Odyssey Of Survival-Chapter 94 A New Hope

Jason’s breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling as he lay broken on the cold, unforgiving ground. His face was covered in blood, his clothes torn, his limbs barely responding to his will. He had endured every strike, every brutal attack from those masked figures, but the worst pain of all came from the man standing before him—Axel, his best friend, the brother he had fought beside for so long. Jason coughed violently, blood splattering against the dirt as his half-lidded eyes flickered up toward Axel. His voice was weak, barely more than a whisper, but he forced the words out between labored breaths.

"Why, Axel?" His voice wavered, his throat raw from both pain and emotion. "Why can’t you see it? They’re using you..."

Axel flinched, but his face remained unreadable. The grip on the sword in his hand tightened as he took slow, deliberate steps forward. Jason could barely lift his head, but he saw the hesitation in Axel’s movements, the conflict in his eyes. It was subtle, almost hidden beneath a cold mask of resolve, but Jason had known Axel too long to miss it.

Jason was lifted off the ground forcefully by the men standing beside him.

Axel swallowed hard, his own breathing unsteady. He was trying to convince himself that this was the right thing to do, that this was necessary, but Jason’s words cut through his fragile defenses like a blade. His hands trembled, his heart pounded violently against his ribs, and for the first time in a long while, he felt afraid—not of the people around him, not of Claire, but of himself.

"I wish..." Axel’s voice broke as he stared down at Jason, his best friend lying in a pool of his own blood. "I wish this had happened another way..." His fingers curled tighter around the hilt of the sword as his vision blurred. "I really do."

Jason’s lips parted, but before he could speak again, Axel moved.

With one swift, brutal thrust, Axel drove the sword deep into Jason’s abdomen.

Jason’s body jerked violently as the steel tore through flesh and muscle, his mouth opening in a silent scream. His bloodshot eyes widened, filled with pain, disbelief... and something far worse—betrayal. He didn’t even feel the blade as much as he felt the heartbreak, the final proof that the man he called his brother had truly abandoned him.

His trembling hand shot up, gripping Axel’s wrist, his fingers weak yet desperate. His breath came in short, choking gasps, and blood dribbled down the corner of his mouth as he tried to speak.

"I... I would’ve taken a bullet for you..." His voice was barely above a whisper, each word a struggle as agony tore through his body. His grip on Axel’s wrist weakened as his knees buckled. "Y-you..." He coughed violently, his body convulsing as blood gushed from his wound. "...you hurt me, brother." His voice cracked, not from the pain of the wound but from something much deeper. "You hurt me..."

Axel’s entire body tensed, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. He had told himself this was necessary, that Jason had chosen his side and there was no going back—but standing here now, watching Jason’s life drain away, hearing the pain in his voice, feeling his grip fade, it no longer felt like a choice. It felt like a crime.

Jason’s body swayed, his legs finally giving out beneath him as he fell backward. His hand slipped from Axel’s wrist, smearing blood across his fingers before it went limp. His body hit the ground with a dull thud, dust rising around him, and for a moment, silence filled the air. The wind rustled the leaves, carrying the heavy scent of iron, and in that moment, everything felt still.

Axel couldn’t move. His hands were coated in Jason’s blood, his mind screaming at him, his chest tightening with an unbearable weight. His throat burned, his vision blurred, and before he could stop it, tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his face.

He had killed his best friend.

He had killed the one person who had stood by him through everything.

His fingers twitched as he slowly turned away, his movements stiff, mechanical, as if his body no longer belonged to him. Each step he took away from Jason felt heavier than the last, as if the ground beneath him was pulling him down.

As he passed Claire, his voice was barely audible, but there was something chilling in the way he spoke.

"This better be worth it," he murmured, his tone flat, hollow. "Or else."

Claire raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips, but for some reason, a shiver ran down her spine. The way he said it, the way he didn’t even look at her—it unsettled her in a way she hadn’t expected. But she quickly brushed it off, scoffing as she crossed her arms.

"Empty threats," she muttered as she turned her gaze back to Jason’s lifeless body.

She then looked toward the masked figures, her expression returning to its usual cold indifference. "Dispose of the body properly," she ordered. "Make sure no one finds him."

The figures nodded, moving toward Jason’s corpse, but what Claire and Axel didn’t know was that they were being watched.

Hidden in the shadows, two figures crouched low behind the trees, their breaths silent, their eyes wide with horror. They had come here seeking a moment of privacy, a chance to indulge in their own desires, but what they stumbled upon was something far more disturbing.

They had witnessed everything—the fight, the betrayal, the execution.

And now, they knew the truth.

---

Nate was woken up by a loud shout outside, his consciousness dragging itself from the depths of sleep as his ears rang from the sudden noise. His body still felt heavy, the weight of exhaustion clinging to his muscles as he pushed himself up from the bed. His mind was sluggish, groggy from rest, and for a few moments, he just sat there, staring at the walls of his small room, trying to make sense of the commotion outside. Another wave of cheers erupted from beyond his door, making him furrow his brows in confusion. What the hell was going on?

Shaking off the remnants of sleep, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, his movements slow and deliberate as he stretched his stiff muscles. He reached for his shirt, pulling it over his head before making his way toward the door. As soon as he stepped outside, the noise grew even louder, the sound of people talking, cheering, and laughing filling the air around him. The moment his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting outside, he saw them—a large group of people gathered together, all standing in a loose circle, their attention focused on something or someone in the middle.

His curiosity piqued, Nate pushed forward, navigating through the small crowd. When some of the people noticed him, they immediately stepped aside, making way for him to pass through. He could feel the excitement radiating off them, a strange energy buzzing in the air, thick with anticipation. As he finally reached the center of the gathering, his gaze landed on the people standing there—Ryder, Jack, and to his surprise, his old art teacher, Mr. Griffin. But all their eyes were fixed on one person—Ray, the camp’s blacksmith.

Ray stood in the middle, gripping something firmly in his hands. The moment Nate’s eyes landed on it, his breath hitched slightly. A sword. But not just any sword. It was glowing, faint embers of fire licking at its sharp edges, its entire form radiating a pulsating warmth as if it were alive, breathing. The reddish-orange hue of the flames cast an eerie yet mesmerizing glow on Ray’s face, his expression one of triumph.

The murmurs of the crowd grew louder, and before Nate could fully process what was happening, Ray took a step forward, his voice booming through the open space.

"Clear the way!"

At his command, the crowd instinctively parted, giving him a wide berth. Ray turned his head slightly, meeting Nate’s gaze for the briefest of moments before looking away. He then raised the sword, holding it with both hands, positioning it in front of him. The fire along the blade’s edge crackled softly, almost as if it were responding to his grip. Without wasting another second, Ray swung the sword in a swift, fluid motion, slashing it toward a nearby tree.

The moment the blade cut through the air, a thin, concentrated line of fire burst forth from its edge, shooting straight toward the tree in its path. The attack struck with pinpoint precision, igniting a portion of the bark upon contact. The flames didn’t consume the tree entirely, but the part where the fire had landed burned with a fierce intensity, glowing brightly. Gasps filled the air, followed by excited whispers and astonished expressions.

"Holy shit…" someone muttered under their breath, breaking the momentary silence that followed.

A water ability user immediately stepped forward, summoning a small sphere of liquid in his palms before dousing the flames, extinguishing them effortlessly. But the damage had already been done. The power of the sword had been demonstrated, and everyone there had witnessed it firsthand.

The realization hit them all at once.

Ray had succeeded.

He had created a weapon infused with elemental energy.

The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices carrying through the air, a mixture of disbelief and pure exhilaration. Even those who had expected this outcome couldn’t help but marvel at what they had just seen. Most of them knew Ray didn’t possess any elemental abilities, and yet, he had wielded a weapon that allowed him to harness fire as if it were his own.

Ray turned back to face them, his expression full of pride as he raised the sword high above his head. "People!" he called out, his voice echoing with authority. "We have been successful in creating a magical weapon!"

The crowd’s cheers grew even louder, some clapping while others simply looked on in awe. To some, this moment meant far more than just witnessing a breakthrough in craftsmanship. It meant survival.

This chapter is updat𝓮d by freēnovelkiss.com.

For many in the camp, their abilities weren’t suited for direct combat. Some had abilities that were more supportive, defensive, or even passive in nature. Madison, for example, could teleport, but that alone wouldn’t help her win a fight against a monstrous beast. Bella’s telekinesis was useful but only when there were objects around to manipulate. Now, with these weapons, everyone had a chance.

They would no longer be helpless if they were attacked. They would no longer have to rely solely on those with offensive abilities.

But more than that—this was preparation.

This was their first real step toward being ready for when Zoro returned with the Keepers.

Nate watched as the realization dawned on the faces around him. Hope. Determination. A renewed sense of purpose. It was rare to see such expressions in a place where survival was the only priority. But right now, in this moment, they weren’t just surviving.

They were preparing to fight back.

Ray turned toward Nate once again, and this time, he smiled—a wide, genuine smile. He lowered the sword slightly before patting Nate on the shoulder with enough force to make him slightly stumble. "You beautiful bastard," Ray said with a grin, his voice filled with gratitude. "Those crystals you brought me… they were the missing piece. Without them, none of this would’ve been possible."

"Again!" Nate murmured as he rubbed his shoulder.

Nate barely had time to react before Ray turned away, already running back to his work. The excitement in his eyes was unmistakable, and it was clear he wasn’t stopping here. If one magical weapon was possible, then so were many more.

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