Inlander

Chapter 5. Human Nature

The prison cell was a suffocating pit of damp stone and shadows, where the air reeked of mould and decay. Even the green moss clinging to the walls remained unseen, swallowed by the oppressive darkness. No sunlight could penetrate the cracked ceiling, leaving only a single, flickering lantern to cast its feeble glow across the cold, uneven floor.

Jim Slavn sat motionless near the rusted iron bars that bound him, his fingers idly tracing patterns into the dirt at his feet. Though his body remained still, his mind was anything but. A tempest of worry raged within him, his every thought consumed by the battle unfolding beyond these walls.

Byre Town was under siege.

Had Captain Klax Forterr managed to hold the defences? Had the Neiter forces been repelled, or had they broken through, setting the town ablaze? The uncertainty gnawed at him like a relentless beast. Every passing second stretched into eternity, his anxiety coiling tighter with each breath.

His fingers dug into the dirt as his mind reeled.

Did Captain Klax win?

Did they succeed?

Then, as if answering his unspoken worries, a familiar notification appeared before his eyes.

[Notice]

Quest

Defend the Byre Town

Category: Main

Level : D

status: Completed

reward: 500 Gold

10 point Abilities

----------------------------------------

[Level Up: 10]

Jim’s breath hitched. His gaze lingered on the words, absorbing their meaning. Then, a slow, relieved smile tugged at his lips.

"Klax did it…"

A quiet chuckle escaped his throat, a mixture of exhaustion and triumph. Victory had been secured—Byre Town still stood. His chest swelled with pride, not just for himself, but for the captain and his soldiers who had fought to protect the town.

For the first time in what felt like hours, the suffocating weight pressing down on his shoulders eased. His system had confirmed it: the battle was won.

Jim opened his status panel, his gaze scanning the additional ability points he had earned. A thoughtful frown settled on his face. The urge to spend them immediately was strong—there were countless skills and resources he could obtain.

His first thought was to purchase a guidebook, a crucial asset that could grant him advanced tactical knowledge, or even a deeper understanding of his own abilities. But as he sifted through the system’s catalogue, his heart sank.

The guidebooks were far too expensive.

Even with his newly acquired points, he didn’t have enough to afford even the most basic one.

His fingers clenched into a fist, frustration flickering in his eyes.

"Damn it. If only I had more points..."

But rash decisions wouldn't serve him well. With a deep breath, he forced himself to be patient. He would hold onto the points for now, waiting for the right opportunity to use them wisely.

As the lantern’s light flickered, casting long shadows across the cell walls, Jim leaned back against the cold stone. A storm still brewed beyond these prison bars. The battle for Byre Town may have ended, but his own war was far from over.

And Jim Slavn was not one to sit idly for long.

••••

The echoes of victory had barely settled over Byre Town when word of Captain Klax Forterr’s triumph spread like wildfire. Relief swept through the streets, quelling the fear that had gripped the people only hours before.

As if a cool breeze had soothed the smouldering embers of panic, the town breathed a collective sigh of relief. The Neiter forces had been repelled. Byre still stood.

With pride swelling in his chest, Captain Klax wasted no time. He sprinted through the city gates, his boots pounding against the stone streets as he made his way to the barracks. He had to report directly to the Major.

Inside the command hall, the Major stood with his officers, poring over a map of the battlefield. The tension in the room was thick, but the moment Klax burst through the doors, his eyes alight with triumph, silence fell.

“Major,” Klax saluted, his voice steady. “I report that we have driven the Neiter forces away. Byre Town stands victorious.”

The Major’s stern face softened, and for the first time in days, he allowed himself a grin.

“Hah! Well done, Captain,” he declared, clapping Klax on the shoulder. “I knew I could count on you.”

But Klax’s expression turned serious. “Sir, this victory wouldn’t have been possible without Jim. It was his idea to dig the trenches—without them, our defences would have crumbled.”

At the mention of Jim’s name, a shadow passed over the Major’s face. Regret settled deep in his gut. He had accused Jim of being a Neiter spy, had thrown him into the darkest cell in Byre’s prison. And yet, Jim had still chosen to protect this city.

“All this time…” the Major muttered, shaking his head. “I was wrong about him. I must apologise.”

Klax’s heart lifted at the words. “Then, sir… may we release him?”

“Not only that,” the Major said firmly, his gaze steady. “Byre Town owes him a great debt. I’ll see to it that he’s rewarded for his efforts.”

Before they could dwell on the matter further, a shout tore through the air, piercing through the barracks like an arrow.

“MAJOR! CAPTAIN! Flying monsters—approaching from the east!”

A soldier burst into the hall, his face pale, his breathing ragged. The moment his words settled, a hush of dread fell upon the room.

The Gorgon Harbour m******e was still fresh in their minds.

Klax didn’t hesitate. He pushed past the soldier and sprinted toward the eastern walls. The city guards had already taken up defensive positions, but fear lingered in their eyes.

From the horizon, three monstrous silhouettes loomed, growing larger as they approached. Their wings, vast as war banners, beat against the sky, sending violent gusts through the town. Their scales gleamed like burnished steel, and their curved beaks promised nothing but death.

The air was filled with a deafening, guttural screech—one that rattled bones and sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest warriors.

Panic erupted.

“They’re coming for us!”

“They’re too fast!”

The soldiers who had just celebrated victory only moments ago now found themselves shrinking under the monstrous presence above. Fear gripped them, their resolve cracking.

Klax gritted his teeth and roared, “HOLD YOUR GROUND!”

The command snapped through the chaos like a whip.

“Steady your hands! They are but three—three beasts against an army of warriors! Will you cower? Will you let your loved ones perish because of fear?!”

He unsheathed his blade—the Leviathan Sword, its steel glinting ominously under the torchlight. He raised it high, his voice thundering through the night.

“We fight! For our families! For Byre Town!”

A rallying cry surged through the troops.

“Protect our loved ones!”

“Protect our loved ones!”

“Protect our loved ones!”

But before their formation could fully tighten, the first monster struck.

With a terrifying burst of speed, it dove past the fortress walls, its beak splitting open to release a stream of searing flames. The wave of fire engulfed the nearest battalion, their screams echoing through the town as flesh and armour alike turned to ash.

Soldiers scattered. Some threw themselves aside, barely dodging the inferno. Others weren’t as lucky—their bodies crumpling as fire consumed them.

“AARGH!”

“HELP ME!”

The disciplined lines broke. Fear seeped into their ranks once more, their training forgotten in the face of such devastation.

But Klax stood firm.

“ARCHERS! LOOSE YOUR ARROWS!” he bellowed.

A storm of arrows soared into the night, their tips gleaming like stars. They struck true, piercing the beasts’ scales—but barely. The monsters shrieked, angered but not wounded.

One of them turned its piercing gaze towards Klax, its burning red eyes locking onto him.

Klax felt a shiver run down his spine.

This one was different. It was intelligent.

It had chosen him as its prey.

Sweat dripped down his brow. His grip on the Leviathan Sword tightened, his knuckles turning white. His heart pounded against his ribs like a war drum.

"Am I going to die here?"

His mind screamed at him to flee, but another thought burned brighter. A thought stronger than fear itself.

His family.

His town.

His people.

He exhaled sharply, forcing steel into his voice. “Come at me, you ugly bastard!”

The beast roared and dived.

Klax braced himself. The monster’s jaws split open, fire gathering in its throat, ready to unleash another torrent of death.

But Klax moved first.

With all his strength, he swung the Leviathan Sword.

A single, decisive strike.

Steel met flesh.

For a heartbeat, the world stood still.

Then—

A sickening schlick.

The monster split in two, its massive body severed cleanly through the middle. A torrent of blood sprayed into the air, and the halves of the creature crashed onto the battlefield with a deafening thud.

Klax staggered, falling to one knee. His breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling heavily.

"Did I... kill it?"

He lifted his gaze and saw the monster’s lifeless remains sprawled across the ground.

His hands trembled. Not from fear. But from disbelief.

"Was it me? No... it was the sword."

His gaze fell to the Leviathan Sword—Jim’s gift.

It pulsed in his grip, as if alive, as if brimming with a power beyond his comprehension.

He had fought many battles, but never had he felled such a beast in a single strike. This wasn’t just his strength—it was something more.

A power far greater than his own.

And yet, the battle was far from over.

As he pushed himself back onto his feet, his eyes lifted to the sky.

The remaining monsters circled above, their shrieks filling the night air.

Klax tightened his grip.

This fight was not yet won.

****

A foul stench of damp rot and decay clung to the air, thick and suffocating within the confines of the underground cell. The walls of the dungeon felt like they were closing in, as if the very stones themselves wished to smother the prisoner within.

Jim Slavn sat against the cold, unyielding wall, his arms wrapped around his knees. The darkness was absolute, broken only by the occasional flicker of torchlight seeping through the narrow gaps in the iron door. His lungs protested against the stale air, each breath feeling heavier than the last.

But then, the silence was shattered.

Then suddenly a warning appeared

A tremor ran through the walls, followed by the unmistakable sound of battle. Shouts. Clashing steel. And then—an ear-splitting screech that made the very bars of his cell vibrate violently. The earth quaked beneath him, dust cascading from the ceiling in fine streams.

Jim tensed.

"Something's happening up there."

Before he could speculate further, a familiar chime echoed in his ears, followed by a translucent screen materialising before him.

[Alert]

Quest

Slay the flying monsters [1/3]

Category: Main

Difficulty: C

Duration: -

Reward: 20 Point, 5000 Gold

Failure: death

----------------------------------------

Jim’s breath hitched. His eyes darted across the glowing text, his mind racing.

"A quest? Now? Does this mean… the flying monsters are attacking the city?"

The realisation sent a chill through his spine. He had warned them. He had told them an attack was imminent. And now, it was happening.

Above him, the ground shook once more. The deafening roar of collapsing structures reached his ears, followed by the distant cries of panicked civilians. Then—an impact. A colossal force struck the ground above his cell, sending dust and chunks of stone tumbling down.

Jim barely had time to react before the ceiling gave way.

[Yamaguchi Active]

The skill triggered just in time. Instead of being crushed beneath the falling debris, Jim found himself untouched. The rubble collapsed right in front of him, forming a jagged, uneven slope leading to the open sky.

[Yamaguchi skill experience increased]

[Yamaguchi (Passive) Lvl 1 (50/100)]

Jim clutched his chest, his heart hammering wildly.

“Bloody hell… I nearly died.” He exhaled sharply, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. “Good thing I invested all my points into luck. Otherwise, I’d be a bloody pancake right now.”

Above him, the night sky loomed, shrouded in thick, curling smoke.

This was his chance.

Without hesitation, he scrambled up the fallen debris, using the jagged edges as footholds. As he climbed, his thoughts raced.

"How bad is it out there? How many are dead already?"

Then, he emerged.

And what he saw stole the breath from his lungs.

Byre Town was ablaze.

Flames licked at the ruined buildings, the heat distorting the air into a shimmering nightmare. The once-thriving city had been reduced to a smouldering wasteland. Charred bodies littered the streets, their forms twisted in agony. The cries of the wounded and the wailing of those who had lost loved ones pierced the night.

Thick plumes of smoke curled skyward, mingling with the clouds like a mourning shroud. And above it all, the monsters loomed—winged beasts with steel-like scales and eyes that glowed like embers in the darkness.

Jim felt something wet trail down his cheek. He raised a hand, only to realise—he was crying.

"This… this is a massacre."

His grief turned to ice-cold dread as his thoughts snapped to one thing—his family.

His legs moved before his mind could catch up.

"Jill!" he shouted, his voice hoarse. "Mum! Dad!"

He sprinted through the ruins, dodging burning wreckage, his breath ragged. His pulse pounded against his ears, drowning out everything but his frantic desperation.

The refugee camp—where his family had been staying—was gone.

Where once stood rows of tents and makeshift shelters, now lay blackened ruins. The remains of scorched fabric flapped weakly in the hot breeze, reduced to nothing more than charred remnants.

Jim’s stomach twisted painfully. His fingers curled into trembling fists.

He scoured the ground, his eyes darting over the wreckage, hoping—praying—for a sign.

Then he saw it.

A small, broken necklace lying amid the ashes.

Jim staggered.

His knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, picking up the delicate chain with trembling hands.

He knew this necklace.

He had given it to Jill on her birthday.

If it was here… then she had to be close.

Jim’s head snapped up, his gaze scanning the devastation. And then—

A figure.

A young woman with shoulder-length dark red hair, motionless on the ground.

“Jill…?”

His body moved before he could think. He sprinted towards her, falling to his knees beside her limp form.

"Jill! Wake up!" He cupped her face, gently tapping her cheek. "Come on, open your eyes!"

Nothing.

His breath hitched.

"No. No, no, no—"

With shaking hands, he pressed his fingers against her wrist, searching—praying—for a pulse.

A beat.

Weak, but there.

Jim let out a shuddering breath, tears slipping from his eyes. Relief crashed over him like a tidal wave.

He needed to act fast.

“Shop,” he commanded.

A translucent screen flickered into existence. He navigated to the item section, his fingers moving frantically.

[Heal Potion - 100G]

“Purchase.”

The vial materialised in his hand. Without hesitation, he uncorked it and tilted it against Jill’s lips.

"Come on, drink this…"

The liquid trickled down her throat. Moments later, colour returned to her cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered, and then—

“…Brother?”

Jim let out a choked sob. "Yeah… yeah, it's me. I'm here."

Jill’s own eyes welled up with tears. She reached for him weakly, her fingers curling into his sleeve

“I thought… I thought you were gone,” she whispered.

Jim pulled her into a hug, pressing a hand against the back of her head. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

But then—her body trembled.

"Mum… Dad…" Jill’s voice cracked. “They're still in the tent. I saw them—trapped inside.”

Jim stiffened.

For a moment, the world fell silent.

Then, he pulled away.

"Stay here," he said firmly, brushing the hair from her face. "I'll find them."

And he ran.

Through the ruins, through the flames—until he found what was left of their tent.

He shoved aside the debris, his hands bleeding from the jagged wreckage. And then—he saw them.

Their bodies.

Still. Lifeless.

“Mum… Dad…?” His voice was barely a whisper.

He reached out, shaking their shoulders.

No response.

His breath came in ragged gasps, his mind refusing to accept what his heart already knew

Tears blurred his vision. A strangled cry escaped his throat.

“No… No, no, please…”

He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his skin, drawing blood.

"System!" he roared. "There has to be something—an item, a skill—something that can bring them back!"

But no answer came.

No miracle.

Just silence.

His sobs turned into raw, guttural screams.

"Why?!"

"Why do the strong always crush the weak?!"

"Why does the world always take from me?!"

His vision darkened.

And then—a whisper.

"Revenge..."

"Revenge..."

Jim lifted his head. His sorrow twisted into something colder. Darker.

His tears dried.

His grief turned to hate.

"I’ll destroy them." His voice was steady. Unshaking. “Neiter… I swear, I’ll erase you from existence.”