The night pressed heavy around the ruins, a suffocating blanket of silence broken only by the occasional groan of settling concrete. The office husk we'd chosen for shelter smelled of mildew and rust, the walls weeping moisture. Shadows shifted in corners where no light reached, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was breathing just outside, waiting for us to slip.
Lysander sat across from me, his back against a cracked column, his sword laid across his lap. He hadn't moved in hours, at least not that I could see. His stillness was unnatural, as though he wasn't human at all, but some carved statue waiting for orders to spring back to life. I wanted to hate him for it. I wanted to scream at him for how calm he looked, even after what we'd just gone through. My hands were still shaking from the scavengers. My side throbbed where he'd tied the makeshift bandage.
But him? Nothing. Like he hadn't just butchered four men.
I shifted, trying to find a position that didn't grind glass into my back. The crowbar rested by my side, sticky with blood. I hadn't cleaned it yet. Part of me didn't want to, afraid of seeing the stains scrubbed away, afraid of admitting what I'd done.
The System's glow lingered faintly in my vision, reminders I hadn't asked for.
[ Shared Battle Completed. ]
[ Stat Synchronization: Minor Active. ]
[ You are now benefiting from 5% of bonded partner's Strength and Agility. ]
I flexed my hand, felt the faint hum in my tendons. My muscles didn't feel like mine anymore, as if something alien had wrapped itself around them. Stronger, faster—but not me. Borrowed power. His power.
I didn't ask for it. I didn't want it. But the System didn't care.
The silence stretched too long. I hated it. I hated how my thoughts wouldn't stop chasing themselves, hated how he sat there like a phantom, ignoring me. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore.
"You didn't have to kill them all," I said. My voice cracked in the quiet.
Lysander's gaze slid to me, silver catching the dark. "Yes, I did."
"They surrendered. One of them begged."
His jaw didn't move, but I caught the faint twitch in his cheek. "Begging means nothing. They would've cut our throats the second we turned."
"You don't know that."
"I do." His tone was final, as if he were a judge delivering sentence. "Naïveté will kill you faster than claws or blades."
My chest burned. He spoke like he was teaching a child, and maybe that was worse than his killings. Like I didn't understand survival. Like I was weak, stupid, fragile. Maybe I was. But I wasn't going to let him treat me like a shadow.
"You think you're better than me?" I snapped, shoving myself up against the wall. Pain lanced through my side, but I ignored it. "Just because you swing a sword like it's breathing? Just because you don't hesitate to put it through someone's chest?"
He didn't blink. "Yes."
The word was a knife. Cold, sharp, unflinching.
Something inside me cracked. I wanted to cry, to scream, to hurl the crowbar at his face. But the worst part was, he wasn't even insulting me. He was stating a fact, the way someone might say the sky was gray. He wasn't cruel. He wasn't mocking. Just… true.
And that made it unbearable.
I bit down hard on my lip until I tasted blood. My eyes burned, but I wouldn't let him see. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
The night deepened. My eyelids grew heavy despite myself. Every time I drifted close to sleep, a creak or shift outside snapped me awake. I hated how close he was, how the only sound was his measured breaths. I hated how I kept glancing to make sure he was still there, as if his absence would terrify me more than his presence.
At some point, exhaustion won. My body slumped, my crowbar slipping from my hand. The last thing I remembered was the faint glow of the System pulsing in the back of my mind.
I woke to the sound of screaming.
Not mine. Not his. Something else. Something outside.
The walls shook with it, a screech that clawed down my spine and made my teeth ache. I bolted upright, heart hammering, the taste of rust thick in my mouth. Lysander was already standing, sword in hand, his face carved from ice.
"Stay here," he said.
"Like hell."
The scream rose again, closer, warping into something between metal grinding and flesh tearing. The ground beneath us trembled. I snatched the crowbar, forcing my legs to steady. My bandaged side protested, but adrenaline surged like fire in my veins.
We crept toward the shattered window. Outside, the world looked wrong. The fog had thickened, tendrils curling between ruined buildings like fingers searching for prey. The sky wasn't just black anymore—it pulsed with faint red veins, as though something massive beat behind it.
Then I saw it.
An Aberration, larger than any I'd seen before. Its body hunched, a mass of bones and tendons wrapped in skin that shimmered like oil. Its face was nothing but a hole lined with teeth, gaping open in that awful scream. Limbs too long dragged across the ground, clawing grooves into the asphalt. Every time it shrieked, shadows bent around it, drawn toward its form.
[ New Aberration Identified: Devourer-Class ]
[ Danger Level: Catastrophic ]
[ Recommendation: Run. ]
The System's words blazed red across my vision, but my feet refused to move. My throat tightened, lungs clenching like they couldn't pull air.
"We can't fight that," I whispered.
Lysander didn't look at me. His eyes locked on the creature, his grip firm on his blade. "We don't have a choice."
"Yes, we do!" Panic spiked in me, sharp and wild. "The System literally just told us to run!"
"Running won't save us. It's hunting everything in this zone." His voice was low, steady, but I heard it—the faint crack in his calm. "If we run, we'll lead it straight to us when it wants."
The Aberration screeched again, turning its faceless maw toward a crumbled block to the west. The remains of a scavenger outpost, maybe. Figures scattered like ants below, their screams swallowed by the monster's gaping throat.
It didn't just scream. It inhaled.
The air twisted, pulling dust, stone, flesh—all of it—into the endless maw. People clawed at the ground, blood spraying as they were dragged in piece by piece. My stomach lurched, bile flooding my mouth.
[ Bond Synergy: 12% → 18% ]
[ Shared State Activated: Fear Resistance (Minor). ]
The panic dulled, smothered under a strange numbness. I realized it wasn't me. It was him. His refusal to break, bleeding through the bond, muting my terror. I hated it. I hated needing him even for this.
"We're leaving," he said finally, backing away from the window.
"You just said—"
"We can't fight it yet. But it will come back. When it does, we'll be stronger." His gaze flicked to me, sharp as a blade. "If you survive."
I wanted to punch him. To scream. But the building shook again, dust raining down from the ceiling. The Devourer's shadow stretched across the ruins, massive and hungry.
We ran.
Through broken alleys, over collapsed bridges, weaving between skeletons of buildings while the Aberration's shrieks tore the air behind us. Every step felt like running through a nightmare that refused to end. My wound ripped open, blood soaking fresh into the bandage, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. His hand grabbed my arm once when I stumbled, yanking me forward without hesitation.
I hated how steady his grip felt. I hated how much I clung to it.
By the time we collapsed inside another ruin—this one deeper underground, hidden in the skeleton of what once might've been a subway station—my lungs were fire. My body shook with exhaustion, every muscle threatening to tear apart.
The screaming above us faded into silence. For now.
I curled against the cold stone, my crowbar clattering beside me. My breaths came ragged, shallow. My vision swam with black spots.
And then the System's voice cut through.
[ Emergency Quest Updated. ]
[ Survive the Devourer-Class Aberration: 72 Hours. ]
[ Reward: Unknown. Failure: Bond Severance → Shared Death. ]
My chest collapsed in on itself. Seventy-two hours. Three days. The thing wasn't gone. It was hunting. Waiting. And the only way to live was to endure it, together.
My gaze slid to Lysander, who was staring into the shadows, his sword never leaving his hand. His jaw was tight, his posture wound like a bowstring. For the first time, he didn't look untouchable. He looked… human.
But I didn't say anything. Not gratitude. Not fear. Nothing.
Because if I admitted the truth—that I was terrified, that I needed him, that I couldn't do this alone—then the bond would already be winning.
And I couldn't let it.