Chapter 90: She Wore My Shirt

Luke sat in silence, wiping himself down with a damp cloth. The pain still echoed in his bones. Princess Charlie was tucked away inside his soul, slowly regenerating.

The place he was in—an abandoned stone house on the edge of the Safe Zone—had become his hideout. One of the last houses before the nothingness beyond. That entire area was completely uninhabited. And the reason was simple: in case of an invasion, they’d be the first to die.

Even those who couldn’t pay the tribute preferred to live near Bastion’s edge, where they could at least count on the indirect protection of Bartholomew’s men. Being close to the soldiers was safer than being alone.

But Luke thought differently. That house had slowly become his personal base. He still visited the Haven. He still showed his face. But here… here was his. A quiet, distant, intermediate base.

He looked down at his abdomen—still stained with dried blood, but healed. He’d stopped by the Haven, asked Thiara for help, and let Allison know before coming here. If it weren’t for Thiara’s healing, he would’ve been forced to burn through the precious potions he’d stolen. And that would’ve made the whole suicidal raid pointless.

He pressed a finger into the skin of his arm. Demonic Endurance had saved his life. The blows he took would’ve been fatal otherwise.

[Demonic Endurance (Uncommon)]: Your body becomes tougher, naturally resisting slashes, piercings, and blunt-force trauma. Wounds that would normally cause bleeding or trauma are significantly reduced by the demonic force strengthening your form.

This new race skill had altered his body even further—not that it wasn’t already different. Luke suspected that, as a half-demon, his body was inherently superior to that of a regular human. And with this ability added to the mix, that advantage was amplified. There was also, of course, his other mysterious race trait.

[Dark Blood (Uncommon)]: Your blood becomes a living, symbiotic organism that feeds on the essence of your enemies. This blackened blood strengthens your body, enhancing your resistance and regeneration. But it is not merely a part of you. It grows. It learns. And one day, it will no longer remain confined to your veins. When that time comes, it can manifest as a second skin if you allow it. An extension of your being. Together, you will become something far greater.

Whatever this skill truly did, it clearly reduced the risk of dying from blood loss, and he now understood what was meant by “resistance.” The human body is made up of flesh, bone, and… blood. So, the ability had essentially formed an internal “armor” of blood within Luke’s body, reinforcing him from the inside out.

But that wasn’t the only reason he hadn’t died when he was nearly impaled by a spear.

[Chestplate of Drukar, the Orc Captain (Rare)
Forged from the armor and bones of Drukar, an Orc Captain. Offers solid defense without restricting mobility. Ideal for those who dislike heavy gear.
Bonus: +20 Endurance, +15 Agility
Requirement: Level 10+ in any Class or Race.]

This rare-tier item had definitely saved his life by helping him endure the blows. It was the reward he’d earned with Allison and Charlie when they’d fallen into the orc forest.

That, combined with his unusually high stat points from his class mutation—and the fact that he had been investing his free points in vitality from the beginning—was what allowed Luke to survive an ambush from a Midnight Warden.

But all of that effort, all of that power, had bought him only one thing: the chance to survive.

“This is all I can manage right now. Just survive for one minute in a fight… and that’s it.”

It was far from a victory. He had survived by running, dodging, and praying not to die. The Warden hadn’t even used its full power. Before the creature could remain in its berserker mode any longer, Luke had already retreated.

He didn’t consider himself special for what he’d done. There were two other people he knew who had survived a direct hit from that monster. The first was Angelica. She’d made it through the treasure chest incident in the past. That alone proved she was high-level. The second… was Allison.

She and Luke had been attacked during that same event, and she’d taken a hit that could’ve easily caused a fatal brain injury. Sure, Luke had given her a healing potion, but there were other veterans with them—stronger ones—who had been turned into nothing more than blood pulp after taking similar blows to the one Allison had endured.

Luke knew. Like him, she wasn’t entirely human. That much was obvious from her bloodline. But the question remained… what exactly was she? He was a half-demon. But her?

He pushed those thoughts aside and exhaled quietly.

“Killing a Midnight Warden… is out of the question. It’s just not possible.”

But he had injured one. He’d driven his kukris straight into the thing’s eye. But it wasn’t enough. It only enraged the monster—and triggered its second form. The one with the sword. The speed… the power… it was on another level.

Luke sighed and let the thought go. No point clinging to that now. Killing a Midnight Warden was still far beyond him.

But that wasn’t the real goal. What he needed was resources. For the real plan. The assault on the second fortress.

He looked at the makeshift wooden table in front of him, still half in disbelief. Everything he’d managed to loot from the chest was spread out: canned food, cheese, eggs, seeds. And most importantly—the potions: 18 healing, 13 mana, and 4 stamina.

A true war treasure. The kind of thing that saves lives. That turns battles.

Bartholomew had access to this every week. For years. How many had he stockpiled? How many battles had he won without breaking a sweat? With this, he could crush Marshall anytime he wanted. All he had to do was rally his men, distribute the potions, and march. Simple. Direct.

But he didn’t. And Luke didn’t know why.

He looked at the glass bottles on the table, their surfaces catching the pale morning light.

“This place… it’s a war game. But none of the pieces want to win. They just want to keep the board intact.”

Maybe the chests in the Safe Zone didn’t give the same rewards. Maybe they were worse. Even if they only gave three to five healing potions a week, Luke still found that too generous.

If there were ten fixed spawn locations for those chests, that meant at least fifty healing potions per week.

Luke did the math. Fifty a week. Two thousand six hundred a year. In seven years… 18,200 healing potions.

He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. That number was absurd.

Even with losses, usage, waste—Bartholomew had to have at least ten thousand potions stockpiled.

Ten thousand.

Now he understood why Bartholomew called himself a king.

Luke sat in silence, thinking. Sure, a good portion of those potions were used daily—to maintain security, support his men, and supply the Wild Zone expeditions. But even so…

“If he wanted to, he could wipe out Marshall right now.”

Gather his soldiers. Drench them in potions. March on the Renegades’ stronghold and win.

But he didn’t.

Why?

Luke didn’t know. He could only guess. Maybe it was part of something bigger. A plan. A silent march toward the castle.

He had heard that Bartholomew was carving a path through the Wild Zone—cutting down forest, clearing ruins, erecting walls. A safe corridor to the gate. But it was a slow process. Expensive. Time-consuming.

And there was still the war with Marshall.

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Maybe that’s why Bartholomew hadn’t taken the second mechanism. One wrong move… and he could lose everything. The truth was, he didn’t know what either of the two leaders really wanted. Bartholomew wore the crown. Marshall led the Renegades. But both seemed more focused on protecting their own empires than escaping this place.

Even Angelica…

She had stopped trying. Complacent. Passive. Maybe in the past she had tried to escape. But now… she just waited, hoping Bartholomew would figure it all out.

And the others? The regular people? They were afraid—afraid to try the mission, afraid to die along the way, afraid of what would happen when the third mechanism was activated and the Midnight Wardens came.

Because they would come.

Luke snapped out of it and looked at the table. The pile of supplies. The potions. The sacks of seeds. The food.

“If only I could just put one of those chests directly into the storage pendant…”

But he knew better. You couldn’t store a dimensional item inside another. And with Charlie summoned, carrying everything wasn’t an option either. Event chests were fixed. Immovable. And they disappeared at dawn.

He sighed. “I’m lugging around too much junk…”

He opened the pendant, pulled out a few axes and wooden barrels, and shoved them into a corner of the room. The space was nearly full.

Time to change tactics.

Luke remembered some of the massive chests he’d seen during his Wild Zone explorations—hidden in ancient houses and ruined villages. They had far more storage than his pendant, but couldn’t be stored themselves. He’d have to carry one with Charlie’s help. He never thought he’d need one.

But now… he did.

Maybe that would be the next mission—bring one of those dimensional chests to his hideout.

Luke sighed and then smiled. His eyes drifted to a box of eggs. Then to the bacon. Then to the sausage.

“I deserve this.”

With a bit of pride, he pulled a frying pan from the pendant and walked over to the small firepit in the corner of the house.

He felt like a chef.

Cracked the eggs. The sizzle filled the room. The yolks bubbled as they hit the hot pan. Then came a slice of bacon. The smell…

Smoke curled upward in slow, lazy spirals. The scent of fat, salt, and real life.

“Goddamn… I missed this smell.”

Luke stepped outside, feeling the wind on his face. The sun hadn’t yet cleared the city wall, but the morning air was light.

Outside, two wooden barrels stood open beneath a rain gutter, with glass bottles dangling from cords. That’s how he collected water—rain when he could, or hauling a barrel to the canal and filling it by hand before storing it.

He grabbed a wooden mug and, as if revealing a secret treasure, pulled something from the pendant. A small decorative box, the kind that might hold jewelry.

Inside… soap.

Luke stared at it for a second, hardly believing he’d packed that in the pendant.

“I need to be clean. I’m expecting company, after all…”

***

“You did what?!” Allison nearly shouted, wide-eyed with disbelief.

Luke told the story with calm detachment, like it was no big deal—just another day dodging death by Midnight Wardens.

“In the end, I got away,” he said, like he was explaining how he’d avoided a parking ticket.

“You’re insane, Luke. That was completely reckless.”