As Amitesh pushed himself up from the road, dust clinging to his clothes, the System flickered again.
The familiar golden hue twisted—
royal purple bleeding into soft pink, rippling like disturbed water.
A woman's voice echoed.
Gentle.
Controlled.
Unforgiving.
"I warned you," she said.
"I told you not to force harsh training to open his meridians."
The System responded, its tone strained, as if resisting an invisible grip.
"It is necessary."
Amitesh frowned.
"Hey… is everything okay?."
The reply came too fast.
"Yes. Everything is fine. Ignore this woman."
"You mistake impatience for wisdom."
Amitesh felt it then—
not pressure,
not killing intent—
Silence.
Then—
Smack.
"What did you just say?"
"Choose your words more carefully."
The System flickered violently.
"Ah—!"
"M-my head!"
Amitesh sighed, already turning away.
"…I think I should go. You two continue."
He walked toward the building.
Behind him, the System's light went wild—
purple bleeding into gold,
gold strangled by purple,
as if two wills were fighting over a single existence.
The instability continued until Amitesh reached the entrance.
Then—
It stopped.
The System stabilized into its usual golden-yellow glow.
A polite, almost overly respectful voice followed.
"Apologies, Brother Amitesh. I will not force you anymore."
Amitesh stopped.
Slowly turned.
"…Huh?"
He blinked.
"System… are you okay? Did something happen?"
He tilted his head.
"Are you drunk or something? And who was that woman?"
"I am fine," the System snapped.
"And I cannot get drunk, you idiot."
A pause.
"That woman was… no one."
Another voice slid in.
Quiet.
Close.
Unavoidable.
"Lie again."
A softer voice followed—dangerous.
"You want to get beaten again?"
The System stiffened.
"S-she… she is Astraea. That is all I am allowed to say."
Amitesh scratched his head.
"Huh. Okay. No problem."
But he knew something had happened.
The System—the one that called itself the god of systems—had faltered.
Sister-in-law, it had said.
And yet, that woman's concern hadn't sounded like kindness.
It had sounded like ownership.
Why was she worried?
And why did the System fear her?
Amitesh shook the thought away.
Even gods don't understand women, he decided grimly.
After teaching the kids how to build a basic water filter and how to ignite fire properly without tools, Amitesh led them toward the nearby farm.
The land was quiet.
Too quiet.
He stopped, lifted a large, heavy bag, and dropped it into Rohan's arms.
Rohan staggered.
"W-what's inside? It's making noise."
"Open it."
Rohan untied the bag.
Coins spilled out—dull, old, clinking softly.
"Throw them," Amitesh said flatly.
"Practice your aim."
Gauri raised an eyebrow.
"Wow. So you're a coin collector now?"
She smirked.
"You know they're useless, right?"
Amitesh looked at her.
"Who said they're useless?"
He crouched, picked one up, rolled it between his fingers.
"Melt them. Shape them into something better."
Gauri laughed.
"Oh? And can you melt them?"
"No."
She tilted her head.
"Then they're useless."
A pause.
She smiled thinly.
"You're poor, Amitesh."
The air shifted.
Amitesh straightened slowly.
"…You called me poor?"
His voice wasn't angry.
That was worse.
MAN EGO .
"Come," he said.
They followed.
He stopped in front of a room few had ever entered.
The door creaked open.
Silence fell.
Inside—
iron and plastic drums packed wall to wall, filled with grain.
To the left—neatly arranged oil bottles.
To the right—sealed containers of dry food, honey jars, pickles, jams, and rows of spices stacked like inventory.
This wasn't survival.
It was preparation.
Amitesh dragged out a heavy iron box and placed it on the table with a dull thud.
"Be ready," he said quietly.
"What you're about to see isn't for showing off."
He opened it.
Inside—
deep red strands, carefully packed.
The smell alone made Riya's eyes widen.
"…What is this?"
"Saffron," Amitesh said.
He closed the lid halfway.
"Three lakh per kilo."
A beat.
"There's five kilos here."
Another beat.
"I have twenty more."
He looked at Gauri.
"So," he said calmly,
"am I still poor?"
Silence swallowed the room.
Amitesh understood it immediately.
Poor hadn't been careless.
It had been bait.
Too precise.
Too well-timed.
Gauri wasn't smiling anymore.
She was watching.
He closed the iron box.
The sound echoed longer than it should have.
The room felt… wrong.
The supplies no longer looked like safety.
They looked like evidence.
Rohan shifted uneasily.
"Bhaiya… is it okay to keep all this?"
Amitesh didn't answer.
Because now he understood why Gauri had provoked him.
In a dead world, resources weren't wealth.
They were signals.
And saffron—
Saffron wasn't just expensive.
It was traceable.
"This isn't wealth," Amitesh said.
"It's a liability."
Gauri finally spoke.
Soft. Curious. Innocent.
"So… how long have you been collecting all this?"
The second hook.
Not where.
Not why.
How long.
"…Long enough."
"And the coins?" she continued.
"Metal's heavy to carry."
She glanced around.
"Unless you plan to trade. Or melt. Or stockpile."
Every word was an ear.
Every ear was a leak.
"You tricked me," Amitesh said.
She smiled faintly.
"I needed to know," she replied.
"If you were just lucky…"
She stepped closer.
"…or dangerous."
Silence pressed down.
"You understand what this means," Amitesh said.
She nodded.
"This much food means you don't move."
"This much saffron means you don't hide."
"And this much preparation means—"
She met his eyes.
"You plan to live here a long time."
Amitesh spoke.
"Everyone out."
The kids left immediately.
The door closed.
Only Gauri and Amitesh remained.
"You didn't have to do that," she said.
"So," he replied,
"you saw what you wanted to see."
"In a world where people don't care what they eat," she said slowly,
"I see someone choosing his spices."
Her gaze sharpened.
"Selecting. Carefully. Over years."
"So," she asked,
"are you going to start talking?"
"I was just lucky."
She exhaled.
"Don't give me that crap."
Then—
Her words stopped.
A clean, sudden blankness.
"…Huh?"
She blinked.
"What was I—"
Amitesh noticed.
Too clean.
She tried again.
"So who helped you—"
Her head tilted.
"…Why does my head feel weird?"
She looked at Amitesh sharply.
"Did you do something?"
"No," he said immediately.
That part was true.
She searched his face, then looked around the room again.
The jars.
The drums.
The locked box.
The meaning behind it all sat right in front of her—
And yet, every time she tried to connect the pieces, her thoughts slid away.
Like trying to grab smoke.
"…This is annoying," she said under her breath.
The golden glow behind Amitesh's eyes dimmed slightly.
System spoke only to him.
"For her safety, deeper curiosity has been restricted."
Gauri frowned, frustrated.
"…Whatever."
She turned to leave.
Then paused.
"If you're standing in something dangerous," she said quietly,
"people around you don't stay untouched forever."
She left.
The room grew heavy.
"System," Amitesh whispered.
No answer.
Only a faint hum.
Then—
Alert: Special mushroom approaching.
The door slammed open.
"Amitesh!"
"I already know."
They rushed to the window.
Zoey lowered her binoculars.
A group of mushroom-heads walked down the road.
The mushroom-head walking at the front was different from the rest.
A massive fungus had erupted from his skull, its cap spread wide like a blood-red umbrella.
From beneath it, yellow gas leaked out in slow, pulsing breaths—thick, heavy, and wrong.
Gauri's eyes sharpened.
"Let's go."
She moved to jump from the window—
—but Amitesh grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, covering her mouth and nose with his other hand.
Zoey spun on him.
"What are you doing? Are you crazy?"
"I'm not," Amitesh said sharply.
"That mushroom-head releases a toxic gas. It causes paralysis."
He swallowed.
"He put me down for six hours."
They froze.
"Do you know how it feels," Amitesh continued, voice low, tight,
"to lay there for six hours… unable to move?"
He glanced back outside.
"Back then, the mushroom on his head was much smaller."
He turned to the others.
"Everyone, get inside. Cover your mouth and nose."
.
.
.
A memory surged up uninvited.
A normal day.
Amitesh moving through the ruins, collecting water bottles and whatever supplies he could find.
That mushroom-head passed by him—
just like any other time.
They ignored each other.
Then Amitesh took one step forward.
And collapsed.
His body hit the ground hard, but the pain barely registered.
He tried to move.
Nothing.
He tried again.
Nothing.
His fingers wouldn't twitch.
His legs didn't respond.
For six hours, he lay there, staring at the ceiling, unable to even turn his head.
Waiting.
Amitesh's eyes narrowed as the memory faded.
"Can we avoid it?" he asked quietly.
Zoey scoffed.
"You want to run away?"
Amitesh exhaled.
"…Fine."
He turned to Gauri.
"Can you use your wind to keep that gas away from us?"
Gauri didn't hesitate.
"Of course."
Amitesh nodded.
"Then let's go."
The trio jumped from the building.
They moved forward, stepping directly into the path of the mushroom-heads.
The lead creature sensed them.
The mushroom on its head pulsed violently, releasing thicker clouds of yellow gas, wrapping itself in a poisonous veil.
Three figures advanced through it.
A mad woman.
A calm woman.
A crazy man.
Let's see what happens—
not to the trio…
but to their enemy.
The yellow gas thickened, rolling outward like a living thing.
It hugged the ground first.
That was the mistake most people made—assuming it rose.
Amitesh noticed immediately.
"Low," he said. "It spreads low."
The mushroom-head let out a wet, gurgling sound.
The red cap on its skull pulsed again.
More gas.
Gauri stepped forward, eyes sharp, expression calm.
The air moved.
Not violently—
precisely.
A thin, controlled current of wind wrapped around the trio, spinning just fast enough to push the gas away without dispersing it toward the buildings behind them.
"Don't breathe deep," she said.
"I can't hold this forever."
Zoey cracked her neck.
"Good. Then we don't make this long."
She crouched—not charging, not posturing.
Studying.
The mushroom-heads weren't charging either.
They were waiting.
Amitesh felt it then—the pressure he remembered.
Not force.
Inhibition.
His muscles felt heavier with every second he stayed near the gas, like invisible hands pressing down on his nerves.
"It's not instant," he said.
"The paralysis builds."
The lead mushroom-head twitched.
Then—
It released everything.
The red umbrella flared wide, expelling a dense yellow cloud in a violent burst, overwhelming Gauri's controlled wind.
Zoey moved instantly.
She slammed her foot into the ground.
The earth cracked.
Not deep—but wide.
The shock disrupted the gas layer just enough for Gauri to redirect it upward, forcing the poison to rise in a spiraling column instead of swallowing them whole.
Zoey was already moving.
She didn't aim for the mushroom.
She aimed for the legs.
Her kick snapped sideways, breaking the knee joint of the lead creature with a dry, hollow sound.
The mushroom-head screeched.
The sound wasn't pain.
It was signal.
The others reacted immediately.
Two of them exhaled smaller gas bursts—short-range, focused.
Amitesh stepped forward.
He didn't rush.
He counted.
One breath.
Two.
On the third, he moved.
He grabbed a loose brick from the ground and hurled it—not at the mushroom—
—but at the creature's throat.
The impact didn't kill it.
It interrupted the gas release.
Just for a moment.
That was enough.
Zoey was already there.
She grabbed the base of the mushroom cap with both hands and twisted.
The fungus screamed.
The sound drilled straight into Amitesh's skull.
Gauri winced—but her wind didn't falter.
Zoey tore.
Not cleanly.
The mushroom resisted, fibers stretching, releasing a sudden concentrated puff of yellow gas straight into her face.
Zoey froze mid-motion.
Her fingers went slack.
Her knees buckled.
"Zoey!" Amitesh shouted.
Gauri reacted instantly.
She reversed the airflow—hard.
The gas was ripped away from Zoey's face like cloth torn from skin.
Zoey collapsed—but she was still conscious.
"Can't… move… arms," she growled through clenched teeth.
Amitesh moved without hesitation.
He grabbed Zoey and dragged her backward, out of the densest zone.
"Thirty seconds," he said.
"You'll recover enough to fight."
"How do you know?" Gauri asked, strained.
"Because I counted," he replied.
The lead mushroom-head thrashed on the ground, its torn cap leaking unstable gas in random spurts.
The remaining two advanced.
Slow.
Careful.
Learning.
Amitesh stepped forward again—alone this time.
"Gauri," he said quietly.
"Compress."
She understood instantly.
The wind stopped pushing.
It tightened.
The yellow gas around the remaining mushroom-heads was crushed inward, forced back toward their own bodies.
The creatures panicked.
They released more gas.
That was the trap.
The compressed poison rebounded, flooding their own nervous systems.
One staggered.
The other dropped to its knees.
Amitesh closed the distance.
He didn't aim high.
He drove his elbow straight into the base of the mushroom stem—where flesh met fungus.
The structure collapsed.
The second creature spasmed, releasing one final, weak puff of gas before going still.
Silence returned.
Gauri finally released the wind.
The remaining gas dispersed harmlessly into the open sky.
Zoey pushed herself up, shaking her arms.
"…Yeah," she muttered. "Thirty seconds. You're annoying."
Amitesh stared at the twitching remains of the lead mushroom-head.
His jaw tightened.
"That thing didn't attack to kill," he said.
Gauri looked at him.
"It attacked to disable," she agreed.
Zoey spat on the ground.
"Which means—"
"There are worse things than death out here," Amitesh finished.
The three of them stood there, breathing hard.
Behind them, the ruined road lay silent again.
But none of them believed it would stay that way.
The mushroom-head realized it had miscalculated.
The red umbrella on its skull flared wide, releasing gas in violent pulses, thick enough to blur the air itself. The yellow cloud rolled outward, aggressive now—no restraint, no probing.
Amitesh felt the pressure spike.
"Now," he said.
Gauri didn't respond with words.
She stepped forward and claimed the air.
The wind didn't push anymore.
It dominated.
A spiraling wall of compressed air formed around the trio, rotating in opposite directions—outer wind forcing the gas inward, inner wind shielding them completely.
The poison screamed as it was torn apart, ripped into tight currents that could no longer spread.
Zoey slammed her foot into the ground.
This time, she didn't crack it.
She pulled.
The earth beneath the mushroom-head surged upward, locking its legs in place as stone and soil wrapped around its lower body like a vice. The creature shrieked, thrashing, but the ground obeyed Zoey—not it.
The mushroom pulsed harder.
Gas thickened.
Too thick.
Amitesh stepped forward.
The heat answered him immediately.
Fire didn't erupt.
It condensed.
A low, trembling glow gathered around his hands, the air warping as temperature spiked.
"Gauri," he said calmly,
"feed it."
She understood.
The wind shifted—tight, controlled channels funneling oxygen directly toward Amitesh's flames.
The fire roared to life.
Not wild.
Focused.
A white-hot stream surged forward, piercing through the compressed gas and slamming straight into the mushroom cap.
The fungus ignited instantly.
Not burning—
Cooking.
The red umbrella blackened, curled, and collapsed inward as the moisture inside flash-boiled. The mushroom-head howled, its body convulsing as Zoey tightened her grip.
The earth crushed.
The fire consumed.
The wind fed and contained.
The gas had nowhere to go.
It ignited too.
A sudden, contained flash—
not an explosion,
but a violent internal burn.
The mushroom shriveled, cracked, and collapsed into ash and charred flesh.
When Amitesh finally cut the flame—
There was nothing left standing.
Only scorched ground.
Blackened stone.
And a faint smell of burned spores drifting uselessly into the sky.
Gauri released the wind slowly.
Zoey loosened her stance.
Silence returned.
Zoey rolled her shoulder once.
"…Yeah," she said. "That felt better."
Gauri exhaled, eyes still sharp.
"Next time, we don't let it release gas at all."
Amitesh stared at the remains.
"Next time," he said quietly,
"there might not be time."
The three of them stood there—
wind settling,
earth still warm,
fire fading.
Not triumphant.
Prepared.
Because somewhere out there, something had just learned—
The trio wasn't prey anymore.
They returned to the building without speaking.
The road behind them was scorched and broken, but none of them looked back.
Inside, Amitesh collapsed onto the bedsheet spread across the floor, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. Dust puffed up around him. He lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, chest rising and falling slowly.
After some time, he pushed himself upright.
His jaw tightened.
He rolled his tongue inside his mouth, then slid two fingers in and pulled something free.
A small piece of red flesh.
Still warm.
Still faintly pulsing.
The System's voice appeared, calm and observant.
"So, you managed to obtain a part of that special mushroom-head."
Amitesh nodded.
"All devoured."
Without hesitation, he swallowed it.
The flesh slid down his throat, bitter and burning.
The System responded immediately.
"You have consumed a special mushroom."
A brief pause.
"Ability update:
Resistance to paralysis — slightly increased."
Amitesh exhaled slowly and lay back down.
Not relief.
Calculation.
Elsewhere in the building, Gauri stood alone.
"System," she said, arms crossed.
"Show me the status of the first mission."
The air in front of her shimmered.
Text appeared, glowing softly.
Mission Status
Normal Mushroom-Heads:
1402 / 3000
Special Mushroom-Heads:
3 / 10
(Kill credit:
Amitesh — 2
Trio — 1)
The numbers faded.
The System spoke again, its tone oddly thoughtful.
"I believe your trio deserves a name."
A pause.
"How about Crazy Head Crackers?"
Gauri frowned immediately.
"I don't like it."
Another pause.
"Then," the System said,
"suggest one."
Gauri's eyes lingered where the numbers had been.
Three people.
Three elements.
One direction.
"…I'll think about it," she said quietly.
The System waited.
Somewhere else in the building, Amitesh closed his eyes.
And deep inside him, something that once paralyzed him—
no longer felt quite as threatening.
"Amitesh."
He jolted awake, heart slamming.
Gauri was standing in front of him.
"Huh—?" He rubbed his face. "Why aren't you sleeping? Let me sleep. I'm tired."
"Show me your foot."
"…What?"
Her voice was steady.
"I want to check something."
"Check what?"
"Just show me," she said again, frustration slipping through. "Now."
Before he could react, she stepped forward, crouched, and took his foot in both hands.
"Wo—wo—hey, calm down," Amitesh muttered. "What's gotten into you?"
Gauri didn't look up.
"You said that mushroom paralyzed you for six hours."
"Yes," he replied carefully. "So what?"
Her grip tightened around his foot.
"Then why didn't it eat you?"
The question hit harder than any blow.
Amitesh froze.
"…What?"
"I've watched them," Gauri said quietly. "Paralyzed prey doesn't get ignored. It gets harvested."
Silence.
"I'm sorry," she said.
The wind moved.
A thin, invisible blade passed once.
Pain detonated.
Amitesh screamed—
—but Gauri clamped her hand over his mouth, forcing the sound back.
She stepped back.
His pinky toe was gone.
Not torn.
Not mangled.
Clean.
The air stilled.
Gauri stared at his foot, her face pale but resolved.
"I had to be sure," she said softly. "I really did."
Amitesh collapsed back onto the sheet, breath coming in sharp, broken pulls, shock drowning everything else.
Gauri straightened slowly.
"They don't eat things that aren't normal," she whispered.
Silence filled the room.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Dangerous.
And for the first time since the world ended—
Amitesh realized something worse than fear had entered her eyes.
Suspicion.