Chapter Text
The ground beneath Y/N's boots was slick with a mix of mud and fresh blood as she sprinted between the jagged trees. Each breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, her lungs burning from the effort. Behind her, the Wanderer gave chase, its movements unnervingly silent aside from the scrape of its claws slicing through the air like knives. Its eyes burned with an unnatural red light, locking onto her with relentless hunger.
She tightened her grip on her blade, forcing her mind to stay sharp.
"Xavier!" she shouted over her shoulder, desperation lacing her voice. The only reply was the eerie howl of the wind weaving through the trees. A cold dread coiled in her chest, heavy and suffocating, but she shoved it aside.
Now wasn’t the time for fear—hesitation meant death.
The Wanderer lunged, its massive form cutting through the shadows like a living nightmare. Y/N barely had time to react.
She threw herself into a roll, the creature’s claws slicing through the space where she had stood a second before. As she came up on one knee, she twisted, her blade biting deep into the beast’s side.
The creature let out a guttural roar, its body jerking from the impact.
It staggered, but it didn’t fall.
"Come on, you bitch," Y/N snarled, planting her feet and shifting into a defensive stance. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her blade, knuckles white as her pulse pounded in her ears.
The beast lunged again, faster this time, a blur of muscle and shadow.
She barely had time to react. With a sharp breath, she pivoted, dodging to the side as she drove her blade deep into its torso. A spray of black ink burst from the wound, sizzling where it struck the ground, filling the air with the acrid stench of burning rot. But the beast was unfazed. With a guttural snarl, it retaliated, lashing out in a blur of movement.
Its claws tore across her back.
The pain was instant—blinding, searing.
A scream tore from her throat as the force of the blow sent her staggering forward. Her legs nearly gave out beneath her, vision darkening at the edges, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to stay upright.
She wouldn't fall.
Not here.
Not yet.
Gasping through the agony, she twisted, summoning every last shred of strength left in her battered body. With a raw cry, she thrust her blade upward, the steel plunging through the creature’s core.
The Wanderer let out a piercing, ear-splitting screech, its massive form convulsing. For a breathless moment, it clung to reality—then it collapsed into a swirling mass of ash, dissolving into nothing.
And in its place, something remained.
A faint glow pulsed in the darkness—its core.
Y/N barely registered it. Her legs gave out, and she dropped to her knees, trembling fingers pressing against the torn flesh of her back. Blood seeped through her shredded shirt, the warmth quickly being replaced by the cruel bite of cold air.
Her breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps as the world wavered around her, the pain pressing down, threatening to drag her under.
"Xavior," she called, her voice breaking on the name, "Where are you?!"
The darkness stretched endlessly around her, swallowing her words as if the forest itself had conspired to keep them from reaching him. Her breath hitched, frantic eyes scanning the shifting shadows, searching—begging—for the familiar shape of her partner. He was supposed to be here. He was always here.
But the only answer was silence.
Xavior wasn’t coming.
The realization hit her like a knife to the gut, sharp and merciless.
A strangled breath escaped her lips as she shut her eyes, willing herself to pull it together, but the searing pain in her back flared, tearing another gasp from her throat.
She couldn't afford to stay here.
Every second wasted was another drop of blood lost, another moment closer to whatever horrors lurked beyond the darkness.
She swallowed hard, forcing down the fear clawing at her throat.
She had to move.
No one was coming to save her.
If she wanted to live, she’d have to save herself.
With a pained grunt, Y/N forced herself onto her knees, her body trembling under its own weight.
Every inch of her screamed in protest, her back pulsing with sharp, searing agony. She clenched her jaw, sucking in a ragged breath as she pressed a shaking hand against the rough bark of a nearby tree, using it to steady herself. The pain was unbearable, every movement sending fire ripping through her muscles, but stopping wasn’t an option.
She had to keep going.
She had to survive.
Blinking hard, she tried to focus, her blurred vision gradually sharpening. The darkness still pressed in around her, but beyond the shifting shadows, she caught sight of something familiar—the jagged metallic spires of the N109 zone boundary.
Even from this distance, their sharp edges gleamed faintly in the dim light, a silent warning to anyone reckless enough to cross them.
She had only passed that boundary a handful of times, and never without good reason. But now, as the weight of exhaustion threatened to pull her under, a memory, a person surfaced—a lifeline she desperately clung to.
Sylus.
He had a place near the edge of the zone. It wasn’t much, but right now, it was everything. A sliver of hope. If she could just make it there, she might have a chance—patch herself up, find help, something.
Anything.
Gritting her teeth, she dug deep, forcing her battered body to move.
One step.
Then another.
Her legs wobbled beneath her, weak and unsteady, but she refused to collapse. The gashes on her back pulled with every movement, agony flaring up her spine.
She clung to a single thought—Sylus. His quiet strength, the way he could make her feel safe even when everything was falling apart. If she could just reach him, if she could make it to his door, maybe—just maybe—she’d be okay.
The forest thinned around her, the suffocating darkness easing as the trees broke into sparse, jagged paths. She could see the boundary clearer now, the twisted metallic spires standing like silent sentinels ahead.
Almost there.
Her breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps, each inhale sharp and painful.
She pressed a trembling hand against her side, trying to steady herself, trying to keep moving.
“There… just a little more,” she whispered, the words barely more than a breath, lost beneath the deafening pound of her own heartbeat in her ears.
~/~
The door groaned under the weight of her weak, trembling pushes, hinges protesting as it finally gave way. A faint scent of old wood and cold metal drifted out to meet her, familiar yet distant, like something forgotten in time.
Y/N barely managed to stumble inside, gripping the door frame for support before shoving the door shut with the last of her strength.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as her eyes flickered over the dimly lit interior.
The house was steeped in silence, the air thick and undisturbed. Shadows stretched across the walls, long and unmoving, swallowing the space in eerie stillness. It was exactly as she expected—stark, practical, stripped of anything unnecessary.
No warmth, no personal touches. Just survival.
"No one’s here," she murmured, her voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.
She sagged against the wall, her battered body screaming in protest, but she barely felt it over the weight of disappointment pressing down on her.
Of course he wasn’t here.
Her knees wavered, threatening to give out beneath her, but she clenched her jaw and forced herself to stand.
“I can’t… stop now.”
Sylus always planned ahead.
If she knew him well enough, he had supplies, bandages, and anything that could keep her from bleeding out on his damn floor.
Her gaze flickered toward the hallway, catching the faint outline of a door she prayed was the bathroom.
If there were medical supplies anywhere in this place, they’d be there.
Gritting her teeth, she pressed a shaking fist against the wall, using it to keep herself steady as she dragged herself forward. Each step sent fresh jolts of agony through her back, the raw wounds burning with every movement.
Her breath hitched, coming in sharp, uneven gasps.
The corridor stretched before her, impossibly long, the cold air biting at her exposed skin.
She was halfway there when her legs buckled, and she lurched forward, barely catching herself before hitting the floor.
A broken cry tore from her throat, echoing through the mansion.
“Fucking… come on,” she rasped, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. Sweat clung to her skin, a cold sheen that did little to numb the fire in her back. Her body screamed for rest, for relief, but she refused to give in—not now.
Not when she was so close.
Her trembling fingers finally found the bathroom door, fumbling with the handle before it gave way. She all but collapsed inside, catching herself against the counter at the last second. The impact sent another jolt of pain through her spine, but she bit down on a cry, forcing herself to stay upright.
The bathroom was stark, clinical, and devoid of warmth, just like the rest of the house. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was the small cabinet above the sink.
“Please, please…” she whispered, barely aware she was speaking.
Her hands, slick with blood, shook violently as she reached up, yanking the cabinet open. She rifled through its contents, her breath hitching when her fingers brushed against something familiar.
Bandages.
Antiseptic.
Painkillers.
A shaky exhale escaped her lips. Sylus was always prepared…
Her strength gave out, and she sank onto the cold, unforgiving tiles, clutching the supplies to her chest. The pain still throbbed deep in her wounds, a constant, merciless ache—but for the first time since she had stumbled into the N109, the fear quieted, just for a moment.
Y/N's hands shook violently as she struggled with the antiseptic bottle, her fingers slipping uselessly over the cap.
She fumbled, desperate, but the bottle slipped from her grasp and crashed to the floor, the sound sharp and hollow in the stillness of the bathroom.
The pain was aggressive, driving deeper with each second.
Every breath felt like fire burning through her lungs, and the gashes on her back throbbed with a relentless, searing heat that blurred her vision. Blood trickled steadily from the open wounds, pooling in dark red patches on the cold tiles beneath her.
She pressed her palm against her back, attempting to stop the bleeding, but it was futile—nothing she did seemed to slow the flow.
Her breath grew ragged, each inhale sharp and painful.
The world felt like it was slipping away, and the strength in her limbs was draining fast. She leaned heavily against the counter, her body trembling with exhaustion.
The supplies she had managed to grab slipped from her lap, scattering across the floor in a jumbled mess.
“Damn it… Sylus…”
Her voice cracked, barely a whisper.
Her head swam in a haze, the edges of her vision darkening, and her arms felt like they weighed a thousand pounds.
She tried to move—anything to stay conscious, to reach the bandages or just pull herself up from the floor.
But her muscles refused to obey, turning to jelly under her weight, and with a soft, broken cry, she collapsed fully onto the tile. Her cheek pressed against the floor, cold and hard. Blood pooled beneath her, spreading in dark, vivid streaks across the tile, painting the floor in a haunting crimson.
Each breath she took felt like fire in her chest, ragged and shallow. She could barely draw enough air to keep going.
“I… I can’t…”
The pain was too much, unbearable, and her body was too weak to fight it any longer. The world spun wildly around her, vision wavering as her grip on consciousness loosened.
Her last thoughts were fragmented—fear, desperation, and a lingering, flickering determination.
I can’t die here.
I have to find Xavior.
I have to see Sylus again…
But the darkness was relentless. It crept in, cold and suffocating, and as her eyes fluttered closed, her breaths slowed, growing faint.
The house fell eerily quiet once again, the only sound the faint, rhythmic dripping of blood onto the floor.