* * *

After minutes passed, marked by their cautious and deliberate steps to minimize noise, the group reached the highest floor of the building.

They emerged onto a roof deck, a desolate, wind-swept expanse littered with remnants of broken wooden benches and fractured concrete.

The others in the group moved toward the side of the doorway.

Together, except Ran, they hoisted a long wooden plank that had been leaning against the wall, its surface rough and weathered.

With a collective effort, they carried it to the edge of the building, carefully positioned it to create a makeshift bridge to the adjacent structure.

With a heavy, resounding bang―it landed on the other side.

Ran was the first to step forward. Her balance was sure, her stride effortless as she crossed without hesitation, the wind barely seeming to touch her.

One by one, the others followed suit, moving across with calculated steps, leaving El and Sill at the rear.

El stepped onto the plank, his focus sharp as he traversed the narrow passage. When his foot met solid ground on the other side, he exhaled in relief.

Honestly, this was the highest he had ever been above the ground in reality.

He had faced this very sensation before in one of his many dreams, where the fall had felt just as real as the ground beneath him now. In a way, those dreams had prepared him for this moment.

It was finally Sill’s turn.

He hesitated for a moment, eyeing the precarious path before him. Just as he almost reached the middle of the plank, it suddenly shifted beneath his feet, shaking violently up and down, moving to the left and right.

An awful realization washed over the rest of them; something unseen from the earlier building was trying to throw Sill off balance.

Fortunately, it was foolish enough not to push it off to just one side. Still, Sill's breath hitched. He appeared to be in a panic as he struggled to maintain his footing.

"It's the Cursed! Hold the plank!" Nore shouted, his voice jolting the others into action.

He was the first to spring forward, rushing to grasp the plank firmly.

El, Ran, and the others hastily followed suit, their hands gripping the wood tightly as they worked together to stabilize it.

They adjusted their positions, countering the unseen force that sought to topple Sill on top of it.

If he were to fall from this height, it would surely kill him.

After a struggle against this surprisingly vigorous, gritty invisible force that resisted their collective efforts, Sill, with shaky steps and heavy breathing, finally managed to reach the safety of the other side.

The relief that washed over him was palpable, but their ordeal was not yet over.

With a collective effort to ensure it was no longer a bridge of danger, they pulled the wooden plank to their side, struggling once more against the supernatural being that refused to let go.

Yet, by using their wits, the group managed to gain the upper hand, pulling it together periodically.

When they succeeded... When the Cursed force finally relinquished its grip—a wail unlike anything human erupted into the air.

"AAAAACCCCCCCKKKKKKKKHHHHHH," the spooky, undefinable, high-pitched wail echoed ominously, apparently out of frustration, stretching longer than any living being could manage, until it eventually ceased.

* * *

“Everyone’s okay, right? No one got a headache?” Ran exhaled, letting herself slump down to the ground.

She scanned their faces, ensuring they were all themselves-no dull gazes, no eerie shifts in posture, no unnatural twitching. No signs that anything had latched onto them.

“No…”

“No one…”

“We’d notice if something tried to cling to us,” Nore assured between his uneven breaths, as he worked to regain his composure.

Only El and Ran didn’t look tired from the earlier trouble; the rest were gasping for breath, their bodies sluggish from the strain.

Ran turned her gaze to El, who sat on the side with an unreadable expression—so did Nore, Sill, and the others. Their silent stares left El feeling disconcerted and embarrassed.

“Something’s on my face???”

El inquired, lightly scratching the back of his neck.

He couldn't deny that he understood what they were thinking as they pressed their lips together, biting back their questions. Ironically, he had a question of his own.

One thing El had noticed from their previous struggle was that he and Ran were the ones providing the most strength in the group. Even more than Nore, who seemed to be the most muscular.

He could feel something imperceptible emanating from Ran’s body—an unimaginable strength possessed by a girl. Something beyond a mere physical endurance.

‘Aren’t women supposed to be weak physically? How is she stronger than the others?’ he thought to himself.

As for his own strength, it remained an enigma. Since waking up that day, he had noticed just how abnormally strong he truly was. Inhumanly so.

One time, he had attempted a kick, mimicking a move he had seen in one of his dreams―only to watch in shock as the wood splintered under his foot.

Even now, he felt guilty about it, wondering if he owed ‘the man’ some sort of compensation to fix it. His leg had also taken a hit from the impact, but the slight pain quickly faded. The bruise on his skin disappeared within seconds.

And then there was the alleyway—the moment when time itself had felt altered, stretched, drawn out—his senses sharpening, every movement becoming too slow, too clear, too precise.

Something had happened during the time he'd lost his memories.

He just didn’t know what.

* * *

Ran was the one to finally break the lingering awkwardness. Dusting herself off, she straightened.

El followed suit, swiping the gritty remnants from his shirt before turning his sight to the others. He didn’t hesitate. “What was that? Anyone care to explain?”

Sill leaned over the parapet, his expression clouded with unease, recalling something unpleasant.

“It was the Cursed,” he said at last.

Rolling his shoulder, he winced slightly before turning to El, lips pressed together in a tight line.

“There are countless rumors about the Downtrodden Region—stories claiming that, long ago, it was a battlefield. Before our people were banished, invaders known as Witches invaded, waging war against the Vanguard—the elite guards of Ralrain.”

Ran interjected from the side, locking eyes with El. “The Cursed are said to be the restless souls of those who perished here. They carry grudges against the living, haunting, harming, possessing—sometimes outright killing anyone who dares to step into their territory.”

“The nobility calls them Evil Spirits. But down here, we have always known them as the Cursed. Their screams… well, they aren’t just mindless wails for us. They’re much like… A reflection of our own rage, our inability to fight back against the empire’s cruelty. Despite the crimes of our ancestors being committed centuries ago—we still bear their sins. Even till now…”

El swallowed. Guilt and curiosity warring within him as he ventured, “I… see… I’m sorry, but what crime are you referring to?”

He knew he was prying, digging into wounds that still festered, but the question had been clawing at his throat. The more he saw, the more he needed to understand.

Everyone’s expression immediately darkened.

Ran replied gravely. Her voice carried a bitter edge. “Rebellions…”

“They say that the empire lost millions in uprisings—or so the stories go.” Her tone was heavy with loathing. Each word was carved from deep resentment, smeared across her lips like venomous honey. “We are their descendants. The blood of traitors runs through our veins. It doesn’t matter if it’s distant, if it’s just the faintest trace—any connection condemns us all the same. No one was spared. Not women, not children, not the elderly… not even newborns.”

El’s face flushed with remorse as he murmured, “I’m sorry for asking, but why are you willing to tell me this?”

Ran’s response was curt and laced with resigned honesty. “I admit it’s partly for my own self-interest.”

El pressed, “What do you mean?”

But before an explanation could follow, Ran turned away, dismissing his inquiry with a brisk, “Let’s move on to the next building.”

At her cue, the others rose and began to lift the long wooden plank that would serve as their bridge. El and Sill joined in to help.

“Why do we need this?” El asked Sill. Curious about the reason behind this caution.

“Because the region below us is dangerous. We call it ‘the restricted path.’ You do know we’ve already crossed the fence, right? Down there is hell.”

Sill pointed toward the ground below.

“The Cursed we encountered earlier were… unusual, yes. But they were a minor threat. As long as we’re careful—have room to run—we pretty much can escape them. Down there? There is no escape.”

His eyes turned grim.

“Even the guards from the upper side don’t stand a chance. Strength, speed, weapons—it doesn’t matter. If we set foot down there, we simply die. Trust me, it’s madness if we don’t do this.”

El nodded, considering his words carefully. “And this path?”

“It’s classified as safe,” Sill said. “The Spotter mapped it out. Though, considering what happened earlier… that was unexpected.”

El raised his eyebrows. “Who’s this Spotter?”

“In the Underside,” Sill replied, “Spotters are our scouts. They map and survey the terrain, identifying which areas are safe and which aren’t.”

* * *