A.T:
Quick note: Hana is in her mid-teenage years; 12 to 14 years old. Not an adult.
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The silence of the subway ruin was heavy. Every sound carried too far, a dropped spoon, the crack of a fire gone out, even the scrape of boots on broken tile. It wasn't morning in any real sense, the world above was storm and ash, but they called it "dawn" anyway. Dawn was when you gathered what scraps you had, and prayed the shadows let you move.
Mara portioned out what little food remained with the same ruthless precision she used for every decision. No complaints, no hesitation. Just measured survival.
"Half a tin each," she murmured, sliding cold beans into cupped hands. "Don't argue."
She didn't look at Elias directly, but her gaze flicked his way, always on the edge of her vision, as if she could pin him down without committing to it.
Jonah did look at him; openly, brazenly, with all the hate he could squeeze into his bloodshot eyes.
"Waste of rations on monsters," he muttered, loud enough to carry.
The word snapped inside Elias. He looked down at the tin handed to him, the beans sticking to its sides. Hunger coiled in his gut, deeper than stomach hunger, deeper than marrow. He hadn't eaten properly since before the sky fell, and every cell in his body screamed for him to shovel the food into his mouth.
But Hana slid closer, her dark eyes bright in the gloom, and without a word, pushed her portion toward him.
"You need it more," she whispered.
Elias's throat tightened. He shook his head. "No."
She tried again, small but insistent. "Take it."
The gnawing in his gut roared. His tongue tasted copper that wasn't there. But guilt speared through it, cold and merciless. If he touched that food, if he took one bite, he wasn't sure if he could stop.
He pushed the can back into her palms. "Keep it."
Hana's mouth pressed into a faint smile. Jonah scowled.
Darius sat at the edge of camp, blade in hand, running a whetstone across its edge with slow, deliberate motions. The scrape echoed. His eyes never left Elias.
On the other side, Nia rocked slightly, her face a wreck of soot and tears. Her words spilled out low and broken:
"He looks like him… he came back to me."
Her eyes fixed on Elias, wide and searching. Not at him exactly, but through him, into the shape of her dead husband she thought she saw. Elias looked away, unsettled, shame crawling in his chest.
That was when the System leaned in.
"The screw in her brain has gone loose. She'd welcome it, you know. First taste is always the sweetest."
Elias's fists clenched. He muttered under his breath: "Keep your advice to yourself."
The System chuckled. "Ungrateful little beast."
The scrape of Darius's whetstone went on, counting down seconds neither dawn nor dusk could measure.
The subway mouth yawned open, a black scar against the ashen morning. The group filed out in silence, boots crunching on rubble, eyes flicking upward as if the sky itself might split.
The city was a graveyard.
Rust-ripped cars lay stranded in the streets, their hoods crushed, windows shattered. A bus leaned sideways into a collapsed storefront, its windows smeared in dried handprints.
Crows perched everywhere. On telephone lines, jagged rooftops, the broken ribs of streetlamps. They didn't move. Didn't cry. Just stared with ember-glow eyes, like an audience waiting for a show.
Elias felt each gaze as a pressure on his skin.
And beneath it all, his senses wouldn't quiet.
He heard Jonah's breath, uneven, the rasp of lungs not meant for running. He heard Hana's steady rhythm, quick but light. He heard Darius's pulse; calm, unnervingly calm, like the man's heart was in no rush no matter the storm.
Each beat thrummed in Elias's skull.
Not people.
Not companions.
Prey.
He clenched his fists until his nails dug crescents into his palms.
Don't.
The System chuckled low, its voice slithering between heartbeats.
"Count them. One… two… three… How many beats before silence, Elias? It's easier than you think. Easier than breathing."
"Shut up," he muttered under his breath.
Jonah's head snapped around, suspicion burning in his eyes. "What'd you say?"
"Nothing." Elias adjusted his hood, kept walking.
Mara didn't slow. "Eyes front, Jonah. Save your paranoia for when it's useful."
"Paranoia?" Jonah hissed, his voice sharpening like glass. "I've seen his eyes glow in the dark. I've seen him heal like—like that." He snapped his fingers. "You all want to pretend it's fine, but it's not. He's not—"
"Not what?" Hana cut in, her voice trembling but firm. She walked between them, her small frame almost ridiculous against Jonah's anger. "He saved me. If he wanted us dead, he wouldn't have to wait. He could've done it already."
Elias swallowed hard. He hadn't asked for her defense. Didn't deserve it.
Jonah's lip curled. "Or maybe he's waiting. Letting us feed him until he's strong enough to—"
"Enough." Mara's voice cut his sentence short. She glanced once at Elias, eyes unreadable, then forward again. "We argue when we're safe. Until then, shut your mouths and walk."
Silence fell again, but it wasn't peace. It was a silence with teeth.
Darius's knife scraped against a whetstone as he walked, shhhk, shhhk, each stroke measured. He didn't look at Elias, but Elias felt the weight of his gaze anyway, heavy and clinical, the way a predator sizes another.
The System purred.
"They're cracking, Elias. Jonah raves, Mara weighs, Darius hunts, the girl clings, the widow prays. All you need is one tether. Just one… and the rest are meat."
Elias's jaw tightened. He hissed back through his teeth, "Please. Shut up."
But the whisper only laughed, soft and delighted.
They ducked into a collapsed storefront when the sky began to spit rain. The roof sagged inward, beams jutting down like broken ribs. Shelves lay overturned, merchandise scattered and soaked in soot.
Mara motioned for everyone to spread out. "Quick. Check for anything useful."
Jonah grumbled, kicking aside an empty can. "It's all picked clean. Every damn stop's the same."
Hana ignored him, kneeling near a half-split crate of bottles. Her hands shook dust from one, then another, as if willing them to be full. Elias watched her small motions, the way she pushed her sleeve up, the way her knuckle scraped against wood.
One drop of blood welled, red against pale skin.
And Elias froze.
One taste.
The world narrowed to that bead of crimson. The sharp scent of iron cut through rot, through ash, through everything. His stomach clenched, mouth wet, teeth aching.
His hand twitched toward her without thought.
He caught himself just in time, jerking his fingers into a fist so tight his nails split his palm.
"Elias?" Hana's voice broke the haze. She looked up, smiling faintly despite the exhaustion in her eyes. "A little help, please?"
He staggered back a step. Couldn't trust his own legs to move forward. Couldn't trust himself near her pulse.
"She offers it without knowing. A gift. One bite, Elias. Just one. She'd still smile after."
"Shut up," he whispered, voice a little too loud.
Hana Blinked.
"N—not you," Elias quickly clarified.
Jonah's head shot up. "Talking to your demons again?" His laugh was harsh, bitter. "Figures."
Elias ignored him. Jonah has no idea just how right he was.
Elias moved toward the cracked window by the far wall. The glass was streaked with grime and ash, but his reflection still stared back.
And what he saw made his chest hollow.
His skin looked… clean. Almost luminous. Not pallid like before, not marked by bruises or blood. His shoulders were leaner, muscles shaped like something carved from stone. His eyes, clearer. Sharper. Predatory.
Not a survivor. Not even a man beaten down by disaster.
Something perfected.
He pressed a hand to the glass. His reflection pressed back, the faintest curve of a smile tugging its lips a heartbeat after his had gone still.
The System cooed.
"Do you see it now? Perfection. That's why Jonah hate you. The idiot know you'll outlive them. He know you'll devour them."
"Yeah… you'd know better," Elias whispered. "…I'm still me. I'm still—"
The hunger clawed up, ripping the words from him. He turned sharply, gaze snagging on Nia. She sat in the corner, rocking slowly, murmuring to herself. Her eyes were hollow but locked on him, filled with fevered devotion.
"He came back to me," she whispered, half to herself, half to him. "My husband came back. I knew he would."
Her heartbeat throbbed in his ears, fast and fragile. He almost stepped toward her, hand lifting before he caught it, muscles screaming in restraint.
"Hate to break it to you (oh, I don't), you're something more…"
"No." Elias slammed his fist against the glass instead. It shattered, shards raining around him—snapping several peer of eyes his way.
His reflection lingered in the fractured pieces, still smiling long after his face had fallen still.
Jonah leaned against a splintered counter, eyes locked on Elias.
"You think we don't see it?"
Mara's gaze snapped toward him, sharp. "Not now."
"No, exactly now." Jonah shoved off the counter, his voice rising like a breaking dam. "We've been walking beside a goddamn time bomb. Look at him! Look at his eyes. Look at him losing his sh*t!" said Jonah, pointing at the broken glass.
"We all saw what he did to those things. Human hands don't split into claws. Human eyes don't glow. You think we didn't notice?"
Elias's body was stone, muscles coiled. Words fought at the back of his throat, but he knew any defense would only prove Jonah right.
The System chuckle:
"At least, one of them sees clearly. Why not reward his honesty? Split his throat. Easy enough."
"Calm down" Elias muttered under his breath, but Jonah caught the movement.
Jonah sneered. "My God. You really are crazy!"
He grabbed a bottle from the rubble; dirt-streaked, jagged at the lip, and hurled it—
—not at Elias.
At Hana.
Her eyes went wide. She gasped, too shocked to move.
But Elias did.
His body snapped forward before thought, hand shooting out like lightning. The bottle exploded in his grip with a sharp crack, shards slicing across his palm. Blood welled thick and hot—
—then sealed.
Skin knitted back together in pulses, the wound vanishing in the time it took Hana to stagger back with a cry.
The group froze. The last shard clinked onto concrete, deafening in the silence.
Mara's knuckles whitened around her crowbar, eyes narrowing, calculating.
Darius's gaze didn't waver from Elias, but there was no shock in it. Only recognition.
Jonah's grin split wide, fever-bright with triumph. He jabbed a finger toward Elias.
"See?! You all saw it!"
But his victory was crushed under Hana's voice.
"You bastard!" she snapped, stepping toward him, fury trembling through every word. "You threw that at me?! You could have killed me, Jonah!"
"I—" His voice faltered, caught under the weight of her stare. "I had to show—"
"To show what? That you'd risk my life to prove a point?" Hana's voice cracked, tears stinging her eyes, but her anger only sharpened. "You call him a monster, but what does that make you?"
Jonah's mouth worked uselessly. His eyes flicked to Mara, desperate for backup.
But Mara's face was ice.
"Do something like that again," she said softly, each word sharp as steel, "and I'll put you down myself."
The room went still.
Jonah swallowed, but the defiance didn't leave his eyes. "You're blind. All of you. He'll get us killed."
The silence that followed was palpable, and Elias stood at the center of it, hand trembling as he let the last shard of glass fall.