Chapter 122: When Death Misses the Target

It had been a month since Luke disappeared. Gone without a trace — as if he’d simply stopped existing. Allison went out almost every day with the scouting groups. In a strange way, it had reignited a spark in Jonathan, Cecilia, Anna, and the others, pushing them to stay focused on the mission’s goal.

Paul, meanwhile, had started joining the expeditions more often — growing noticeably closer to Allison with each passing day.

“You’re heading out again?” Angelica asked.

“Yeah,” Allison replied, her voice steady with determination. “I want to explore a different area today.”

Angelica lowered her gaze. She knew that feeling all too well. Everyone here had lost someone at some point. It was just… part of life in this world.

“I get it. I miss that guy too… same as everyone else we’ve lost in this hell,” Angelica sighed. “Even with how quiet Luke was… he was weirdly easy to talk to. Like… he knew how to hold a conversation with people who didn’t talk much.”

Jonathan crossed his arms. “When we lost the others during the Midnight Warden attack… I hit a point where I could barely leave the Safe Zone. I was completely wrecked. But for the sake of everyone we’ve lost… I have to keep searching for the mechanisms. We’re heading out. Whether we find Luke or not, at least we’ll be making progress. For all the people who didn’t make it.”

“Where exactly are you going?” Paul asked, stepping closer, his attention sharpening.

Allison leaned in slightly, lowering her voice.

“To the barrier in the Wild Zone. Luke’s been there a few times. Maybe… just maybe… he figured out how to cross it. And if that’s true… he could be on the other side. Looking for one of the mechanisms.”

That guy actually made it that far.

Angelica stared at the ground. “I never thought anyone would get that close.”

“You guys know there’s a real chance someone gets hurt out there, right? Have you actually thought about that?” Paul said. “No healing potions. No healer. If someone falls… what happens?”

Anna narrowed her eyes. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

“I am. Because I care about you guys,” Paul answered with a calm smile. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not worried about my friends.”

No one responded. But the tension in the group seemed to ease… just a little. Most of them had already accepted it. Luke was dead. People died here all the time. Some in heroic fights. Others… just unlucky. And when someone vanishes for weeks — no sign, no tracks — it’s easier to move on than to keep clinging to false hope. That’s why, when Paul told them what he’d heard from a soldier, no one argued.

According to him, someone matching Luke’s description had been spotted running from a monster in the Wild Zone. Desperate. Fleeing. And then… nothing. Gone. Probably dead. Nobody questioned it. The story made sense. But the truth… was something else entirely. Paul knew. Luke really had died — but not the way he told them.

One of Marshall’s soldiers had shared it privately. Told him how they’d chased a lone man. Wounded. Cornered. Desperate. And when there was nowhere left to run… when death seemed inevitable… He jumped. Straight into orc territory. No sounds. No explosions. No return. Gone.

The description matched perfectly. The clothes. The build. Even the way he moved. It was Luke. Paul didn’t need to see a body. For him, that was confirmation enough. Luke was dead. And ironically… the ones responsible were the Renegades themselves. Even if it was… indirect. A convenient accident. A troublesome piece… removed from the board.

And that’s why, as he walked beside Allison now, Paul decided to lean into the empathy he’d been carefully cultivating. With a genuinely concerned look, Paul rested a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m starting to worry about your health, Allison. You’ve been pushing yourself way too hard. I’ll go with you if you want… but honestly, I think you should take a few more days to rest. These long trips demand full focus.”

She sighed, lowering her gaze. “You’re right…”

Paul smiled internally. Closer. Every day, just a little closer. The reliable friend. The one who showed up when no one else did. At this rate… maybe she’d finally let go of that obsession with Luke. It was only a matter of time.

She was already one of the most respected people in the Haven — especially after taking down a tyrannosaurus. She just needed to see it clearly. This… this was where she belonged. The Haven was safe. Stable. That’s when it started. A wave of murmurs spreading through camp. Rushed footsteps. Whispered voices.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Angelica’s head snapped up, her brow furrowing. “If it’s another damn soldier from Bartholomew, I swear I’m gonna—” She stomped off toward the plaza, already seething.

Paul and the others followed. A crowd was forming near the main entrance. People pointing. Some whispering. Others just staring, wide-eyed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Angelica barked, followed by her signature sharp laugh. “You are one lucky bastard!”

Paul shoved his way past a pair of shoulders and slipped between two tents to get a better look. There. Right in the middle of the commotion. A figure stood, back turned. Something about him vibrated — silent, restrained, threatening. He didn’t move, but it was impossible not to feel it: alert, contained, dangerous.

A black cloak covered his entire body. Mud. Dried blood. Leaves. Scorch marks. Filth caked into every inch of fabric. His right hand gripped an improvised staff — a thick, broken branch. And his face… a strip of cloth was tied tightly across one eye.

Paul’s eyes narrowed.

“Is it just me… or did you come back looking half feral?” Angelica grinned and clapped the figure brutally on the back.

The man flinched in pain and slowly turned. Paul saw the eyes—just one glimpse was enough.

Luke. Alive.

The stunned silence broke as Luke raised his chin and said, “I’m back. Miss me?”

Paul froze.

The bastard survived.