Chapter 6: Echoes and Arteries
The encounter with Lysandra—*the Scout*—echoed in Kael's mind as he moved south. It was a persistent, low-frequency hum beneath his immediate focus, a new subroutine running in the background of his thoughts. *Asset. Threat. Variable.* She had claimed a sector. He understood the impulse. Control your territory, know its threats, its resources. It was what he had done with the bank. But holding ground was a different kind of strategy than his own nomadic survival. It required more resources, more risk. It implied a goal beyond mere existence.
He pushed the thoughts aside. His world was the next block, the next shadow, the next breath. The **Shadow Stride** skill was a ghost in his muscle memory, a potential he was acutely aware of. Its two-minute cooldown was a clock he constantly monitored, a ticking metronome for his safety.
The city's geography was shifting. The chaotic rubble of the initial collapse began to give way to wider avenues, but these were now choked with the graveyards of cars and the strange, pulsating flora that seemed to grow from patches of corrupted earth. He saw no people. Only signs of their frantic passage: a splatter of dried blood on a car door, a discarded backpack ripped open, its contents scattered.
He was crossing a main intersection, using the skeleton of a bus for cover, when he saw it. A flicker of movement in a second-story window across the street. Not the jerky, aggressive motion of a Corrupted, but something slower, more deliberate. Human.
He froze, melting into the bus's long shadow. His eyes, sharpened by Agility and the Stalker class, scanned the broken window. There. Again. A face, pale and drawn, peering out before ducking back. A survivor. Not a hunter like Lysandra, but prey. The kind that huddled and hoped.
A part of him, the old, instinctual part, dismissed them immediately. Prey was a liability. They were noisy, emotional, and attracted predators. They were a drain on resources. The calculus was simple: avoid.
But another part, the part that was constantly analyzing the System, saw an opportunity. They were hiding somewhere with a vantage point. They might have information. They might have seen things he hadn't. *Intel.* It was the same currency he had traded with Lysandra.
The decision was made not out of compassion, but efficiency. He would make contact. A quick, controlled interaction. He would extract whatever data they had and then move on.
He was about to step out from the bus when the System pinged in his vision, a soft, golden glow that wasn't a notification or a level-up.
**New Objective Added: [The Heart of the City]**
**Reach the Central Plaza.**
**Reward: 500 XP. Unlocks: Regional Map.**
**Failure: None.**
Kael's breath caught. Five hundred experience points. An enormous leap. And a regional map? That was more valuable than any weapon. It would show him threats, resources, perhaps even other survivors. It was a strategic game-changer.
But the Central Plaza. That was the core of the old city. A wide-open space, multiple approach avenues, countless windows overlooking it. It was a perfect killing field. The reward was high because the risk was astronomical.
The objective changed everything. The survivors in the building were no longer just a potential source of random intel. They were now scouts for the territory between him and the Plaza. They might know what lay on the main arteries.
He looked back at the window. The face was gone. The choice was clear. He would risk the interaction. The potential reward had just been scaled exponentially.
He took a step out from the bus, his hands open and visible, just as he had with Lysandra. But this time, he wasn't approaching an equal. He was approaching skittish, terrified animals. The calculus was the same, but the execution would be entirely different.
He was ten feet from the building's shattered storefront when a high, panicked voice screeched from inside.
"Stay back! We have weapons! We'll use them!"
Kael stopped, his expression impassive. He could see them now, three figures huddled in the gloom behind a barricade of overturned shelves. Their "weapons" were a kitchen knife, a fire poker, and a fear so palpable he could almost smell it.
He looked at them, these echoes of the old world, and spoke a single, calm word.
"Listen."