[Zone 51, New York]
The wind howled through the broken watchtower, whistling between shattered concrete and rusted steel. What remained of the structure leaned at an unnatural angle, half-collapsed and barely standing—a relic from a world that no longer existed.
The building was located on the edge of New York where ash filled sand buried roads and life alike.
Two figures stood near the edge, cloaked in scavenged armor and layered cloth, eyes covered by dusty goggles focusing on the wasteland below. They were watchers from the nearest human settlement. There are hundreds of these outposts across the world that are collectively referred to as safe zones.
"Any changes?" one of the watchers asked quietly, lowering a pair of cracked binoculars.
The other shook his head. "Nothing yet."
The purpose of these zones is to find help for survivors and recruit awakened in their fight against monsters. They try to make contact with other zones and expand their network but in a city like this where the frequency of monster outbreak is higher, it is considerably harder to bolster their strength.
The silence stretched across this ominous land where a beast might emerge at any second—until one movement broke it.
In a distance, far below on the surface, across the open square of rubble and ash, two small figures sprinted through the ruins.
Children, they appear to be from their stature. Following them are a few other figures on similar sets of clothes. Even judging by careful considerations after appearance, they should be no older than twenty.
The watcher stiffened. He raised the binoculars again.
"Hold on," he said. "I see movement. Two people—running straight toward us."
he zoomed into the binoculars. One of the kids had a bow on his back while the other held a large backpack. The others followed by them held similar weapons and supplies while they sprinted onward.
The second guard frowned. "Kids?"
"Yeah. They're armed and, from the looks of things, have recently been in a battle."
"Battle? Do you see any monsters following them?"
"No, it's just them."
They watched in silence as the children crossed the exposed ground, weaving through broken vehicles and fallen beams. No hesitation. No fear.
"That doesn't make sense," the second guard muttered.
"What doesn't?"
"How are a couple of runts crossing an open square like that?" he replied. "Even grown men don't do that without backup. It's like they want to get attacked by a monster."
"Or they're not afraid of one," the other said.
During the attack on base 35, Crimson left behind few of his forces stationed outside. When the plague beast appeared, they ordered them to get away and seek help. It took them a while to find this settlement.
To get here, they had to cross the times square—now infested with rustclaws and golem reavers—currently the most dangerous stretch of land roamed by titans. Without hiding through the several buildings, they could have been crushed by them.
Luckily, since they are slow to chase unlike the direwolves, they were able to get away with less casualty on their side.
The first guard lowered the binoculars slowly, picking up his communicator to alert others. A static voice echoed from the device connecting to the other side.
"What is it, Bern?"
"uh, sir. We have survivors approaching our station. We don't know if they are infected or associated with monsters. Judging by the speed and physique, they might be awakened."
the voice went silent for a second, taking in the situation he focused on.
"You think they know about this place and headed specifically here?"
"Maybe," the other guard said. "We're well hidden, but people talk. The command knows about us. They could be refugees looking for help."
the handler on the other end of the communicator became a little curious. After all, it's not everyday you spot a survivor if they're not affiliated with the Command Line—the— new order created by the military regimen across the world after the government fell. Though in different factions, they all strive towards the survival of humanity.
"Or they could be bait instead of refugees. How close are they?"
The handler paused, eyes narrowing at the receiving end.
"They are far right now, but at their speed they might be here any minute now?"
The implication settled heavily between them. If they are wanderers not affiliated with the command line like themselves, they could be hostile towards them looking for supplies.
By their numbers, if they fight, even awakened children might do damage to their shelter.
"Be on standby, we can't risk anything without knowing who they are."
He was interrupted by the second guard who snatched the communicator, taking off his goggles.
"You mean—"
"he means they could be tied to Awakened factions," the second guard continued. "Or worse. Monsters that learned to disguise themselves."
A long silence followed. If what they say is true, they need to tread this situation carefully. Their handler needs to report this to the oracle as soon as possible.
"What should we do?" the first asked. "They're headed straight here. Rescue or interception?"
The second guard exhaled sharply. "It's safer to assume the worst. But this isn't our call."
The reply came from the receiver.
He turned from the edge. "Keep your guard up, I'll send some men to your side. Do not engage until they arrive. But first, I'll report this to the Oracle."
***
The handler, a brown bearded man with heavy clothes and a large hammer at his back, descended quickly, boots echoing through stairwells carved into the ruins. The watchtower connected to the heart of the settlement—a sprawling enclave hidden beneath collapsed buildings and reinforced steel.
Hundreds of people lived here.
"make way, it's urgent! We have incoming, the handler needs to know this!"
As he entered the central hall, voices fell silent.
Every head bowed.
At the center stood a woman draped in pale robes, her hair braided with a dark and blue silhouette, her presence quiet but overwhelming. Her eyes were closed, her posture perfectly still.
Before the apocalypse, she was an ordinary girl in New Jersey. However after her awakening she has helped many people to survive and now leads a group of people in this outpost. Her name is Lady Lilith Blackhorn—The Oracle.
Her powers are similar to the [seer] class—only she can foresee more different outcomes from the present and help her reshape the future to her desire. She had awakened to her class shortly after the apocalypse, and since then, this settlement had survived against all odds. Not because of walls or weapons—but because of her visions.
The guards knelt.
"Oracle," one said. "We have two children approaching the outpost. Armed and, quite possibly, awakened. We don't know their affiliation or received any prior request for help."
Lilith said nothing.
"what should we do?"
Her silence was not dismissal—it was concentration.
Time passed. Seconds stretched into something heavier.
Then her eyes opened.
"They're awakened for sure, but not hostile as far as I can see," she said softly. "However, be prepared to intercept them just in case. We can't judge anything too soon."
"Yes, mam."
She rose to her feet. The crowd parted instinctively as she moved among them.
[summon: enchanting staff]
With a gesture, a staff materialized in her hand—white metal etched with symbols that pulsed faintly with light.
"How many are outside?"
"We have ten on the northside ready to intercept. Three awakened, others armed."
She walked toward the shattered edge of the building overlooking the ruins. Broken glass crunched beneath her feet.
"Hold them in standby. I will talk to them first. I need to see them up close if they are who I think they are."
***
Far below the waking city, hunger stirred—a foul reek of rot preceding it, like spoiled meat left too long in the sun.
A lone shadow was seen staggered through the drowned subway tunnel, breathing in wet gasps, clutching his side. It was a man, blood soaked in shredded fabric, dripping onto the tracks.
"H-help…" he croaked. "Please…"
The man has hit a wall in his run. It was a dead end. The monster was onto him. In a freaked haste of his mind, he turned behind him.
Something shifted in the shadows. Grawl. Harr.
A massive shape surged. Teeth tore into flesh. Bone cracked. The man vanished in a bite, chew, swallow—leaving a headless corpse slumped against concrete.
"Huuumans…" the monster growled, saliva dripping from its jaws.
Suddenly its long ears perked up. It heard a sound.
Drawn by vibrations, it lumbered down the tracks. An abandoned train loomed ahead, doors torn open, windows shattered. Inside, walls painted red, headless bodies strewn across seats and floors.
It stepped in. Paused. Something was wrong.
It turned—Gunfire exploded through the carriage. The creature's skull shattered. Its body collapsed in twitching limbs.
Lieutenant Bucky lowered his rifle, smoke curling from the barrel. Crimson stepped beside him, eyes cold, scanning shadows.
"A subway," Crimson muttered. "Of course. Hopefully, we have enough time to escape this blast."
===
[End of Act 1]