The three of them stood before an old wooden door, half-buried in snow. A carved symbol—simple, unmistakable—decorated the center.

A chest.

Princess Charlie had been the one to find it, tapping her bony finger against the carving like a dog pointing out prey.

Luke's heartbeat picked up. "You've got to be kidding me…"

A loot room?

Allison was already making his way down the half-frozen stone steps. "Only one way to find out."

He grabbed the iron handle—

Click.

Nothing.

Locked.

Luke grinned. "That's not a problem."

Charlie agreed without a word. Her skeletal fist started to glow with that now-familiar metallic sheen—ready to reduce the door to splinters.

"Wait!" Allison raised his hands, alarmed. "No need to get violent. Just hand me two of those throwing knives."

Luke blinked, then tossed them over with a shrug.

Allison knelt at the base of the door, sliding the knife tips into the old lock with practiced care. His fingers moved with surprising delicacy, eyes closed as he listened to every subtle shift in the mechanism.

A few tense seconds passed.

Click.

The lock gave way.

Allison stood up smoothly, arms crossed, smug. "Used to sneak out of the house a lot when I was a kid."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Couldn't just climb out your window?"

Allison sighed. "I lived on the fifteenth floor."

Luke stared at him. "…Fair."

They stepped inside cautiously, weapons still drawn. The room was small,just a carved- but it was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that made your instincts twitch.

A glowing crystal sat embedded in the ceiling, casting a soft bluish glow. The light pulsed gently, and the shadows seemed to shift with it—subtle, almost like they were breathing.

But no one cared about the stonework. Not really.

Because all that mattered now were the six chests. Perfectly aligned along the far wall. Identical. Untouched. Waiting.

"Finally, something good in this godforsaken wasteland!" Allison blurted, rushing forward like a kid seeing presents under a tree.

Luke didn't move. He gave Charlie a short nod. "Top of the stairs. Keep watch. If anything moves, you warn us immediately."

Charlie turned and obeyed, footsteps clattering up the stone. Luke's eyes lingered on the entrance for a moment.

Even after days of watching the orc village, even after counting every patrol, every gap in their defenses—there were still too many unknowns.

The tunnels. The forest. Whatever else might be watching them.

Luke turned toward the nearest chest. Every step forward brought more tension, more anticipation. A weapon? Rare gear? A stat item? A hidden artifact that might change everything?

He grabbed the lid.

Lifted it.

Silence.

Luke blinked.

"…Bras?"

The chest was filled—no, stuffed—with women's underwear. Bras. Lingerie. Dresses. Stockings. Lacy things he couldn't even name, let alone describe.

Silence again.

Allison didn't move.

"M-maybe don't touch that one…" he muttered, gaze glued anywhere but the chest.

Luke slowly, carefully, lowered the lid.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Took a breath. Tried again.

Second chest.

"Men's clothes?"

Allison crouched beside the next one. "Hey, clothes are useful. If your system outfit gets burned or shredded, you'll be glad to have spares. Repair timers aren't instant."

Luke shrugged. "Sure. But how are we supposed to carry all this crap? In our arms?"

Allison laughed and tossed something to him.

A leather pouch.

"I found something useful in these chests. There are a few of these around."

Luke caught the pouch mid-air and tossed some clothes inside, still frustrated.

They opened more chests.

Shirts. Shoes. Nothing special.

But when they lifted the lid of the last one...

Luke stopped. "Bread?"

Luke pulled a loaf of bread from the chest, staring at it in disbelief. "There's food in here."

Allison crossed his arms and grinned. "That's a spatial storage chest. First time seeing one?"

Luke kept digging, his curiosity growing, until he touched something unexpected. "Canned food?" He held the tin in his hands like it was a relic. "I've seen chests that store more than they should," he muttered, "but never thought they could preserve food too."

Allison pulled out a few more cans. "The space inside is sealed with temporal magic. Food stays fresh. Time doesn't move in there."

Luke glanced down into the chest. "So if I throw myself in and stay for a year, I won't age?"

Allison laughed. "Nice try. Living things don't work."

Luke dug deeper, and this time, his fingers brushed against glass. He pulled the object toward the light. His eyes lit up. "Healing potion!"

He reached in again. And again. Glass. Five potions in total.

"This is amazing," Allison said. "Maybe we won't be on the brink of death all the time now."

Luke lined the potions on the floor. "How do we split them?"

Allison thought for a moment. "Two each. The last one's yours—you're still hurt from the fight and haven't recovered your HP."

Luke didn't argue. He picked up one potion and downed it in a single gulp. The effect was instant. Heat rushed through his body. Bruises vanished. Pain faded. His vision cleared. He touched his face. Normal.

He smirked. "Am I handsome again?"

Allison glanced over. "…You're less terrifying."

Luke chuckled under his breath.

After all those punches, it actually felt nice having a face that wasn't broken. Back during the fight, when that orc's fist connected with his nose… he swore he heard something crack. That was the moment the rage hit him. And then he snapped the orc's arm like dry wood.

Now, the two of them were moving through the loot like scavengers in a goldmine, filling their bags with whatever they could carry. Rations, tools, anything remotely useful.

Luke considered giving a pouch to Charlie, but quickly dismissed the thought. If she had to return to his soul, anything she carried would vanish with her.

Better not to risk it.

Besides, all the food fit fine in his own bag. Carrying extra weight just for show would only slow him down in a fight. There wasn't that much food left anyway. They split the remaining supplies between themselves.

"We should leave the rest here," Allison suggested, holding up a few sealed cans. "It's all perishable. Better to grab it when we're about to move."

Luke nodded in agreement. He sorted through a pile of folded clothes, looking for something that might actually fit.

This one looks alright… and it's clean.

Without hesitation, he started undressing, stripping down to nothing but his underwear.

"W-What are you doing?!" Allison practically leapt back, spinning around like he'd just walked in on a crime scene.

Luke rolled his eyes.

Here comes that shy guy with that thing again. He wouldn't even pee near me, he's a real gentleman.

"I'm putting on a pair of shorts I found," Luke said calmly, already slipping them on. "If I remove my system gear, I'll end up naked. Wearing this underneath avoids… unfortunate exposure."

Allison stayed turned away, hands hovering awkwardly. "R-Right… got it."

Luke tossed another pair of shorts at him. "I suggest you do the same. Trust me. You don't want to be caught pantsless. Especially out in the cold."

He let the silence hang for a beat.

"It's… brutal."

***

They scoured the entire village.

Every cabin, every shattered wall, every drawer that hadn't been reduced to splinters by orc fists. Nothing was left unchecked.

They took anything remotely useful—mugs, small iron pans, bits of dried fruit from the withered trees behind the huts. Scavenged rags became bandages. Broken tools were stripped for parts.

Anything could matter later.

Luke made the call.

They'd stay the night.

He needed time—to recover stamina, restore mana, and let Charlie do the same. Entering that tunnel while running on fumes was a death sentence.

They set up in the village's wooden watchtower—the tallest structure left standing. It offered a full view of the tunnel entrance and everything around it. If anything moved out there… Charlie would see it first.

Before resting, they cleaned up the battlefield.

Every orc weapon was stashed in the supply chests. Leaving blades and bows scattered was asking for disaster. If something—or someone—showed up and armed themselves, it could turn ugly fast.

Especially with the bows.

Better to secure it all now.

At least, if another survivor reached the village, they'd find something useful waiting.

Luke looked up. Above him, the stars shimmered in the frozen black sky—sharp, distant, unblinking. Cold light from a cold world.

For a moment, just a fleeting second, his thoughts drifted home. The Baumanns. Their house.

Are they worried about me? Or maybe relieved. Relieved the problem child finally vanished into a tutorial he'll probably never leave...

He sighed and turned onto his side, pulling his cloak tighter. Those thoughts wouldn't help here. Not now. Not with a tunnel waiting at sunrise—dark, deep, and filled with unknowns.

He closed his eyes and exhaled. Slow. Quiet. Controlled.

Then broke the silence.

"What do you know about bloodlines?"

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