Chapter 148: Blood in Silence

Cecilia ran through the tunnels like a broken doll, each step a jolt of pain in her knees, each breath a sob trapped in her throat. Her body moved without will—arms flailing awkwardly, as if her very bones were about to snap. Her feet kept going by pure instinct. There was no strength left. No direction. Only the hollow throb of loss and the cruel echo of memory.

Tears streamed without end, hot and bitter, blurring her vision until the world ahead became nothing but shifting shadows. She couldn’t see the path anymore—only pain. A living thing inside her, burning, expanding. Anna… her best friend, her anchor, her only constant in this waking nightmare—gone. The image of her lifeless body on the cold stone floor spun like a blade inside Cecilia’s chest, twisting deeper with every breath.

She had lost everything.

The tunnel narrowed into a jagged stone throat, the walls pressing inward with oppressive weight, like the gaping jaws of some ancient beast preparing to snap shut. Every step forward felt tighter, the ceiling looming lower, the path collapsing around her with invisible force.

Behind her—the sound of footsteps. Heavy. Rhythmic. Relentless. Each step echoed like the beat of a death drum.

The sound hit her like pressure waves, the floor trembling under her feet. It was as if the tunnel itself had a heartbeat—and it was chasing her. She glanced over her shoulder. A Midnight Warden followed her… calmly. He could have killed her already—a single throw of that spear and it would be over. Quick. Efficient. But he didn’t. He was savoring it. Watching. Dragging out her terror like a predator playing with its prey.

Each of his steps closed the distance of three of hers. He wasn’t running—he didn’t need to. He would reach her no matter what.

Cecilia stumbled. Her legs gave out. She collapsed onto the damp ground, hands trembling. Ahead—a rusted minecart, half-buried in debris. A possible salvation. Or just another cruel joke. But she couldn’t move. Her arms shook too hard. Her muscles screamed. Her body had given up—like it, too, wanted the pain to end.

All she could think of was Anna. Anna’s voice. Anna’s blood. Anna’s dead eyes, wide with terror, frozen in a final moment of horror. And her own failure—paralyzed when it mattered most. Tears fell like rain—hot and endless, soaking her dirt-streaked face, dripping into the dust below. Hopeless.

The Warden drew near, a walking execution writ in black steel. His glowing red eyes blazed with inhuman focus, locked on her from beneath the ominous helm, twin embers of merciless intent that watched her every twitch, every breath, with silent judgment. He raised the spear. Slowly. Deliberately. Like a ritual. Like he was savoring the ending.

The blade gleamed under the pale tunnel light. The promise of death in steel form.

Then—

A thunderous roar ripped through the tunnels—shaking the walls, rattling the ground beneath her, drowning everything in sound.

He wanted her to feel fear—not just a fleeting emotion, but a living, paralyzing agony that seized every beat of her heart. He wanted to savor the despair like a silent feast, drinking in every gasp, every tear, every expression of dread that crossed the girl’s face.

Cecilia squeezed her eyes shut, as if not seeing could somehow erase everything—the monster, the pain, the guilt. As if shutting out the image could erase the fate itself.

The footsteps quickened.

The spear was hurled with brutal force, slicing through the air with a sharp, final whistle. The impact cracked out—a dry, lethal sound, like wood splitting under a heavy blade. It cut through the air—clean and precise. But… she felt nothing. No impact, no pain, no sharp edge tearing into flesh. Only that strange, sudden silence, as if the entire world had stopped to hold its breath.

She opened her eyes, hesitant, her wet lashes clinging together, her blurred vision trembling with the fear of seeing death standing before her. And she saw a figure in front of her, standing tall like a human shield, body braced in defense, shadow outlined against the faint light of the tunnel.

Luke.

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The spear had pierced through his abdomen, side to side, lodged deep, the shaft still trembling from the force of the hit. Blood began to trickle down, thick and dark, like living ink.

He coughed. “Shit…”

His voice came out rough. “Why didn’t you… run?”

Cecilia let out a sob.

“Run!” Luke’s shout broke under the weight of pain.

Suddenly, she was lifted off the ground. Charlie grabbed her with one arm—in the other, he carried Jonathan, unconscious, one arm missing.

“Get them to the cart!” Luke yelled.

The knight took off. He was left alone… with the monster. The silence between them was suffocating, stretched tight like a wire ready to snap. No words, no warnings—just two forces locked on a collision course in the dark.

Luke staggered. The pain was unbearable. The spear vanished, returning to the Warden’s inventory. The creature drew its sword. He wiped the blood from his mouth. He raised his kukris. Channeled stamina.

When the enemy charged, Luke threw the first kukri—Force Infused—straight at its helmet. Midair, he activated duplication. The replica struck and fell, without the infusion. But the original buried itself in the metal, throwing the monster off balance.

Luke sprinted forward, channeling stamina to his legs. He jumped. A double kick to the creature’s chest launched it backward. Before it could recover, Luke threw his second kukri, also charged, into the ceiling. The impact was devastating. The ceiling collapsed.

Luke was already running toward Charlie, who struggled to push the cart forward.