of the road, and let it happen.
The tears soaked into my T-shirt, warm against my skin. My shoulders trembled once, then again. I tilted my head back and looked at the moon hanging bright and indifferent above me.
So far away.So untouched.
Something broke loose.
I opened my mouth and screamed.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!"
The sound tore out of my chest, raw and unfiltered, ripping through the quiet night. It echoed down the empty road, bounced off buildings, and vanished into the dark.
When it was gone, only the crickets answered.
I stood there, shaking, breath ragged, eyes burning.
And for the first time since everything began—
I let myself feel it.
I woke up to morning light.
Pale, thin, slipping through the curtains.
The room was quiet. Too quiet. Nola was still asleep, curled into the corner of the sofa, chest rising and falling steadily. I didn't wake her.
I summoned the panel.
Sanity: 0%
Normal.
Clear.
Last night returned to me in fragments—the video, the screams cut short, the applause that followed. I didn't feel sick. I didn't feel angry. The absence of those reactions disturbed me more than anything else.
I sat up slowly.
I knew what I couldn't do.
I couldn't kill my seniors—the ones who had been climbing the tower for years. People who survived before me, endured before me. Whatever they had become, they were part of a path I hadn't walked yet.
But the others?
The ones who climbed with me.The ones who made those choices now, in the same time, under the same rules.
I could reach them.
That difference mattered.
I clenched my fist.
Not in fury.In decision.
"This ends," I murmured, more to myself than the room.
Not justice.Not revenge.
Containment.
If the world treated people like livestock, then someone had to start closing the gates.
I stood up.
The day had already begun.
And so had my choice.