Ash glanced at the ruined tower. “Yeah. Before someone decides to check.”

  Malachai nodded once. “With the amount of noise, someone would come and check.”

  “And her?” Red continued

  Ash shrugged. “Kill her.”

  Black Rose didn’t react.

  Samael took another drink.

  Red looked at him.

  “Well?”

  He blinked. “Why are you looking at me?”

  “You’re the one she’s staring at.”

  Samael glanced at Black Rose.

  She was indeed staring at him intently.'

  That was annoying.

  “She’s not my problem,” he muttered.

  Black Rose finally spoke.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Ash barked a short laugh. “That’s not how this works.”

  She ignored him.

  “If I stay here, I die.”

  Red didn’t disagree.

  Malachai didn’t either.

  Samael sighed.

  “Great.”

  Red shifted the blade slightly but didn’t pull it away.

  “You try anything,” she said quietly.

  Black Rose met her eyes.

  “I won’t.”

  Red finally pulled the blade back. “Walk.”

  Black Rose walked.

  And she quickly ran and stayed near Samael.

  Just watching him.

  He pretended not to notice.

  They didn’t stop walking until the hidden valley was out of sight.

  The path narrowed into rough terrain, trees closing in. No one spoke for a while.

  After a bend in the trail, Ash was the first to slow down.

  For the first time since the basement, nothing was pressing them forward.

  Even though the didnt have much to begin with, they just realized their things had been taken when they were chained in the basement.

  Ash looked at Black Rose.

  “Do you have coins ?...Well?”

  She looked back.

  “I don’t carry coins.”

  Ash blinked. “You run a protection gang.”

  She replied. “I don’t handle finances, and it’s a guild, not a gang.”

  Samael stared at her, wondering what the difference was.

  “You’re telling me the leader of a gang doesn’t have money?” Ash continued, disregarding her earlier comment

  “My guild handles trade,” she said evenly. “Gold is not my concern.”

  Ash frown saying.

  “So we’re broke.”

  Silence.

  Right on cue, Samael’s stomach growled.

  He glared at it.

  Red exhaled slowly. “We need food.”

  Malachai nodded. “And water.”

  Ash leaned back against a tree.

  “We could go back to what we were doing.”

  Malachai shook his head immediately.

  “After that strike? The entire area will be investigated. The Black Rose gang just got attacked, everyone will come to see the results, there might even be a gang war to take over the Black Rose gang's businesses.”

  Black Rose didn’t deny it.

  “Not all of them were inside,” she said.

  They looked at her.

  “Some are still on assignments.”

  Ash scratched his jaw. “It was too easy.”

  Red looked at him.

  “The fight inside the tower,” he clarified. “They weren’t weak. But it did feel like it should have been tougher.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Black Rose Replied "If it wasn't because I was healing from a previous attack, how would you have been able to escape? What I don't understand is that we had many things in place to make sure you can't escape, but they all seem to disappear.r"

  Samael felt something shift in his memory.

  The key.

  The creation pulse.

  The moment the lock broke, it must have destroyed all restrictions placed on them.

  Malachai spoke quietly. “So whoever attacked you before, do you know who they were?” he was thinking that if someone wanted her dead, wasn't taking her with them a big risk?

  Black Rose didn’t answer directly.

  Instead, she looked at Samael again.

  “You were inside my tower when it changed. What did you do?”

  He rolled his shoulders. “We’ve already established you’re obsessed.”

  She ignored the tone.

  “No one steals bonded authority mid-refinement,” she said. “No one.”

  Samael didn’t respond.

  He focused instead on something else.

  Something faint.

  Like a thread.

  He looked back toward where the valley had been.

  Even from here, he could feel the tower.

  It was folding inward.

  He blinked and checked instinctively.

  A faint overlay flickered.

  > [Core Status: Dormant]

  > [Structural Integration: Ongoing]

  He frowned slightly.

  Integration?

  He didn’t dig deeper.

  Right on cue, Samael’s stomach growled again.

  He took another drink instead.

  Malachai looked toward the distant valley.

  “If the gang members return, it may end up being a problem.”

  Ash smirked slightly.

  “And if they find out she’s alive?”

  Black Rose answered calmly.

  “They will look for me.”

  “And if they don’t?” Red asked.

  “Then someone else will claim the territory.”

  That hung there.

  “ We just need to find whoever handled gold in your gang.”

  Ash was excited, then became sullen again, replying.

  “If I were that person, there is no way I would come back to this area.”

  Red looked around at everyone.

  “We need options.”

  While they were arguing, Samael

  He blinked and focused.

  The overlay that appeared sharpened.

  > **[Weapon Structure – Black Rose Tower]**

  > **[Status: Critical Damage]**

  > **[Core Integrity: 18%]**

  > **[Automatic Defense Protocol: Triggered]**

  > **[Energy Expended During Impact: 235,431 Shards]**

  > **[Remaining Structural Reserve: 28,465 Shards]**

  > **[Reserve Access: Restricted]**

  > **[Reason: Core Instability]**

  > **[Primary Allocation: Self-Preservation / Regeneration]**

  Samael stared.

  28,465?

  The tower had tried to defend itself.

  He tried to will the reserve open.

  Nothing happened.

  [Manual Withdrawal: Denied]

  [Stabilize Core to Unlock Reserve]

  Even though he didn’t know what shards were — and couldn’t even access them — he didn’t dwell on it.

  He was too tired to care.

  Maybe there was a library somewhere.

  Some kind of public records.

  He needed context; the data dump from the system is not very clear.

  First, Malachai’s strange memory issue.

  Now some kind of long-range weapon that felt like a nuclear strike.

  There was definitely something off going on.

  He took another slow drink.

  “I really need a manual,” he muttered. While in deep thought, he suddenly heard.

  Ash pushed off the tree.

  “Alright. Complaining isn’t feeding us.”

  Red scanned the tree line. “We need water first.”

  Malachai nodded. “If there’s a valley, there’s runoff.”

  Black Rose looked around once.

  “There’s a stream west of here. It feeds into the lower slums.”

  Ash glanced at her. “Convenient.”

  “It’s terrain knowledge,” she said flatly.

  Red considered it.

  “Fine. You walk in front.”

  Black Rose didn’t argue.

  They moved again.

  The forest thickened slightly, the ground uneven and damp in places.

  Samael walked more slowly than the others.

  His head still rang faintly.

  The tower’s presence tugged at the edge of his awareness.

  After what felt like hours of walking, they found the stream not long after.

  Ash crouched first, scanning the banks.

  “No bodies.”

  “Comforting,” Samael muttered. Wondering why there would be bodies in the water.

  Red knelt and drank.

  Malachai followed, eyes still scanning the tree line.

  Black Rose waited half a second before lowering herself to the water.

  Samael crouched last.

  He splashed water over his face.

  Cold, he thought,t then He leaned closer.

  And froze.

  The reflection staring back at him, although it was him.

  But it was, just… younger and short if someone told him he was 10 years old, he wouldn't deny it.

  Sharper jaw. Smoother skin. Eyes clearer.

  No faint stress lines he used to have.

  He lifted a hand slowly.

  The reflection mirrored him.

  “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Ash glanced over. “What now?”

  “Nothing.”

  He stared a second longer.

  He straightened and stepped back from the water.

  After a while of back and forth debate They decided to follow the stream; this way, no matter what, they will have the water nearby

  And also, maybe this could be good for hunting, don't animals like being near water?

  They walked along the bank, uneven ground forcing them into single file at times.

  While following the others samael remembered seeing how the system didn't show his name.

  Is this thing saying I don’t have a name?

  He focused on the field and tried to change it.

  For a second, nothing happened.

  Then—

  An edit prompt appeared.

  He blinked.

  “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  First, he thought of “Sam.”

  Too short.

  He paused.

  Then typed in his mind:

  **Samael.**

  Confirm.

  The overlay flickered.

  **NAME: Samael**

  That felt better.

  He exhaled slowly.

  Anything may be created.

  That line bothered him more and more.

  “Anything” was a dangerous word.

  Doesn’t that mean my imagination is the only limit… and sufficient energy?

  Then another thought hit him.

  The moment the key was created—

  They were almost killed.

  Cold sweat prickled along his spine.

  Someone reacted.

  How am I supposed to create things in the future if such a big reaction happens?

  Which meant I needed to be careful.

  Very careful.

  Then another thought slipped in.

  …Can I create booze?

  He almost walked into the others in his excitement.

  Up ahead, the trees thinned slightly.

  The stream slowly disappeared, the ground flattening as the forest gave way to scattered structures. Up ahead was a line of wooden planks, patched roofs, and hanging cloth. Then more appeared. And more.

  Until it wasn’t scattered anymore.

  It was endless.

  Makeshift buildings pressed close together, smoke rising in uneven columns. Narrow paths cut between them like veins. People moved everywhere—hauling sacks, arguing, trading, watching.

  And beyond it all, far in the distance, a massive wall stretched across the horizon.

  Samael slowed slightly, wondering what the hell was going on here. Even third-world countries shouldn’t look this bad. He was used to tall buildings and skyscrapers. This area was a stark contrast to his former life.

  “Well,” Ash said, looking around, “good news. We can finally blend in here.”

  No one reacted.

  They stepped into the slums without a plan.

  They walked.

  Turned corners.

  Followed crowded lanes.

  Red scanned everyone constantly, a habit she had developed over time due to past experiences with men being handsy.

  Malachai observed patterns—who carried weapons, who avoided eye contact, who watched too long. It was something he learned from always having to keep Ash out of trouble, a skill that had kept them alive until now.

  Black Rose kept her hood low.

  Ash, on the other hand, looked energized.

  “So,” he began, “we’re broke. That’s temporary.”

  Red didn’t look at him. “Don’t even think about it. I can see it all over your face.”

  “I’m not saying anything reckless.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  Ash ignored her.

  “Think about it. This place is perfect. Crowded. Desperate. Superstitious.”

  Malachai sighed quietly.

  “No.”

  “Why not?” Ash continued. “We can find a decent corner. I start reading futures. He”—he jerked a thumb at Samael—“can act like a pitiful, hungry child. You two look threatening. We collect donations.”

  Samael glanced around at the endless shacks, frowning at Ash’s comment.

  “You’re suggesting we restart the fortune-telling scam,” Malachai said.

  “I’m suggesting we go back to filling our bellies.”

  Red’s jaw tightened slightly.

  “After that strike? If anyone connects us to the valley—”

  “No one here knows what happened,” Ash cut in. “And even if they do, half of them will think it was divine punishment or a war between cultivators.”

  That wasn’t entirely wrong.

  Malachai spoke calmly. “Small cons first. Not visible ones.”

  Ash tilted his head. “Such as?”

  Malachai nodded toward a busy stall area. “Short-term confidence tricks. Quick turnover. No crowd gathering.”

  Samael walked quietly beside them.

  Broke.

  In a different world.

  Younger.

  With a system that could apparently create anything.

  And the first business meeting in this new reality was about petty scams.

  He took another drink.

  The deeper they went, the narrower the paths became.

  Wooden boards creaked underfoot where mud had swallowed the ground. Fabric sheets hung between buildings like makeshift walls. Somewhere nearby, something metallic clanged in a steady rhythm.

  The air smelled like smoke, sweat, and stagnant water.

  Children ran past barefoot, laughing, then stopping mid-step when they noticed the weapons at Red’s hip.

  An older woman sat outside a crooked shack, sorting dried roots into piles. She didn’t look up as they passed.

  Two men argued loudly over a sack of grain.

  Further ahead, someone was cooking something over an open fire. The smell made Samael’s stomach tighten painfully.

  He looked away.

  As they continued to walk, Samael could see Coins exchanged hands quickly. Arguments started fast and ended faster.

  Samael glanced toward the distance where he could see a massive wall barely visible between rooftops.

  “How many people live here?” he muttered.

  “Probably millions in the slums. Not sure about the inner walls, though,” Black Rose replied quietly.

  A thin boy tugged at Ash’s sleeve.

  “You want a lucky charm?” the boy asked, holding up a crooked piece of carved bone.

  Ash crouched slightly, examining it.

  “How lucky?”

  The boy didn’t smile. “Depends on how much you pay.”

  Ash Chuckled.

  Malachai gently nudged the kid away.

  Samael went up to Ash and said, “Hey, since we’re hungry, why not ask that person over there for some of their food?”

  Ash replied, “People won’t share in the slums. You need to be able to feed yourself.”

  Samael looked toward the pot simmering over the open fire again.

  Steam rising.

  Something that definitely smelled better than an empty stomach.