Vortex Origins
Chapter 48: The Watcher’s cabin

Chapter 48: The Watcher’s cabin

"[Soul Energy: 75%]"

Ash exhaled slowly, his gaze sweeping over the land before him.

The desert was behind him, but this place—this was something else. The sand had vanished, replaced by a wasteland of cracked, blackened stone. The ground felt dead beneath his feet, brittle and dry, like it had been drained of life long ago. Jagged rocks jutted from the earth, twisted and sharp, the remains of something ancient and broken.

A cold prickle ran down his spine. The air here was wrong.

Above, the sky loomed heavy, its stars dim, struggling against a thick, unseen haze. Even the moon, once his guide through the dunes, looked faded—its glow weak, as if something was feeding on its light.

Then he moved.

Ash stop and look.

At the far edge of the wasteland, nestled between shattered rocks, sat a cabin.

The structure leaned to one side, half-buried in the fractured earth. Its wooden walls were warped, blackened, scarred by time. The roof sagged, weighed down by years of neglect. A single window faced him—dark and hollow, like something was watching him from inside. The door hung ajar, swaying gently as the wind whispered through the gaps.

Every instinct screamed at ash to leave.

But Ash stepped forward.

"[Activating Skill: Phantom’s Stride]"

In an instant, he was at the threshold. The air here was heavier, thick with something ancient, something unseen. A scent clung to it—not rot, not decay... but absence.

His fingers twitched toward his weapon.

He forced himself to move.

And then—he stepped inside.

His steps echoed through the cabin, each one swallowed by the unnatural hush pressing against the walls. The air inside carried a sweet scent.

Inside, the room stood untouched by time. The fireplace against the far wall flickered with dying embers, their weak glow stretching long, skeletal shadows across the wooden floor. A table sat at the center, a chair pushed back just enough—like someone had risen in a hurry. A tin plate rested there, a half-eaten meal hardened to scraps.

Near the right wall, a bed lay beneath a rough wool blanket, the fabric wrinkled, holding warmth.

Ash’s fingers curled at his sides.

’Someone had been here. Just minutes ago.’

His gaze swept the cabin again, peeling back its silence. The air sat thick, waiting. The walls, the floor, the ceiling—were just watching.

Then, just at the edge of his vision, he caught it.

Near the bed, a tattered rug sagged oddly, its edges curling around something uneven beneath.

Ash shifted closer, his muscles coiling.

A seam. A handle.

In one motion, he seized the edge of the rug and tossed it aside. Wood, rough and worn, met his stare—a trapdoor set flush against the floor.

His pulse slowed.

He felt Someone was hiding underneath.

Without hesitation, he yanked it open.

Inside, a man curled into the corner, his gaunt frame trembling, bones pressing sharp against his skin. His breath hitched in shallow gasps, eyes darting, pupils blown wide like a cornered animal.

Then he saw Ash.

A shriek tore from his throat. He scrambled back, hands raised, shielding himself from a blow that never came. His whole body shuddered—not from hunger, not from cold, but from something deeper, something that had already hollowed him out.

"P-please... please don’t kill me!"

Ash stood at the edge of the opening, arms crossed. His frown deepened.

’Kill him?’

The man’s head shook violently. His fingers dug into his arms, nails pressing deep.

"I’m just—I’m just a Watchman."

’Watchman?’ ash thought.

The man chanced another look, his terror momentarily slipping into confusion. His lips parted slightly, eyes scanning Ash’s face.

"Oh... you’re just a kid."

Then, the realization hit.

His body locked up, breath halting mid-inhale. Something shifted. Not relief. Not recognition. It was Dread.

Ash took a step forward.

"What’s wrong with you?"

The man flinched, arms tightening around himself, nails digging harder. The tremors didn’t stop.

Ash exhaled.

"Are you living here? Do you know where we are?"

No answer.

The man’s gaze flicked toward the exit, frantic calculations running behind his eyes. Desperate and Trapped.

"Look, I’m not your enemy, I need information. That’s all."

The man’s lips barely moved.

"I... I have kids. They’re waiting for me. Please... don’t—"

Ash’s patience thinned.

"Does it make sense for a monster to keep you alive this long?"

The words landed. The man twitched, blinking rapidly, as if forcing himself to believe. But then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he muttered.

"The other Watchers told me... never trust anything that comes from Sandworm Valley."

Ash’s expression hardened.

’Other Watchers?’

The man’s breath hitched, shallow and ragged. His fingers twitched, curling like claws against the dirt floor. His wide eyes flickered between Ash and the exit, pupils blown with fear.

"How—How the hell does a kid walk out of Sandworm Valley like it’s nothing?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"And you expect me to believe you’re just—human?"

His body tensed, muscles coiling like a spring wound too tight.

"For all I know, you’re a Tier 6 creature—a shapeshifter—waiting for me to walk right into your mouth."

Ash’s jaw tightened.

’This idiot.’

His patience, already worn thin, frayed at the edges.

"Tell me, do you see a barrier between us?"

The man let out a strangled yelp, arms flying up like Ash had just sprouted fangs. His breath came in frantic bursts, chest rising and falling too fast.

Ash exhaled through his nose.

’This is ridiculous.’

He pinched the bridge of his nose, grounding himself before speaking again. This time, his tone was flat, deliberate.

"I’m not here to kill you. I don’t care about the ghost stories you’ve been told."

The man stilled.

"A group of people are trapped in Sandworm Valley. If I don’t bring them food, they die."

He let the words sink in.

"I need supplies."

A flicker of hesitation. The trembling lessened—just barely.

The man’s lips parted.

"A... large group?"

His voice was hoarse, disbelief laced with something else.

"Still alive?"

Ash gave a single nod.

The man’s fingers twitched against his arms, gripping too tightly. His mind fought itself, teetering between fear and reason.

Ash crossed his arms.

"So? Do you want me to explain everything? Or are you going to keep hiding in your hole?"

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