Marcus Hale's screams still echoed somewhere in the back of Bright's mind.
They had watched him die — not by steel, but by the very creatures they feared. Shackled and thrown into the fog as punishment for desertion. The Crawlers came quickly. Roegan made everyone stand and listen as the sounds turned from begging to wet tearing.
A law was laid down: cowards are food.
None slept well that night.
Evening settled over the ruined plaza that temporarily served as camp. Fires were kept low, smoke carefully guided into broken chimneys to avoid drawing attention. The fog hung thicker tonight, clinging to their armor like cold sweat.
Hunger gnawed at them all.
Rations were almost gone.
Even the Crawlers tasted foul and left most vomiting — yet some still tried… and paid dearly with sickness creeping deeper each day.
Adam sat apart, quietly chewing. No one questioned what he ate — they didn't want to know. His face was unreadable, eyes sharp behind cracked glasses.
He scanned the soldiers like a mathematician tallying resources.
Protein and minerals for three days. After that…
His gaze lingered on the weaker troops.
Options will emerge.
Bright sat with Duncan, Link, and Besia near a wall scorched by last night's blast. His wrist still ached, but the Danger Sense pulsing beneath his skin felt sharper than before. Every shift of fog, every metal clink, tugged at his nerves.
Duncan sharpened his new blade — fused with the crystal core — humming a quiet tune.
Besia poked at the fire with a branch. "He didn't deserve that," she murmured. "Marcus. He was just scared."
Link snorted. "Scared soldiers get everyone killed."
"But feeding him to Crawlers—?" Her voice cracked.
"It was a message," Duncan said, voice low. "And we heard it."
Bright stared into the flames. "That's not the message I heard."
All three looked at him.
He swallowed. "I heard that we're not soldiers anymore. We're livestock. And the only reason we're not dead yet is because Roegan thinks we're useful."
Link scoffed. "You always think too much, man."
"Someone here has to," Bright replied.
Across the plaza, Roegan stood watching the camp from atop a broken staircase. His eyes never rested — always measuring, always expecting betrayal.
Jorik approached. "Sir, the troops are restless. Fear is spreading."
Roegan didn't look at him. "Good. Fear sharpens instincts."
"Or it breaks them," Jorik countered cautiously.
Roegan turned his gaze toward the fog-choked cathedral where Marcus had been sentenced.
"We cannot afford breakage," he said. "Not before we find the Dungeon Boss."
Jorik hesitated. "And if we don't?"
Roegan's jaw tightened. "Then this Shroud becomes our tomb."
Later that night, the wind changed.
Bright felt it first — a prickling behind his eyes. His Danger Sense whispered, then screamed. He shot upright.
"We're being hunted."
Duncan grabbed his weapon. "By Crawlers?"
"No," Bright breathed. "Something worse."
As if summoned by the words, the distant heartbeat of the Shroud pulsed again — a deep, resonant thoom that made the ground vibrate.
Soldiers scrambled into positions around the plaza. Torches flared. Arrows were notched.
Roegan strode forward, barking orders: "Shields to the front! Spear-line, brace!"
Besia took Bright's arm, voice trembling. "What did you feel?"
Bright didn't get the chance to answer.
The rooftops rippled.
Dozens — no, hundreds — of eyes opened in the darkness.
A single crawler leapt first — slim, grey-skinned, ribs jutting like knives. It didn't hiss or roar. It glided silently through the air, landing atop a soldier's shoulders and ripping his throat open before anyone reacted.
Then hell broke loose.
Link fired his weapon repeatedly, the flashes briefly illuminating dozens of shapes pouring down the walls.
Duncan roared, bone-hardened fists smashing through chitin skulls as he held the front line, preventing the Crawlers from overrunning the barricades.
Bright moved like instinct — Danger Sense guiding every dodge and strike. He felt the enemy before he saw them, blades slicing the air just ahead of snapping jaws.
Besia stayed behind Duncan, self-healing already knitting together claw-scratches across her arms.
Adam fought only when forced — well-placed shots and stabs — conserving strength. Watching. Always watching.
But the Crawlers weren't fighting to kill.
They were herding.
Driving the soldiers inward.
Toward the heart of the plaza.
Roegan saw the pattern instantly. "Fall back! Keep the perimeter tight! Don't let them encircle—"
A shriek tore the sky open.
Everyone froze.
From the cathedral's shattered roof, a towering figure emerged — The projection of the Dungeon Boss. A long-necked monstrosity with too many teeth and eyes like burning coals.
The elite initiate's aura pressed down like a physical weight, forcing knees to buckle.
Bright tasted blood as his Danger Sense detonated into blinding chaos.
The beast didn't speak — but its intent echoed clearly:
You cannot flee.
You cannot hide.
You are mine.
It raised one clawed hand and pointed.
At Bright.
The Crawlers surged.
Duncan roared and slammed a fist into the ground. Bone spikes shot upward, impaling a cluster of monsters. "On me! Keep Bright alive!"
"I'm honored!" Bright shouted back — but fear was already choking him.
Link fired another round — his hands shaking.
Besia dragged a wounded soldier backward, blood pouring from his stomach. "Bright! Help me!"
He moved — but a crawler intercepted, jaws snapping inches from his throat.
Then Roegan's sword cleaved the creature in half.
"Focus!" the Captain barked. "The Shroud wants your fear — don't give it!"
Easy for him to say.
The battle raged like a storm of claws and screams.
Duncan's armor flickered — bone-hardened hide cracking from impacts.
Link was reloading slower each time.
Besia was running out of strength to heal herself
Adam ducked beneath a collapsing wall, eyes darting.
The Crawlers pressed harder.
Someone screamed for help. Another fell silent.
Bright's lungs burned, arm trembling from exertion. The monster projection loomed in his mind like an anchor of terror.
We are outmatched. We are prey.
His blades felt too light. His heart felt too loud.
Then, a whisper flickered deep inside his mind:
The strife they were facing was hardening their resolve in ways other new recruits couldn't believe. Most recruits in the shroud had killed so much more than their counterparts.
Aside the poisoning, their strength had reached newer heights than ever before reached.
Bright's Danger Sense flared again — directing him before he consciously understood.
He dove sideways — just as a Mutated Crawler crashed down where he stood, crushing stone beneath its bulk.
The air rippled.
A shockwave burst outward.
Crawlers screamed — not in rage…
…but in obedience.
The projection's voice resonated once more:
Hunt the one that can sense us. The boss wants to make his food suffer more.
Bright's blood froze.
"They're targeting you," Besia gasped.
Duncan stepped in front of Bright again, chest heaving, eyes blazing. "Then they'll have to go through me."
He didn't say that because he was some chivalrous hero, but without bright's early warnings they were all fucked.
Roegan yelled above the chaos: "Pull back! Regroup at the cathedral! Move!"
The soldiers obeyed — fear driving their retreat.
The weight of their situation was sinking in as the pulled back for the second time.
Bright stumbled, nearly falling — Adam grabbed his shoulder, steadying him.
No words were exchanged.
But Bright saw the calculation in Adam's eyes.
Not mercy.
Not friendship.
Asset preservation.
They reached the cathedral steps just as the Crawlers began to slow — content to simply watch from the shadows.
Waiting for the next order.
The projection faded from the rooftop, dissolving into mist.
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Bodies lay everywhere.
Lives ended for nothing.
The fog thickened again.
And from it… laughter.
Not human.
Not sane.
Inside the cathedral, Roegan slammed the doors shut. The soldiers collapsed against pews, chests heaving.
"We lost six tonight," Jorik reported quietly. "More wounded."
Roegan's fists clenched. "We hold this ground. We find the Dungeon Boss. We kill it. Then we leave."
His eyes cut to Bright.
"And we protect this one at all costs."
Bright felt every gaze shift toward him — awe, suspicion, envy.
Link muttered under his breath, "Congratulations. You're officially bait."
Bright wished he could argue.
But he was shaking too hard.
Besia slipped her hand into his — a quiet gesture of solidarity.
Duncan rested his massive hand on Bright's uninjured shoulder. "You're not dying tonight."
Adam watched from the shadows.
Not tonight, he agreed silently.
But eventually? If necessary…
The heartbeat of the Shroud pulsed again — closer this time.
The cathedral walls vibrated.
The soldiers huddled together.
The Dungeon Boss was coming.
Not to kill them.
Not yet.
It wanted something first.
Fear
Despair
A reason to survive… or to turn on each other
And the Shroud would feed on both.