The rain came without warning.
Not the soft drizzle of a European spring, but a cold, metallic downpour, striking the roof of the shelter like a thousand nails dropped from heaven. Elias sat still on the floor, back against the wall, legs drawn up, listening to it drum out a rhythm that almost masked the low, hungry groans crawling in through the cracks in the city above. Almost.
The shelter was dark now, save for the stubborn glow of the dying candle and the gentle green flicker from his inventory menu still open on the wall, dim and ghostly. He hadn't touched it in hours. The system had remained silent since the whisper. Since the voice. Since You are not the only reader turned his thoughts into tangled thorns.
He wasn't tired, but his body ached. Hunger gnawed at him, a dull persistent thing in his belly. He had stretched out the last rations—crackers, a can of tuna, and water so stale it tasted like rust—but it wouldn't last another day. He'd known this moment would come. The quiet wouldn't last. The world outside wasn't going to wait.
Max slept again, this time more peacefully, maybe because Elias had insisted he eat the last of the tuna. His face looked better, less pale, his fever broken. Elias didn't know what had kept the kid alive when so many others died—but he was thankful. Max was a liability, yes. But he was also the only face left that reminded Elias of before.
He stared at the old, worn Instruction Manual on the table, half-covered in dust and fingerprints. Its leather cover looked ancient now, cracked along the spine. The pages inside had shifted again. They always did when he wasn't looking. He didn't even pretend to be surprised anymore.
Elias reached for it, flipped to the next marked page. No new instructions. Just a single line:
"If you survive the first seven days, the world will begin to notice."
He read it again. Then a third time. Notice? What the hell did that mean?
He shut the book with a quiet thump, not bothering to whisper insults under his breath like he used to. The sarcasm felt dull now, pointless. There was no one to impress. No audience to laugh. The only applause left in the world came from the jaws of the undead clapping shut on screaming throats.
A week.
It had been a week since he died. Since the first time.
He didn't like thinking about it—how the teeth felt in his shoulder, how warm the blood had been down his chest, how the last thing he saw before everything went dark was the open window and the sun outside. That damned sunlight—bright, warm, and meaningless. The zombies didn't burn. They didn't shriek. The rules of the stories he'd grown up with didn't apply here.
Because this wasn't a story. Not anymore.
The system hadn't explained his rebirth. He hadn't asked. It didn't matter how or why. He'd just woken up in the same place, the blood still fresh on the floor, but his body untouched. Breathing again. Different. Sharper.
The shop menu had appeared first. Then the whispering instructions. Then the inventory. Then the book.
And now—silence. And that one message. Not the only reader.
He stood slowly, stretching the ache out of his back, walked toward the steel door, and pressed his ear to it. Silence, save for the occasional snarl and shuffling of feet. The undead were still out there, roaming the ruins like rats without purpose. Some were fast. Some slow. Some… aware.
That was what scared him most.
The last one, back in the hallway outside the nurse's office—it didn't act like the others. It didn't chase. It waited. It watched. Its eyes were cloudy but alert. Focused.
They were changing.
And if they were changing, then hiding forever wouldn't work.
Elias turned back to the room, checking the supplies again. Four candles. One lighter. Two water bottles, one of them half-full. A single roll of duct tape. A bent crowbar. His pistol. Five bullets. The weight of it all was heavier than it looked.
He opened the Shop menu, scrolling slowly through the items. Food—expensive. Weapons—unaffordable. Information—locked. Every coin he earned came from surviving quests. Tasks. Risks. The system wanted him to act, not to hide.
And that, more than anything, proved something he hadn't wanted to admit.
This wasn't a survival tool. This was a game.
He wasn't just trying to stay alive. He was being tested.
Trained.
Or played with.
He closed the shop, breathing out slowly, and let his hand drop to the side. A new quest flickered in his vision, bright and unmistakable.
QUEST UNLOCKED
Title: The First Step Into the Dead
Objective: Leave the shelter and reach the gas station on Flander Street.
Reward: 100 Coins, random item, 1 Skill Point
Failure: Death
Time Limit: 12 hours
Elias stared at the message for a long time. Then he read it again. Slowly.
The system wanted him to leave. To move. That wasn't new. What was new was the time limit.
He looked over at Max, still sleeping. The gas station was four blocks away. A small place near a tram stop. He remembered it—clean glass, vending machines, a soda fridge. And probably corpses.
Elias walked to the shelf near the wall, pulled down his backpack, and started packing again. Water. Tape. The notebook. Crowbar. He slid the pistol into his jacket, holstered loosely under his arm. Every sound echoed too loudly in the silence.
He glanced once more at Max. He couldn't take him. Not yet. Not while the boy could barely walk.
"I'll be back," Elias said aloud, more for himself than anyone else. His voice was hoarse. Rough. When was the last time he spoke?
He left a small knife beside Max's bed, just in case. Not that it would do much. But still.
Then, with one final breath, Elias opened the shelter door.
The city greeted him with ash.
The sky was the color of wet cement, and the buildings loomed like ancient, broken teeth gnashing at the clouds. The rain had stopped, but the streets still glistened, puddles reflecting red warning lights from abandoned traffic signals. The air smelled of rust and old oil and the faint rot of things that used to breathe.
He moved low, crouched like a shadow, sticking close to walls, ears straining for footsteps or snarls. Every sound was a possible death. Every silence a lie.
He passed the body of a girl he recognized from school. Elise. Or maybe Emily. Her throat was gone. Her eyes were wide. She hadn't turned. Just dead.
He didn't stop.
The first two blocks were quiet. Too quiet.
Then he saw them—three shamblers moving slow across the street, dragging limbs, moaning softly. Their skin was blotched and gray, veins black as oil.
He froze. Waited.
And then saw it.
Behind them.
A fourth figure. Taller. Thinner. Limbs too long. Its head tilted to one side as it watched the others. Not moving. Just watching.
And then—its head turned slowly toward him.
Elias didn't breathe.
It didn't move. Just stared. No groan. No shuffle. Just eyes like wet ash locked to his.
Then the other three turned toward him too.
Shit.
He ran.
Not fast—smart. He ducked around the corner, into the alley behind the coffee shop, leapt over a trash can, down into the sewer grate half-open, and slid into the darkness.
He didn't stop until he was ten meters deep, crouched behind rusted pipes, heart slamming against his ribs.
The sound of feet above. A slow drag. A scraping.
Then—nothing.
No growls.
No chase.
Just silence.
He waited five minutes. Then ten.
And finally, he climbed back up.
The gas station glowed faintly ahead, still lit by solar backup. A miracle.
He reached the glass doors, shattered and streaked with blood. The floor inside was a mess—wrappers, broken shelves, black smears.
He stepped in.
Scavenged.
Found a protein bar behind the counter. A flashlight. A half-empty medkit. Jackpot.
And then, under the register—a small silver key.
He turned it over.
Storage – 4B
He checked the quest.
✔️ Objective Complete
100 Coins Earned
1 Random Item: Adrenal Shot
1 Skill Point Gained
The screen blinked. Then faded.
And a new message appeared.
Survive: Completed.
You are no longer a beginner.
The world is now watching.
Let the real game begin.
Elias stood there, in the ruin of the gas station, the flashlight buzzing faintly in his hand.
And for the first time since he died—
He smiled.
(Arc 1 End)