Date: April 17th–18th, 2027
Place: New York City – Lower East Side – Claire's Apartment
---
The night pressed down heavy.
The city outside was alive with chaos, yet strangled by silence. A paradox of horror. I could hear everything and nothing at once—the faint echo of screams carried on the wind, the gunshots that cracked in bursts before vanishing, the distant hum of helicopters that circled and then faded into nothing.
But between it all was quiet. The kind of quiet that dug under your skin and made you realize the world you'd known had already slipped away.
Inside the apartment, we had created a bubble of stillness. A fragile barricade against a storm.
Claire sat curled at the end of the couch, her knees drawn up beneath her chin. Her hazel eyes were wide, darting toward the door every time a distant sound drifted through the walls. Her blonde hair was messy, strands sticking to her damp face. She looked small. Younger than she was.
I sat across from her on the floor, my back against the door, the hammer across my lap. I could feel the thrum of my pulse in my arms, the ache in my legs, the sting of the shallow wounds carved into my skin. The towel she had tied around my forearm was already stained through.
But I didn't move. I couldn't. Not while she sat there looking like a single noise might break her.
The clock on the wall ticked. The sound was maddening.
Claire broke the silence first.
"You should sleep."
Her voice was soft, hesitant, like she wasn't sure she was allowed to speak.
I shook my head. "Not yet."
"You fought so much," she pressed, her eyes flicking to the hammer in my lap, to the blood drying across my arms. "You… you need to rest."
"I'll rest when I know we're safe."
She hugged her knees tighter, her eyes flicking away. "We're not safe, are we?"
I hesitated. Then I said quietly, "Not really."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, the silence stretched again.
Then she whispered, "I can't stop seeing them."
I looked at her.
Her fingers dug into her sleeves, her voice trembling. "The people in the hall. The way their eyes looked. The sounds they made. I close my eyes and it's all I see." Her breath caught. "I think about my brother out there, and… what if he's like that now? What if he…" She trailed off, choking on the words.
I tightened my grip on the hammer. My chest ached with the weight of it.
"I see them too," I admitted. My voice was rough, raw. "Every face. Every scream. It doesn't leave. Not yet."
Her eyes flicked to me, searching.
"But I can't let it stop me," I continued. "If I do… then the people who are still alive don't stand a chance. Your brother, anyone else in this building. You."
The last word hung heavy in the air.
Her eyes softened, her breath trembling. She lowered her knees slowly, her posture unwinding the smallest fraction.
"…You don't even know me," she whispered.
I met her gaze steadily. "I don't need to. You're here. You're alive. That's enough."
Her lips trembled, and for a moment she said nothing.
Then she whispered, "…Nobody's ever said that to me before."
Silence again, but it was different this time. Less suffocating.
---
Later, I let her lie down on the couch. She resisted at first, insisting she wasn't tired, but her eyes betrayed her. Every blink was heavy, her shoulders sagging.
I sat beside the door, hammer within reach, watching as her breathing slowly evened out. Her blonde hair fell across her cheek, her fingers still curled into her sleeves even in sleep.
For a moment, I let myself close my eyes.
The System's words came back, cold and merciless. Survive. Evolve. Or perish.
I opened my HUD again with a thought, the glowing text filling my vision.
---
Name: Elias Cross
Level: 2 (Tier 1 – Awakened)
Class: Laborer (Common)
HP: 92 / 140
MP: 20 / 20
SP: 45 / 110 (regeneration during rest)
Attributes:
- Strength (STR): 16
- Endurance (END): 14
- Agility (AGI): 7
- Intelligence (INT): 5
- Perception (PER): 6
- Charisma (CHA): 4
Class Skills:
- Reinforced Grip (Passive): +10% melee weapon stability.
- Iron Skin (Passive): 5% blunt damage reduction.
- Heavy Swing (Active): 150% STR damage. 20% chance to stagger. SP Cost: 10. CD: 6s.
---
The numbers had shifted again. SP was climbing back, point by point, as I sat still. Endurance really did make a difference—I could feel my body knitting itself back together faster, the fatigue fading quicker than it should have.
But my HP bar stayed red, glaring at me with the reminder of every wound I carried.
I dismissed the panel, sighing through my nose.
Numbers or not, I was still just a man with a hammer.
And tomorrow, I'd have to fight again.
---
The night stretched on. At one point, a scream echoed from the floor above, sharp and brief. Claire stirred in her sleep, whimpering softly. I sat tense until silence fell again.
Hours passed.
At some point, she woke, blinking groggily at me.
"…You didn't sleep," she murmured.
I shook my head.
She frowned faintly. "…You'll break if you keep going like this."
I gave a half-smile, tired but genuine. "I'll break when it's safe enough for you to sleep without fear."
Her hazel eyes lingered on me. She didn't argue this time.
Instead, she whispered, "Thank you."
And though her voice was soft, fragile, I felt the weight of it settle deep inside me.
---
By dawn, the city outside was still burning. Smoke rose in the distance, the faint glow of fires staining the horizon. The screams had grown fewer, but they hadn't stopped.
Claire sat up slowly, rubbing at her eyes. She looked worn, but steadier than the night before.
I stood, stretching stiff muscles, the hammer heavy in my hand.
"Ready?" I asked quietly.
Her eyes widened slightly. Then she nodded.
"Wherever you go," she said, her voice firmer now, "I'll follow."
I nodded once, jaw tight. "Then we start with this building. One floor at a time."
The world outside was already lost. But here, in these walls, there were still lives left.
And as long as I was breathing, I wasn't going to let them fall.
---