The interior of the Black Fort was darker and quieter than I had expected. The broken walls blocked out most of the moonlight, leaving only a few faint streaks that barely cut through the thick darkness. I moved forward slowly, my boots stepping carefully over the broken concrete and twisted steel bars, trying not to make any unnecessary noise that might draw unwanted attention. Every breath I took was filled with the heavy smell of dust, rust, and damp rot, a unique odor that only belonged to abandoned ruins that had been sealed away for a long time.
Although the outer perimeter of the fort was heavily guarded with traps and mechanical patrols, the inner corridors were in a state of chaos left by the storm. Ceiling tiles hung loosely from the frames, wires dangled down like lifeless snakes, and piles of debris blocked most of the wider paths, forcing me to squeeze through narrow gaps and climb over small mounds of rubble. It was difficult and tiring, but it also provided me with perfect cover, turning the ruined interior into my own temporary hiding spot.
I kept my rusted crowbar firmly in my hand, my eyes constantly scanning every corner for any usable supplies. As a scavenger, finding resources was not just a goal, but an instinct carved into my bones. After several minutes of careful searching, my fingers finally brushed against something hard and smooth half-buried under a pile of broken plaster.
I knelt down quickly and brushed away the dust with my hands. To my surprise, it was an old but still intact first-aid kit, its surface printed with faded symbols of the old world. My heart skipped a beat with joy—this was exactly what I needed the most right now. Inside, I found several pieces of clean bandages, a small tube of disinfectant ointment, and two pills that could stop bleeding and relieve pain. For someone living in the wasteland with an open wound, this first-aid kit was more precious than any gold or jewelry.
Not far from it, I also found a half-full metal water bottle and three pieces of hard dried bread that were still edible. My empty stomach growled loudly the moment I saw the food, and I almost couldn't resist the urge to stuff the bread into my mouth immediately. But I forced myself to stay calm, shoving all the supplies into my tattered backpack carefully. Greed and carelessness were the fastest ways to die in the wasteland, and I would not let a little luck make me reckless.
After treating my arm wound briefly with the new supplies, the stinging pain finally eased a lot, and my tense nerves relaxed slightly. I continued to move deeper into the fort, sticking to the shadows and following the faint traces of recent footprints on the ground. The deeper I went, the more obvious the signs of human activity became—faint footprints, small piles of garbage, and even the faint glow of fire in the far distance.
Then, I heard voices.
They were low, guarded whispers, coming from behind a thick, half-collapsed wall not far ahead. I froze immediately, crouching down behind a pile of rubble and holding my breath, listening carefully to every word that drifted through the darkness.
There were two people talking, their voices full of impatience and tension.
"When will the boss send the next batch of supplies? The traps on the west side are running out of energy, and the mechanical patrols will shut down completely if we don't recharge them soon."
"Shut up. The boss said the storm rumor is still working. More scavengers will come here in a few days, and we'll have enough materials to last another month. Just keep your watch and don't let anyone sneak in."
"Sooner or later, someone will see through the lie. The Black Fort Storm was just us fighting for resources, not some natural disaster. It's only a matter of time before outsiders find out the truth."
"Then we'll just kill anyone who finds out. No one leaves this fort alive…"
The voices gradually faded away as the two men walked toward the other side of the corridor.
I stayed hidden in the dark, my heart pounding violently. All the rumors and doubts in my mind were instantly cleared up.
The Black Fort Storm was not a natural disaster.
It was a lie. A trap. A cruel scheme made up by the people inside the fort to lure greedy scavengers here and rob them of their belongings, or even their lives.
I gripped the crowbar in my hand so tightly that my knuckles turned white. The danger here was far beyond my imagination. I had not only walked into a ruined fortress, but straight into a den of murderers and liars.
In the dark corridor, the faint glow of fire flickered in the distance, and the low sound of footsteps echoed softly.
I was trapped in the middle of the Black Fort, surrounded by enemies, and the real danger had only just revealed its true face.