Chapter 132: Death Route

Luke moved through the devastated streets of the Safe Zone, heading toward the Ant Colony. Unlike the group led by Angelica, he followed an alternate route—not out of stubbornness, but strategy.

Alone, his footsteps were nearly silent. His cloak fluttered gently in the wind, cutting through the scent of smoke, overturned earth, and blood. The streets were littered with rubble, ant carcasses, and the wreckage of buildings that had collapsed during the invasion.

His goal was clear: find a less exposed path—one with fewer ant hordes and fewer Renegade patrols. That way, he could return to the group and lead them safely. The Safe Zone had become a living trap. No one could be trusted on sight anymore—many “civilians” turned out to be Renegades in disguise. Worse, crossing paths with Bartholomew’s soldiers often meant having to retreat or reroute entirely; mistaken for Renegades, they’d be attacked on sight.

With the aid of [Demonic Perception], Luke scanned the shadows. He could hear the faint scraping of claws on stone from far away. He felt slight tremors through his boots—heavy patrols. The ants passed like living tanks, some carrying bodies.

The Renegades, though numerous, were already beginning to pull back en masse. Their real objective had been achieved: delay Bastion’s reinforcements and disrupt any hope of retaliation while the ants secured control.

Most of them weren’t seasoned warriors. They were thieves, outcasts, and criminals pulled from the margins of society—people who had lived hidden in the Wild Zone. Men and women who, out of desperation or opportunity, had chosen to follow Marshall.

It was said he promised them a place in the new army once Bastion fell. But Luke sensed something deeper. He remembered what he had heard during interrogations of captured prisoners: Marshall told every one of his recruits that Bartholomew never intended to escape the tutorial. That he lied to his people, feeding them false hope to keep them obedient and trapped.

For many of the Renegades, that explanation made perfect sense: take Bastion, secure control of the weekly Event Reward chests… and come up with a plan to escape the tutorial. But there was something no one ever mentioned. Not once did the Renegades—or even Marshall—talk about the mechanisms. That was what disturbed Luke the most.

Marshall never told his followers that Bastion itself had housed a mechanism, and that it had already been activated. Maybe he feared that if they knew the truth, they’d stop relying on him. Maybe they’d unite and try to reach the second fortress on their own—no war required. Luke looked up at the smoke-filled sky. That cold, quiet thought returned.

Is it possible to destroy a mechanism?

He didn’t know what the mechanisms really were. Only that one had been activated—and that’s what had enabled the Safe Zone to exist in the first place. If that was true… then all it would take is for something to happen to it, and everything would fall apart. Placing the only escape route from this world in the hands of a man like Marshall… was far too dangerous.

A man who, out of vengeance, lured an entire colony of mutant ants just to bring down the Safe Zone. A man willing to burn the world—so long as his enemy burned with him. Luke kept moving, still separated from the group, scouting a side street for a potential route.

“DIE!!”

Renegades burst from buildings, silhouettes emerging from the shadows. Luke moved. No hesitation. No retreat. A blade came down. He caught it on one kukri and parried to the side. With the other, Luke channeled energy.

[Force Infusion] activated.

The edge hissed through the air—clean, precise. The renegade’s hand flew off in an arc of red. A scream followed. Luke didn’t wait. He brought the kukri down in a single, decisive strike. Bone cracked. The skull split open.

[You have slain a Human – Lvl 15 (Knight – Lvl 23)]

[You have gained +1 Soul Fragment]

Another enemy charged with a warhammer raised. Luke sprinted up a nearby wall, pushed off, twisted midair, and kicked the man full-force in the chest. The warrior staggered back. Charlie was already behind him, arms locking his shoulders. Luke advanced without a word, a single slash across the neck—quick, merciless. Blood sprayed.

[You have slain a Human – Lvl 5 (Heavy Warrior – Lvl 11)]

[You have gained +1 Soul Fragment]

Luke frowned. “That guy was ridiculously weak…” No time to think.

Something shifted in the air. His perception screamed. An arrow sliced past his ear and detonated behind him. He rolled, barely escaping the blast. Smoke and flame erupted. Charlie ducked behind a pillar while Luke slid behind rubble. A sniper. He was being hunted.

He scanned the rooftop and found him—an archer with cold eyes and a calm draw.

“Bartholomew will fall!” the man shouted, nocking another arrow.

“I don’t give a damn. I just want to pass through!” Luke shouted back, lobbing a stone in distraction. The arrow struck where it landed and exploded instantly. A cloud of smoke billowed—his opening.

Luke ran.

More arrows followed, each one exploding on impact. Fire and debris tore across the rooftop. Three new figures appeared—crossbowmen, positioned and ready. They fired in sequence, a chain of explosions lighting the skyline as Luke dove flat, narrowly avoiding the barrage. He cursed under his breath, then vaulted up the side of a building. The archer had already drawn again.

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Luke sprinted along the rooftop. Another shot fired—this one wasn’t flame, it was light. The bolt struck him like a hammer of radiance, flinging him backward. He rolled through dirt and debris as pain bloomed across his ribs.

“They’re coordinated…” These weren’t reckless fighters. This was a trained squad.

Luke shut his eyes. He inhaled. The world slowed. His senses narrowed—became lethal. Every vibration pulsed like a drumbeat under his skin.

Then he moved.

He climbed the wall again, eyes closed this time, body tuned to the rhythm of battle. Arrows detonated around him, but none hit. He slipped between the shots, dashing and sidestepping with shadow-like grace. When he felt the distance vanish, he opened his eyes and jumped.

His body flickered into mist mid-leap. The arrows passed through nothing. He rematerialized in the middle of the rooftop, right in their formation. Kukris drawn.

The archer turned and aimed. Luke dropped, rolling across the tiles. Crossbow bolts fired again, forming radiant nets. He slid beneath them, barely escaping the trap. He lunged, delivered a brutal kick to the first crossbowman’s chest. The body flew off the roof and hit the stone street below with a crunch. Charlie was already in pursuit to finish him.

The second enemy lunged with a dagger. Luke sidestepped, clean and tight, and turned—but a third bolt struck his leg. Pain lanced up his thigh. He hissed and threw himself aside to avoid the follow-up.