Yang scrounged along the sidewalks, gathering what little he could find while keeping a close watch on his surroundings.
His gaze lingered on the little girl.
She looked visibly exhausted, her steps growing heavier with every passing minute.
Then he lifted his eyes toward the vast expanse ahead and sighed.
Haah.
It was the heart of summer. The sky burned red beneath thin, drifting clouds.
Yet as the wind passed, a shiver ran up his spine.
Yang tightened his grip on his precious axe, warily. At the very least, it granted him an unbelievable sense of security.
Cold sweat nearly drenched his back.
For some reason, he remembered his father's endless admonition.
The first stage—Soul Mark.
This mark acted like a beacon, attracting wandering Souls toward it, slowly weakening the host's body.
Over time, it gnawed away at their will, feeding on their life force until nothing remained but an empty shell.
…and that little girl.
It was obvious—she had already fallen victim to it.
At the beginning, the shadows lingered at a distance; hovering and observing, caressing the fragile rhythm of life. But now...
Yang's heartbeat skyrocketed, almost leaping out of his chest.
Unbeknownst to him, the shadows had to thickened, overlapping and intertwining until their individual forms blurred together, dissolving the boundaries.
"Ugh—"
Yang covered his left eye as a dull pain throbbed behind it. His brows knitted tightly.
When he looked again, he could no longer sense the shadows.
His lips pressed into a thin line. This perk wasn't something he could control.
He subconsciously slowed his steps, carefully widening the distance between himself and the oblivious group ahead.
Just as the saying went—out of sight, out of mind.
He convinced himself it wasn't his business.
Yang glanced down at his thin arms and legs, at the frail frame that barely held together.
After a moment, he nodded in self-agreement.
There were plenty of capable people here, far more qualified than him. If something were to happened, they would handle it.
Certainly, it wasn't his turn to act.
As the sun climbed higher, the heat grew unbearable. A faint dizziness crept into Yang's head.
They had been out since the first light of dawn. At this point, his legs were close to giving out.
This body was truly weak and delicate.
Tsk.
Looking at the tired, bleak expressions around him, he wasn't the only one.
Who wouldn't be?
These people had finally managed to come out, yet the shops and land were as barren as could be.
Yang weighed his bundle and exhaled. Even the scraps had been looted long ago.
Perhaps sharing this sentiment—
Not long after, a broad-shouldered man with a robust build stepped forward from beside one of the wagons, carrying undeniable authority.
"We'll rest here for a short while," he announced calmly.
"Search around carefully, take whatever you think is worth taking. Don't be picky—even scraps can keep you alive."
He paused, glancing toward the wasteland ahead.
"This land has already been picked clean," he continued. "Moving forward would just be a waste of time."
A ripple of unease passed through the group.
Before anyone could speak, the man's sharp gaze swept over them.
"It's better not to delay." He warned.
"Don't try anything clever. This place isn't safe. If you get left behind, don't expect anyone to wait for you."
With that, he turned away, gesturing to his companions about something Yang couldn't catch.
Yang watched their retreating backs.
If the memories of this body served him right, this group was genuinely capable—including a master-class runecaster.
Without their protection, it was doubtful whether these old, weak, and young people could have made it this far at all.
Their value was undeniable, truly.
As the group dispersed hurriedly, rummaging through the surroundings, Yang quietly slipped toward the edge of the street.
More importantly—Yang pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes.
Hah. Finally, something useful.
Yang stopped before a small shop at the corner of the street.
Calling it a shop was generous. It was worn down, half-collapsed, barely standing.
Judging by the crooked signboard handing overhead and the faded characters peeling from the walls, Yang could just barely recognize it as a calligraphy store.
Inside, anything of value had long been ransacked.
Wooden shelves lay collapsed, scrolls torn apart and trampled into dust. The air carried the heavy stench of ash and decay.
Yang stepped inside, picking up scattered scraps of paper as he went.
Only a few neglected items remained on the dust-covered shelves—things no one thought worth carrying in a dying world.
But to Yang, penniless and empty-handed—this ruin was a treasure trove.
These were all precious resources!
Without wasting a second, he rolled up his nonexistent sleeves and began gathering everything he could find.
He wasn't picky—yellowed paper scraps, cracked brushes, half-empty ink bottles, even a chipped inkstone.
Searching further, he even uncovered a moon-shaped seal trapped beneath a fallen shelf.
Piece by piece, he stuffed everything into his bundle until it grew noticeably fuller.
Only then did he straighten, a faint sense of security rising in his chest.
By the time he stepped outside, the group was already preparing to set off.
At first, he worried he might be targeted—but he had overthought it.
Everyone was hoarding whatever they could find, their bags even fuller than his.
Even so, the frowns on their faces were unmistakable.
Yang blended naturally into the crowd, observing quietly.
A boy tugged at the sleeve of an older teenager beside him, anxiety plain in his eyes.
"Big brother, is it true?" the boy asked. "Do we have to move again so soon?"
The teenager paused, glancing down.
"What nonsense have you been listening to now?" he asked gently.
He reached out and placed a hand on the boy's head, ruffling his hair lightly.
"You're still a kid… these aren't things you need to worry about."
"Oh…"
The boy wilted, but still clutched his brother's sleeve. After a moment, he stubbornly looked up again.
"But everyone's saying it," he insisted. "They say the shield won't hold much longer. If it breaks… what do we do?"
Yang didn't need to hear the rest.
He stumbled slightly, thunderclaps resounding in his ears.
…The shield was fading?