Morning came without ceremony.
The thin, gray light pushing through the blinds felt muted, almost reluctant, like the sky itself wasn't sure it wanted to commit to another day.
Ethan woke first, not because of an alarm, but because of the low hum of voices outside his bedroom door. He sat up, rubbed his face, and glanced toward the one remaining box against the wall. His fingers brushed over the lid of the top one before he stood and opened the door.
In the kitchen, Robert's family was already awake. Robert sat at the table with a steaming mug of something that smelled faintly like instant coffee. Maria was at the counter, opening a can of beans with slow, careful turns of the crank. Jason was half-asleep, slouched in a chair, idly tapping a spoon against the rim of his empty bowl. Talia sat cross-legged on the couch, hair tangled, staring at nothing in particular.
"Morning," Robert said without looking up from his mug.
"Morning," Ethan replied, voice neutral. He moved toward the counter, grabbed a plate, and began spooning out some beans.
Nobody said much while they ate. The only sounds were the clink of spoons, the occasional scrape of a chair leg, and the quiet sighs of people trying to convince themselves this was normal.
---
Half an hour later, breakfast was over. Ethan rinsed his plate, set it in the rack, and without a word, walked back to his bedroom.
Maria frowned. "That's it? He's just… going back in?"
Robert glanced at her over his mug. "Looks like it."
Jason was already back on the couch, mumbling, "Probably needs to think or something."
Maria shook her head, lowering her voice. "You don't think it's weird? Yesterday he was running around claiming apartments like some kind of" she searched for the word, "landlord warlord. And now he just shuts himself in all day?"
Robert chuckled, though it was quiet, almost to himself. "You worry too much."
"I worry the right amount," Maria shot back. "You saw how many people he brought in. That's a lot of mouths to feed. If he doesn't have some magic pantry in there" she cut herself off, glancing toward the closed door. "I just don't want to find out the hard way that he doesn't have enough."
Robert set the mug down with a soft clink. "Maria. Look, the guy's got… something going on. You think yesterday was luck? He fed us when we had basically nothing. He convinced half this floor to pack up and move. He's not doing that without a plan."
Her jaw tightened. "Or without getting desperate."
"Maybe," Robert admitted, leaning back in his chair. "But he's calm. Too calm for someone bluffing. Trust me, I've seen bluffers they run their mouths, keep moving, keep distracting you. Ethan? He's sitting in there quiet. That's a man who's waiting on something."
Maria crossed her arms. "And you're just fine not knowing what?"
"I'm fine as long as my family eats and no one's breaking down the door," Robert said simply. "When he starts acting desperate, I'll worry. Until then? Let him do whatever the hell he's doing."
---
The door was locked. Not because he didn't trust Robert's family, but because he didn't want anyone walking in at the wrong moment. He sat cross-legged on the floor, back against the bedframe, eyes fixed on the empty patch of air in front of him.
Nothing yet.
He'd done the math in his head at least a dozen times since last night thirty-one people in the building, maybe more if anyone else had wandered into the claimed units overnight. The voice had been clear: "Shelter someone willingly for twenty-four hours, get a draw."
The counter should reset soon.
He checked the time again. Still morning. Still waiting.
He forced himself to stay still. No pacing. No tapping his fingers against his knee. No betraying even to himself how badly he wanted that notification to appear.
---
By early afternoon, the silence outside his door felt heavier. The muffled sounds of movement came and went the creak of floorboards, the low murmur of Maria talking to Talia, the soft clatter of Jason messing with something in the living room.
Ethan's pulse quickened when he heard Robert's voice through the wall. Not the words just the sound of it. Calm. Confident. Distracting Maria again. Good.
He checked the clock. The twenty-four hours had to be almost up.
---
And then, like a drop of ink in water, the voice slid into his mind.
> "Shelter count validated. Thirty-five draws available."
For a split second, he thought he'd imagined it. But then a faint, translucent screen shimmered into view in front of him, each line as clean and precise as before.
Available draws: 35
His breath left him in a slow, controlled exhale.
Thirty-five.
He allowed himself one sharp, silent laugh just a puff of air and a flash of teeth before forcing his expression flat again. No celebrating out loud. Not yet.
He muttered under his breath, "Alright. Let's start small."
He wet his lips, then spoke clearly, "Ten draws."
The moment the words left him, the faint shimmer of the interface brightened. Lines shifted. Text appeared.
Draw 1: Basic food and water necessities.
Draw 2: Basic food and water necessities.
Draw 3: Basic food and water necessities.
Draw 4: Armor.
Draw 5: Basic food and water necessities.
Draw 6: Basic food and water necessities.
Draw 7: Basic food and water necessities.
Draw 8: Basic food and water necessities.
Draw 9: Basic food and water necessities.
Draw 10: Serum boost—Strength.
Ethan's brows rose slightly. "Well… that's not bad." His voice was soft, almost conversational, like he was talking to himself but didn't want even the walls to overhear.
The air in front of him rippled like a drop hitting still water and then, one by one, the items materialized on the floor in a neat cluster. A small stack of sealed cardboard boxes, each marked with a printed symbol for food and water. A folded, dark jacket that looked entirely ordinary. And a small box.
Ethan reached for the jacket first. The fabric felt smooth, almost slippery, like it didn't quite match any material he knew. He lifted it, shook it out, and frowned.
It looked… normal. No heavy plating. No strange patterns. Just a plain, dark jacket with a simple zipper.
He turned it over in his hands, checking the seams, the lining, even smelling it. Nothing out of the ordinary.
"…You've gotta be kidding me," he muttered, and then, almost as an afterthought, slipped it on.
Instantly, the change hit him. His shoulders loosened. His chest felt… light. Comfortable. And most importantly despite the air in the room being warm enough to make jackets miserable his body didn't feel even slightly hot. It was like the temperature around him had shifted to a perfect, neutral balance.
He lifted a hand, touching his cheek. Warm. Lower half of his body? Warm. But from the neck down to the waist, wrapped in the jacket, it felt… perfect.
"Okay… that's not normal," he whispered, a slow grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Magic. Has to be. And if it's magic…"
He glanced toward the locked door. "…it might be tougher than it looks. Durable. Gotta test that."
He set the thought aside for now and picked up the vial.
Strength. Again.
Ethan felt his pulse thump harder just reading the label. The last serum had made him stronger reacting before thoughts fully formed. But this? This was the one he had been waiting for.
He stared at it for a long moment, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, watching the liquid swirl faintly in the glass. Then, without hesitation, he rolled up his sleeve, uncapped it, and pressed it to his arm.
The needle slid in with almost no pain. The glow faded as the liquid entered his veins. For a heartbeat, nothing happened then a sudden rush of heat flooded his muscles, like fire wrapping around every fiber, pushing outward.
Ethan closed his eyes, breathing deep, savoring the sensation.
When he opened them again, there was a faint, almost disbelieving smile on his face.
Peak human strength. He could feel it.
Ethan stood, rolling his shoulders, feeling the subtle weight and balance of his new strength.
"Alright," he murmured, eyeing the small pile of supplies on the floor. "Let's make some space first."
He stacked the sealed food-and-water crates in his arms—four, then another four balanced carefully on top—and made his way to the door. The latch clicked open, and the moment he stepped into the living room, four sets of eyes turned toward him.
Robert's brow lifted. Maria froze mid-sentence. Jason straightened from his lazy slouch. Even Talia blinked slowly, like she wasn't sure she was seeing it right.
"…Uh," Robert said first, "that's… a lot of boxes."
Ethan set them down in a neat column beside the couch, the cardboard edges thudding softly on the floor. "Yeah. Figured the living room was as good a place as any."
Maria's gaze darted between the boxes and Ethan. "Wait—are those… food?"
"Food and water," Ethan confirmed, dusting his hands off. "Mostly basic stuff."
Talia leaned forward, her messy hair falling into her face. "Ethan… did you know?"
He glanced at her. "Know what?"
"That this was coming," she said, her voice sharper now. "This… whatever-it-is. The blackouts. The silence. The… crates of supplies that just show up out of nowhere?"
Ethan shook his head. "No. I didn't know. I'm just… making the most of what I've got."
She studied him like she was trying to catch a flicker of a lie, but he held her gaze until she finally leaned back again, saying nothing more.
Ethan turned to Robert and Maria. "I need a hand. Can you two take some of these up to the third, fourth, and fifth floors? Just enough for everyone to have something."
Maria's mouth opened like she wanted to ask about the source, the why, the how—but instead she shut it again and exchanged a glance with Robert.
Robert gave a small shrug. "Sure. No sense letting it sit here."
They each took a couple of boxes, still wearing that half-confused, half-baffled look of people trying to act normal when nothing about the situation was.
Once they were out of sight, Ethan stepped back into his room, locking the door again. He pulled the plain dark jacket off, laid it flat on the bed, and grabbed the kitchen knife he'd taken earlier.
He pressed the blade to the sleeve and pushed—not a mark. He drew the knife harder, angling it for a clean cut, muscles tightening with his new strength. The blade skidded harmlessly across the surface without so much as a scratch.
Ethan let out a low, pleased sound. "Yeah… that'll do."
He set the knife aside, pulled the jacket back on, and returned to the faint shimmer of the interface still hovering patiently in front of him.
"Alright… another ten."
The text shifted.
Draw 1: Basic food and water necessities.
Draw 2: Basic food and water necessities.
Draw 3: Basic food and water necessities.
Draw 4: Unit.
Draw 5: Basic food and water necessities.
Draw 6: Basic food and water necessities.
Draw 7: Basic food and water necessities.
Draw 8: Basic food and water necessities.
Draw 9: Serum boost—Endurance.
Draw 10: Basic food and water necessities.
The shimmer brightened, and reality rippled like a heatwave. The new items appeared—eight stacked crates, a small box… and a woman.
She stood barefoot on the floor, blinking once, twice, taking in the room. She was stunning in a way that made Ethan's brain stutter—tanned skin, full lips, an almost impossible hourglass shape, curves that strained against a tank top and gym shorts clearly one size too small. She's also maybe around 6'4, 3 inches taller than ethan. Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail, a few strands clinging to her cheek.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Ethan's thoughts betrayed him instantly.
…Damn. She's… uh… generously equipped.
She cocked her head slightly, eyes sharp despite her casual posture. Her voice was low, clear, and carried an almost challenging tone.
"So," she said, "what do I do?"