The Dead Man’s Wonderland lived up to its name.
Aria—no, Guinevere now, she had to remember in case she got back to civilization—stood at the edge of the wasteland and felt the weight of it settle over her like a shroud. The sky was a permanent gray, thick clouds that never parted, never let through even a sliver of sunlight. The ground was cracked and dry, the color of old bones. And the air—the air smelled of rot and decay and something else, something ancient and hungry.
She’d been walking for three days. Three days of nothing but gray sky, dead earth, and the constant, gnawing presence of things that should have been buried long ago.
Her power was useless here.
That was the cruel irony of it. She’d come to the Dead Man’s Wonderland because her abilities were super effective against the undead—vampires, ghouls, zombies, skeleton soldiers, ghosts. Against them, she was a weapon. A force of nature. A walking apocalypse of holy light.
But she needed light to fuel her power.
The first relic had given her Solar Nutrition—a broken ability, really, one that let her absorb energy through light, recharging her mana and her stamina. In sunlight, she’d be unstoppable. In sunlight, she could fight forever, her power never fading, her body never tiring or at least that’s what Milo said when he told her about this myth.
But here, under these endless gray clouds, there was no light. And without light, she was just a girl. A hungry, tired, increasingly desperate girl.
---
The first encounter was a group of zombies.
They shambled out of the mist, their eyes empty, their movements jerky and unnatural. Aria drew her rusted knife—the drop from the zombie she’d killed in the canyon—and prepared to fight.
She killed three of them before she had to retreat. Not because she couldn’t handle them—even without her light, she was faster, more skilled, more determined than they were—but because each kill drained her a little more. Each blow, each dodge, each desperate scramble away from grasping hands cost her energy she couldn’t afford to lose.
She’d heard about this place. Milo had told her stories, back when she was still learning to fight. He’d read a book from an explorer who’d survived the Dead Man’s Wonderland, who’d found a cave in the mountains where luminous mushrooms and moss grew in abundance, providing the light and sustenance needed to survive.
I’m betting my life on that story, she thought, stumbling through the wasteland toward the distant mountains. If it’s not true, if the explorer was lying or wrong or just lucky, then I’m dead.
She pushed the thought away. She couldn’t afford to think like that. She had to believe. She had to keep moving.
---
The days blurred together.
She killed more zombies.
At first, they were manageable. One at a time, she learned their movements, waited for them to lunge, then struck.
Ding.
[Experience gained.]
The sound became strangely addictive.
Then she found a pack of ghouls.
Six of them.
They were faster, hungrier, and far more coordinated. Aria barely had time to think before they surrounded her.
One tore her sleeve.
Another knocked her to the ground.
She rolled, drove her knife upward, and felt it connect.
Ding.
Another fell.
Ding.
Another.
By the time the last ghoul stopped moving, Aria was on her knees, gasping for breath.
Her arms were shaking.
Her stomach was empty.
Her mouth was painfully dry.
But the system chimed again.
[Experience gained.]
Aria laughed weakly.
"At least I’m getting stronger."
Then she found the skeleton soldier.
It guarded the ruins of an abandoned watchtower, standing perfectly still beneath the broken archway, ancient sword still clutched in its hand.
The fight was brutal.
The skeleton didn’t tire.
Aria did.
Every swing of its sword forced her backward. Her legs grew heavier. Her breathing became ragged. Her grip weakened.
Then she saw the opening.
She stepped aside, let the sword pass, and drove her knife into the gap beneath its jaw.
The skeleton collapsed.
Ding.
[Experience gained.]
Aria stared at the message.
Then her knees gave out.
She caught herself against the tower wall, breathing hard.
The experience kept accumulating inside her.
Every kill added another little piece.
Clink.
Clink.
Clink.
Like coins dropping into a purse.
But every coin had a price.
Her strength.
Her hunger.
Her thirst.
Her exhaustion.
She was getting stronger.
But she was also running out of herself.
Aria looked into the darkness ahead and tightened her grip on the knife.
"Just keep moving."
She found a stream on the second day. The water was gray and tasted like ash, but it was water. She drank until her stomach ached, then forced herself to stop. She didn’t know when she’d find more.
She found a patch of withered, half-dead plants on the third day. She chewed on the roots, grimacing at the bitter taste, and felt a tiny flicker of energy return to her limbs.
It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
---
The mountains loomed closer, but they might as well have been in another world. Each step forward was a battle. Each breath felt like it might be her last. Her legs burned. Her lungs ached. Her vision swam with exhaustion.
She killed a vampire on the fourth day.
It was a young one—not old enough to be truly powerful, not experienced enough to be truly dangerous—but it was still a vampire. It moved faster than the zombies, hit harder than the ghouls, and its eyes were full of a terrible, ancient hunger.
The fight was brutal. Aria barely survived. She used the last reserves of her power to blast it with a burst of light, and the creature screamed and crumbled to ash in front of her.
She collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath, and watched the last of her energy drain away.
I can’t do this, she thought, her vision swimming. I can’t keep going. I’m not strong enough. I’m not—
She shook her head violently, forcing the thought away.
No. I have to keep going. I have to find the cave. I have to survive.
She got to her feet and kept walking.
---
The fifth day was the worst.
She hadn’t eaten in almost two days. The stream was behind her, and there was no more water. The zombies were getting thicker, more numerous, as if they sensed her weakness and wanted to take advantage.
She fought them. Killed them. Dragged herself forward, one step at a time, her body screaming in protest.
And then she saw it.
A cave. A dark, narrow opening in the mountainside, half-hidden by fallen rocks and dead brush.
She stumbled toward it, her heart pounding. Please. Please let there be light inside. Please let the explorer have been right.
She crawled through the entrance, her hands scraping against the rough stone, and for a moment, she saw nothing but darkness.
Then her eyes adjusted.
And she saw it.
Mushrooms. Luminous, glowing mushrooms, covering the walls and ceiling in a soft, ethereal blue light. Moss, the same luminous blue, carpeting the floor in a thick, soft layer.
She wanted to cry. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to fall to her knees and thank whatever god might be listening for this small, impossible mercy.
But she didn’t. She just sat down, her back against the wall, and let the light wash over her.
The Solar Nutrition kicked in almost immediately. She felt the energy seeping into her skin, recharging her mana, restoring her stamina. She felt the hunger fade, the thirst ease, the exhaustion lift from her shoulders.
She was alive.
She was alive, and she was going to survive.
---
She stayed in the cave for two days.
She ate the moss—it tasted like nothing, but it filled her stomach and gave her energy. She rested. She let her body heal. And she planned.
The Dead Man’s Wonderland was vast. She’d barely scratched the surface. But if she could establish a base here, if she could use the cave as a refuge, she could start pushing outward. Killing more undead. Gaining more experience. Growing stronger.
The zombie waves were coming. She’d seen them on here way to the cave, felt them in her bones. The undead were gathering, massing, preparing to sweep across the kingdoms and destroy everything in their path.
She needed to stop them. And to do that, she needed an army or she needed to be an army.
But first, she needed to survive. And with the cave, with the luminous mushrooms and moss, she had a chance.
She stood, stretching her limbs, feeling the power thrumming beneath her skin. The light was back. The light was always back.
And with the light came hope.
---
She emerged from the cave on the third day, her body restored, her power replenished. The gray sky stretched overhead, unchanged, uncaring.
But she didn’t care.
She was alive. She was strong. And she was going to tear this wasteland apart.
She walked into the mist, her eyes sharp, her knife ready, and prepared to make the Dead Man’s Wonderland her own.
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