The wind howled across the Peak of the First Rib, biting through everything. Lemony dragged his feet through the thick snow, clutching his bag. The strap was frayed and about to snap, but it was the only thing he had left.

  He looked like a cat, more or less. His actual species was the Pale-Mantle Manul. In the hierarchy of this world, that basically meant he was trash. His kind was known for being short, grumpy, and incredibly weak. Not exactly the type of hero you'd expect to survive a frozen wasteland.

  Lemony wore a thick red coat and a matching red scarf, but they weren't doing much against the cold anymore. Eventually, his legs just gave out. He thudded onto the snow, face-first. He was exhausted, but honestly, he didn't even feel like getting back up.

  Those guys lied to me, he thought, his teeth chattering. 100% lied.

  It was so obvious that someone else had killed the Master's son. It wasn't him. He was just a worker in the Pamon mansion. He spent his days doing chores and staying out of the way.

  But last night, everything went wrong. He had been working late, as usual, when he stumbled upon two people arguing in the shadows. One was the Master's son. The other wasn't even a feline.

  That was the weird part. The entire Pamon mansion was strictly for Feline creatures. Even the Master's family were Sunmane Leons, high-ranking and powerful Feline creatures. Seeing a complete stranger who wasn't a cat was unheard of.

  But the next morning, the son was dead. And because Lemony was the only servant awake at that hour, they pointed the finger at him.

  The Master, the man who had raised Lemon for ten years, didn't even hesitate. He didn't ask questions. He just handed Lemony over to the national force of the Veridian Kingdom.

  They threw him into the portal.

  It was a Beastwar Portal, a one-way trip for criminals and people the kingdom considered useless. They were sent here as snacks for an ancient beast named Malphas. A sacrifice to keep the monster happy so it wouldn't wander toward the cities.

  And now, Lemony was just another body waiting to be eaten in the snow.

  What could he even do right now? Nothing. He was useless. He was a nobody, just a piece of trash being fed to an Ancient Beast to keep the peace.

  Lemon rolled onto his back and stared up at the moon. The sky was clear, but the air was freezing.

  His full name was Lemony Xaphan Pamon.

  He got the name Lemony because his parents were desperate. They had traded him to a merchant for a crate of lemons when he was just a baby. Since then, he had been raised to be a tool for the world. He worked every day and every night because that was his only purpose. He didn't know how to do anything else.

  Even now, lying in the snow after being betrayed, he felt pretty much nothing. He was empty. That was just how his life worked.

  The name Xaphan was supposed to be his family name, something from before he was dumped at the Pamon mansion. Then he took the Pamon name because that's who owned him.

  None of it mattered. He never got stronger. He never improved. The people at the mansion treated him like dirt just because they could. They'd yell his name across the halls like he was a dog.

  "Lemon!"

  Why that name? He didn't know.

  Lemons are bitter. Was he bitter? Maybe a little.

  Lemons are sour. They make people wince and turn away.

  Lemons are disposable. You squeeze everything useful out of them until they're just a dry, hollow husk, and then you throw them in the trash.

  That was him. A squeezed-out husk.

  Hours passed.

  The wind kept blowing, burying his small body under a layer of white. He didn't fight it. He was destined to die right here, and honestly, he was too tired to argue with destiny.

  Suddenly, a sharp whistling sound cut through the wind. Something was moving fast, way faster than any cat. Then, a voice broke the silence.

  "There's someone here!!"

  A pair of hands grabbed his coat, and Lemon felt himself being lifted off the snowy ground. He was hovering. He could hear the rapid flap of wings and the heavy breathing of whoever was carrying him.

  "Hey! Are you awake? Can you hear me?" she shouted over the wind.

  Lemon didn't answer. He didn't have the energy to open his eyes, let alone talk. He just stayed limp, listening to the rush of air. Eventually, the biting cold of the Peak began to fade as they moved indoors.

  "Over ten people were just dropped here, sir!" the girl yelled to someone else.

  Lemon's mind buzzed. They were saving him? But why? He was a sacrifice. He was useless. There wasn't any point in saving a Pale-Mantle Manul.

  The girl ran while still holding him, then suddenly tossed him. He landed on a soft mattress—something he hadn't felt in years. Then, without warning, a sharp smack hit his cheek.

  "Ugh... what the hell...?" Lemon groaned, his eyes fluttering open.

  "Oh, good. You're awake," the girl said, wiping sweat from her forehead.

  Lemon blinked, trying to get his vision to focus. The girl in front of him was... strange. She looked like a butterfly, but not quite. She had a beautiful face, but her long, dark hair seemed to flow right into a pair of massive, shadowy wings.

  "Where am I? And who are you?"

  The girl sat down on a crate next to his bed and grinned.

  "You're at the Refuge, right in the middle of the Peak of the First Rib. And as for who I am, I'm the person who just saved your life, so a little 'thank you' wouldn't hurt!"

  "The Peak? But I was supposed to be a sacrifice," Lemon muttered, confused.

  "Yeah, yeah, the Kingdom sends people here to die all the time. They think Malphas eats everyone," she waved a hand dismissively.

  "But we've got a little setup here. You're safe now, though there's a catch. You're stuck here for the rest of your life. Whether you like it or not, nobody leaves the Peak once the portal shuts."

  Lemon looked around the room. It was simple, made of stone and wood, but it was warm. "A lifetime? That's a long time to spend with a butterfly."

  "Hey! I'm a Moth-Soul, thank you very much! Butterflies are way too bright and annoying," she laughed, kicking her legs.

  "Besides, it's not so bad. We've got food, we've got a roof, and nobody is going to treat you like a servant here. What's your name, anyway? You look like a grumpy little ball of fur."

  "Lemony," he said shortly.

  "Lemon? Like the fruit? That's kind of a sour name for a cat," she teased, leaning in closer.

  "Are you going to be all bitter and quiet the whole time?"

  "Probably," Lemon replied.

  She laughed again, a loud, genuine sound.

  "Well, we'll see about that. I'm Sissy Suzlal! I'm the scout around here. If you need anything, don't ask, because I'm usually busy. Just kidding! But seriously, welcome to the end of the world, Lemony."

  "End of the world...?" Lemony repeated. He didn't like the sound of that.

  "Well, you don't know, do you!? You're a newbie, so I have to explain," Sissy said, crossing her arms.

  She leaned in, her voice getting a bit lower.

  "Malphas stays asleep mostly, but he wakes up during the night. And when he's awake? It's terrifying. He can kill anyone here in a heartbeat. He's the reason we have to hide in these hideouts."

  Lemony blinked. "So we're just waiting to die?"

  "No! We're trying to escape," she said, her wings fluttering with excitement.

  "Our goal is to find a way out of this hellhole. We have to break the portal's seal from the inside."

  Lemony tilted his head. "What is a portal to begin with?"

  Sissy froze. Her eyes went wide, and her jaw almost hit the floor. "What!???"

  She looked at him like he had two heads. After a long silence, she took a deep breath and tried to explain calmly.

  "Okay, wow. You really were a shut-in. Look, every portal in the world is basically a cage. Inside are Ancient Beasts or scary things sealed away by ancient heroes long ago. But these things will eventually wake up and break out unless someone is sacrificed to keep them calm. Every portal is monitored by the Kingdom, and right now... well, you were the snack."

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  "What the hell..." Lemony muttered.

  Was he living under a rock this whole time? He knew the world was big, but he thought life was just about working in mansions and getting yelled at. He never knew he was part of some dark ritual for the planet's safety.

  Sissy stood up and brushed off her skirt.

  "Anyway, can you stand? I need to bring you to the leader."

  Lemon nodded slowly. "Yeah. I can stand."

  He pushed himself off the mattress. His legs felt like jelly, but he managed to follow her out of the room. As they walked through the halls, he saw dozens of other people. Some were covered in bandages, looking like they'd just crawled out of a meat grinder.

  Others looked hardened and tough, like they had been fighting for years. There were all kinds of species like reptiles, birds, other mammals---all stuck in the same nightmare.

  They climbed a set of stone stairs, passing through several heavy doors until they reached the very last room at the end of a long hallway.

  Sissy pushed the door open without knocking.

  Behind a large wooden desk sat an old sheep wearing a pair of cracked glasses. He was calmly munching on a carrot, looking more like a tired librarian than a warrior.

  "Is this one of the survivors?" The old sheep asked.

  "Yes, sir," Sissy replied.

  Lemon stepped forward and cleared his throat. "I'm... Lemony Xaphan Pamon."

  The sheep stopped chewing and looked up, his eyes sharp despite his age. He swallowed the piece of carrot and sighed, leaning back in his chair.

  "I am Crysorgo Aizzovac," the old sheep said. His voice was deep and raspy.

  "I've been stuck in this frozen grave for over a hundred years. And as long as you're here, you're a member of my flock."

  He gestured to the symbol carved into the wall behind him.

  "Welcome to The Leftovers."

  "The Leftovers...?" Lemony repeated.

  It wasn't exactly a name that inspired hope.

  Crysorgo didn't answer right away. He stood up slowly, his joints popping, and walked over to a wall covered in thick, tattered rugs. He grabbed the edge of a heavy cloth and yanked it aside.

  "Take a look," the old sheep said.

  Lemony walked over and looked out the opening. His breath hitched. He wasn't looking at a mountain made of rock. He was looking at a landscape of pure horror.

  As far as the eye could see, there were bones. Massive, mountain-sized ribcages arched over the land like frozen white waves. Snow sat heavy on the bleached remains of creatures so big Lemony couldn't even imagine them alive. Sparse, twisted trees grew out of the marrow, their black branches reaching up like claws.

  "This is the Peak of the First Rib," Crysorgo said.

  "Literally. We're standing inside the ribcage of a god-beast that died before the Kingdom even had a name. And these shelters... we carved them into the bone a hundred years ago."

  Lemony stared at the horizon.

  "So we're just living inside a giant corpse."

  "Pretty much. It's the only thing thick enough to hide our heat from Malphas," Crysorgo replied, turning back to his carrot.

  "You need to understand something, Lemony. Out there, you were a sacrifice. A piece of meat. Here, you're just a simpleLeftover. The Kingdom thinks you're dead, and the world has moved on. That's why, your life has exactly zero value to anyone but the people in this room."

  Lemony looked at his hands. He felt... nothing. Just that same hollow pit in his chest he'd carried since he was sold for a bag of fruit.

  "Is there actually a way out?" Lemony asked. "Sissy said you guys are trying to break the portal."

  Crysorgo let out a short, dry laugh.

  "We're trying. But look at me... I've been 'trying' for a century. The portal only opens to drop more trash inside. To break it from this side, we need to kill the thing that powers the seal. And that thing is Malphas."

  "So we have to kill a god to go home?"

  "Exactly. But nobody here is a god-killer. We're just workers, thieves, and 'useless' creatures like you."

  Crysorgo sat back down.

  "Tell me, kid. You look like you've already given up. Are you going to be a burden, or can you actually pick up a tool?"

  Lemony thought about the Pamon mansion. He thought about the Master who threw him away like a broken chair.

  "I've been working since I could walk," Lemony said, his voice empty.

  "I don't know how to do anything else. If you have work, I'll do it. It doesn't matter to me."

  Crysorgo studied him for a second.

  "No fire in your eyes at all, huh? Well, at least you're honest... Most people come in here screaming and crying. You're already halfway to being a corpse, which might actually help you survive."

  "Is that a compliment?" Lemony asked.

  He wasn't trying to be funny. He just genuinely didn't know. He'd spent his whole life being told he was a mistake or a nuisance, so the concept of someone saying something nice was foreign to him. He didn't dwell on it, though, because something outside caught his eye.

  Massive bird-like creatures began soaring through the gray sky, screeching in a way that set your teeth on edge. That meant Malphas was awake.

  Lemony was 100% right.

  The ground didn't just shake. It groaned. A massive, violent tremor ripped through the bone-shelter, throwing furniture across the room. Downstairs, the sounds of screaming started.

  Crysorgo, a man who had survived a century in this hole, hit the floor. His hands were shaking so hard he couldn't hold his carrot. Sissy wasn't doing any better. She was huddled in a corner, her dark wings wrapped tight around herself like a shield, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

  Lemony just stood there. He didn't even grab onto a wall for balance.

  "Why are you people scared?" he asked.

  Suddenly, the window went dark. A leg---just a single, hairy, monstrous leg---swung past the opening. It was so big it blocked out the sun for a few seconds. The sheer scale of the thing was enough to crush a building just by stepping on it.

  Sissy looked up at Lemony, her eyes wide and wet with tears.

  "Why... why aren't you scared?"

  Lemony looked at the massive limb moving past, then back at her.

  "Am I supposed to be?"

  "You're insane!" she hissed.

  "Malphas... he has a Fear Aura! He literally injects terror into the mind of anyone nearby! It's not a choice! But you... you're just standing there!"

  Lemony didn't know what to tell her. Maybe his heart was just too empty for the fear to find a place to sit. He just watched the leg disappear into the snow.

  Finally, the shaking stopped. The heavy thuds of the beast grew distant until the room was silent again. Crysorgo crawled back into his chair, wiping sweat from his woolly forehead.

  He stared at Lemony like the boy was a ghost. He couldn't wrap his head around how a "trash" species like a Manul had resisted the mental pressure of an Ancient Beast.

  SLAM!

  The door burst open before anyone could say anything else.

  A massive creature stepped in.

  It was a Gorgon-Ape, a beastly humanoid covered in thick, slate-gray fur with small, stony scales protruding from its shoulders. It had four eyes.

  "Is Sir Crysorgo safe?" the ape boomed.

  Sissy stood up, dusting herself off and trying to regain her dignity. "He's fine, Koro. Calm down."

  The Gorgon-Ape, Koro, didn't look calm. He looked like he wanted to vomit.

  "We just did the count. Twelve. Twelve people died during the walk-by, sir."

  Crysorgo froze. "Twelve!?"

  The room went cold. Lemony watched them, confused by the reaction.

  "That's impossible," Sissy whispered, her face turning pale again. "It's impossible to be twelve. It's usually three or four at most, right? How did twelve people die in one night?"

  "The Fear Aura was too strong, somehow. Their hearts just... stopped. We have to bury them in the middle of the night before the scent attracts the scavengers."

  Twelve lives gone just because a beast walked past. Lemony looked back out the window at the snowy wasteland.

  "Bury them?" Lemony asked.

  "Yes," Crysorgo muttered, rubbing his temples. "We don't leave our own to rot in the secret base."

  Lemony tilted his head, genuinely confused.

  "Why? If they're dead, they're dead. Why waste the energy?"

  Koro, the massive Gorgon-Ape, flared his nostrils. He glared down at Lemony with all four of his eyes.

  "Who the hell is this brat? A Manul? Since when do we take in kittens who talk like they've got no soul?"

  Sissy stepped between them, waving her hands.

  "Easy, Koro! He just got here. He's... a bit different. And we have to bury them because of the Scavengers, Lemony."

  "Scavengers?" Lemony repeated.

  "Government goons," Sissy explained.

  "The Kingdom sends specialists into the portals every once in a while. They aren't here to save anyone. They're here to make sure the 'sacrifices' actually died. If they find a body, they're happy. If they find a bunch of living people building houses in bone-walls, they'll kill us all to keep the ritual 'pure.' We have to hide the evidence."

  Koro grunted, looking back at the leader.

  "We've got a problem, Sir. We can't bury twelve bodies with only four people before the sun comes up. It's too much ground to cover in the deep snow."

  "I'll go," Lemony said.

  "I'm used to heavy lifting and working through the night. It's just work."

  Koro looked skeptical, but they didn't have much of a choice. They headed down to the lower levels of the skeleton, where the common area was filled with murmuring, terrified people.

  Koro stood on a crate and shouted, asking if anyone else was brave enough to head out into the freeze to help.

  Most people looked away. But then, a hand shot up.

  "I'm in! Sounds like a party!"

  The person who stepped forward was striking. He was a Skoll-Wolf, a lean, upright canine with fur the color of a winter twilight.

  He wore leather armor reinforced with bits of bone, and a blue dagger was strapped to his thigh. He had a sharp, confident grin that showed off white fangs.

  "Name's Ve," the wolf said, stretching his arms over his head.

  "I've been itching to get out of these dusty halls anyway. Sitting around waiting for a heart attack isn't my style."

  He looked at Lemony and winked. "You the new kid? Try to keep up."

  The group finalized their team. They needed a mix of muscle and speed to get the job done before the Scavengers or Malphas' lingering aura caught them.

  The five-person burial detail consisted of:

  - Sissy Suzlal (The Scout)

  - Koro (The Muscle)

  - Ve (The Fighter)

  - Lemony (The... New Guy)

  - Old Horg (A crusty, experienced tortoise-man who moved slow but knew the terrain better than anyone)

  "Grab your shovels," Koro commanded, handing a heavy iron tool to Lemony.

  "And keep your mouths shut. The wind carries sound further than you think out there."