The office was a frozen tableau, bathed in the dim red glow of the exit sign. Jin Yeong sat against a toppled desk, the steel pipe heavy across his knees, his muscles stiff from hours of running and fighting. The air was thick with dust and the lingering stench of blood, pressing against his chest like a physical weight. The survivors were scattered around the room, slumped against walls or curled up among the wreckage, their faces pale, their eyes hollow. The barricades—piles of desks, chairs, and cabinets—blocked the doors, but they felt flimsy, a fragile shield against whatever lurked beyond. Silence hung over them, not peaceful but oppressive, a reminder that they were only alive by chance.
No one spoke. No one moved. The weight of their survival, of Min Jae-Wo's sacrifice, pinned them in place. Min lay nearby, his breathing shallow but steadier now, the healer's hands glowing faintly over his chest. Her face was drawn, her eyes red from exhaustion, but she didn't stop, pouring what little energy she had into keeping him alive. The others—the woman with the injured ankle, the man with enhanced strength, and the woman with heightened reflexes—sat in tense silence, their gazes flickering between the barricades and Min's unconscious form.
Jin's fingers traced the edge of the pipe, the metal cool and grounding. His body screamed for rest, but his mind refused to quiet, replaying the chaos: the stairwell's collapse, the creature's thrashing death under Min's scream, the blood pooling beneath him. They'd stopped running, but the nightmare wasn't over. The exit sign glowed faintly, a mocking promise of escape, but no one dared move toward it. Not yet.
A faint groan broke the silence. Jin's head snapped toward Min, whose eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused. The healer gasped, her hands trembling as the glow flickered. "He's awake," she whispered, her voice a mix of relief and fear.
Min's chest heaved, his breath ragged. He blinked slowly, his gaze drifting across the group before settling on Jin. "Still… here?" he rasped, his voice weak, no echo trailing it this time. His lips twitched into a faint, tired smile.
Jin leaned forward, the pipe shifting in his grip. "Yeah," he said, keeping his voice low, steady. "You pulled through."
Min's smile faded, his hand twitching against the floor. "Barely," he muttered, his voice hoarse. He winced, his fingers brushing his blood-crusted nose. "Feels like… my head's splitting." He paused, his breath hitching. "And I'm starving. Haven't eaten since… breakfast."
The word starving landed like a stone. Jin's own stomach twisted, a sharp reminder of how long it had been since any of them had eaten. Lunchtime was when the system had awakened, when the world had turned to chaos. They'd been running, fighting, surviving—no time to think about food or water. But now, in this fragile pause, the need hit hard.
The woman with the injured ankle shifted, her voice soft but tense. "There's a break room on this floor," she said, her eyes flicking to the barricaded door. "Vending machines, maybe a fridge. We could find something."
The man with enhanced strength nodded, his fists clenching. "Yeah, but who's going out there?" His gaze darted to the shadows beyond the barricade, his voice tight. "We haven't heard anything in a while, but that doesn't mean it's safe."
The woman with heightened reflexes crossed her arms, her fingers twitching. "It's been quiet too long," she said, her voice low. "What if it's just waiting for us to move?"
Jin's jaw tightened. They were right to be cautious. The third floor had been silent since Min's scream, but silence didn't mean safety. He thought of their coworkers—hundreds of them in this building when the system hit. Were they still out there, hiding on other floors, fighting their own battles? Or were they gone, torn apart like the woman in the shadows? The thought made his chest ache, but he pushed it down.
"I'll go," Jin said, his voice calm but firm. He stood, the pipe heavy in his hand, his legs protesting the movement. "Break room's not far. I'll check it out."
The group turned to him, their eyes wide. The man with enhanced strength shook his head. "You sure? You've been doing enough already."
Jin shrugged, deflecting the concern. "Someone's gotta do it. We can't sit here and starve." He glanced at Min, whose eyes were half-closed, his breathing still weak. "He needs food. We all do."
No one argued, but no one volunteered to go with him either. The fear in the room was palpable, a heavy fog that kept them rooted in place. Jin didn't blame them. He felt it too—the dread of what might be waiting beyond the barricade. But waiting wasn't an option. Not if they wanted to survive.
He stepped toward the door, his grip tightening on the pipe. The barricade—a jumble of desks and chairs—loomed before him, a flimsy defense against the unknown. He was about to start dismantling it when a sound stopped him cold.
Footsteps. Slow, uneven, echoing from somewhere below. Not the wet scrape of a monster, not the skittering of claws, but human—or at least, it sounded human. Jin froze, his pulse spiking. The others stiffened, their eyes darting to the door.
"Coworkers?" the healer whispered, her voice barely audible, hope and fear warring in her tone. "Maybe someone else from the building?"
The woman with heightened reflexes shook her head, her voice low. "Or something pretending to be." Her fingers twitched, ready to move.
Jin's grip on the pipe tightened, his body tensing. The footsteps were closer now, deliberate, coming from the second floor, maybe the first. He couldn't tell if they were friend or foe, but the sound alone was enough to set his nerves on edge. Their coworkers had been in this building when the system hit—accountants, IT staff, managers. Were they hiding, like them? Or had they been taken, twisted into something else?
The footsteps stopped. The silence that followed was heavier, thicker, pressing against Jin's chest. He waited, his ears straining, but nothing came. No growls, no screams—just the oppressive quiet.
Then—a chime. A soft, mechanical hum vibrated through the air, sharp and unnatural. Blue screens flickered to life before every survivor, glowing in the dim light. Jin's heart sank as he read the words.
[ SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT ]
Congratulations. You have survived for 1 hour.
Time Remaining: [23:00:00]
Rewards: ???
Current Ranking: ???
Rewards Will Be Issued Based on Placement
The words hung in the air, cold and clinical, like a taunt. For a moment, no one spoke, the screens casting eerie shadows across their faces. Then the silence shattered.
"What the hell is this?" the man with enhanced strength spat, his voice raw with disbelief. "Ranking? Like we're in some kind of game?"
The woman with the injured ankle let out a bitter laugh, her hands trembling. "It's keeping score? For what? Surviving?" Her voice cracked, anger bleeding through. "What kind of sick joke is this?"
The healer's hands faltered, the glow flickering as she stared at her screen. "No scores, no list, just… question marks," she whispered, her voice shaking. "It's hiding something. It's not telling us what it wants."
Jin stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the screen. The system had given them skills, thrown monsters at them, and now it was ranking them like players in a twisted competition. But why? What did it gain from this? His fingers tightened around the pipe, a quiet rage simmering in his chest. The system wasn't just controlling them—it was toying with them.
"This is bullshit," the woman with heightened reflexes hissed, her voice low and venomous. "It drops us into this nightmare, gives us powers we barely understand, and now it's judging us? For what? Killing those things? Staying alive?"
The man with enhanced strength slammed his fist into a desk, the wood splintering under his strength. "I don't care about rewards," he growled. "I just want to get out of here, see my kid again. This system can go to hell."
"I want to know who's behind this," the woman with the injured ankle said, her voice trembling with fury. "Someone made this happen. Someone's watching us, playing with us like we're pieces on a board."
Jin's jaw clenched. He felt the same anger, the same need to tear the system apart, but rage wouldn't help them now. The footsteps—he remembered them, the sound still lingering in his mind. Whoever or whatever was out there had seen this message too. Friend or foe, they were coming closer.
"We can't stay here forever," Jin said, his voice low, steady, cutting through the group's anger. He glanced at Min, whose eyes were half-open, watching them weakly. "We need food, water. The break room's close. I'm going."
The man with enhanced strength looked at him, his expression torn. "You sure? Those footsteps…"
Jin nodded, his grip on the pipe firm. "We've been quiet for a while. Haven't heard anything else. It's as safe as it's gonna get." He didn't say what they were all thinking: their coworkers might be out there, hiding, fighting, or worse. But waiting wasn't an option anymore now that the system was playing games with them.
He moved to the barricade, his hands steady as he began pulling desks aside. The others watched, tense, but no one stopped him. The footsteps had faded, but the system's message hung over them, a reminder that they were part of something bigger, something cruel. Jin didn't know what was waiting beyond the door—coworkers, monsters, or something worse—but he couldn't sit still any longer.
With a final glance at Min, whose weak nod urged him on, Jin pushed the barricade aside and stepped into the dark.