Paoay's Departure
The morning sun glimmered over Paoay Lake, the water catching the first light in gentle ripples. The schoolyard was quiet, save for the distant calls of birds and the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. Marko and Ara stood near the gates of the school, packs secured and weapons strapped, their breaths visible in the cool morning air.
Ara's family had gathered by the edge of the yard. Her mother clutched her hands tightly, while Lira, her younger sister, wrapped her arms around her waist, unwilling to let go. Manuel stood a little back, silent but firm, his expression a mixture of pride and worry.
"I'll be back," Ara whispered, trying to sound confident, though her voice quivered. "I have to go."
Her mother pressed a small cloth into her hand. "Keep this close. And come back safely. We'll be praying for you."
Marko adjusted his pack and gave her a steady look. "We'll move carefully. Stay alert—you never know what's out there. But we'll face it together."
Ara glanced at him, remembering the countless times he had journeyed south to help those in need. His calm determination, his unspoken promise to protect the helpless—it was why she had awakened. Why she could step beyond fear.
Manuel stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I trust you now, Ara. You've grown stronger than I could have imagined. As for me, I will investigate the shrine more. There may be something inside that can help us—maybe some knowledge or a relic, maybe a way to strengthen ourselves further."
He looked at Marko directly, voice steady but heavy with emotion. "Take care of her, Marko. My princess… she's precious to me. Don't let anything happen to her. Not out there."
Marko swallowed hard, looking at Ara. "I promise, Tito. I'll protect her with everything I've got."
Nearby, other survivors who had been sheltering at the school approached. Old neighbors, distant relatives, and even a few travelers who had joined them—all wanted to say goodbye. One elderly teacher pressed a small bible into Ara's hands. "For guidance… and courage. You'll need it."
A young student, clutching a tattered doll, ran forward. "Stay safe, Ara! Come back soon!" Her voice cracked with emotion, but there was steel beneath the fear—a determination to survive as they all had learned to.
Ara hugged each of them tightly, feeling the weight of every life she might leave behind. Every face was a reminder of why she had awakened, why she had to step into danger. Every tear shed, every whispered blessing, strengthened her resolve.
With a final glance at her family and the survivors who had become her extended community, Ara hoisted her pack, shoulders squared, determination etched on her face. Marko extended a hand, and together they stepped onto the narrow path that led past Paoay Lake, the water shimmering beside them. Beyond the lake, the shrine still stood silently atop a small rise, its stone walls weathered but intact, a quiet witness to everything that had happened.
The school faded behind them, silent and empty. The road ahead was no longer just a path—it was a journey into danger, toward Laoag, toward gates, monsters, and battles that would test every skill, every bond they had.
As they walked side by side, the soft wind off the lake carried a whispered warning of what had already begun and what was yet to come.
Trek North toward Laoag
The road north was quiet, the early morning light filtering through scattered clouds. The path wound past fields scorched by abandoned fires and clusters of shattered homes, the remnants of a city still reeling from the pulse of monsters. Marko led the way, keeping a steady pace, while Ara followed closely, her senses alert to every movement in the tall grass along the roadside.
The lake slowly faded behind them, its surface now catching the full glare of the rising sun. Beyond, the shrine remained, perched like a sentinel atop its hill, silent but impossible to ignore. Manuel's words echoed in Ara's mind—there might still be secrets, or power, waiting within those stone walls.
"Do you think we'll run into anyone?" Ara asked quietly, breaking the silence.
"Maybe," Marko replied, scanning the road ahead. "Survivors, hunters… or worse. But we can't stop. Laoag is next, and we need to see what's happening there."
The wind carried distant sounds—the low hum of engines, the faint crash of collapsing structures, and occasionally, an animal's panicked cry. Every sound reminded them that the world beyond the school was no longer safe, that each step forward might bring them face-to-face with a new threat.
Along the roadside, they passed abandoned houses with remnants of monster attacks. Doors hung open, cupboards emptied, and a single swing in a broken yard moved with the wind, groaning in protest. Ara shivered and pulled her cloak tighter, though not from cold. The emptiness was heavy, almost tangible, a silent reminder of how quickly life had been overturned.
Marko's hand rested briefly on his sword hilt. "Stay sharp," he whispered. "Even small groups of monsters can be deadly if you're caught off guard."
Hours passed as the two walked, the roadside slowly giving way to more built-up areas—the collapsed houses, small markets half-ruined, and roads littered with abandoned vehicles. Every now and then, they spotted signs of other travelers: a makeshift campfire, a hastily abandoned bag, and footprints in the dirt that led nowhere. Humanity was scattered, cautious, and wary.
They passed a fast-food restaurant and scavenged some edible food to eat after walking for an hour.
As they continued their walk, the supposed location of the Depot—a sign that they were finally nearing Laoag—came into view. The building lay in ruins, as if a meteor had struck it. The wreckage was charred and twisted, the blast marks not from sorcery but from gas explosions during the first wave of monster attacks.
Ara slowed, her gaze lingering on the devastation. Before she could speak, Marko raised a hand, his eyes narrowing.
Up ahead, in the middle of the cracked highway, a small gate pulsed faintly, its surface rippling like water disturbed by stone. From its depths spilled goblin-like creatures, snarling and shrieking as they swarmed toward a cluster of survivors. Men and women armed with makeshift weapons fought desperately to hold the line—swinging pipes, hurling rocks, anything to keep the monsters back.
The clash of metal and the cries of the wounded echoed through the empty streets. One survivor stumbled, barely dodging a goblin's jagged blade before another drove it back with a spear.
Ara's hand gripped Marko's sleeve, her voice tight. "They won't last long."
Marko's jaw set, his eyes fixed on the battle ahead. "Then we make sure they do."
Marko's First Skirmish After Trial
The survivors' defense was breaking. A goblin lunged past to their side, its jagged blade raised high. A woman screamed, stumbling backward.
Before the strike could land, Marko surged forward. His body moved with a speed that startled even him—like fire running through his veins, every step heavy with force. His spear thrust upward, flames licking along its shaft, and pierced clean through the goblin's chest. The monster dropped lifeless, and the line of survivors stared in disbelief.
Ara followed close behind, bow already drawn. Frost shimmered along the string as she loosed an arrow that whistled through the air, striking a goblin in the throat. The creature froze in place, ice spreading across its skin before shattering it into shards. She shifted quickly, nocking another arrow and firing into the melee—each shot clean, precise, and cutting down the threats that slipped through.
Marko pressed forward, the memory of the Trial of Flame burning in his muscles. Every thrust of his spear carried more weight, every sweep faster and sharper. When three goblins swarmed him at once, he ducked low, spun, and carved a blazing arc that scorched the ground. Ara's frost-tipped arrow pierced the chest of the last goblin, causing it to collapse in cinders and stagger back.
"Stay together!" Ara called to the survivors. "Hold the line—we can push them back!"
Encouraged, the survivors rallied. Pipes slammed, rocks flew, and with Marko's spear and Ara's ice cutting through the chaos, the goblins faltered. The gate shimmered violently, and its surface flickered as if it were resisting collapse.
One final goblin shrieked as it leapt from the gate. Marko met it mid-air, driving his spear upward in a fiery arc that split the creature cleanly. Ara loosed one last arrow, freezing its remains before they even hit the ground. The gate pulsed once—then a deeper, heavier sound rumbled through the air.
A massive clawed hand gripped the edge of the portal. The crowd gasped as a hulking figure stepped through, towering over the corpses of its kin. Its mottled green skin was armored with thick plates, its tusks curled like blades, and in its hand it dragged a crude but massive club of stone and rebar.
The gate flickered violently—and then collapsed behind it, leaving the monster fully in the mortal world.
The hobgoblin straightened, its burning yellow eyes sweeping over the survivors. The weight of its presence pressed down like a storm.
Marko tightened his grip on his spear, the flames along its tip sparking anew. Ara raised her bow, frost gathering on her fingers.
The survivors froze, breath held.
Another battle was about to begin.
The Hobgoblin's Challenge
The hobgoblin roared, the sound shaking broken glass from nearby windows. Survivors staggered back, clutching pipes, sticks, or nothing at all. The monster's massive club slammed into the road, splitting the cracked pavement with terrifying force.
"Spread out!" Marko barked, stepping forward with his spear. Flames flickered faintly along its steel point. He could feel the weight of the Trial of Flame humming in his veins, urging him forward.
Ara's bow was already drawn, frost curling along her fingertips. "Keep its eyes on us," she said sharply, loosing an arrow. The shot streaked like icefire, striking the Hobgoblin's shoulder. It snarled but hardly flinched, swinging its club in a wide arc.
Marko lunged in, spear thrust low. Sparks of flame seared across the hobgoblin's hide, but the beast's sheer bulk forced him back. The impact of the hobgoblin's counterblow rattled Marko's arms, even through the shaft of his spear.
A survivor screamed as the club nearly crushed him. He stumbled back, hands empty—until a rock landed at his feet. Desperation burned in his chest.
Jun, a lanky young man with dirt-streaked cheeks, scooped up the stone and hurled it with all his strength. To his shock, it cut the air with unnatural force, striking the Hobgoblin square in the jaw. The monster reeled for an instant, blinking in surprise.
Everyone froze.
Jun stared at his hand, then at the broken rock. "I… I can throw harder," he whispered, as if realizing it mid-breath. Another stone was already in his grip. This time, when he hurled it, the projectile cracked against the hobgoblin's temple, drawing blood.
"Keep throwing!" Ara shouted, loosing another frost arrow into the monster's chest.
Marko seized the opening, rushing in. His spear blazed, carving deep into the hobgoblin's thigh. The beast howled, staggering, and several other survivors surged forward—pipes and sharpened poles striking at its flanks.
The hobgoblin roared in fury, swinging its club with bone-shattering force. Survivors were flung aside, but Jun's stones came one after another, each throw more powerful than the last, keeping the monster's attention divided.
Ara moved along the edge of the fight, arrows freezing over its wounds, slowing its movements. Marko pressed from the front, his spear burning brighter, every strike heavier, until the hobgoblin stumbled, its balance breaking.
The survivors shouted as one, their fear replaced by raw defiance.
Jun raised another rock, eyes wide with newfound determination. "We can kill it!"
He hurled another stone, this one with enough force to slam into the hobgoblin's shoulder. The creature roared in pain, distracted by the sudden onslaught.
"Keep it distracted!" Marko shouted, spinning his spear in a wide arc to block the creature's swing. Sparks flew as steel met the cleaver.
Ara's arrows hissed through the air, freezing its legs and slowing its advance. The survivors, emboldened by the display of power, raised whatever makeshift weapons they had, slashing and bashing at exposed limbs.
The battle was brutal but coordinated. Marko's spear danced with fire, Ara's arrows carved ice across the hobgoblin's flesh, and Jun's newfound strength kept it off balance. Step by step, the creature was pushed back, stumbling across the cracked road.
Finally, with a combined strike, the hobgoblin collapsed. Its body dissipated into a cloud of ash and smoke, leaving the survivors panting and staring in disbelief. Silence fell, broken only by the ragged breaths of those who had fought.
Gathering Strength
The hobgoblin's body lay smoldering, a faint heat rising from the ground where it had fallen. Survivors wiped sweat and blood from their faces, breathing heavily, their hands trembling from adrenaline. The streets were silent except for the occasional hiss of wind through broken windows.
Marko sheathed his spear, muscles still buzzing from the Trial of Flame. He scanned the group, noting the mix of awe and exhaustion on their faces. Ara lowered her bow, frost fading from her fingertips as she exhaled slowly, her eyes meeting his.
Jun dropped to his knees, shaking, staring at his hands. "I… I didn't know I could do that," he murmured, voice shaky but filled with disbelief.
"You did," Marko said calmly, resting a hand on Jun's shoulder. "But remember—strength is nothing without control. Keep focused. That's how we survive."
Ara stepped forward, offering a small smile. "You fought well. Without your stones, that thing might still be standing."
Other survivors gathered around, cautiously introducing themselves, sharing quick stories of escape and near-death. There was a camaraderie in their relief—a fleeting sense of unity amid chaos.
One of the men, wiping dirt from his face, spoke up. "We've heard there's a big camp in the mall—SM Laoag. People with powers are leading it. If we can reach it, maybe we'll have a chance."
Another survivor nodded, glancing at Marko and Ara. "You two… you're different. Come with us. Together, we might make it."
Marko exchanged a quick glance with Ara, who adjusted the strap of her pack. The mall wasn't far from the capitol—their destination anyway—and traveling in numbers improved their chances.
"All right," Marko said finally. "We'll go together. But stay alert. Laoag is no longer a city—it's a battlefield. Every street could hide a gate, every corner a threat."
Jun stood, determination hardening his expression. "Then we go. Together."
The group moved as one, cautiously advancing through the cracked streets. The shattered skyline of Laoag stretched ahead, ruins punctuated by the faint shimmer of distant gates forming. Each step carried a mix of hope, fear, and the unspoken understanding that the past was only the beginning.
Ara glanced at Marko, her grip firm on her bow. "We're going to need all the strength we have," she said softly.
Marko nodded, spear resting lightly against his shoulder. "And we'll get it. Together."
The sun rose higher, casting fractured shadows across the ruined road. Ahead, the mall loomed like a fortress of hope and danger alike. And for this ragtag group of survivors and awakeners, it was the next step in a journey that would test every ounce of courage, power, and trust they had.