The car engine groaned with a tired rhythm.
The dashboard lights flickered, and the gas gauge was brushing the red line.
The horizon was buried under a heavy mist, the sun dimmed behind clouds, barely giving any light.
"We're running out of fuel," Megan said, watching the needle.
Lucas glanced at the folded map on his knees.
"There's a gas station about ten minutes ahead, exit fourteen," he replied. "If we're lucky, there'll still be something in the tanks."
The car slid silently down the highway.
On both sides, the trees looked like skeletons, and from time to time, a flock of crows sliced through the gray sky.
No monsters. No people. Just ruins.
They reached the station.
The rusty sign still read QuickFuel – Always on the road!, though half the letters had fallen off.
The pumps were coated in dust, the building's windows shattered, the place looking like a ghost frozen in time.
"Stay close," Lucas ordered, stepping out with the rifle raised.
The silence was thick enough to feel. Their footsteps echoed on the cracked asphalt.
Megan followed, flashlight in hand.
Inside, shelves were overturned, bags split open, and the air reeked of rotten food.
"I'll check the back," Lucas said.
He found a hand pump near the storage tanks—old but working. Turning the valve, he heard a hiss of escaping air.
Then, a thin stream of gasoline started to flow.
"There's still some left," he said, smiling with relief.
While he filled the tank, Megan rummaged through the store's coolers.
She found a few cans of soup, a sealed bottle of water, even a melted chocolate bar.
She packed everything into a box.
"This should last us a few more days," she said as she returned.
Lucas sealed the tank and wiped sweat from his forehead.
"Perfect. We'll leave before dark."
They got back on the road.
The engine, now fueled again, hummed with renewed hope.
The road wound through burned-out hills and blackened trees.
In the distance, the ruins of a city emerged through the haze.
But the relief didn't last long.
"What's that?" Megan asked, pointing ahead.
She slowed down.
Hanging from a rusted highway sign was a human body—a man, strung up by the neck, his skin gray and eyes hollow.
The wind made him sway slowly back and forth.
Even inside the car, they could smell the dried blood.
Beneath the corpse, written in thick red streaks, was a message:
> Land of the Pure.
Every foreigner dies.
God bless the clean race.
Silence swallowed them.
Megan's face went pale.
"Oh, God…" she whispered. "They're human…"
"Worse than the monsters," Lucas muttered through clenched teeth.
The hanging body marked the entrance to the city like a warning sign.
Around it, more poles bore similar stains, and a makeshift flag waved in the wind—a white skull on red cloth.
"What do we do?" Megan asked, her voice trembling.
"Avoid the city," Lucas replied without hesitation.
"If that group's still there, we don't want to meet them."
"You think they're alive?"
"Yeah." He eyed the fresh blood on the pavement. "That body's new."
The engine roared as they turned the car around.
In the rearview mirror, the swaying corpse grew smaller and smaller.
Lucas stayed silent, eyes fixed ahead.
The words burned into his mind like a scar:
Every foreigner dies.
And he was one.
The road behind them vanished into fog.
Megan's hands stayed tight on the wheel as wind battered the car.
The further they drove from that city, the heavier the silence became—like the world itself was holding its breath.
After nearly an hour, a small town appeared between the hills: low houses, an old church, a few stores, and rusted streetlights.
No smoke. No movement. No life.
"Looks empty," Lucas said quietly.
"Too empty," Megan replied, killing the engine.
She parked behind an old hardware store, throwing a dusty tarp and dry branches over the car.
The air smelled of wood rot and forgotten rain.
Lucas closed his eyes for a moment, letting his senses spread.
That pulse—his inner vibration—expanded like ripples in water.
He reached out with it, scanning the area.
Nothing.
No human heartbeat. No monster's echo. No sign of life.
"No one's here," he said finally. "Not people… not them."
"You sure?"
"Completely," he said, though his eyes stayed alert. "We can rest here tonight."
They entered a two-story house, the windows veiled in dust and webs.
Inside, everything was oddly untouched, as if the owners had stepped out one day and never come back.
Plates still sat on the table, a cup shattered nearby.
Lucas sealed the doors and stuffed the cracks with old rags to block the light.
He checked each room with the rifle ready, until the place felt safe.
"All clear," he said, exhaling. "You can take the bedroom. The bed's still clean."
Megan shook her head, shy but firm.
"I'd rather stay with you. In the sleeping bag."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Again?"
"Yeah, again." She blushed. "I feel safer that way. The bag's warm… and so are you."
He smirked. "Fine. But don't complain if I crush your arm in my sleep."
"If you do, I'll kick you," she shot back, laughing.
They set up near the cold fireplace, the sleeping bag spread out on the rug.
The wind rattled the shutters; the house groaned with age.
For the first time in days, fear felt distant.
As they settled in, their voices stayed low.
Megan toyed with the zipper before asking, "Lucas… your ability. What's it called?"
He blinked. "My what?"
"Your power," she said with a curious smile. "You should name it. All heroes do."
"I'm no hero," he said with a laugh. "And I haven't exactly had time to think about it."
"Then let me help," she said, eyes bright. "How about… Human Radar?"
"That sounds like a kitchen appliance."
"Okay, fine… then maybe Echo of Life?"
Lucas considered it. "Hmm… poetic. Not really me."
"Alright, last try—'Aura.'" She snapped her fingers, grinning. "It fits. It's what you feel—the life pulse around you."
He looked thoughtful.
"Aura… yeah. Short, strong… makes sense."
Megan smiled, proud of herself. "Then that's its name. Aura."
Lucas settled into the bag beside her.
"You know," he said softly, "I can't remember the last time someone made me forget this world's a nightmare."
"Then I guess you'll have to stick with me a little longer," she whispered with a shy smile.
He didn't reply—just watched her until sleep pulled them under.
Before drifting off, Lucas lifted his sleeve and froze.
The deep gash on his arm from days before was almost gone.
New skin—smooth and pink—covered the wound.
"Megan…" he murmured. "Look."
She sat up, rubbing her eyes, then widened them in disbelief.
"That's impossible… it healed completely."
"Must be the ability," Lucas said, staring at his arm. "Maybe it speeds up my regeneration."
Megan's eyes filled with both awe and fear.
"Or maybe… the virus changed you too—just in a different way."
He fell silent, watching the faint scar fade under the dim light.
"Whatever it is, I need to understand it."
"Then rest," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder.
"Tomorrow, we start figuring out who you really are, Aura."
Lucas smiled faintly.
Outside, the wind carried the dust of a dead world.
Inside, for the first time, something felt alive again—
a promise, and the beginning of something greater.
---
Dawn poured a cold, pale light over the empty town.
Wind stirred the dust and dry leaves, making the houses creak like sighs.
Inside the abandoned home, Lucas and Megan finished a humble breakfast—stale bread, a can of beans, lukewarm water.
"Well," Megan said, brushing her hands off, "if we're staying a few days, let's make use of it. Your ability needs training, right?"
Lucas nodded, glancing at his fully healed arm.
"Yeah. But I don't know where to start."
"Then we do what any reasonable person does when they don't know something," she said, smiling mischievously. "We experiment."
"Experiment?"
"Exactly." She found a piece of paper and a pen on the table. "First, we observe what you can do. Then, we figure out how to improve it."
They stepped out into the backyard. The air was crisp, smelling of dry grass.
Lucas sat cross-legged on the ground, the same way he had the night his power awoke.
He closed his eyes, focusing.
"Breathe," Megan said, sitting across from him. "Remember how it felt the first time."
Lucas inhaled deeply. After a few seconds, a faint, shimmering vapor began to rise from his skin—barely visible, like heat waves.
"There it is," Megan whispered, amazed. "It's like… moving warmth."
Lucas opened his eyes.
"It feels like something opens inside me—like energy flowing out through my skin."
She leaned closer, fascinated. "So that's your aura. Pure life energy."
He smiled. "Aura… yeah. I like it."
"Well, now it's official," she said, winking.
He chuckled. "You really like naming things, don't you?"
"Someone's got to," she teased.
Lucas closed his eyes again, pushing the aura outward.
The mist spread slowly around him, forming a faint halo.
He could feel the wind, the warmth of the sun… even the tiny movements of insects in the grass.
"I can feel things," he murmured. "Different vibrations. Each one unique."
"Can you tell what they are?"
"I think so. That one… small, quick…" He pointed to the side. "A mouse, maybe."
"That's amazing!" Megan grinned. "You've got a biological radar built into your body."
Lucas focused harder. The air around him trembled, a low hum filling the space.
"Ugh… it's draining," he muttered.
"Easy. Don't push too hard," Megan said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you need to control how much energy you release. Don't just pour it all out."
"Like a valve," Lucas said. "Too much, and I'm empty. Too little, and I feel nothing."
"Exactly." Megan crossed her arms, thinking. "Think of your aura like water flow. If it gushes too fast, the tank empties. Too slow, it stagnates."
Lucas arched a brow. "Where'd you get that analogy?"
"Avatar. And Dragon Ball," she said proudly.
He laughed. "Great. My spiritual teacher's an anime fan."
"Hey, laugh all you want—it's working," she said, nudging him with her foot.
He chuckled, closing his eyes again.
His breathing steadied, and the aura began to glow softly around him—this time smoother, calmer, like a second skin.
"That's it," Megan said, fascinated. "Now it's different. More stable."
Lucas opened his eyes slowly.
"I can feel it wrapping around me, but it doesn't weigh me down."
"Then you've got your foundation," Megan said, smiling. "First, keep it steady without exhausting yourself. Then, learn to expand or focus it."
He nodded. "Yeah. That's the plan."
"Although…" she said, grinning, "when you sit there with that vapor around you, you look like a giant teapot."
Lucas frowned. "A teapot? Really?"
"Yeah!" she burst out laughing. "All serious like that, I keep waiting for steam to whistle out of your ears."
He tried to glare but started laughing too. "Careful, or I'll blast some of this steam your way."
"Don't you dare, Mr. Aura!" she shot back, still laughing.
They both laughed until the sound faded into a comfortable quiet.
"Thank you, Megan," Lucas said softly. "Without you, I'd still be lost in all this."
"Don't thank me," she said, standing and offering him her hand. "If you're going to be a hero in this hell, you'll need a good assistant."
"Assistant?" he laughed.
"Yep—and I charge extra," she teased, heading back inside.
Lucas looked down at his hands.
The aura still shimmered faintly, floating around him.
For the first time, it felt like he was in control.
And deep down, he knew—this was only the beginning.