Alva didn't wait for introductions.
The beastman's eyes locked on her like she was water in a desert — but before he could take one step toward her…
a roar ripped through the street.
A mutated monster — one of the 80% — crawled over a toppled car like a spider made of bones.
It didn't look like a human anymore.
Jaw unhinged, limbs twisted, eyes white.
The beastman turned sharply, muscles tensing.
Alva didn't stay to watch.
She ran.
Her legs burned instantly — but adrenaline shoved her forward. She vaulted over debris, almost slipping on broken glass.
The screams behind her blurred.
She dove behind a collapsed bus stop, chest heaving, wind slicing her throat.
Don't freeze. Don't panic. Think.
Her brain repeated the lines from the novel like a manual.
> Chapter 21: Survivors who move early get the advantage.
Food. water. shelter. weapon.
She had none of those.
She forced her breathing to slow — just like the FL in the novel did.
Her heart steadied.
Goal 1: avoid monsters.
Goal 2: get something sharp — even a broken pipe.
Goal 3: find a safe building with only one entrance.
She peeked over the edge of the busted shelter.
The beastman was fighting the monster now — claws out, teeth bared, movements inhumanly fast.
He wasn't even on her side — but right now, he was the only reason she wasn't dead.
Alva clenched her teeth.
She whispered to herself:
> "I can't wait to be saved. I have to act."
She spotted a broken metal antenna pole on the ground. Perfect length to stab if needed.
She crawled low, grabbed it, hands shaking, but she didn't drop it.
The fight noise drew closer — the beastman shoving the monster toward her direction — and Alva's fear spiked like ice.
No choice — she bolted into the nearest building doorway, gripping the metal pole like a spear.
The room was dark, dusty, but empty.
Safe — for now.
She pressed her back to the wall, gasping.
Her voice was barely a whisper:
> "Alva Gabrielle… you are NOT prey."
If she wanted to live — she needed strength.
She needed strategy.
She needed information.
Beauty wouldn't protect her.
Only becoming dangerous would.
Outside — the beastman finally ripped the monster apart. Bones cracked. Silence fell.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Approaching.
Alva lifted her makeshift weapon — arms trembling, but raised.
She wasn't going to hide anymore.
She would survive.
Even if she had to become a hunter herself.