Five minutes had passed since Jon unleashed his aura, a suffocating force that left the opposing group reeling in terror.
The air still crackled with the aftermath, the ground littered with those who had collapsed under the weight of his presence. Jon's warning had been clear and chilling: any further hostility would mean immediate death.
His tone left no room for doubt, and the so-called "Lords" and their fighters believed him. Their faces, pale and blood-streaked, reflected a fear that dwarfed their former loyalty to their self-proclaimed leaders.
The strangers' terror of their "Lords" had been utterly eclipsed by their dread of Jon. His aura alone had brought them to their knees, a phenomenon they couldn't comprehend. Whispers had circulated that Jon was already in the first realm, a level of power beyond most survivors, but even that knowledge didn't prepare them for the overwhelming force they'd just experienced.
They had seen their "Lords" battle first-realm creatures before. The fights were grueling, desperate struggles, but none of the monsters had displayed power so raw, so absolute.
The fear in their eyes as they watched Jon now spoke volumes; his mere presence had shattered their allegiance to their former leaders. They barely glanced at the "Lords," whose reputations lay in tatters, their authority reduced to nothing.
Jon's group advanced toward the trembling strangers, ready to enforce his warning. The fighters behind Jon, hardened by weeks of survival, stood with quiet confidence, their eyes scanning for any sign of resistance.
None came. Even the "Lords" seemed haunted, their faces pale as if they'd seen a ghost. Jon, however, barely registered their fear. His strength and restraint were beginning to leave a profound impression on his team, an unspoken sentiment echoed in Laura's earlier muttered remark: "'Lords,' my ass." To his group, Jon was no longer just a leader.
Jenny and Cynthia, however, were still grappling with the shock of Jon's restraint. They had fully expected him to kill the Beast Lord for his reckless attack. Cynthia, her auburn hair catching the dim light of the smoldering campus, approached Jon hesitantly. "I thought you were going to kill him back there," she said, her voice low, searching his face for answers.
Jon's expression softened, a rare flicker of humanity breaking through his steely demeanor. "I don't just kill anyone, do I?" he replied, his words catching the girls off guard. Jenny and Cynthia exchanged glances, reflecting on the brutal reality of their world.
After a moment, Jenny let out a quiet laugh, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You know, it's strange that we're even talking about killing so casually now."
"Yeah… it is," Jon agreed, his gaze drifting to the ash-streaked sky. The weight of their new reality pressed down on him. If not for the passive skill Composure he'd gained at the start of the fall, Jon doubted he could have taken a life, even now. The skill, as beneficial as it was, had its downsides, numbing him to emotions that once defined him. But the real reason he spared the Beast Lord wasn't mercy.
A Few Minutes Earlier,
As Jon had prepared to strike the Beast Lord, his wristwatch vibrated with an intensity he hadn't felt before. The treasure indicator, which had previously pointed toward the administrative building, pulsed stronger now, its signal undeniable.
Jon's eyes narrowed as he glanced at the watch, then at the Beast Lord, frozen in his grasp. Activating his Moon Gaze, he scanned the area for anything unusual, but found nothing out of place, no hidden artifacts, no glowing relics. 'The watch is telling me it's here,' he thought, his gaze settling on the Beast Lord. 'Could it be… him?'
In less than five seconds, the pieces clicked together. The Beast Lord himself was the treasure the watch had detected, a living asset, perhaps, rather than an object.
Jon then lowered his fist, his aura fading as he addressed the trembling figure. "I don't want to kill you. Just stay out of my way." With that, he released the Beast Lord, sparing the entire group for reasons only he understood.
Cynthia's voice broke through Jon's thoughts. "Before we check out the buses, could we take a look at that building?" she asked, her tone hesitant but determined, her eyes fixed on the administrative building.
Jon nodded, his gaze returning to the pristine structure. 'So there's something else there,' he thought, intrigued that Cynthia's navigational skill had detected it while his watch remained silent.
"We're ready to move now… 'Lords,'" A voice taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she smirked at the defeated group. Her words sparked chuckles among Jon's team, breaking the lingering tension.
"Pfft…" Laura's laugh rang out, lightening the mood as Jon gave a nod. The group began their march toward the administrative building, their footsteps crunching against the shattered pavement.
Surprisingly, the first to follow was the Beast Lord.
His imposing frame, still towering despite his subdued demeanor, trailed closely behind Jon. The feral madness in his eyes had faded, replaced by a wary respect. Jon observed him silently, noting the watch's persistent vibration.
One by one, the other former "Lords" and their fighters fell in line, their reluctance palpable but their fear of being left behind stronger. They had no desire to return to their old alliances, their confidence in their leaders shattered.
As they neared the administrative building, Cynthia took the lead, her navigational skill guiding her with unerring precision. Jon watched her thoughtfully, puzzled by the discrepancy between her skill and his watch. If the Beast Lord was the treasure his watch had indicated, what was drawing Cynthia to the building?
To avoid crowding, Jon selected a small group, himself, Cynthia, Jenny, Laura, and a few others, to enter, leaving the rest to guard the perimeter.
Inside, the lobby was eerily pristine, its marble floors cracked but intact, its chandeliers still hanging defiantly. Cynthia led them up the stairwell to the top floor, her steps quick and purposeful, until they reached a long corridor ending at a single, imposing door.
It was the room the former "Lords" had claimed as their sanctuary, its opulence a stark contrast to the campus's ruins. Plush chairs, soft beds, and scavenged luxuries filled the space, but there was no time to admire the decor.
Cynthia's focus was singular, her skill pulling her toward the far end of the room. The group waited near the entrance, their eyes on her as she approached a cluttered desk in the corner.
Papers, books, and files, materials of the pre-fall world were scattered across the desk, but Cynthia ignored them. Her gaze locked on a chipped ceramic cup stuffed with stray pens and pencils. With a steady hand, she reached inside and pulled out a small, gleaming object: a golden hairpin, its surface etched with intricate patterns that seemed to pulse faintly.
Her eyes widened as a notification appeared, hovering above the hairpin in her vision:
[YASSIDE HAIRPIN (BLACK GRADE)]
EFFECT: DESIGNATE A 15-METER AREA AS A DEFENSIVE BASE AND CAMP. THIS AREA HAS PROTECTIVE PROPERTIES, PROVIDING DEFENSE AGAINST ANY UNRANKED WEAPON. FIGHTING WITHIN THIS AREA INCREASES THE ATTACK AND DEFENSE ABILITIES OF TEAMMATES.]
Cynthia's hands trembled as she clutched the hairpin, the weight of its power sinking in. A Black Grade treasure was rare, its potential game-changing in their fight for survival.
Jon and Jenny stepped forward, alarmed by her reaction. "Are you alright?" Jenny asked, snapping her fingers to break Cynthia's daze.
"Uh yeah, I'm fine," Cynthia stammered, shaking her head. She handed the hairpin to Jon, who read the notification with a flicker of astonishment. Jenny took it next, her jaw dropping as she absorbed the description.
"Black Grade… huh?" Jon murmured, recalling a passage from Mervil's book. Black Grade items were powerful, but Gold and Silver Grades were said to be even rarer, their abilities bordering on mythical. The discovery of the hairpin raised new questions about the world they were navigating and the treasures that could tip the scales in their favor.
Jon turned to the group, his mind racing.
In this new world, artifacts like the Yasside Hairpin could mean the difference between life and death. Yet a lingering question gnawed at him: Why didn't my watch detect it? The Beast Lord, now trailing silently behind him, was the treasure his watch had indicated, but Cynthia's skill had led them to this. The discrepancy puzzled him, hinting at layers of complexity in their abilities and the system governing this shattered world.
As they prepared to leave the room, Jon's gaze lingered on the hairpin, then shifted to the Beast Lord.
Two treasures in one day, one a person, one an artifact. The path ahead was uncertain, but these discoveries signaled a turning point. They had only begun to scratch the surface of what this world held, and what it demanded of them.