Unholy Player-Chapter 111: Zelda

Adyr walked the ruined streets slowly, like a tourist out for casual sightseeing. The only thing that broke the illusion was the tactical uniform he wore and the weapons strapped to his body.

The dusty roads, lined with shelters barely worthy of being called homes, were mostly deserted. A few residents were outside, tending to pale, dust-covered vegetables in small garden plots, likely grown in contaminated soil and barely edible, but they too withdrew at the sight of the stranger.

But it wasn’t fear of Adyr or his STF appearance that pushed them away. It was something else—like people avoiding potential trouble, not danger. Their eyes didn’t show fear.

They showed discomfort. Like they were looking at something cursed.

Adyr logged the behavior in memory and approached the edge of a nearby yard.

There, a young girl no older than nine or ten was working the dry, stubborn soil with a broken hoe. From a small basket, she placed what looked like damaged seeds into the holes she dug, then uncapped a plastic bottle hidden in her clothes and carefully let a few precious drops of water fall over them before sealing it again.

He hadn’t approached her out of sympathy. He did so because she was simply the first child he had seen here, if not the only one.

According to Selina’s initial report, this place had been full of children. The team had stayed longer than planned to care for them, which led to the delay that caused the ambush. Yet now, there were none in sight.

The report and the reality didn’t match. That alone made Adyr question what the truth behind it really was.

"If you give them a little more water, they’ll grow faster. Might even get bigger," Adyr said casually, leaning against the uneven wooden fence and holding up a full bottle of water.

The girl froze at the sound of his voice. Her pale green eyes widened, panic flickering in her expression. She looked ready to bolt—but her gaze lingered on the bottle. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the clean, clear liquid.

"I... I know," she said hesitantly. Her voice trembled, but her eyes remained fixed on the water.

"You take good care of them, don’t you?" Adyr asked, gesturing to a small patch of more developed sprouts nearby. "Those ones look healthy."

At the compliment, her back straightened slightly. Dirt covered her face and arms, but pride shone through it all as she answered.

"Of course."

"These are potato seeds, right?" Adyr said, pausing as if thinking. "From what I remember, they sprout in two or three days."

"One day," the girl replied cautiously, correcting him on instinct.

"One day? Are you sure?" Adyr tilted his head, feigning doubt. "I’m pretty sure it takes at least two."

"You’re wrong," she said flatly. The uncertainty in her voice was gone now. She looked at him like someone explaining the obvious to a fool.

Adyr smiled. "Alright then. Let’s test it. If you can make them sprout in one day, I’ll admit I was wrong and give you another bottle as an apology."

He held out the water, his face calm and unthreatening, like any ordinary young man.

The girl hesitated—only for a moment. She stood, dusted herself off, and brushed dirt from her pale yellow hair. Then, taking cautious steps forward, she said softly, "You can’t take it back later. A promise is a promise."

She snatched the bottle from his hand.

Adyr laughed. "Of course. If I break my word, may lightning strike me down."

"No! That would hurt. Just keep your promise," she said quickly. Her eyes sparkled, bright and innocent.

"Okay," Adyr replied, showing his teeth in a wide, sincere smile.

But beneath that smile, the darkness inside him never wavered.

He had already noticed the bruises on her wrists and forearms. Faint discoloration on her cheek. Injuries are too deliberate, too targeted to come from fieldwork.

He didn’t have to wait long for the culprit.

A voice bellowed from the house.

"Zelda! What the hell are you doing talking to strangers? Did I tell you to stop working?"

A thin, middle-aged man in ragged clothes stormed out of the house. His gait was fast and angry. His presence is foul.

Zelda flinched instantly. She tried to hide the water bottle back in her clothing, her voice small and fearful. "Father, I’m sorry." freёweɓnovel.com

But it wasn’t enough.

"You useless little bitch. I’m wasting food keeping you alive," he growled, grabbing her arm and striking her across the face. Blood appeared on her lip.

Then, he turned to Adyr with a sneer.

"What the hell are you doing here? Wasn’t getting your ass kicked enough? You come to die again?"

There was no fear in his voice. Not at the sight of Adyr, not at his weapons, not even at the uniform.

And it made sense.

People from the city rarely brought harm. They brought aid. And that kindness had taught these people one thing: those who came from the walls were soft. Easy to mock. Easy to use.

"You mean the ones who died a few days ago?" Adyr asked, raising an eyebrow.

The man’s reaction told him enough. He knew something. Maybe more than he realized.

"Get lost. I don’t want you near my property. Go bother someone else," the man snapped, yanking Zelda by the arm and dragging her back toward the house.

As she was pulled away, Zelda cast one last glance back at Adyr.

It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t hope.

It was helplessness.

Then the door slammed shut, and she disappeared from view.

Adyr stood there, leaning against the fence in silence, watching the door for a while. His face remained completely blank. Then he stepped back, brushed the dust off himself, and moved on. He wandered the area until the sun disappeared beyond the horizon and the moon took its place.

When darkness fell, he vanished along with the shadows.

—

"Zelda... Where the hell did that little shit run off to?" The man barked, peering out from the doorway into the yard. His clothes were rugged and worn, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of a familiar figure.

"Damn idiot ran off again before making dinner." Muttering under his breath, he stepped outside and glanced up and down the road, but the night was too dark to see anything clearly. With a string of curses, he turned and went back inside.

The interior was just as dark as the outside, lit only by the flickering flame of a small fire burning in a tin container at the center of the room. The place was old and sparse, but surprisingly clean, at least as much as the conditions allowed. What little furniture there was held no dust.

"Do I have to cook my own damn food now? Why’d I even have you, then?" He grumbled, swinging open the cupboard and staring at a few misshapen, shriveled potatoes.

He picked up two, examined them briefly, then dropped them onto the table. Grabbing a metal pot, he poured in the last of the water from a large jug, tossed in the potatoes, and set it over the fire to boil.

As he sat down, stomach growling and face twisted in irritation, a voice suddenly spoke behind him.

"Cooking your own meal must be tiring."

He flinched and spun around, only to see a figure standing in the corner of the room, partially veiled in shadow. A man, smiling in a way that sent a chill down his bones.