Chapter 16 – Lines in the Ash
The gunfire had faded hours ago.
The smoke, however, lingered—rising from distant villages reduced to ashes, painted across the sky like long black scars.
Andrew and Clara moved quietly through the burned-out countryside of southern Italy, deep in what was once the Campania region.
Fields were empty.
Not abandoned.
Cleansed.
Scorched earth stretched for miles. Fences torn down. Trees blackened by fire magic. Corpses left out as warnings—survivors, not monsters.
The so-called military wasn't protecting people.
It was exterminating them.
Clara knelt by one of the burned markers, her jaw clenched. "They're slaughtering anyone not in uniform."
Andrew scanned the hills. His voice was quiet, but sharp.
"They're not soldiers. They're wolves in formation."
She stood slowly, hand gripping her short sword. "You think they're hunting us?"
Andrew's Seeker flared—just a faint ripple of movement on the edge of his awareness. Watching eyes, too far to act. Still observing.
"They're watching everything," he muttered. "But not just us. This whole region."
They passed another village—this one still smoking.
Charred. Lifeless.
Clara looked down the main road. "How many of these have we seen today?"
"Five."
"And not a single survivor."
Andrew didn't respond.
This wasn't war.
This was a purge.
That night, they sheltered in a collapsed farmhouse hidden by dead wheat. The stars above Italy were pale and cold.
They ate in silence until Clara spoke.
"If they try to stop us again… are we still running?"
Andrew leaned against the shattered window frame, watching the fields.
"No."
Clara raised her head. His voice had that cold finality again.
"I'm not a hero," he said. "I don't care about titles, or glory. But I can't stand this. People treating others like garbage. Like prey. Thinking they're gods just because they've got a sword or a few levels."
He turned toward her, eyes shadowed but steady.
"As long as I have the strength to stop it, I will."
Clara stared at him for a moment.
Then she smiled—slow, proud, and full of fire.
"Then I'm with you."
---
The Encounter
At dawn, they crossed into a ravine choked with blackened trees—and stumbled upon a group of resistance fighters, hiding under heavy cloaks, armed with scavenged weapons and cautious eyes.
Before they could speak, Seeker pulsed again.
Andrew grabbed Clara's arm. "Ambush."
A second later, spells rained down from above.
A military hunting squad—eight strong, all high-level Players. Uniforms crisp. Expressions cold.
Their leader stepped forward. Level 23, sword etched with gold runes. "Targets located. Engaging."
Clara flared with wind and flame, but Andrew raised a hand to stop her from charging.
One of the resistance fighters cursed in Italian, clearly trying to warn them.
Clara glanced at Andrew. "You understand that?"
"No." Then, blinking as something clicked:
"But the system does."
She blinked realizing she hadn't been attentive earlier and the system could also translate what they said almost instantaneously. She checked her status window and saw
[ System Perk: [Universal Translation – Active for Players]
All Player-to-Player communication is automatically translated regardless of spoken language. ]
A moment later, a resistance fighter shouted in English:
"Kill them all! They're with us!"
Andrew smiled grimly. "Good enough for me".
The fight was brutal.
These weren't grunts.
The enemy Players were veterans—skilled, armored, fast. Their spells struck hard. Their weapons weren't basic loot—they were forged for conquest.
Andrew dove into the fray—sword in one hand, shadows curling like armor. He clashed with a spear-wielding woman who radiated pure force—not mana. Something else.
Each blow she struck felt different—faster, cleaner. It wasn't magic.
It was chi.
A subtle, breathing energy. A different path.
Andrew learned through pain.
Adapted through instinct.
Clara spun beside him, weaving flames and frost into deadly arcs. Her Elemental Constructs shattered enchanted shields like glass. Her speed, her anger—it made her unstoppable.
She hated these people.
And she made them feel it.
---
When it was over, only dust and blood remained.
The resistance fighters stood in shock, staring at their unlikely saviors.
Andrew didn't wait for applause. He simply looked at Clara and muttered, "Let's keep moving."
But one resistance woman stepped forward and said, in a thick accent, "Wait. You two… you're not like them."
Clara tilted her head. "We're just passing through."
The woman hesitated. "Then let us help. There's more like them deeper in."
Andrew paused.
Then gave a slow nod.
"Fine. But we don't follow orders."
---
The scent of smoke lingered in the air—faint, bitter, and ever-present.
Andrew's cloak rippled behind him as he stepped over the last ridge, shadows curling at his heels. Clara walked beside him, face set and quiet, her elemental aura low but volatile. Behind them trailed the remnants of a small but hardened group—survivors, fighters, and those simply too stubborn to die.
Ahead, nestled among craggy trees and reinforced ruins, stood a survivor encampment. Makeshift towers lined the perimeter, watchmen perched behind old car doors and shattered concrete. The outer wall was patchwork—metal sheets, collapsed rebar, even torn shields.
They weren't a military force. They were what was left.
"Is this really the place?" Clara asked.
Andrew nodded. "Signal fire's still up. It's either a camp… or a trap."
She gave a dry smile. "Let's hope for the friendly kind."
As they approached, a horn blew from one of the towers. Moments later, armed figures appeared along the wall—bows, swords, spears, some even glowing faintly with system energy.
Tension bristled in the air.
At their side were the scout striding forward as soon they came close to the gate. A voice then came from above
" Scout team leader Ellias , who are the persons beside you "
Ellias smiled and responded calmly " they are survivors willing to help us fight against the iron dawn, I want them to meet the leader "
No reply. Only the sound of boots shifting above.
A few heartbeats passed.
Then the gate creaked open.
The scout members then rushed inside to make their reports as quickly as possible.
They were led inside—eyes tracking their every move. The camp wasn't large, but it was alive. Cook fires flickered, children peered out from behind crates, and exhausted warriors nursed wounds under makeshift awnings. System users walked among the crowd—glowing, scarred, wary.
From the center path, three figures emerged to meet them.
The first was tall, broad, and grim-faced, a warhammer slung across his back. His presence was immediately intimidating—scarred hands, a flattened nose, and a stare that read people like weapons.
The second was shorter and lean, her hair braided tight and her boots caked with dried blood. Twin curved swords hung at her sides, and wind seemed to gather at her heels with every step.
And the third—calm and cold-eyed—was a man wrapped in worn military gear, an old pendant swinging from his neck. He stopped just ahead of the others, dark gaze fixed on Andrew.
"You the survivors who crushed The Iron Dawn scout team by yourselves ?"
Andrew was cautious. "who are you?"
"Dante," the man replied. "I lead this camp."
He gestured to his right.
"This is Marcos. He crushes things."
Marcos gave a slow nod, gripping his warhammer with one hand like it weighed nothing.
"To my left—Livia. Fast, sharper than she looks, and twice as mean."
"Are you the ones willing to fight with us?" he asked.
Andrew gave a slow nod.
" I'm Andrew and she's Clara, we're just survivors "
His gaze shifted to Clara, lingering briefly on the elemental energy humming in her aura.
"You've got power. Both of you. The kind that makes enemies nervous."
"Then we're in the right place," Clara said flatly.
Dante's brow twitched, almost a smirk. "We'll see."
The camp was modest, tucked into a shallow valley ringed by scorched trees and makeshift wooden walls. Small groups of survivors moved quietly between tents and fires, children playing under watchful eyes, farmers tending to sparse crops struggling against the harsh earth. It was a fragile oasis amidst the chaos—a brief glimpse of normalcy in a shattered land.
Andrew and Clara noted it in passing, but the gravity of their meeting pressed heavier on their minds.
Marco's voice broke the silence around the flickering campfire.
"Our purpose here," he said, "is more than survival. We protect those who have nowhere else to go—men, women, children displaced by the war tearing this continent apart."
Livia nodded. "We train, we gather supplies, and we fight when necessary. But it's a constant struggle."
Dante's cold gaze scanned the darkened tree line. "The larger factions don't see survivors as anything but obstacles or resources."
Clara's fingers flickered with faint flames. "That's why we have to stand against them."
Andrew met her gaze, nodding slightly. "I'm no hero. Titles don't matter. But I can't watch people treated like animals—like prey."
He looked down into the fire, voice low but resolute.
"As long as I have the strength to stop it, I will."
The camp's quiet murmurs floated around them—the lives they fought to protect, the fragile hope they shared.
Marco's expression softened. "We're not just trying to survive. We want to build something better—a place where people don't have to fear the night."
Livia smiled briefly. "We've mapped the patrols and supply lines. We know the dangers, and we know where to strike."
Dante added, "But the enemy is relentless. We keep moving, never staying too long."
Marco turned to Andrew. "We could use your eyes on the next scouting mission. The hills are no place for the unwary."
Andrew exchanged a look with Clara.
She answered first, voice steady. "We'll go."
Andrew nodded. "Agreed."
---
Later, as the camp settled into uneasy rest, Andrew stood beside Clara on watch, the night air cool and heavy with smoke.
He spoke quietly, almost to himself. "I'm not a hero. But I can't tolerate those who think they're above others, who treat people like less than animals."
Clara's hand found his. "Neither can I."
Andrew's eyes hardened, his voice steady. "So long as I have the strength, I'll stop them."
They stood together in silence, the flicker of the campfires below a faint heartbeat of hope in the dark.