The sun didn't rise like it used to.
Elias opened his eyes to a gray light slipping through the edges of the curtains. It wasn't warm or golden—it felt more like a spotlight in a room full of dust. The kind of light that didn't belong in a living world.
His body ached. Not from a fight. Just from existing.
The bat was still in his hand. His fingers had locked around it during the night like they didn't trust the darkness not to crawl inside.
He sat up slowly.
No alarms. No morning rush. No school. No messages on his phone. Nothing.
Just the hum of silence pressing against the walls.
And the faintest… smell.
Metal. Rust. Something deeper. He knew it now—blood and rot. The city had started to bleed again. He could smell it even up here, five stories above the ground.
Elias stood.
Not because he wanted to. But because staying down meant the world moved without him. And this new world wasn't patient.
He checked the door.
Still solid. Screws tight. No signs of intrusion. Yet.
Then the voice returned—not loud, not dramatic. Just a whisper through his bones.
[New Quest Available: Scavenge nearby apartments. Gather food and medical supplies.]
Reward: 75 Coins + ???
Elias stared at the locked door, jaw tight.
He didn't need the system to tell him what that meant.
He had to leave.
And leaving meant risk.
It meant being seen.
It meant walking through the halls where death first knocked.
He glanced at the bat.
His reflection stared back at him in the polished metal: a boy with medium-cut dark hair, pale skin, and eyes that looked like they'd forgotten what safety meant.
He swallowed.
"Fine," he said under his breath. "Let's see what's still breathing."
The hallway was colder than it should've been.
Elias stepped into it like stepping into a warzone. Bat raised. Door left slightly ajar behind him—just enough to slip back through if things went wrong.
The air outside smelled worse. The kind of stale that carried stories. Something had died on this floor already. He could feel it.
No voices. No footsteps. Just wind through cracked windows at the far end.
He moved slow.
Past Mr. Weimar's unit. The door was still shut. But there was blood on the doorknob. He didn't stop.
He didn't want to know what was behind it.
His shoes made no sound. The rubber soles against dusty tile felt too loud in his ears, but they made no real noise. He'd worn them back when silence hadn't mattered. Back when everything he feared lived behind a screen.
Now, fear lived here. In these walls.
He reached the end of the hall.
Apartment 507. One door down from his.
The lock was already broken.
Scraped metal. Deep claw marks, like something had tried to dig through with its hands. No sign of the door being forced open—it had been peeled.
Elias nudged it with the bat.
The door swung inward with a soft creak.
He exhaled.
Stepped in.
And froze.
The smell hit first. Then the sound.
Wet breathing.
Something was inside.
Not running. Not growling.
Just waiting.
He backed up, slow.
Didn't blink. Didn't speak.
Then it moved.
Not toward him—just a shuffle. Like someone adjusting in a chair. But it wasn't human. He knew that sound. No rhythm. No instinct. Just pure, broken nerve and hunger.
Elias stepped out and shut the door quietly.
He didn't run.
He didn't need the system to reward him for that.
Apartment 506 was different.
No blood on the door. No scratches.
He knocked once.
Waited.
Nothing.
He opened it.
It smelled like cleaning products. Cheap air freshener. Vanilla.
A woman's apartment, probably.
Elias stepped in and locked the door behind him.
The air felt heavier here. Not dangerous. Just… used.
He moved from room to room, clearing each space with the bat raised.
Living room: clear. Kitchen: empty. Bedroom—
He stopped.
She was still there.
On the bed.
Blanket pulled over her head like she'd gone to sleep and never woken up. There was no blood. No bite. No mess.
Just stillness.
Elias stared.
Then slowly approached.
He reached out and peeled the blanket back just enough to see her face.
Eyes closed.
Mouth open.
Pale.
She'd died quietly.
Alone.
Maybe from the virus. Maybe from fear.
He didn't touch her. He just whispered, "I'm sorry," and covered her again.
Then moved on.
The kitchen had more than he expected.
Canned goods. Bottled water. A box of granola bars.
He stuffed everything into a grocery bag, hands moving fast but careful.
The medicine cabinet in the bathroom was full. Painkillers. Bandages. Antibiotics. Antacids. A full kit of emergency supplies that felt like gold now.
He didn't smile.
Didn't celebrate.
These weren't winnings.
They were leftovers.
He took everything.
Then headed for the door.
And paused.
A frame sat on the shelf near the exit.
A picture—young woman, same hair as the one on the bed. Smiling. Holding a baby.
Elias stared.
His throat closed.
He didn't know her. But it hurt anyway.
"Who's going to tell the kid?" he whispered.
Then he left.
Back in his own apartment, the system chimed again.
[Quest Completed: Scavenge nearby apartments]
+75 Coins
+ New Item: Randomized Loot Crate (Uncommon)
A small crate materialized at his feet.
Wooden. Glowing faintly. No lock.
He opened it.
You've received: Utility Belt (Rare) – increases inventory slot access by 3.
The belt was light, tough fabric, clipped easily around his waist. It felt like wearing part of a soldier's uniform. Almost… official.
He stood there, items laid out on the table, breathing quiet.
Then the lights flickered.
Not just in his apartment.
The whole building.
A low, whining hum filled the silence. The last breath of a dying power grid.
He waited.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Then—darkness.
The power was gone.
No more electricity.
No more safety.
He didn't panic.
He lit a candle from the emergency drawer and sat down at the table.
"System," he said quietly. "Any more quests?"
[No quests available. Check again tomorrow.]
He nodded.
Then sat in the dark, eating a cold can of beans with a spoon that didn't belong to him.
Not because he wanted to.
But because it was the only way forward.
That night, he didn't sleep.
He wrote.
In a notebook, under candlelight, he scribbled words like they were the last ones anyone would ever read.
March 4th – The Day Before The World Died.
I was given a second chance. I don't know why. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. But I won't waste it. Not again.
Tomorrow, the fever will spread.
Tomorrow, people start dying.
I have one day. One.
I need to prepare. I need to plan. I need to…
He paused.
Then wrote two final words at the bottom of the page:
No Mercy.
He stared at them.
Not because he liked them.
But because they felt right.
The world wasn't coming back.
The boy he used to be wasn't either.
He didn't want to be cruel.
But kindness had killed him once.
And if death came again, he'd make sure it bled first.