The air here was heavy—unnaturally so. It carried something unseen, something oppressive, as if the whispers of a thousand dead souls drifted through the streets.

  The city before him was not just ruins. It was a corpse, a dead thing that still pulsed with silent decay. Its shattered buildings loomed in the darkness like the bones of a forgotten beast, and its streets were littered with things Verd could not immediately identify—petrified corpses or just shadows twisted by the wind?

  Verd took a step forward.

  Silence.

  His footsteps were the only sound, but they did not bring comfort. The silence of this place was not natural. It was the kind that preceded a storm, the kind that made one feel watched, even when no eyes were visible.

  Verd continued forward cautiously, making his way toward the heart of the city. He was searching for something—a sign, a clue, anything that would reveal the true nature of this place. He was not the first to enter, but he intended to be the last to leave.

  Minutes passed before he noticed something strange.

  By the remains of a half-collapsed building, footprints marked the dust-covered ground.

  He knelt, inspecting them carefully.

  They were not the tracks of beasts but human footprints. Some were deep, as if their owners had been running. Others were broken, uneven… as if someone had been dragged.

  But the most unsettling part?

  Some of the footprints ended abruptly—as if the people who left them had simply… vanished into thin air.

  "This isn’t good," Verd muttered, his golden eyes narrowing.

  Then, as he lifted his head, he froze.

  At the end of the street—where nothing had been a moment ago—someone was standing there.

  It did not move.

  It was a human-shaped figure, its form distorted, as if it had been shaped from dense, swirling black mist. It had no features—yet Verd felt it staring at him.

  He remained still, his hand moving subtly to rest on his sword’s hilt.

  A long silence.

  Then, without warning—it moved.

  Not running—gliding.

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  Its feet did not touch the ground as it rushed toward him, faster than an arrow in flight.

  Verd did not hesitate.

  The moment the shadow was close enough, he drew his sword in a single fluid motion, slicing cleanly through the space between them.

  The blade tore through the black form, but it did not slow it. Instead, the shadow dispersed for a moment—then reappeared behind him.

  Verd barely had time to react.

  He twisted just in time to avoid razor-sharp claws of darkness slashing toward his throat. The freezing air brushed against his neck—too close.

  "Not a normal beast," he thought.

  In an instant, he jumped back, putting distance between them. He exhaled slowly, studying the entity that now stood motionless once more, as if it, too, was observing him.

  "You’re not just a monster, are you?" Verd said quietly.

  There was no response.

  But after a moment… the shadow began to change.

  The darkness surrounding its body shifted, rippling, before slowly shrinking inward, shaping itself into something more… human.

  Verd was not prepared for what he saw.

  A man.

  Or, at least, what remained of one.

  His skin was ashen, lifeless—like a corpse. His eyes were hollow, empty sockets that once held life. His face, though warped and distorted, still retained enough features to be recognizable. Faint traces of tattered armor clung to his broken form, and a gaping wound lay open in his chest.

  "Help me..."

  The words were barely a whisper—a plea that did not belong to this world.

  Verd did not move.

  This thing… it was dead.

  And yet, it spoke.

  Before he could respond, the man's body began to tremble violently.

  The darkness surged back, swallowing him whole once more. His hollow eyes darkened further, no longer empty but consumed.

  This was not a cry for help.

  This was a trap.

  In an instant, the shadow lunged again—twice as fast as before.

  But this time—Verd was ready.

  He exhaled slowly—then let go.

  The air around him shifted.

  For a brief second, the very fabric of the world seemed to waver. His veins pulsed, his golden eyes burning brighter, and the shadows within him—the ones he had been suppressing—began to rise.

  This power devoured his soul.

  But right now, he didn’t care.

  Verd moved.

  Faster than sight.

  One moment, he stood before the shadow. The next, he was above it, sword poised to strike.

  No hesitation.

  One precise slash.

  The blade pierced the creature’s chest—but it did not cut flesh.

  It severed something deeper.

  The moment the sword struck, a scream tore through the air—not one of pain, but something far worse.

  It was a sound that sank into the bones, a sound that shook the soul, as if it carried the echoes of a thousand forgotten voices.

  Then—just as it had appeared—the shadow was gone.

  The air returned to stillness, silence settling over the ruins once more.

  Verd stood there, his chest rising and falling slowly.

  No body remained. No blood stained the ground. Only the lingering presence of something that no longer existed.

  But he felt it.

  Another piece of his soul had burned away.

  He inhaled deeply, then slowly sheathed his sword.

  This was only the beginning.

  Lifting his gaze, he looked toward the crumbling pillars, toward the shadows shifting within the alleys.

  He was not alone in this place.

  This city was filled with the dead…

  And they needed to understand—he would not be their prey.

  With steady steps, he walked forward—toward the heart of the city.

  End of Chapter 4.