The streets were a battlefield.

  Geon moved cautiously through the ruins of the city, his shadow trailing behind him like an obedient specter. Every sound—a distant scream, the rustle of debris, the guttural growl of a mutated beast—set his nerves on edge.

  The leaderboard haunted his thoughts. The names vanishing, one after another, were stark reminders that survival wasn’t just a matter of skill or luck. It was about ruthlessness. And he wasn’t sure he had enough of that.

  His phone buzzed again.

  Geon’s stomach turned.

  “They’re not wasting any time,” he muttered, his grip tightening on his shadow-sword.

  “Of course not,” the shadow replied, slithering alongside him. “The game demands blood. Hesitation only feeds the strong.”

  Geon ignored it, focusing on the task at hand. He needed to level up, and he needed to do it fast. But he wasn’t going to kill another human. Not yet.

  The memory of the man he’d fought—the blood, the desperation in his eyes—was still fresh in his mind. He wasn’t ready to face that again.

  The opportunity presented itself an hour later.

  Geon had been skirting the edge of a park, the overgrown trees casting eerie shadows under the crimson sky. The air was thick with tension, every creak of branches and rustle of leaves setting his heart racing.

  And then he saw it.

  A bear.

  Or what had once been a bear.

  The creature was massive, its fur matted with blood and streaked with glowing red veins. Jagged spikes jutted from its shoulders, and its eyes burned with an unnatural light.

  Geon froze, his breath catching in his throat.

  “That thing’s huge,” he whispered.

  “And worth a great deal of experience,” the shadow said.

  Geon hesitated. He’d barely survived the wolf. This... this was something else entirely.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  But he didn’t have a choice.

  He tightened his grip on the sword, his shadow flickering in anticipation. “Alright,” he muttered. “Let’s do this.”

  The first strike was his.

  Geon lunged forward, the shadow-sword slicing across the bear’s flank. The creature roared, the sound so loud and deep it felt like the ground itself was shaking.

  The bear turned, its massive paw swinging toward him. Geon dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow.

  He scrambled to his feet, his shadow forming a shield just in time to block the next attack. The force of the strike sent him sliding backward, his feet digging into the dirt.

  “Too slow,” the shadow hissed.

  Geon ignored it, circling the bear as he looked for an opening. The creature was fast—faster than it had any right to be—but it was also predictable. Its movements were driven by rage, not strategy.

  The bear charged, and Geon sidestepped, his sword slashing at its exposed side. The blade connected, cutting deep, but the creature barely flinched.

  “This isn’t working,” Geon muttered, backing away as the bear turned to face him.

  “Then stop playing defense,” the shadow said. “Attack. Overwhelm. Kill.”

  Geon clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing. He couldn’t afford to drag this out. The longer the fight lasted, the greater the chance that someone—or something—else would show up.

  He darted forward, his movements quicker, more precise. The shadow-sword flickered and danced, striking at the bear’s legs, its sides, its neck. Each hit drew blood, but the creature refused to fall.

  It roared again, swiping at him with both paws. Geon raised his shadow-shield, the force of the blow nearly shattering it.

  “Now!” the shadow urged.

  Geon didn’t hesitate. He pushed forward, the sword plunging into the bear’s chest.

  The creature let out one final, ear-splitting roar before collapsing, its massive body dissolving into ash.

  Geon staggered back, his chest heaving as he stared at the spot where the bear had been.

  The notification was followed by another:

  Geon barely had time to process the words before a new sound reached his ears: the unmistakable crunch of footsteps on gravel.

  He turned, his shadow-sword forming instinctively.

  A woman stepped out from the trees, her eyes sharp and calculating. She was dressed in tattered clothes, a long knife in one hand and a pistol in the other.

  “Nice work,” she said, her voice smooth but cold. “Took down the big guy all by yourself. Impressive.”

  Geon didn’t lower his weapon. “What do you want?”

  The woman smirked, twirling the knife in her hand. “Relax, kid. I’m not here to fight. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Just scouting the competition,” she said. Her eyes flicked to his shadow. “You’ve got an interesting class. Not many people can handle a Demon build this early.”

  Geon’s grip tightened on his sword. “How do you know about my class?”

  The woman shrugged. “Let’s just say I’ve got a knack for figuring people out. Name’s Lira, by the way. You’ll want to remember it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if we cross paths again, you won’t get a chance to forget.”

  She turned and walked away, disappearing into the trees as quickly as she’d appeared.

  Geon stood there, his heart pounding. He didn’t trust her, not for a second.

  But he couldn’t shake the feeling that their paths would cross again.

  And when they did, it wouldn’t be as allies.