Chapter 17: Blood Demon Death Arc – Volume 1 End

  Ray’s hand snapped up—fingers wrapping the Chain Bind links piercing his chest. Black ichor sprayed as he yanked them free, heart bound but not broken, chains shattering in his grip from raw rift force. Blood poured hot down his coat, but he ran anyway—rift-step stuttering, legs buckling mid-stride. He tripped hard over rubble, crashing to one knee, ancient body finally showing cracks.

  Sky walked him down.

  Slow steps through the smoke and fire, tall frame cutting the haze, cuts on his face dripping steady but eyes locked cold. The hum inside him thrummed quiet now—waiting, patient.

  Ray snarled, pushing up. One more trick.

  “Dragon Rift—final.”

  A massive serpent coiled from a desperate portal—black-red scales, jaws wide, diving straight at Sky. The impact slammed him backward again, dragon exploding on contact, aging blast mixed with rift tear hurling him through another wall. Building collapsed around him in a roar of dust and steel.

  Sky hit the floor inside hard—ribs screaming fresh cracks, vision blurring. But he pushed up slow, coughing blood.

  Outside, the chaos paused.

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  Jefferson—pinned against a wall by a 30-year-old awakened player, some random games killer with a cursed blade raised high for the kill.

  Sky moved without thinking—Rift Step short, spatial fold closing distance. He shoved Jefferson aside hard, taking the stab graze across his shoulder instead. Blood sprayed, but the kid lived.

  The attacker blinked—then bolted when he saw Sky’s eyes.

  Ray was already gone—rift vanishing into smoke, escaped.

  Seconds later—Ray’s voice boomed across every zone, calm but strained.

  “The Shipping Games are done.”

  The fighting stopped cold.

  Villains froze mid-technique—Reiji’s crimson fading, Jaylee’s threads slack, Jason’s regen pausing. They looked up at the Upper World—gooey mass descending lower now, colors swirling violent, edges brushing the barrier tops like fingers reaching down.

  The villains grinned—real, feral. Reiji laughed first. “It’s time.”

  They climbed.

  Rifts opened vertical—black tears leading up into the pulsing red mush. One by one—Reiji, Jaylee, Jason, the twins, Lana, all the rest—they stepped through, vanishing into the Upper World. Didn’t look back. Didn’t know anyone watched.

  Sky staggered out of the rubble, shoulder bleeding fresh, eyes on the closing rifts.

  Max ran up first, shadows wrapping protective. Frosty beside him, frost nails ready. The gang gathered—battered, bleeding, but alive.

  Sky wiped blood from his mouth.

  “If we wanna stop this… we go up. Into the Upper World.”

  No one argued.

  They moved fast—back to the academy ruins, scavenging gear from emergency caches: reinforced jackets, will-infused blades, med kits, radios. Mr. Joy—found half-buried but breathing, ribs crushed—got patched by Hiro. Mr. Joe limped but stood, barking orders like old times. Anyone left who could fight—clan survivors, awakened stragglers—joined quiet. No speeches. Just nods.

  Sky found it in the grove armory—his mom’s old knife, ceremonial like the one he’d lost, edge still sharp. He tucked it at his waist, fingers lingering on the handle.

  “I’m doing this for you guys,” he whispered. “Mom. Dad.”

  They packed trucks—heavy with supplies, weapons, whatever amps they could carry. Drove through dawn streets, empty and burning, to the old radio tower on Zone 7’s edge—the tallest structure left, ladder stretching 500 feet straight up into the lowering Upper World edge.

  Sunrise painted the sky bloody red as they started the climb—metal rungs cold under hands, wind howling higher up, the gooey mass pulsing closer overhead like it was waiting.

  One by one—Sky first, knife glinting, gang behind, allies strung out below—they climbed into the unknown.

  Volume 1 End

  Volume 2: Upper World – Coming Soon