There's Always Another Way

The church bells hadn’t stopped ringing.

Nearly forty years had passed since the apocalypse began. Humanity had survived… but survival didn't mean safety. It just meant humanity was too stubborn to die despite suffering devastating losses.

“To the shelters!”

“Move!”

The streets of Vega had become a sea of soldiers and fleeing civilians. Smoke drifted above the rooftops while, beyond the city walls, thousands of undead battered the gates.

A captain adjusted his cape, gripping his sword tightly.

“The horde is being lead by an Undead Lord.”

For a moment, a heavy silence washed over the soldiers around him. No one asked another question; the order alone was enough to seal their lips, even as the grim reality of what those words meant settled into their chests.

Undead Lords.

Beings so ancient, perhaps predating the Crimson Gate itself. Whenever an Undead Lord walked the battlefield… cities were brought to the absolute brink of collapse.

…

Deep beneath the city…

The largest emergency refuge in Vega opened its enormous steel doors. It wasn’t the only refuge, but it was by far the largest.

Families hurried inside carrying children, blankets and whatever possessions they could salvage.

“Keep moving!”

“Don’t stop!”

“We’ll be safe once the doors close!”

Among the frightened crowd…

A hooded figure quietly walked alongside them.

No one spared him a second glance amidst the panic…

Because nobody yet knew.

“WAIT!”

A shout echoed down the corridor as a man clad in armor stumbled toward the entrance, covered in blood.

“No…”

One of the guards rushed forward.

“General!”

They caught him before he collapsed.

His breathing was ragged, his gaze drifting in and out of consciousness.

“Open the way!” another guard shouted.

“Let the General through!”

The steel doors paused. The wounded man staggered inside, as the blast doors slammed shut behind him.

His eyes swept desperately across the terrified civilians, stopping only when he met the hooded figure. For the first time fear overtook the pain etched across his face.

He lifted a trembling finger, the sword in his other hand clattering to the floor.

“…They’re… already…”

His strength failed him, unable to stand upright any longer. His body crashed to the floor amidst resounding silence.

“Quick, somebody—“

A physician hurried to his side.

“Make room!”

“Remove his armor! Check for bites!”

But time was a luxury they couldn’t afford. The General’s eyes snapped open soon after.

The physician could only look on in horror as the body convulsed and rose from the ground.

“Everyone, stay ba—“

The thing that lunged at him and buried its teeth in his neck was no longer the general. Screams erupted inside the only place that was supposed to never witness any horror.

Panic spread as quickly as wildfire. The civilians scattered, but the chain of death was too fast.

Amidst it all no one had noticed the hooded figure slowly raising its skeletal hand…

And wrapping it around the throat of the terrified woman standing before him.

The general had known. He had wanted to warn them all… that the Undead Lord was already inside the city.

But the damage could not be undone.

𓌏

Hours later…

The battle lines had finally fallen silent. The heaviest hitters were battered but breathing, and the ones who stood their ground had paid for the city's survival with their blood.

“Captain…”

The captain swiped the dark blood away from his blade as he tried to catch his breath.

“What is it, soldier?”

“Have we won? The men are growing restless.”

“What do you mean?”

“They didn’t see the Undead Lord on the battlefield. You don’t think—“

A squad of exhausted guards descended toward the refuge as the one tasked with unsealing the doors pushed them open.

“Vega has won! It’s time to return to your homes!”

His proud proclamation was only met with silence. The man stepped inside hesitantly, the clicking of his boots echoing… and splashing on the wet floor.

“Hello?”

His lantern slipped from his trembling hand.

Bodies.

Blood.

Eyes.

Dozens.

Hundreds of them.

Slowly they all turned toward him.

“W-What happened? How? They were all—“

The commander behind him took one look, his voice completely hollow.

“…Seal it.”

“But Commander—”

“SEAL IT!”

The great doors thundered shut once more. They would not open again for another eighty long years.

No attempt was ever made to reclaim the refuge. With an Undead Lord trapped inside, opening those doors was judged too dangerous.

The passages leading to it were sealed, its location erased from every map, and the refuge was left to disappear beneath Vega.

Until…

𓌏

No one moved as the miner stood frozen at the mouth of the corridor, his lantern trembling in hand, until Murry finally broke the silence.

“The question is what you’re doing down here?”

The miner swallowed.

“I…”

His eyes drifted toward the blast door.

“And the people you hired? Were they to dig this hole or—“

“The people!” The miner looked visibly upset, “L-Listen… we never wanted this.”

Murry’s expression hardened.

“I didn’t ask what you wanted. I asked why you hired them. Illegally.”

He took one step forward before the miner’s shoulders sagged.

“They’re…”

His voice caught in his throat.

“…They’re gone.”

“Gone?” Isla repeated in horror.

More footsteps echoed through the refuge as lanterns flared behind the first miner, spilling light over workers with pickaxes over their shoulders and empty hands at their sides, all of them freezing the moment they caught sight of the strangers.

One of them whispered,

“…They found it.”

No one needed to ask what it was.

The oldest among them lowered his head.

“…It was only a matter of time.”

Murry looked between them.

“Good. Looks like everyone is here. Then perhaps one of you will answer me. What did you do with those people you hired?”

The miners stood silent, gazes downcast.

“They’re dead.”

The words escaped from a younger miner before anyone could stop him.

Another immediately rounded on him.

“Shut up!”

“We agreed—”

“We agreed to lie!” the younger man snapped, his voice breaking. “I can’t do that anymore! They’re dead!”

The corridor fell silent once more. Flint looked from one miner to another.

“…Why? What happened?”

The youngest miner laughed bitterly.

“Because we were afraid.”

“No! No!” One miner dropped to his knees, shouting, “This can’t be happening! We shouldn’t— we never should have—“

The eldest spoke again, voice trembling.

“He told us… that they needed to be fed…”

Isla’s eyes widened with every word.

“…Othewise they’d break the doors… and everyone in Vega would die.”

“You…” Murry’s tone was on the verge of disgust, “…Fed people to the undead?”

“We did! I told them we shouldn’t have but we did! We shoved them right through that supply hatch! And those who weren’t short and small enough we cut—“

“Smith!” One miner shouted, stopping the spiraling man who was clutching his head like it would explode.

“That thing made us do it!” One of them pointed at the figure behind the doors.

Flint and Isla couldn’t speak. They simply listened in pure and utter horror.

How could… how could they?

Murry’s expression twisted into that of disgust.

“How… how the hell did you even find this place?”

The oldest miner hesitated before answering.

“By accident. We were digging through one of the lower tunnels when part of the wall gave way. We dug through the opening to see what was there…”

“There was another passage behind it,” the younger miner added. “It was probably sealed many years ago. It wasn’t on any of our maps!”

“We followed it,” the eldest continued, his eyes drifting toward the supply hatch. “And it led us here.”

A low chuckle echoed through the refuge, making every miner stiffen when they realized the sound hadn't come from any of them, but from beyond the bars.

The Undead Lord slowly raised its head.

“…The humans merely chose…”

Its hollow voice rolled through the corridor like thunder.

“…which lives they valued most.”

Its skeletal fingers tightened around the iron bars.

“…Isn’t that… what you humans call peace?”

No one answered, not even Murry.

The creature kept its gaze fixed on Flint until, slowly, its eyes drifted downward toward the crimson sword resting at his hip.

For the first time, something resembling surprise crossed its ancient face.

“…Of all the people… to descend into this refuge…”

It tilted its skull ever so slightly.

“…the wielder of the Bloodblade… I did not expect.”

Murry frowned.

“…Bloodblade?”

The Undead Lord didn’t even acknowledge him, instead simply smiling coldly.

“…Your companions are not aware …that you carry mankind’s greatest weapon?”

“What is that thing talking about, Flint?”

Murry slowly turned toward the young man as Flint instinctively rested a hand on the jet-black hilt.

“It’s… something I’d rather not use.”

“The hell does that—“

Isla intervened, turning to the miners.

“Why didn’t you turn to the city for help?”

“Perhaps, we should have.” The older miner nodded bitterly.

“They would’ve executed us!” another immediately shouted back.

“They would’ve listened!”

“After what?!” the miner still on his knees barked. “After we admitted we’d been feeding innocent people to the undead?!”

“They would’ve hanged every last one of us!”

The older miner pointed at the Lord.

“He told us the doors wouldn’t hold forever. And that if we gave them enough… he would keep the horde contained.”

The Undead Lord slowly inclined his skull.

“…Curious. You condemned strangers… to protect those you loved.”

Its gaze settled on Flint once more.

“…Would you have chosen differently?”

Flint met those crimson eyes without looking away.

“Yes. There’s always another way.”

“There was no other way!” A miner protested.

“I have two daughters to protect from these monsters! If that means I have to—“

“Enough!”

The oldest miner suddenly stepped forward, looking toward Murry.

“We shouldn’t stay down here.”

Murry frowned.

“And why is that?”

The miner glanced toward the Undead Lord before quickly looking away again.

“Because…” He swallowed, “The longer you listen… the more he starts making sense.”

A chill passed through the corridor.

“…Everyone.”

He rested a hand on the hilt of his sword.

“…We’re taking this discussion upstairs.”

No one argued—not even the Undead Lord, which merely watched them leave with that same unwavering grin.

𓌏

“You wanna tell me what the hell that creature was spouting about you and that sword?” Murry asked as he caught up with Flint on the way to the upper level of the mines.

Flint lowered his gaze, unwilling to remember any of it, much less tell anyone. He wanted people to know him simply as Flint—not as the wielder of that evil weapon.

But he trusted Murry, and he owed him the truth.

So he told him everything, from what had happened in the village and the town to their eventual arrival in Vega.

“Damn it…” Murry sighed, “That’s a heavy weapon for a kid.”

Isla spoke softly from behind.

“It’s a heavy weapon for anyone.”

The moment they stepped back into the mine, several miners let out long, shaky breaths.

“I thought I was going mad.”

“So did I.”

“It feels… easier to think now.”

Murry’s expression darkened.

“So?”

The older miner met the ex-knight’s with sorrow but conviction.

“We know what we’ve done. We know we don’t deserve anyone’s forgiveness.”

The miners all looked around.

“But we didn’t know what else to do. When that thing speaks… it’s easier to agree with it.”

“The pressure… it’s too much!” Another added.

“You think you’ll be forgiven just because that thing told you to commit the atrocities you did?” Murry folded his arms.

The miners couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Or maybe you thought nobody would find this place?”

The eldest shook his head.

“We knew we were doomed the moment we began. But we couldn’t stop…”

“It told us that if we fed the horde… Vega would be safe! That they wouldn’t tear down the blast doors and attack us!” The youngest miner desperately tried to explain.

“And you took a monster on his word?” Murry’s glare sharpened. Flint and Isla could only look on in horror between the miners and Murry. They realized the man’s tone was harsh…

But it was also just.

The Undead Lord might have brainwashed them to do his bidding. Its influence could be more potent than anyone would have guessed.

But the slaughtering of innocents wasn’t something you could justify.

“The Undead Lord wasn’t keeping his horde fed…” Isla gulped as she realized, “It only wanted to increase its numbers so it could eventually tear down the doors…”

“No…” The youngest miner gritted his teeth, “You don’t know that!”

“What? You thought that incarnation of evil was being honest with you?” Murry raised a brow.

One anxious miner looked around, eyes widening as he spoke.

“Hey… where’s Smith?”

The older miner glanced around.

“He’s still down there? Why didn’t anyone—“

THUNK

A heavy resounding sound tore through the tunnel leading to the refuge. Everyone held their breath.

Steel rolled against steel…

As the blast doors opened.

A/N:

Taylor made an awesome illustration of the Bloodblade! You can find it alongside the character sheets in the showcase of the novel!