After the struggle of the previous day—the battle against the Lesser Nightborne, the whispers of his growing mutation, and the burden of silence—Leo stirred awake with a strangled breath.
His skin was cold with sweat, the sheets beneath him damp and tangled. The air in the room felt dense, like the atmosphere itself recoiled from him.
He clutched his chest, muscles aching as if they were trying to reject him.
The Blood Realm had drained him. The strange, twisted dimension he'd stumbled into during his evolution had taken more than energy.
It had peeled layers of his mind away, revealing shadows he didn't want to acknowledge.
In that realm, he'd come face to face with a version of himself that was terrifyingly familiar—a haunted, cruel, remorseless predator that wore his face.
Facing monsters was one thing. Facing yourself was something else entirely.
Was there any sanity left in him?
He looked into the cracked mirror by the wall. The reflection stared back with sunken eyes and a numb expression.
There was a faint red glow flickering behind his pupils now, as if embers of something darker had been lit. With each passing day, something in him twisted. His empathy withered.
His laughter faded. The warmth that once defined him felt like a memory.
After cleaning up and dressing in his usual black tattered coat, he caught a glimpse of something new in the mirror—something that hadn't been there before.
Just above his heart was a glowing crimson mark, pulsating faintly like a heartbeat.
He stared at it, lips parting slightly. The mark had an aura—raw and violent—that tugged at the corners of his mind, whispering promises of power and blood. A brand of his evolution? A result of unlocking the Blood Path?
He pressed his palm against it, trying to suppress its energy. The aura resisted. It seeped through his fingers like mist, thick with predatory hunger.
With a sigh, Leo pulled out his dagger, stared at the blade for a moment… and carved into his own chest, slicing through the skin until blood spilled over the mark. The pain was sharp but clarifying. The aura dulled, quieted—for now.
He bandaged it casually, as if it were nothing, and stepped out of the room like nothing had happened.
---
By breakfast, the community center had settled into its fragile routine. Survivors were eating in quiet groups, the air filled with soft murmurs and the clinking of spoons.
Leo sat alone, hunched over a bowl of oats and boiled vegetables, ignoring the stolen glances from the others.
In the medical room, Victoria was counting inventory. Bandages, antiseptics, painkillers—all dwindling. They were running out. As she checked the shelf, Anna entered, arms crossed and eyes distant.
"Need help?" Anna asked casually.
Victoria looked up and nodded. "Sure. Count what's left in the second box."
They worked in silence for a while, until Anna finally said, "He's changing."
Victoria stopped writing and looked at her. "Leo?"
Anna nodded. "He's colder. Distant. Sometimes… I feel like he's watching us, not as people, but as pieces on a board."
Victoria frowned. "He's been through more than anyone. The things he's seen… the things he's done to keep us alive. That kind of burden leaves scars."
"But it's more than scars." Anna's voice dropped to a whisper. "There's something dark growing in him. I don't know what it is, but it scares me. If we don't prepare, if he snaps—"
"You want to leave," Victoria said quietly.
Anna hesitated, then nodded. "There are other camps. Bigger groups. We could be safe there, in case… in case this gets worse."
Victoria didn't reply immediately. She didn't want to agree, but she couldn't deny the truth either. Power concentrated in one hand, especially one trembling at the edge of sanity, was dangerous.
---
Out in the field, Elite and his crew were scavenging the remains of a general store. Cans, dried grains, whatever could be found. As they searched, Elite spoke in hushed tones to the others.
"That guy… Leo. He's not right."
One of the others snorted. "He saved us."
"Yeah," Elite said. "But he looks less human every day. You really want to trust our lives to a guy who slices his own chest without flinching?"
"What are you suggesting?"
"A council. We share the leadership. No more single ruler crap. Everyone gets a say."
His friends nodded slowly. The idea made sense. Fear whispered louder than gratitude.
Later, they brought the proposal to the group.
"We're suggesting a council," Elite said. "To share the decisions. This isn't about overthrowing Leo. It's about survival."
Anna said nothing, but her silence was laced with tension. Damien exploded.
"If you don't trust Leo, get out. He's the reason we're still alive!"
Riley stepped forward. "Damien, this isn't betrayal. It's planning. Concentrated power can go wrong. We've all seen it."
The group murmured in agreement.
Leo, who had been standing nearby silently, finally stepped forward. His presence was suffocating. His voice cut through the air like a blade.
"If any of you think you can lead better—challenge me. Right here. Right now."
Silence. No one moved. No one dared.
Leo's eyes scanned them, disappointed. "Then don't talk about democracy when you can't even lift your weapons."
With that, he turned and walked away.
---
That afternoon, a system chime echoed in the minds of every survivor.
> [NEW SYSTEM EVENT UNLOCKED: THRONE TRIAL INITIATED]
A dimensional rift has opened in your Safe Zone.
Only those worthy may claim the Blood Throne.
Dungeon: LABYRINTH OF FLESH
Participants: One per faction
Reward: Title of Zone Lord and control over the Zone Nexus
Leo stared at the notification, expression unreadable. He gathered the others.
"I'll go alone."
"But we can help—" Damien began.
"No," Leo cut him off. "You're not strong enough. Not yet."
Jack Spanor, the silent elite among them, stepped forward. "Let him go. He's right."
Leo gave him a nod of acknowledgment, then disappeared into the portal.
---
The Labyrinth of Flesh was a grotesque landscape—twisting bone walls, pulsing veins along the floor, the scent of rot thick in the air. It was a living nightmare, and Leo stood at its heart.
Monsters came in waves. Skeletons with tattered armor, twisted from the flesh of old survivors. He fought through them with grim precision, blades flashing, limbs severed, blood spraying in arcs.
An hour later, soaked in gore, he stumbled into a chamber lit by crimson crystals. There stood the Keeper of Chains—an armored figure with chains wrapped around his body like serpents.
"You reek of delusion," the Keeper said. "You think yourself above the monsters. But you are one."
Leo's eyes narrowed. "Shut up."
He struck first, but the Keeper was faster. Chains lashed out, snapping bones and tearing flesh. Leo fought hard, but he was outmatched. His arms were broken, his vision blurred—and still, the Keeper did not finish him.
"You came here to conquer the Labyrinth. Not to fight me. Go."
Leo, humiliated and broken, limped away. His pride screamed. His ego bled.
---
The deeper he went, the more unstable he felt. The Blood Path surged. His mutation intensified. Whispers clawed at the edge of his mind—his own voice, but not his own.
"You're weak," it sneered. "Let me take over. Together, we'll burn the world."
Leo gritted his teeth. "Shut up."
He descended further. Orcs awaited. High Orcs. Shamans.
Magic burned the air. The High Orc roared, slamming a club into the ground. Leo rolled aside, sliced upward—steel clashed against bone. Sparks flew. Blood painted the walls.
They fought like titans. Leo's technique against the Orc's brute strength. A final feint—then a slash through the heart. The High Orc fell.
He barely had time to breathe before reaching the final chamber.
The Amalgam.
It was a horror—a twisted fusion of all Leo's past kills. Flesh melded into bone. Zombie claws, Nightborne horns, mutant eyes. A grotesque echo of his journey.
It lunged. Leo screamed.
They fought in silence. Leo dodged, slashed, stabbed—but the Amalgam healed. It mimicked his attacks. His fears. His hatred.
"You created me," it growled. "Now face your truth."
Leo roared, activating his mutation fully. Blood surrounded him. He used Blood Phase, his body flickering in and out of reality. His blade sank deep, again and again, until the creature collapsed.
Leo fell to his knees. The Blood Throne rose before him.
He climbed the steps… and sat.
> [CONGRATULATIONS: YOU ARE NOW ZONE LORD OF DEAD ZONE 3]
> [GLOBAL SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT: NEW ZONE LORD CROWNED IN DEAD ZONE 3 – LEO]
Across the world, survivors saw the message. Some cursed. Others cheered. And a few Rankers narrowed their eyes.
Back at the community center, the survivors stood frozen.
Then the portal opened.
Leo emerged.
Blood dripped from his skin. His eyes burned crimson. Above his head, a spectral crown of blood shimmered.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
One by one, the survivors dropped to one knee. Not from fear—but awe.
He had returned not as a man…
…but as something more.
A Sovereign.
A Tyrant.
A Lord of Blood.