The Slayer Ascension: Cursed and Blessed.-Chapter 54: Death Zone, No escape.

Chapter 54

After seeing that Blaze was still alive and very much not poisoned, Gazel drank some of the red-colored water as well.

The effect was immediate.

It felt like the cold was being forced out of his body, expelled at a speed far greater than normal. Warmth spread through his limbs, sharp and invigorating, leaving him feeling whole again.

That’s amazing, Gazel thought.

His face, however, remained perfectly neutral.

In a calm tone, he asked, "Where are we?"

He kept the desperation out of his voice.

The young man raised his head and looked at them strangely.

"You don’t know?" he asked, as if knowing the name of this nightmare of a place was common sense.

Both of them shook their heads.

The man looked stunned. Only for a moment.

Then he spoke again, tone perfectly calm, as if discussing the weather.

"Don’t bother thinking about escaping. The place you’re in is called the Death Zone."

"The Death Zone?" Blaze and Gazel said in unison.

Their pale faces were lit by the firewood burning in the cave, casting long shadows along the walls.

Seeing their reaction, the brown-haired man nodded, satisfied. At least now he was sure they weren’t completely messed up in the head.

But he celebrated too early.

At the same time, the duo spoke again.

"Okay, so what is the Death Zone?"

The question almost made the man slip off his seat.

He took a steady breath, sighed, then faced them with a flat, unamused expression.

"Tell me," he said slowly, "you aren’t from the Bulwark, are you?"

At the mention of the Bulwark, both of their faces lit up instantly.

That was the place they had been searching for.

And their savior seemed to know it.

Blaze was the first to speak.

"Please, wise one," he said earnestly. "Tell us how to get out of here. Me and my best friend have almost died in this crazy place more than once."

Gazel’s eye twitched.

Best friend.

He had never had friends growing up. Not real ones. Hearing someone call him that after only a few weeks together stirred something strange in his chest.

They had been through hell together, sure.

But was that enough?

While Gazel wrestled with the unfamiliar feeling, the brown-haired man shook his head, eyes full of disapproval, like he was staring at two foolish kids.

"Really," he said. "You’re definitely not from the Bulwark."

"If you were, you’d already know the truth. There is no way out of this hellhole."

His voice grew somber.

"Anyone who steps into this place is bound to be lost forever."

Blaze and Gazel’s faces drained of color at the same time.

Stuck.

Here.

Forever.

Blaze slumped back, a string of curses spilling from his mouth as regret hit him all at once.

Gazel’s face didn’t pale.

The brown-haired man noticed that immediately. He studied Gazel closely. The occasional clenching and unclenching of his fists. The tension buried deep beneath control. Gazel was just as shaken by the news as his friend.

He was just better at hiding it.

Not from him though.

In the back of the man’s mind, he smiled. The same smile mad villains wore before wiping cities off the map.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

If I seize this opportunity, I can exploit them. Make them owe me their lives. Who knows, getting several thousand crystals might stop being a problem altogether.

While thinking that, his gaze never left Blaze.

When he treated him earlier, he felt it clearly. The quality of Blaze’s Azura. Raw. Potent. Still far from its true potential.

If he wasn’t mistaken...

Ochang Clan.

Jackpot.

Jackpot.

Jackpot.

His mind screamed the word over and over.

"Wait."

The white-haired voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Gazel spoke, his tone clear, sharp, as if something had just clicked into place.

"Since you know so much about this place," Gazel said, "my guess is that you’re a Shural. Right?"

The young man nodded, confirming it.

He expected reverence. Fear. Respect.

What came next was none of that.

"Which means you’re stuck here too," Gazel continued. "And since you know this place so well, you were either sent here as punishment... or you entered willingly."

Gazel’s eyes hardened.

"Which sounds like something only a fool would do."

The older youth’s expression fell.

Not because Gazel didn’t respect him.

But because the words struck deep.

He had entered this place willingly.

All for a treasure. One that could finally solve his financial problems once and for all. He had prepared for months. Gathered information. Studied the Death Zone. Learned how it worked. Even planned a way out.

All of it collapsed the moment he stepped inside.

The Death Zone didn’t care about preparation.

He fought through the Cruel Grave. The Endless Forest. The Harsh Desert. Each one by the skin of his teeth.

But this snowy mountain was different.

He couldn’t break its concept alone.

That was where these two newcomers came in.

With their help, he could finally break the fourth world.

Then the last one.

And once that final barrier shattered, he would follow his original plan.

He would get the hell out of this nightmare.

With the prize.

He didn’t care how much it cost anymore.

Staying this long wasn’t worth leaving empty-handed.

After a few heavy sighs, he let exhaustion show on his face, crafting the perfect image of a man pushed to the brink.

The red-haired one took the bait.

Blaze looked genuinely worried. Indebted. Concerned.

"Are you alright?" Blaze asked.

The brown-haired man lowered his head slightly.

Inside, he smiled again.

The trap had tightened.

He was pleased.

The red-haired one would be easy to exploit in the future. Too soft. Too grateful.

But the white-and-black-haired one was different.

Gazel’s face remained completely impassive, unreadable, making the brown-haired man wonder if there was even a heart behind that chest.

He coughed lightly, then spoke.

"Actually, I’m being trapped here by a few teammates of mine," he said. "They were my best friends. But they envied my success. You see, being a Shural has its disadvantages. There will always be those who want your downfall. So they tricked me and sent me here."

The story flowed smoothly. Too smoothly. Solid. Structured. Almost impossible to poke holes into.

Perfect lies.

Blaze was visibly moved. He wiped a tear from his cheek, face reddening as anger flared at the betrayal. He clearly believed every word.

The brown-haired youth noticed something else though.

If Gazel had been paying close attention, he would have seen the man’s eye twitch. Just once. Hidden behind a hand pressed to his chest, as if reliving the pain of betrayal.

Did he believe my story? the man wondered.

Gazel, of course, didn’t believe a single word.

He just categorized the brown-haired youth as either dangerously naive like Blaze or blatantly stupid. The last thing Gazel would ever do was trust his life to teammates or friends.

Human betrayal took less than a second.

"That aside," Gazel said suddenly, slicing through the somber mood, "since we stepped in here, you’ve been perfectly calm. I assume you know a way out."

The brown-haired man’s eyes twitched again.

He recovered instantly.

"Of course," he replied in a calm tone. "There is a way. But we can only break this world if the three of us work together."

He explained everything he knew about the place. How it functioned. How it resisted escape. And how it could be broken.

Then he handed them an object.

A metallic cylinder.

Harder than steel. Dense. Heavy. At its center was something like gaseous mercury trapped within, glowing faintly through the metal. It radiated an oppressive explosive power.

Just holding it made dread crawl up their spines.

This kind of dread had become familiar lately.

Being trapped in worlds that wanted them dead tended to do that.

The instructions were simple.

Each of them would travel far apart, to the largest and highest mountain peaks stretching several kilometers away. They would embed the cylinder deep into the mountain tops at the same time.

Then they would run.

Because the explosion that followed would completely obliterate the peaks.

The thought of what such an explosion could do to a human body sent chills through all of them.

But the brown-haired youth was clear.

"This is the only way out."

Some days later, after the snowstorm passed, they finally set out. According to his words, traveling through the storm was worse than suicide.

So they waited.

Then they moved.

After enduring the cold, crossing endless icy terrain for what felt like hours, they reached their respective peaks. At the sound of a loud whistle echoing across the mountains, they acted.

Each of them embedded the metal cylinder into the mountain top.

And turned to flee.

They ran at full speed.

Behind them, the mountains began to split and cracks.