Elena quickly withdrew into the dark hallway, distancing herself from the scattered corpses outside and the thick dust that swallowed everything. She leaned against the cold stone wall, her hands pressing against her open mouth in horror, her eyes wide as she stared into the void. "What happened here?!"
No answer. Perhaps if she stayed outside, she would know the truth... but she shuddered at the thought. She would only be another corpse added to the rest, decaying in silence, unnoticed by anyone.
The horrific choices returned to haunt her, and her heartbeat quickened until her head felt like it might explode. If she stayed here, she might have to resort to eating the bodies... but for how long? When would the nearby corpses run out? One day, she'd have to venture farther in search of more, or remain in her home until she became a meal for someone else.
The thought of leaving continued to haunt her... searching for help elsewhere. But Elena knew well that Noxara was nothing more than the empire's dumping ground – that desolate place at the far west where the refuse of wealthy cities was cast aside.
Here lived the poorest of the poor, people lacking everything: food, water, hope. People who had turned into human beasts, abandoning their humanity to survive. For a lone woman, leaving meant one of two fates: either a quick death, or a more horrific life as a prostitute.
Over the 107 years she had spent in this hell, Elena had learned that a dignified death at home might be better than life outside. Yet something deep inside her screamed, "I want to live!"
She dreamed of "Velorisa," the vibrant city with its warm colors, where the sun truly shone, unlike the gray Noxara that knew only the color black. A simple dream: to see real colors before she died.
Elena gripped the metal pipe tightly, as if it were a lifeline. "I have to keep going... I have to reach Velorisa," she whispered to herself as she pushed her exhausted body to stand. Then she stepped back into that dusty hell, where the smell of death lingered in every corner.
She walked with staggered steps, sometimes running to escape the familiar sight of corpses, other times freezing when she recognized faces among the dead. Her hands clung to the cold pipe, her hot tears streaming down her cheeks without care, her heart pounding like a mad drum. But she kept running... leaving behind her home, her memories, and the people lying in eternal silence.
After what felt like an eternity of continuous running, she finally reached the commercial district—the place that had once been alive with movement and activity, now as silent as tombs. She stopped at the entrance, her heart nearly leaping from her chest, an inner voice screaming, "Go back! It's dangerous!"
Turning back was not an option. Elena clenched her fist around the metal pipe, moving forward cautiously, her forehead dripping with sweat. She looked around at the dilapidated shops, everything eerily silent... until suddenly, she heard the sound of a child crying, calling for help.
All her fear vanished. She ran toward the sound with a heart pounding with resolve, stepping over destroyed shops and scattered bodies. She had to hurry, before it was too late.
When she arrived, she saw the horrifying scene: a huge, bald man lifting the child by his neck like a doll! The little one's face was turning purple as he gasped for his last breath, while the man laughed like a madman, as if he were plucking a flower, not a child's soul!
Elena tightened her grip on the pipe, her legs trembling uncontrollably. But she stepped forward...
Noxara had never been a safe place, but what was this blatant brutality?! "Let him go!" Elena shouted, her voice shaking with anger.
The huge man slowly turned toward her, and his bloody smile widened as he tightened his grip on the child's neck. "Help him if you can!" he mocked, his harsh voice sending a cold shiver down her spine.
She had to act immediately—but how? The man was a hundred times stronger than her. She raised the metal pipe with a trembling hand and rushed toward him… then suddenly stopped.
The pipe slipped from her hand.
The child… his head suddenly ignited like a candle! His scream vanished, replaced by the crackling of flames. Then his small body dropped to the ground like a charred doll.
Elena hurried over, tore off her jacket, and tried to smother the fire with her bare hands. "There's still hope!" she lied to herself, as tears streamed down her cheeks. But she knew… she knew he was gone.
Elena's head was yanked upward with brutal force—she found the giant man gripping her hair between his thick fingers. "Ah, such a tender heart," he mocked, his wicked grin widening the more he saw the fear growing in her eyes.
He covered her mouth with his massive hand and leaned in until his harsh features were just centimeters from her face. "I hate weak things… they're ugly!"
She felt a strange heat rising from his hand against her skin. Her mind screamed, "Run!" but her body stayed frozen in place, as the stench of the child's burnt flesh filled her nostrils.
"This is the end…" She thought she would die here.
Suddenly… his hand loosened from her face. Then the man collapsed in front of her like a felled tree, blood pouring from his head like a river, soaking the ground beneath him.
Elena stared at the body, then looked around in shock. The place was empty!
Who… or what… had saved her?
"He's dead?!" She heard a cold voice from beside her.
She slowly turned to see a slender young man leaning against an abandoned stall, surrounded by a strange gray fog. His eyes were indifferent, as if he were watching a boring show.
"Yes! Three points for me!" another voice shouted, its source unseen.
Elena suddenly turned when she heard footsteps behind her. Three other men stood there: two were moving their fingers through the air, while the third stared at the man's lifeless body.
Then... he turned to her.
Her eyes met his malicious gaze. She felt as though a serpent had slithered up her spine. Throughout her life in Noxara, she had learned to escape from men. Now, she was trapped between four of them, in a city where the rules had shifted, and danger was closer than she could ever imagine.
Elena gripped the pipe and stood up, feeling a bit of fatigue, but determined to fight. She wouldn't let anyone hurt her, and if she couldn't protect herself, she'd die before allowing them to touch her.
One of the men laughed from behind and said, "We've got a fierce little cat!" Then he stepped forward and added, "This one's mine!"
The closer he got, the faster Elena's heart raced. But she didn't run. Instead, she charged toward him, lifting the pipe to strike, but he grabbed it before it reached his face. Although his hand ached, he didn't show it. Instead, he mocked, "Is that all you've got?"
Elena tried to pull the pipe from his hand, cursing everyone who had ever trained her in self-defense. This... this wasn't anything she had learned! She watched in horror as the man neared, a wicked smile spreading across his face.
But Elena's feet didn't move. Something was wrong! She looked down at her feet, then at the man, freezing in fear. The mud had engulfed her feet halfway, and it was slowly rising, as though it wanted to cover her completely and turn her into a statue.
One of the men clapped his hands eagerly and said, "If I break her legs now, will she shatter with the mud?"
The other replied maliciously, getting closer to her face, "Why break her legs? There are better things." His face was so close to hers, relishing her weakness as she couldn't escape.
Elena gathered all her strength and slapped him across the nose.
The man recoiled, clutching his nose and cursing her, blood dripping from it. He shouted in fury, "Damn you!" while the others laughed and mocked him.
Elena broke the mud around her legs using the pipe and tried to escape, but she found herself trapped by three strong men, with the fourth standing behind her, eyeing her with cunning looks.
"Where do you think you're going, little cat?" said the slender man, the fog surrounding him like a light cover—visible but untouchable. Another man shouted angrily from behind, "I told you she's mine! I'll be the one to make her return to her true size!" He then pushed the other two aside and advanced toward Elena, his face twisted with anger.
Before she could defend herself, a powerful punch sent her crashing to the ground, and blood began to pour from her nose onto the dirt.
The man surrounded by fog, as he walked away with the others, said, "Just don't kill her!" They all stood at a distance, watching their comrade hit her mercilessly, hearing her groans of pain without being affected. Some of them smiled mockingly, while others simply watched in silence, bored.
As for Elena, she lay on the ground, blood flowing from her body with every strike. Her body screamed in pain in its own way, her heart pounding fiercely, her chest tightening as she struggled to breathe. She felt pain in her kidneys, and in parts of her body she couldn't feel, but she was certain they were hurting too.
One of the men stood at the back, moving with boredom, his eyes searching for something to occupy him until the others finished their beating. Suddenly, he heard light footsteps, completely different from the men's heavy ones. A malicious smile crept across his face, and he quickly glanced around at his companions before quietly slipping away, unnoticed.
Amidst the old, haphazard shops, the fog helped him to hear the sound clearly. The footsteps were faint, almost like a whisper that could easily be lost in the air. But it was enough to make him feel the presence of someone and urge him to move forwar
d, passing by broken shop doors...
And then, suddenly, he heard something crack behind him.