Demons Within: I level up endlessly

Chapter 43: Into the badlands

Daniel sat there in the red dust for a moment longer. The pain in his ribs was something else. It reminded him with every breath that he was just a human now.

He stood up slowly. He felt dizzy. He needed water. He also needed shelter. If he stayed out in the open, he would be dead before the sun went down.

He picked a direction that led away from the open desert and toward a cluster of cliffs in the distance.

The wasteland was not empty. As he moved, he saw signs of life. But it was not the kind of life he was used to.

He found a narrow opening in the side of a cliff. It was a narrow crack in the rock, just wide enough for him to squeeze into. It was dark and cool inside, but it was safe.

Daniel sat down in the shadows. He looked out at the landscape below him. From his high hiding spot, he could see the layout of the Purgatory Realm.

It was a valley of red stone and dust. But in the middle of the wasteland, there were camps. To the east, he saw a large group of tents arranged in perfect rows.

There were walls made of piled rocks and sharpened sticks. Men and women marched in lines. They wore rags and leather straps. They carried spears made from bones and shields made from old scrap metal.

"The Iron Pact," Daniel whispered to himself.

These were the ex-soldiers. They kept their discipline even in this hell.

To the west, the land looked different. Big rocks made a maze, and dark shadows were everywhere. He didn’t see a camp, but he saw people moving quickly between the rocks.

They moved low and fast. They wore dark rags.

’The Serpent’s Coil’. Those were the assassins, rapists and thieves. They survived by stealing and killing in the dark. They were dangerous in a different way.

Then, there was the space in between. The open desert where Daniel had fought the three men. Scattered across the sands were lone figures. Some sat by small fires. Some walked aimlessly. Some were fighting each other over scraps of food.

These were the Forsaken. The loners. They were the ones who had given up on rules entirely. They didn’t want to be part of any faction. They were willing to serve their sentence in solitary.

Daniel leaned his head back against the rock wall. He was one of them now. He closed his eyes, trying to rest. His body ached. He was thirsty, so thirsty that his throat felt like sandpaper.

Time passed.

Daniel was busy checking his bruises when he felt it. It was just a feeling that he was being watched.

He froze. His hand went to the rock he had kept beside him. He turned his head slowly toward the entrance of his crevice.

A figure was standing there. Daniel gasped and scrambled backward, pressing his back against the cold stone.

He raised the rock, ready to fight for his life again. The figure stepped into the small cave. It was an old man. He didn’t look dangerous.

He looked like a strong wind could blow him over.

He wore a tattered grey cloak that looked more like a rag. He had a long, white beard that was stained with red dust. But the most striking thing about him was his face.

One of his eyes was milky white and blind. A scar ran down across it. The other eye was okay and working well. He looked at Daniel with an intensity that made him shiver.

The old man walked with a heavy limp. He leaned on a crooked wooden staff.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Daniel kept his rock raised. "Stay back," he warned. The old man stopped. He looked at the rock in Daniel’s hand, then at Daniel’s face.

He wasn’t scared. "Put that down, boy," the old man said. "If I wanted you dead, trust me, you’d be dead already." Daniel hesitated.

"Who are you?"

"Names don’t matter much in here," the old man said. He sat down on a stone near the entrance, blocking the way out.

"But you can call me Gideon. Elder Gideon, if you have manners." Daniel didn’t lower the rock.

"What do you want?" Gideon reached into his cloak. Daniel tensed, expecting a weapon. Instead, the old man pulled out a small, dried piece of meat.

He took a bite and chewed slowly. "I saw your fight," Gideon said. He swallowed.

Daniel lowered the rock slightly. "You watched?"

"I watch everything," Gideon replied. "It is how I stay alive. You fought... poorly." Daniel felt a spark of anger. "I won. They are dead."

"You survived," Gideon corrected him. "There is a difference. You won because they were stupid and slow. Not because you were good."

The old man pointed a bony finger at Daniel. "I saw you at the start of the fight. You tried to move, but your body didn’t follow your mind.

You tried to step to the side like you expected to be faster. You tried to hit harder than your muscles could handle."

Daniel looked down. The old man was right.

"You are used to the System," Gideon said softly. It wasn’t an accusation. It was a fact.

"The System is a support. It gives you strength, yes. But it makes you lazy. It makes you forget how to really fight. And when the System is gone... what are you?"

He gestured to Daniel’s battered body.

"You are a broken boy with a split lip and a cracked rib, hiding in a hole."

Daniel dropped the rock. It clattered on the floor. "You’re right," Daniel admitted. "I relied on it. And now it’s gone."

Gideon took another bite of his dried meat. The smell wafted over to Daniel, making his stomach grow loudly.

"You have potential," Gideon said. "I saw the end of the fight. You used sand. You have a killer’s instinct. But you have no technique. You have no discipline."

"Why are you telling me this?" Daniel asked. He eyed the meat again. "Because I am hungry," Gideon said simply. "And I am old. I can fight, but my body is tired. I need someone young."

The old man leaned forward, resting his chin on his staff. "I have a proposition for you, boy." Daniel sat up straighter.

"What kind of proposition?" "I will teach you," Gideon said. "I will teach you how to fight for real. I will teach you how to use your body. How to use leverage. How to find the weak points in a man’s body that no stat can protect."

"And what do I have to do?" Daniel asked. He knew nothing was free in this place.

"You will feed me," Gideon said. "You will fight in the Blood Arena. The guards host it every week. Winners get credits. Credits buy food and water."

"The Blood Arena?" Daniel repeated. It sounded like a death trap. "It is," Gideon smiled.

It was a toothless smile.

"But if you learn from me, you will not die. You will earn credits for me, and you will earn survival for yourself."

Daniel looked at the old man. Baldwin had told him to prove he was more than his skills. She had told him to prove he was a Vanguard.

"I need to survive Six months," Daniel said. "If you train with me," Gideon replied, "you will do more than survive."

He clenched them into fists. The pain in his ribs flared, but he ignored it.

"Okay," Daniel said. He looked Gideon in the eye. "Teach me." Gideon nodded. He reached into his cloak again and pulled out another piece of dried meat. He tossed it to Daniel.

"Eat," Gideon commanded. "Tonight, we rest. Tomorrow, the pain begins."

Daniel caught the meat. It was hard and salty, but to him, it tasted like the best meal he had ever had. He ate it quickly, feeling the energy return to his body.

He curled up on the cold floor, pulling his knees to his chest to stay warm. He watched Gideon, who sat motionless by the entrance, staring out into the dark night with his one good eye.

"Sleep, boy," Gideon whispered without turning around. "You will need your strength."