Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended

CHAPTER 151: Rain and Ruin, Hope and Hunger

The girl huddled in the hollow of a tree trunk, her soaked cloak clinging to her fragile frame like a second skin. The cold rain poured relentlessly, a sheet of grey slanting against the forest as if the sky itself were weeping on her behalf. Her teeth chattered with every breath, the chill of the air seeping into her very core. She tried to ignore it, tried to close her eyes and forget the world outside, but it was impossible. The weight of everything—the loss, the guilt, the despair—pressed down on her chest like a suffocating blanket.

Her stomach gave a soft growl, an unpleasant reminder of the hunger gnawing at her insides. She hugged her knees tighter, wishing for warmth, for food, for anything.

It was then that she noticed the little creature.

A drenched kitten, no bigger than her hand, wandered into her line of sight. It was shivering, its fur plastered to its tiny frame, and its wide, round eyes looked up at her with an almost pleading gaze. She stiffened, guilt washing over her like a tide. She thought of the Mithrilcrest Deer, the fawn's final breaths, and the pain and tragedy she had failed to stop. The memories were too raw, too heavy to bear.

The kitten meowed softly, taking a cautious step toward her. But the girl couldn't bring herself to reach out to it. She couldn't—she couldn't bring herself to care for another creature after all that had happened.

She tried to look away, but something in her stirred—a need to do something, anything right, to not let it suffer. She hesitated, then reached down slowly, her fingers trembling as she scooped the tiny feline into her arms. The kitten didn't resist, nestling into her arms, its small body quaking. She tried to warm it with the heat of her hands, but there was little she could do when her body was just as cold.

Suddenly, just as quickly as it had appeared, the kitten squirmed, its small paws pushing against her chest. Then it darted away from her. Startled, the girl followed, unsure why the feline felt the sudden urge to flee. It ran down the steep slope, its little legs struggling to keep up with its momentum as it rushed toward the moat that bordered the city.

"Wait!" the girl called out, her voice hoarse from the cold and her own desperation.

The kitten didn't stop. Instead, it dove straight into the water, disappearing beneath the murky surface. The girl didn't think—she reacted, rushing forward and plunging into the cold moat after it, her heart hammering in her chest. She had no idea why the kitten had led her here, but something urged her on, a whisper in her soul telling her she had to follow.

She scrambled to keep up with the tiny creature, gasping as the cold water seeped through her clothes. She nearly lost sight of the kitten when it submerged again, its sleek form cutting through the haze, moving quickly toward a dark entrance in the stone wall. Without hesitation, she dove after it, kicking her legs to propel herself forward. The shaft was narrow, and the water was dark and foreboding, but the kitten moved with purpose. She swam after it, her pulse pounding in her ears as she tried to keep up.

Moments later, they surfaced in a wide, underground passage. The water calmed, and she gasped for air, the soaked scarf clinging to her face. The tunnel was rough-hewn, the walls damp with moss, but the faintest light ahead beckoned her onward. She squinted, her eyes adjusting to the dim surroundings.

At the end of the passage that was supposedly a part of the city's irrigation system, or perhaps a hidden passageway constructed by refugees, she could see another opening—this one leading upward into a larger, more structured space. As she approached, the water began to recede, and soon she found herself stepping into a stone corridor that led into the city. The sounds of life filtered through the walls—voices, the clatter of carts, the distant hum of a thousand activities happening at once.