Date: April 17th, 2027
Place: New York City – Lower East Side – Elias' Apartment Building
---
The hallway was quiet again. Too quiet.
My breath rasped in my throat, harsh and uneven, the hammer heavy in my grip. My arms shook from the fight, sweat and blood slicking my skin. The silence pressed on me like a weight, broken only by the faint, uneven sob of the girl in the doorway.
Claire.
She looked so small, standing there with her hands clutching the wooden frame like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her hazel eyes were wide, shimmering with tears, her blonde hair sticking damply to her face. Her whole body trembled—not from the cold, but from fear.
I forced my arms to lower, the hammer's head thudding softly against the bloodstained carpet. My chest rose and fell, each breath a ragged burn.
"It's over," I said, my voice hoarse. "For now."
She flinched at the sound, her eyes darting to the broken bodies around me. Her lips parted in a shaky whisper. "You… you killed them."
I looked down at the corpses. The smell of rot and iron clung to the air. Blood painted the walls in wide arcs, thick and dark. My hammer was slick with it, dripping onto my boots.
"Yeah," I said quietly. My throat felt tight, my voice raw. "I had to."
She hugged her arms around herself, pressing her back against the frame as if she wanted to melt into the wood. "They were… they were people."
I swallowed. The words hit harder than any claw, any teeth.
"They were," I admitted. My jaw clenched. "But not anymore."
Her eyes flicked to me then, searching, measuring. Maybe looking for the same madness she'd seen in them.
Instead, all I had to give her was truth.
I forced myself to straighten, though every muscle screamed. "Listen to me. I don't know what's happening. I don't know why. But right now…" I tightened my grip on the hammer. "Right now, staying alive is all that matters. And if you want to stay alive—" I took a slow step forward, careful not to startle her, "—you stay close to me."
Her breath hitched, but she didn't move back. She nodded once, sharp, trembling.
I let out a slow exhale I hadn't realized I was holding.
"Good."
---
We moved into her apartment.
The place was small, not unlike mine. Posters still hung on the walls, textbooks scattered across the coffee table. A blanket lay crumpled on the couch, a mug still half-full of cold tea on the counter. It was a student's apartment—messy, lived in, alive with the remnants of a normal life.
And now it stank of fear.
I closed the door behind us, pressing the latch until it clicked. Then I leaned my forehead against the wood for a moment, breathing hard, the hammer dangling at my side.
Claire sank into the couch, her small frame folding in on itself. Her hands trembled in her lap, clutching the fabric of her hoodie as though it might anchor her.
I turned slowly, my back to the door, and for the first time since the fight I let my eyes shut. The System's words burned behind my lids, still there, still real.
"…Status."
The HUD shimmered into view instantly.
---
Name: Elias Cross
Level: 2 (Tier 1 – Awakened)
Class: Laborer (Common)
Secondary Class: None
HP: 92 / 140
MP: 20 / 20
SP: 31 / 110
Attributes:
- Strength (STR): 16
- Endurance (END): 14
- Agility (AGI): 7
- Intelligence (INT): 5
- Perception (PER): 6
- Charisma (CHA): 4
Free Attribute Points: 0
Class Skills (Laborer):
- Reinforced Grip (Passive Lv.1): +10% melee weapon stability and swing speed.
- Iron Skin (Passive Lv.1): 5% damage reduction from blunt trauma/falls.
- Heavy Swing (Active Lv.1): 150% STR damage. 20% chance to stagger zombies. Cost: 10 SP. Cooldown: 6s.
---
The difference was there. Subtle, but there.
Strength: every swing of the hammer landed harder, bit deeper. My arms no longer shook from its weight.
Endurance: my chest still burned, but it wasn't collapsing. The pain of wounds dulled faster, the ache in my lungs eased quicker.
Even my stamina—though drained—felt steadier, like a river that refused to run dry.
It was terrifying.
I dismissed the HUD with a thought, the letters fading into nothing.
Claire's eyes were on me when I opened mine.
"What… was that?" she asked softly. Her voice was hoarse, trembling, but curious. She'd seen me speaking to something that wasn't there.
I hesitated, jaw tightening. Then I sighed, dragging a hand down my bloodstained face. "Something… new. Something wrong. It's like a… system. Like a game, but real."
She frowned, hugging her knees to her chest. "A game?"
I shook my head. "Not a game. Not if it kills people like that." I nodded toward the door, toward the corpses that still lay cooling in the hall.
Her lips pressed thin. Her eyes dropped to the floor.
For a moment, the only sound was our breathing.
Then she whispered, "My brother…"
I froze.
She swallowed hard, hugging herself tighter. "He… he was here. We were together when it started. He told me to lock the door, to hide. He went to check—" her voice cracked, breaking, "—he didn't come back."
Her shoulders shook. Tears welled in her eyes again, spilling down her cheeks.
I tightened my grip on the hammer. My chest ached.
I wanted to tell her the truth. That he was probably gone. That the odds were he'd turned, just like the rest.
But when she looked at me with those wide, tear-stained eyes—clinging to even the faintest sliver of hope—I couldn't.
"We'll look for him," I said quietly. My voice was steady, even though inside I was breaking. "If he's alive, we'll find him. If he's not…" My jaw clenched. "…then I'll make sure he doesn't suffer."
Her lips trembled. She looked at me for a long moment, as if weighing the words, the promise, the truth beneath them.
And then she nodded, a single, fragile nod.
---
We worked in silence after that.
I found an old chair and dragged it against the door, wedging it beneath the knob. I tore down one of the posters and used the duct tape from her desk to cover the crack in the blinds. Claire fetched a towel and wrapped it around my bleeding arm, her hands shaking as she tied the knot.
"Too tight?" she whispered.
I managed a faint smile despite the sting. "Tight is good. Means it'll hold."
Her lips quirked the barest fraction, almost a smile, before falling away again.
She sat back on the couch, knees hugged to her chest, eyes darting nervously toward the window as the distant sounds of screams and gunshots echoed through the night.
I sat across from her, hammer resting across my knees. My body screamed for rest, but I forced my eyes to stay open.
She glanced at me once, twice, before finally speaking.
"Why?"
I blinked. "Why what?"
"Why did you save me?" Her voice was soft, raw. "You didn't even know me."
I stared at her, at the way her fingers dug into her sleeves, at the tears still drying on her cheeks. At the way she looked so small in the corner of the couch, like she was already half-swallowed by the darkness outside.
"Because nobody saved me," I said finally. My voice was low, rough with memory. "When I was your age, the people who were supposed to protect me… they left. And no one came. I swore if I ever had the chance… I'd never let anyone else feel that."
Her eyes widened slightly, her lips parting.
The silence between us grew heavy, but softer than before.
Slowly, she nodded. And though fear still shimmered in her hazel eyes, something new flickered there too.
Trust.
---
The silence didn't last.
It never did.
From outside came the distant wails of the city. Sirens, once constant, now faltered and cut short. Gunshots cracked like fireworks, echoing faintly against the hollow bones of the buildings. Every so often, a scream would rise—shrill, desperate—and then be swallowed in an instant.
Inside the apartment, the quiet pressed harder. The ticking of the old wall clock sounded like a hammer against my skull.
Claire sat curled on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest. Her eyes darted to the window with every noise. She flinched at every creak in the walls, every groan of the pipes.
She was terrified. And she wasn't wrong to be.
I leaned against the door, the hammer across my lap, forcing my eyes to stay open. My body screamed for rest, my muscles heavy, but I couldn't afford to falter. Not now.
Claire's voice broke the silence.
"…Do you think it'll stop?"
Her words were soft, hesitant, like a child afraid to ask.
I turned my head, meeting her hazel eyes. They were wide, shimmering with the reflection of the faint hallway light bleeding in through the cracks.
I wanted to lie. To say yes, it would stop. That this was just a nightmare we'd wake from.
But I couldn't.
"No," I said quietly. My voice was steady, but low, almost a whisper. "This isn't something that just… goes away."
Her lips trembled. "So it's really the end?"
I exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over my face. "It's the end of something. But maybe not everything."
She blinked. "What do you mean?"
I tightened my grip on the hammer. The weight of the System's words echoed in my mind. Survive. Evolve. Or perish.
"The world we knew is gone," I said. "But if we're alive… we make what comes next."
She stared at me, searching, as if trying to see if I really believed it.
I didn't know if I did. But right now, she needed to hear it.
Her shoulders eased slightly, the tension in her posture softening.
"Do you always talk like that?" she asked, her voice a fragile attempt at something lighter.
I huffed a faint, humorless laugh. "No. Usually I don't talk much at all."
That almost made her smile. Almost.
---
The night stretched.
I tried to keep her talking, to keep her anchored to something other than fear. She told me she was a college freshman, studying psychology. She lived here with her older brother, who worked at a nearby café. He'd told her to hide when everything started.
Her voice cracked when she said his name. Aaron.
She clung to the hope he was still alive. And though my gut twisted with doubt, I didn't take it from her.
When the silence grew again, it was broken by the sound of shuffling outside.
Both our heads snapped toward the door.
A heavy thud shook the wood.
Claire gasped, pressing back into the couch.
Another thud, harder. Then the guttural growl.
My hand tightened on the hammer.
The door rattled violently as something slammed against it, claws scratching, jaws gnashing. The chair wedged beneath the knob groaned. The hinges squealed under the pressure.
Claire whimpered, pressing her hands over her ears. "It's here—it's here—"
I stood slowly, stepping between her and the door. My chest rose and fell steady, though my heart pounded.
"It won't get through," I said.
Her eyes were wide, frantic. "You don't know that—"
"It won't," I repeated, firmer.
The door shook again, harder this time, a crack splintering through the frame. Claire sobbed, rocking slightly where she sat.
I crouched down beside her, my hammer still in hand. Her hazel eyes snapped to mine, glistening with fear.
"Claire," I said, my voice low but firm, steady as stone. "Look at me."
She did. Barely.
"I won't let it touch you. Do you understand?"
Her lips parted, her breath coming in shaky gasps. "But—"
"I won't," I cut in. My voice was rough, but steady. "Not while I'm breathing. That's a promise."
She stared at me, the tears spilling faster.
The door rattled again, then fell silent.
We both froze, holding our breath.
The silence stretched, the kind that claws at your nerves, that makes you believe the monster is still waiting on the other side.
Finally, faint footsteps shuffled away down the hall, fading into the distance.
Claire sagged against the couch, sobbing quietly into her sleeves. Relief, fear, grief—it all poured out at once.
I sat beside her, setting the hammer down at my feet. I didn't touch her—didn't know if I should—but I stayed close, close enough that she could feel I wasn't leaving.
Minutes passed before her sobs quieted. She sniffled, wiping her face with trembling hands.
"…Why are you like this?" she whispered suddenly.
I blinked. "Like what?"
"Like…" She shook her head, frustrated. "Like you care. About me. About anyone. Everyone else is just… running. Hiding. Saving themselves."
I leaned back, staring at the cracked ceiling. "Because I know what it feels like when no one cares. When you're left alone." My jaw tightened. "I don't want anyone else to feel that. Not if I can stop it."
She studied me for a long time. Her eyes were still red, but the tears had slowed.
Finally, she whispered, "…Then I'll follow you. Wherever you go."
The words hung heavy in the air.
I turned, meeting her gaze.
Her voice trembled, but her eyes were steady now, hazel locking onto blue. "If you say we can make something new… I'll believe you."
I felt something shift in my chest, something warm despite the blood and horror and fear pressing in from all sides.
I nodded slowly. "Then we survive. Together."
For the first time since the world collapsed, she smiled. Small, faint, but real.
A flicker of trust in the ruins.
---
(Another long ch # 2288 words)