Emma and Andy returned from the river looking refreshed, their faces scrubbed clean and their steps light, only to stop dead in their tracks, their jaws collectively hitting the impossibly green floor. They stared at the two magnificent yurts, their expressions a perfect blend of confusion and awe.
"Okay, what the hell?" Emma finally managed, pointing a dripping finger at the nearest tent. "Did we stumble into a fantasy resort while we were gone? Are we about to be charged a nightly fee?"
Riley, who had been standing near the campfire with a carefully constructed air of nonchalance, turned at Emma. "Just a little something I whipped up," she said, her voice betraying none of the internal, giddy excitement she felt. "Welcome to the neighborhood." She then gestured with her head towards the plain, roofless wooden structure a little ways off. "And that's the bathroom."
The introduction to the outhouse was met with a skeptical frown from Emma, but she followed Riley inside anyway. The moment she saw the setup, the simple wooden tub, the washbasin, and the majestic, bidet-equipped toilet, a sound of pure, unadulterated bliss escaped her lips. She stared at the hand bidet as if it were the Holy Grail. Then she turned to Riley, her eyes shining with a religious fervor.
"You," Emma whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You are a goddess. The goddess of the bidet." Before Riley could even process the bizarre new title, Emma let out a whoop of pure joy, swept her up in a bone-crushing hug, and spun her around in a circle. "A goddess! We're saved! Civilization is not lost!"
Andy, who had peeked in behind them, just stared at Riley with an expression of such profound, shining admiration that a hot flush of embarrassment crept up her neck. She managed a weak, awkward smile as Emma finally set her down, feeling a familiar twinge of impostor syndrome. Most of this, this incredible, reality-bending power, had been handed to her on a silver platter. She hadn't put much effort in, not really. It was just cosmic, dumb luck.
Now, she didn't like the idea of thinking she was useless. In fact, a stubborn part of her brain snapped back that she was goddamn useful. She was the one who had figured out the golden rabbit's pattern, the one who had made the call to build this shelter. But she couldn't deny the massive role that sheer, dumb luck had played. Well, who else gets an SSS-Grade skill right out of the gate, followed by an S-Grade and an A-Grade for dessert? The universe had clearly picked a favorite, and for reasons she couldn't possibly fathom, it was her.
But, the point was, this safe zone, their tiny island in a sea of green, was starting to look more and more like a real home. They had a place to sleep, a place to maintain basic hygiene. Two of the most fundamental human needs had been met with a level of luxury that was frankly absurd.
Aside from those things, however, there wasn't much else Riley felt a pressing need to build. The remaining blueprints on her build menu seemed like secondary concerns, things they could get to later. The one thing that did gnaw at the back of her mind was the wooden fence. A physical barrier, a clear line in the dirt that said 'this is ours, keep out,' felt like the next logical step. It was a psychological comfort blanket as much as a practical defense. But her Coin balance, while healthy at the moment, wasn't infinite. Hoarding the Coins for a true emergency, for another hour-long activation of the Safe Barrier, felt like the smarter, more cautious play.
She thought about it, hard, for a long while, weighing the pros and cons in a silent, internal debate. The decision was made for her when Emma came jogging back from a short scouting trip, a massive Spark-Horned Goat slung effortlessly over her shoulders. She dropped the carcass on the grass with a heavy thud, a proud grin on her face. The sight of it, the tangible proof of the wilderness pressing in, of the potential for other, less docile creatures to be drawn to their camp, solidified Riley's resolve.
Yeah, she wanted those fences.
While the others immediately launched into a debate about the best way to butcher and cook the goat, their voices a cheerful, mundane backdrop, Riley stepped away. She pulled up the build interface in her mind, her focus absolute. The price for a single section of wooden fence was a paltry 10 Coins. It was laughably cheap. But that wasn't for the whole perimeter. To encircle the entire Safe Zone, she would have to pay for each and every section required to complete the wall.
She looked at the total cost, the number glowing ominously in her mind, and took a deep, sharp breath. It was almost everything she had. Her entire fortune, earned through blood, sweat, and a healthy dose of tactical genius, was about to be spent on a glorified picket fence. The sting was real, a painful twinge of a frugal instinct she hadn't known she possessed. But whatever. She could make it back. Probably. With a final, decisive mental command, she hit 'confirm'.
The effect was instantaneous and breathtaking. The ground along the entire perimeter of the Safe Zone rumbled, and a ripple of power, visible as a faint golden line, shot across the grass. From that line, the fences erupted, not growing, but simply appearing, slamming into existence with a solid, woody thud that echoed across the clearing.
And they were so much better than she had expected. These weren't flimsy posts. Each wall section was nearly two meters tall, constructed from two layers of thick, sturdy logs bound tightly together with heavy rope. They looked simple, rustic, but also incredibly solid. The top of every log had been sharpened to a wicked point, giving the entire structure a dangerous, menacing look.
The others had completely forgotten about the goat. They stood staring, their eyes wide open, at the wall that had just materialized around them. It was impressive, and even though Riley tried her best to play it cool, a thrill of pride shot through her. She made a small adjustment in the interface, spending a final 10 Coins to replace one section with a sturdy-looking gate built in the same style.
She crossed her arms, looking at her handiwork with a critical eye. This could probably hold for a while, she thought. It would slow down a charge, give them time to react. It was a real, tangible defense. It made their home feel complete.
But as she looked from the sturdy walls to the three people within them, another, more pressing thought settled in her mind. It was a good start. But they were still only four people. As much as she believed in the combat prowess of Emma, Michael, and Andy, they couldn't stand guard forever. They couldn't be everywhere at once. If they really wanted to survive, to thrive, she still needed to find some other people. People trustworthy enough to turn into members.
But, for now, she had no way of finding them. The endless green meadow offered no clues, no wandering travelers, no distant plumes of smoke from other settlements. It was just them, an island of four in a vast, quiet sea. So, the long-term goal of recruitment had to be shelved. It was back to the most fundamental task of all: dealing with the basics. And right now, the most basic, most pressing issue was the large, dead goat cooling on the grass.
Riley walked over to the carcass, crouching down to inspect it. The coppery smell of cooling blood was sharp in the clean air. Up close, the goat was a mountain of potential meals, its hide thick and its frame surprisingly muscular. But it was also a logistical nightmare. Butchering an animal this size would take more than just a knife, it would take skill, knowledge, and a strong stomach, none of which she currently possessed.
She looked up at the others, who were still admiring the new fence. "Hey," she called out, her voice cutting through their quiet chatter. "Does anyone know how to... uh... process one of these things?"
Michael shook his head, his answer as short and economical as his movements. "Never tried."
Andy? It went without saying. The boy was, maybe sixteen, the closest he'd probably come to butchering was unwrapping a steak from the supermarket. He just shook his head, looking a little green around the gills.
Emma let out a short, sharp "Tsk" and shrugged her shoulders, a wry grin on her face. "City girl here," she announced. "I can punch a hole through it, but I have no idea how to take it apart nicely."
Riley let out a long, weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of all her former urban helplessness. "Same."
Well, that settled it. To avoid a gruesome, wasteful mess and the very real possibility of the meat spoiling before they could figure out what to do with it, it looked like the task would fall to her after all. With a flicker of thought, she accessed the build menu, selecting a blueprint for a 'Stone Table'. It was a bit pricey at 15 Coins, but the icon depicted a solid, slab-like structure that looked more than capable of handling the weight. It materialized with a quiet thud, a simple, functional altar in their new home.
"Emma," Riley said, gesturing to the goat. "Could you give me a hand getting this thing on the table?"
Emma raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. Without a word, she bent down, hooked her arms under the goat's heavy torso, and lifted it with an ease that was frankly terrifying. She placed it gently on the stone slab, then crossed her arms and stood back with the others, a silent audience waiting to see what new magic trick Riley was about to perform.
In the stunned silence of the others - or, at this point, they weren't sure if they were even capable of being surprised anymore, but this came close - Riley stepped forward and placed a hand on the goat's flank. A soft pulse of golden light, barely visible in the bright daylight, washed over the carcass. And then it was gone.
The carcass vanished. In its place, the stone table was covered with neatly arranged piles. There were perfect, marbled cuts of red meat, a neatly folded and cleaned hide, a small stack of bleached-white bones, and even the internal organs, sorted and set to one side. And sitting innocently in the center of it all was the single, crimson-cored monster core.
They watched as Riley casually picked up the core, inspected it with a flicker of interest, and then dropped it into her pocket. They felt utterly speechless. This girl... was just too magical.
It was a good thing for Riley that the rest of them, through some silent, mutual understanding, decided not to pepper her with questions. They were all players in this new game, and they understood that a skill was a private, powerful thing. Not everyone would be willing to freely share the intimate details of their abilities, and they respected that.
The point was, there was meat. And they were going to grill it.
They used the dry branches Michael had gathered earlier, which were still piled neatly near the fire. Using their daggers, they whittled the ends into sharp points, washed them in the basin, and then skewered the large, thick chunks of goat meat. Soon, the campfire was surrounded by makeshift kebabs, the meat slowly turning over the crackling flames.
Grilled goat meat with zero seasoning. On paper, it sounded like a prehistoric culinary disaster. But as the fat began to sizzle and drip into the fire, a rich, savory aroma, so potent it was almost intoxicating, filled the air. In a moment of perfect, unconscious synchronization, four stomachs rumbled loudly in the quiet clearing.
This meat, when it was finally cooked, was a revelation. It was surprisingly tender, unbelievably juicy, and had a subtle, wild flavor that was unlike anything they had ever tasted. Was it some latent fantasy-world magic that had infused the creature's flesh with such quality? Or were their taste buds, long deadened by processed foods and artificial flavors, simply reawakening to something real? The point was, as Riley took her first, tentative bite of the large piece that was her share, her eyes widened.
It was, without a single shred of doubt, the most delicious thing she had ever eaten in her entire life.
Riley attacked the skewer of grilled meat with a ferocity that would have made a starving wolf blush. But her stomach, a flimsy organ accustomed to sad desk salads and microwavable ramen, was a traitor. After a few glorious, flavor-packed bites that made her toes curl, it hoisted a tiny white flag of surrender. She leaned back against the smooth, cool frame of the SUV, letting out a groan that was equal parts pleasure and pain. She was stuffed, absolutely packed to the gills like a Thanksgiving turkey that had lost a bet.
The four of them, a pink-haired brawler, a golden-haired swordsman, a laser-eyed teenager, and a newly-minted apocalypse landlord, had barely made a dent in the mountain of perfectly disassembled goat meat. The remaining skewers were moved a little further from the fire, resting on a makeshift rack of stones where the radiant heat would keep them warm without turning them into charcoal. That, it was silently decided, was dinner. And probably breakfast. And maybe lunch again tomorrow.
After the meal, a comfortable, food-induced lethargy settled over the camp. Emma, however, was constitutionally incapable of sitting still for long. She stretched, her muscles popping and groaning in a symphony of contentment. "Right," she announced to the quiet clearing, "My legs are getting antsy. After a bit of a shut-eye, I'm gonna do a lap. See what's over the next hill, you know?"
Riley said nothing, merely giving a small, noncommittal nod as she listened, her eyes half-closed. In truth, she was thinking the exact same thing. She was desperately hoping there was more to this world than an infinite, rolling sea of green. A forest, maybe. Or mountains. Something with a different texture, something that offered resources other than grass and timid, delicious herbivores.
It was Andy who broke the silence, his voice hesitant but clear. "When I was by the river before," he said, pointing vaguely in the direction of the water, "I think I saw some bushes with red fruit on them. Downstream a bit. How about we go check that out?"
Riley's eyes snapped open, a spark of genuine interest cutting through her post-lunch haze. Red fruit? Now that was an interesting proposition. The thought of something sweet, something that wasn't just savory, grilled meat, was an almost painfully delicious idea. And a sustainable source of vitamins, a break from their purely carnivorous diet, was a strategic necessity. "That sounds like a good plan," she said, her voice firm.
And so, the afternoon's agenda was set. They retreated into their magnificent, ridiculously luxurious tents to escape the peak of the midday sun, the cool, monster-core-powered breeze from the fans a welcome and absurd comfort. After a short, deep nap, they emerged, feeling refreshed and ready. The heavy wooden gate of their new home swung open with a satisfying creak, and they stepped out of the comforting embrace of the Safe Zone, back into the wild.
They headed towards the river, the air growing cooler and fresher as they approached. This was the first time Riley had come right to the bank, and the gentle mist that rose from the water was a pleasant caress on her skin. The river itself was a marvel, the water so impossibly clear she could count the smooth, multi-colored pebbles on the bottom. It was cold to the touch, a refreshing chill that promised purity. There was no sign of life within it, no flash of a fish's scales, no scuttling crustaceans.
Andy pointed a finger downstream. "Over there," he said, and sure enough, nestled in a small bend in the river, was a cluster of verdant green against the emerald backdrop, dotted with brilliant specks of red.
They jogged over, their boots silent on the soft earth. The plants were bushes, growing thick and healthy to about the height of a grown man's waist. Their leaves were a vibrant, glossy green, small and delicate, and hanging from the branches in heavy clusters were the fruits. They were beautiful, the size of a adult fist, with smooth, taut skin the color of a perfect ruby.
Riley knelt, getting a closer look. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cool, smooth surface of one of the fruits. 'Appraise,' she thought, and the familiar, crisp text bloomed in her vision.
[Item: Sweetwater Orb
Grade: F
Description: A common fruit-bearing plant of the new world. The flesh is sweet and edible, and the core contains a reservoir of pure, sweetened water. Non-toxic. Can be cultivated.]
She stood up, a slow smile spreading across her face. "It's called a Sweetwater Orb," she announced, her voice filled with a satisfaction she couldn't hide. "It's sweet, the flesh is edible, and there's water inside. No poison."
That was all the confirmation Emma needed. She plucked one from a branch, gave it a cursory wipe on her pants, and took a huge bite. A loud, satisfying crunch echoed in the quiet air. Her eyes immediately widened, then lit up like a pinball machine. She chewed for a moment, a look of pure, unadulterated bliss on her face, before giving a series of enthusiastic, muffled nods. "Oh, that's good," she managed, her mouth full. "That's really good. Super sweet!"
Encouraged, Michael and Andy picked their own. Riley selected a particularly plump-looking orb and brought it to her lips. She took a bite. The skin gave way with a crisp snap, and her senses were flooded. It was incredible. The flavor was a perfect, impossible fusion of a sweet apple and a creamy banana, but with a fragrant, floral note that was entirely new. The flesh was firm but juicy, and just as she was marveling at the taste, she hit the center. A gush of cool, perfectly clear, and intensely sweet liquid spilled out, running down her chin. She quickly tilted her head back, catching the rest of it, the nectar a refreshing counterpoint to the rich fruit. It was a two-course meal in a single, perfect package.
"Whoa," she breathed, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. "You have to be careful with the middle."
This, she thought, a thrill of discovery shooting through her, was a find of monumental importance. It was food, it was water, and it was delicious. A new, exciting idea began to form in the back of her mind, a plan that went far beyond simply foraging. She looked at the healthy, fruit-laden bushes, then thought of the vast, empty, and very fertile plot of land that was now hers.
Could she bring these back? Could she plant them within the Safe Zone? The thought of having a sustainable, endlessly regenerating source of food and sugar right on her doorstep was a game-changer. It was the difference between being a group of wandering survivors and the founders of a real, permanent settlement.
The ruby-red orbs were not a solitary miracle. A whole thicket of them grew in the gentle curve of the riverbank, and as they looked further downstream, they could see more clusters, a scattering of ruby-red jewels against the endless emerald tapestry. It was a bounty, a gift from this new, wild world.
"Riley, my goddess of the bidet," Emma started, the ridiculous title already a fixture, her voice muffled as she finished off her second Sweetwater Orb, "I am officially in love with this fruit. Can we… like… steal some of these bushes and plant them at home?"
Riley's lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile. That was more than just a good idea, it was the foundation of their future. "Why not?" she replied, her own mind already picturing a small, thriving orchard within the safety of their walls. "I was thinking the exact same thing."
Emma didn't need to be told twice. She wasn't a gardener; she was a force of nature. She stomped over to the nearest, most fruit-laden bush, her boots sinking into the soft earth. First, she used the edge of her hand like a spade, digging a wide, deep circle around the base of the plant with a series of brutally efficient chops. The ground groaned in protest. Then, squatting low, she wrapped her powerful arms around the root ball she had just exposed, her muscles bunching under the fabric of her shirt. With a grunt of exertion that was more for show than necessity, she lifted the entire bush - roots, soil, and all - clean out of the ground as if it were a potted plant she'd picked up at a nursery.
But before she could even take a step, before Riley could even voice her admiration for the feat, a sound cut through the peaceful afternoon. A jagged, metallic shriek that scraped against the clear blue sky.
Riley went rigid. A cold dread, sharp and familiar as a needle, pricked at the base of her skull. Her memory, a repository of trauma she was trying desperately to forget, served up the answer instantly. That wasn't the call of any new-world bird. That was the sound of a Skull Vulture.
"Oh, no," she whispered, her eyes instinctively snapping towards the sky. "Why are they here?"
As if to answer her question, a swarm of black specks appeared on the horizon, growing larger with terrifying speed. They were like a cloud of angry hornets, moving with a singular, predatory purpose. But as the specks resolved into the familiar, ugly shapes of the skull-headed birds, it became clear they weren't just flying. They were chasing something.
A single, desperate point of white, fleeing for its life.
"Is that… a person?" Andy asked, his voice trembling. "With wings?"
Riley's vision, sharper than a hawk's, zeroed in on the distant figure. The white flashes were indeed wings, beating the air with a frantic, ragged rhythm. And the figure wasn't alone. "He's carrying two kids," she said, the words a tight knot in her throat.
Emma didn't hesitate. The bush in her hands was dropped with a soft thud, its ruby-red fruits quivering on their branches. "What are we waiting for?" she roared, and then she was gone, a pink-haired cannonball sprinting across the meadow towards the impending collision. Michael was a silent shadow right behind her, his longsword already free, a whisper of silver death in the afternoon sun. The rest of them scrambled to follow.
The chase grew closer, the rattling shrieks of the vultures now a deafening chorus. Riley could see the winged figure clearly now. He was a young man, couldn't be more than eighteen or nineteen, with a mop of messy black hair and a face that was a mask of strained desperation. Two magnificent white wings, feathered like an angel's, sprouted from his back, but he wasn't flying with grace; he was falling with style, a controlled plummet that was losing altitude with every beat. Tucked under each arm, he carried a small child, their forms limp with terror, their eyes squeezed shut.
He saw them, saw the pink-haired woman charging to meet him, and a flicker of desperate hope ignited in his eyes. "HELP US!" he screamed, his voice raw and cracking with exhaustion.
He was still a hundred yards out when Emma and Michael launched their attack. Emma leaped, her body arcing through the air like a missile, and slammed feet-first into a diving vulture with a sound like a car crash. Michael was more subtle, a blur of motion that weaved between the lowest-flying birds, his blade flashing in the sun, severing bony heads from greasy black bodies before they even knew they were dead.
The young man used the opening they had created. He angled his descent, his boots hitting the ground in a clumsy, stumbling run. The moment his feet touched the earth, his magnificent white wings dissolved into a cascade of brilliant light, like sugar in water, and vanished.
Riley ran to meet him, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She reached him just as he staggered to a halt, his chest heaving with ragged, desperate gasps. Without a second thought, she reached out and carefully scooped one of the children, a little girl with tangled brown hair, from under his arm. The child was trembling like a frightened leaf. Riley gently set her down on the soft grass.
The young man released the other child, a boy, who immediately latched onto his leg, burying his face in the fabric of his pants and sobbing. Riley took a moment to look at them. They were tiny, no more than five or six years old. Their clothes were little more than dirty rags, their faces smudged with grime and tears. They were a heartbreaking sight.
The fight, if you could even call it that, was already over. With Andy adding his crimson eye-beams to the mix, the flock of Skull Vultures was less of a threat and more of an annoyance. It wasn't a battle, it was an extermination. Riley knew, with a calm certainty, that she wasn't needed for the fight. Her place was here.
She knelt down in front of the little girl, who was still shaking, her wide, terrified eyes darting around at the unfamiliar faces. Riley offered her a small, gentle smile and reached out, slowly, so as not to frighten her, and gently stroked the little girl's tangled hair.
"It's okay," she said, her voice soft but steady. "You're safe now."
The last of the Skull Vultures tumbled from the sky in a final, graceless heap of greasy black feathers and bone, its death rattle silenced by a final, precise crimson beam from Andy's eyes. The sudden quiet was almost as jarring as the noise had been. Michael sheathed his longsword in a single, fluid motion that made no sound, the silver blade vanishing into its scabbard.
"Clear!" Emma yelled, wiping a smear of black monster blood from her cheek with the back of her hand. She, Michael, and Andy immediately broke into a run, their boots pounding on the soft earth as they converged on the small group huddled by the riverbank.
Emma skidded to a halt, her eyes wide with a frantic, mother-hen concern. "Holy crap, you three okay?" she asked, her gaze flicking from the exhausted young man to the two trembling children. "Not missing any important bits? All fingers and toes accounted for?"
The young man, Luca, managed a weak, grateful smile, his chest still heaving from the exertion. "We're fine," he gasped, his voice raspy. "Just… tired."
"Right, no more talking then," Emma declared, her tone shifting from concerned warrior to bossy older sister. "You, come on." She gently took Luca by the arm, guiding his stumbling form towards the river's edge. "And you two little ones, with me." She knelt, scooping up both children with an ease that belied their size, and carried them to the water, where she began to gently splash their grimy faces, her usually rough voice softening to a gentle murmur.
Riley stood a little ways back, her arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. She had let the initial wave of adrenaline and sympathy pass, and now the cool, analytical part of her brain was reasserting control. She waited until Luca had splashed his own face and seemed to have caught his breath before she spoke, her voice cutting cleanly through the quiet afternoon air.
"Who are you, and what happened?"
Luca flinched slightly at the directness of her tone, turning to face her. Now that the immediate terror had faded from his eyes, Riley could see he was just a kid, really, his face still holding the soft edges of youth despite the grim set of his jaw. He took a deep, steadying breath.
"I'm Luca," he said, his voice stronger now. "And… thank you. All of you. For the help. You saved our lives." He then began to speak, the words tumbling out in a rush, a condensed, frantic summary of the last twenty-four hours. He spoke of the chaos in the city, the initial monster attacks, the temporary safety of the light pillars, and the new, even greater horror that had descended with the dawn. Riley listened in silence, a silent sponge soaking up every detail, her mind automatically filtering, sorting, and filing away the key points.
It was Emma who interrupted, her eyes going wide as she processed a particular part of his story. She stopped dabbing at the little girl's face with the hem of her shirt and whipped her head around. "Wait, wait, back up a second," she said, her voice sharp with disbelief. "You said… zombies?"
Luca's brief flicker of composure vanished. He let out a long, weary sigh and ran a hand through his damp, messy hair. He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground. "Yes," he finally answered, the word heavy and sour in the clean air. "After the… the black clouds… the people who couldn't get inside the safe zones… they… they changed."
A profound, chilling silence fell over the group, broken only by the gentle gurgle of the river and the soft, hiccupping sobs of the little boy. Riley's arms tightened, a cold, jagged stone of unease settling in her stomach. This was not good. This was a complication she hadn't even considered, a new layer of horror that made the previous day's monster apocalypse seem almost straightforward by comparison.
"I'm not sure if 'zombie' is the right word for them," Luca continued, his voice low and troubled. "But they look the part. Their skin is grey, their eyes are blank… and they're fast. And hungry. Those things, along with the monsters that were already there, turned the entire city into a slaughterhouse. Some were lucky. They managed to barricade themselves inside one of the office buildings that was still standing."
It was Michael who spoke next, his voice a low, practical rumble that cut through the tension. He had been standing silently, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were sharp and focused. "What's the situation with the people still there?"
Luca's silence stretched, a taut wire in the peaceful afternoon. He hesitated, a storm of grim memories flickering behind his eyes, before his gaze dropped to the soft, green grass. "Not good," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
He looked up then, meeting their eyes, and his expression was a bitter, weary thing that had no place on a face so young. "Like I said, a few buildings were lucky enough not to collapse. But the big ones, the strong ones, the ones with food still in their pantries… they belong to gangs now. Organizations." A humorless smirk twisted his lips. "They're mostly players, and from what I saw, they aren't exactly handing out free meals to anyone who asks."
His gaze shifted, turning towards a distant point on the horizon that Riley guessed was the direction of the city. "There are a lot of people trying to run… well, I don't think you can even call it a city anymore, since everything outside those few towers is mostly just flatland now. Rubble. Some other people are trying to hold out inside the smaller buildings…"
He turned his head, his gaze softening as he looked down at the little boy who was once again clinging to his leg like a limpet. A faint, sad smile touched Luca's lips. "I got lucky. I saw a monster on its last legs, managed to finish it off, and became a player. My skill… I can grow wings. I can fly. So I guess I was a little luckier than most. With that, I chose to get out." He took a shaky breath. "But while I was escaping, I saw these two about to get torn apart by those dog things, so I just… I grabbed them. And then those birds started chasing us."
Emma let out a long, slow sigh, the sound full of a weary pity as she looked at the two small, grubby children. Riley felt the same cold knot of sorrow in her stomach, but her face remained a carefully constructed mask of neutrality. She had assumed they were relatives, a younger brother and sister, maybe. But to hear they were just two random kids he had scooped up in the middle of a desperate flight for his own life… So… their parents…? Riley slammed the door on that thought before it could fully form. She didn't want to know. She couldn't afford to.
She cleared her throat, the sound a little rough. "We have a place," she said to Luca, her voice even and direct. "Relatively safe. Do you want to join us?"
The boy's eyes widened, a flicker of stunned surprise cutting through his exhaustion. He seemed at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing silently.
Riley just shook her head, a gesture of dismissal. "How about we go there first?"
And so, their small group grew by three. They led the newcomers back, with Emma, without a word of complaint, scooping up both children again and carrying them with an easy strength. When the tall, menacing line of the sharpened log fence came into view, Luca's jaw went slack, his weary steps faltering for a moment.
The moment they stepped through the heavy wooden gate, the moment the profound, soul-deep feeling of the Safe Zone washed over them, Luca stopped dead. He took a deep, shuddering breath, the air tasting of peace and an impossible security. He turned to Riley, his eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. "I can… I can really stay here?"
Riley gave a single, firm nod. "Yes. You, and both the children."
The boy looked like he was about to shatter. A torrent of choked 'thank yous' tumbled from his lips, and it was Emma who stepped in, murmuring soft, comforting words as she guided him towards the still-crackling campfire and pressed a skewer of warm goat meat into his trembling hands. It turned out he was only seventeen, just two years older than Andy. A poor boy, so young, burdened with the lives of two even younger children, hunted and chased across a ruined world. It was too much. Too much for a single day.
Riley stood to one side, letting out a quiet sigh as she watched them. She pulled up the build menu in her mind, conjuring one more of the magnificent tents near the other two. The cost officially left her broke, with only a handful of loose change rattling in her virtual bank. She registered Luca and the two children as members. Now, she finally had the five members she needed. But the thousand Coins for the next level-up felt like a distant, impossible mountain.
Michael stepped up beside her, his presence a silent, solid weight. He spoke in a low voice, meant only for her. "Zombies, huh?"
"Zombies," Riley repeated, the word tasting like ash. She sighed again. "I don't know what to do next."
The big man was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the happy, impossible scene by the fire. "Don't worry," he said, his voice holding a faint, uncharacteristic note of comfort. "For now, nothing should happen to us here."
Riley nodded, her gaze sweeping over their small, fortified island. The sturdy fence, the magical fire, the ridiculously luxurious tents. They were safe. For now. She let out another soft sigh, the small sound lost in the gentle breeze.
The afternoon sun bled across the sky, painting the clouds in soft hues of orange and rose, a gentle, almost apologetic beauty after the world's violent rebirth. Inside the newly-fenced perimeter, a fragile peace settled, but it was a peace with teeth. An unspoken anxiety hummed just beneath the surface, a low-frequency current that everyone felt but no one acknowledged. It was in the way Michael's hand never strayed far from his sword, the way Luca flinched at the slightest unexpected sound, the way Riley's gaze kept sweeping over the tall, sharpened logs of her brand-new fence, as if mentally testing their strength against horrors yet to come.
Still, life, in its stubborn, defiant way, went on. With Emma providing the raw, brute-force muscle, the task of establishing their small orchard began. She treated the earth not with a gardener's gentle touch, but with the focused aggression of a demolition expert, carving out eight perfect holes with her bare hands. The eight Sweetwater Orb bushes they'd salvaged were then planted in a neat, straight line in a sunny corner of the zone, a small, defiant act of agriculture against a world gone mad. It was a test, a hopeful experiment. If these thrived, they would bring back more, turning their home into a self-sustaining paradise. For now, it was a start.
While the foundation of their future was being laid, Andy took on the role of head forager. With a large, empty cloth sack slung over his shoulder, he headed back to the river to harvest the remaining fruit from the wild bushes. Luca, after a moment's hesitation, hurried to follow, his expression a mixture of anxiety and a desperate need to be useful. The boy had no real combat ability, and unlike Riley, he hadn't been gifted a convenient, high-tech weapon. But his wings, a skill born for escape, proved to be an exceptional tool for logistics. He became a blur of black hair and white feathers, flitting between the riverbank and the Safe Zone with a speed that left Andy gaping. He zipped back and forth, a tireless, winged delivery service, his arms laden with ruby-red orbs which he carefully deposited into a growing pile near the gate.
Emma watched him from the fence line, a thoughtful frown on her face. She sidled up to Riley, her voice a low murmur. "Hey, Goddess of the Bidet," she whispered, the absurd title already sounding natural on her lips. "Shouldn't we make the kid rest? He looks like he's about to fall out of the sky."
Riley watched Luca's frantic, determined flights, a small, understanding smile touching her lips. "He needs this, Emma," she replied, her voice equally quiet. "Right now, he needs to feel useful, not just like a burden we rescued. Let him work. It's better for him." Emma considered this for a moment, then grunted in agreement. They both understood. In this new world, purpose was a shield as vital as any wall.
As dusk settled, the magical campfire continued to burn with a steady, cheerful light, its flames dancing without any need for fresh fuel. The aroma of the last of the grilled goat meat mingled with the sweet, fragrant scent of the freshly picked Sweetwater Orbs. Their dinner was a simple, perfect feast. Afterwards, they took turns in the roofless, monster-core-powered outhouse, the simple, domestic act of washing away the day's grime a luxury so profound it felt like a dream.
The sleeping arrangements had been settled without a word needing to be said. As the landowner and the group's de facto strategist, Riley shared a tent with Emma, the brawler, a silent partnership of brains and brawn. Andy, the youngest of the original group, naturally fell in with Michael, the quiet, formidable protector. And the two small children, a little girl named Mia and a boy named Leo, had attached themselves to Luca with the unshakeable tenacity of barnacles. They were his shadow, his responsibility, and so the three of them occupied the newest tent, a small, makeshift family forged in terror.
Late into the night, long after the others had retired, Emma and Michael took up a silent, self-appointed watch. Riley had insisted it wasn't necessary, that the Safe Zone itself was the ultimate guard. But they did it anyway, two silent, powerful sentinels taking turns pacing the perimeter, their instincts as warriors refusing to be lulled into a false sense of security.
Riley, peeking through the flap of her tent, saw Michael's broad silhouette against the flickering firelight, his longsword a sliver of moonlight resting on his shoulder. The sight, instead of making her anxious, settled a profound calm deep in her bones. The trust she had in her skill was absolute, but the tangible presence of her powerful allies was a comfort she hadn't realized she needed. It made the soft fur mattress feel even softer, the cool breeze from the fan even more soothing.
Perhaps it was the day's constant stream of adrenaline, or the emotional weight of their new arrivals, or simply the sheer physical and mental exhaustion of surviving. Though she felt mentally sharp, her body was a leaden weight, every muscle screaming for rest. The moment her head hit the impossibly fluffy pillow, the world dissolved.
It was a night without dreams, a deep, black, and blessedly empty slumber, a brief, perfect peace in a world that had forgotten the meaning of the word.
The peace was shattered by a sound that wasn't a sound.
It was a deep, bone-deep thud, a vibration that ripped through the very fabric of the world, shaking the ground with a familiar, sickening lurch. Riley was torn from the depths of a black, dreamless sleep, her body lurching upright on the impossibly soft fur mattress before her brain had even registered the alarm. One hand instinctively snatched the bone-white pistol from where it lay beside her pillow, her heart hammering against her ribs in a frantic, panicked rhythm. Outside the tent, Emma's own symphony of gentle snores was cut short by a startled grunt.
The world outside was still draped in the soft, grey veil of pre-dawn. The magical campfire still crackled merrily, casting long, dancing shadows against the inner walls of their new fence. It was the second morning since the world had been reborn, and for a glorious, fleeting moment, Riley had allowed herself to believe it might be a quiet one.
That hope died a swift, violent death.
Because right outside their sturdy wooden gate, a fresh wound had been torn in the earth. A great, ugly mound of soil and rock stood where flat, pristine meadow had been just a moment before. It was a perfect, horrifying replica of the one from the previous day, a dark, gaping maw that led to a shimmering, hypnotic vortex of sapphire blue light.
By the time Riley scrambled out of the tent, pistol in hand, Emma and Michael were already standing at the gate, two silent, powerful silhouettes against the swirling blue light. They weren't looking at the portal. They were looking back at her, at Andy and Luca who were stumbling from their own tents, their expressions a complex, unreadable mixture of weary resignation and something that looked suspiciously like grim amusement.
Riley jogged towards them, her bare feet slapping against the cool, damp grass. The sudden sprint after a deep sleep left her feeling a little breathless, a faint stitch of protest lancing her side. But all discomfort was forgotten the moment she reached the gate and got a clear look at the anomaly. Her eyes went wide.
It was a dungeon.
Not just any dungeon. There was no doubt in her mind. The size, the shape, the specific, hypnotic swirl of the sapphire light - it was the exact same one.
Her eyes narrowed, and she whipped her head around to face Emma, her voice a low, incredulous hiss. "For real?"
Emma let out a long-suffering sigh, dragging a hand down her face and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. A lopsided, weary grin touched her lips, her voice thick with the gravel of a rude awakening. "Looks like we're back on rabbit-slaying duty, girlie."
Riley stood up straight, planting her hands firmly on her hips as she stared at the portal. The initial shock began to fade, replaced by a different, far more potent sensation. A thrill. A hot, greedy, capitalistic thrill. She could practically feel her mental bank account vibrating with an eager, expectant hum, the imaginary cha-ching of a cash register echoing in the quiet corners of her mind.
She took a deep breath, schooling her features into a mask of stoic neutrality. This… this was too much. A sweet cake falling from the sky was a miracle. The same sweet cake falling from the sky and landing squarely in your lap two days in a row… that felt less like a miracle and more like a cosmic clerical error in her favor. And she was not about to complain about it. Still, a quiet, cynical part of her, the part that had been trained to look for the hidden fees and the fine print, couldn't help but feel a flicker of suspicion. She wasn't used to this much good luck. Not even a little.