Morning didn't feel like morning anymore. The sky was a lazy gray smear, bleeding over the tops of collapsed buildings and rusted metal skeletons of things that used to be homes, shops, lives. Elias watched it through the narrow pharmacy basement window, chewing the inside of his cheek while his thoughts tried to form into something that made sense. They didn't.
The city didn't sleep. It slowed, sure. But it never slept. Somewhere in the distance, a building had crumbled. A faint siren still wailed from a patrol car buried under ash and overgrowth. Nothing stopped. Not even after the end.
Max was still breathing — barely audible, barely there. But he was alive. Curled in the same position as the night before, body twitching now and then, caught in whatever dreams the apocalypse gifted to boys too young to know how to kill. Elias didn't envy him. Not the sleep. Not the dreams. Not the hope he'd still tried to carry like it wasn't heavy enough to drown him.
He sat on the floor, elbows resting on his knees, eyes scanning the trap string. It hadn't moved.
Yet.
The system hadn't made a sound since last night's warning. No noise in his head. No vibration at the edge of hearing. Not even a ping. Just that heavy silence that reminded him it was always there — watching, recording, waiting.
His notebook was open again. Second page now. First was full. Scratched in ink so dark and desperate it looked angry. Rules. Lessons. Mistakes. All the things no one had written down before it was too late. If no one else was going to document how to survive this world, then he would. Even if no one else ever read it.
He wrote slowly this time.
Pharmacies = temporary shelter. Don't trust expired meds. Don't use without checking expiration date. Never eat anything with torn foil. Never trust anything that doesn't smell like itself.
He paused.
Then added something more personal.
Sometimes survival means letting people live. Even if it's a risk.
His hand tightened at the last line. Because he hated that it was true. He hated even more that he'd acted on it.
Max stirred then. Not a full wake — just a grunt and the sound of shifting fabric as the kid's eyes blinked open to meet his. Still glassy. Still unsure. But awake.
"You kept watch all night?" Max's voice was rough. Not from sleep. From fear. It left scars behind when you lived through something like the Singer.
Elias didn't answer. Just nodded once. Efficient. Cold.
"You didn't have to—"
"I did." His tone was sharp, but not cruel. Just final. "You would've died otherwise."
Max sat up fully now, stretching slowly like he expected his bones to snap. He glanced around the room. Still no electricity. No running water. No light beyond the smear of early morning slinking through the grime-covered window. "Thanks," he muttered.
Elias didn't say you're welcome.
Instead, he asked, "How old are you?"
"twelve. You?"
"Eighteen."
Max blinked. "You don't look eighteen ."
"You don't look alive."
That shut him up. Which was good. Because silence was safer. But Elias regretted it almost instantly. Not because he was wrong. But because Max didn't deserve that. Not after surviving what he did. Not after watching the Singer crawl down a wall like it belonged in a storybook for demons.
Elias stood. Checked his bag. Six protein bars. Two bottles of water. Half a syringe of antibiotics he'd found under the register. Nothing worth selling. Nothing worth trading.
25 coins.
Still not enough.
His thoughts clicked into focus, one gear grinding after another. No matter how many people he saved, or how many lessons he wrote, or how much silence he kept, the system wasn't going to carry him. It wasn't a guardian angel. It was a machine. It gave him tools only after he proved he could survive without them.
Which meant today — like every day — would cost him.
Max rubbed his arms. "What now?"
Elias didn't answer right away. He looked at the traps again. Still untouched. No movement in the dust on the stairs. No footprints. No broken cans.
But the silence wasn't comforting anymore. It was tight. Tense. Like the city was holding its breath.
He checked his notebook again.
Mutation Tier 2 — 48 hours.
That was now 39 hours and counting.
"We move," Elias said finally. "West. There's a supermarket three blocks out. If the freezer section held, we might find something preserved. If it didn't, maybe the corpses scared everything else away."
Max swallowed hard. "You think… they're still inside?"
"I think if they aren't, something worse is."
They left through the back entrance.
The sky didn't change. The color stayed stuck — dirty pearl gray with veins of smog and ash choking the clouds. They moved slow. Never rushed. Never straight lines. Elias taught Max how to walk again — like learning a second language. Don't drag your feet. Don't break the glass. Don't step in puddles. Concrete is your friend. Grass is a trap.
Max listened.
Mostly.
The supermarket was still standing. That was the first bad sign.
In this world, nothing whole stayed safe. Anything that looked untouched usually meant something had claimed it.
Territory.
A den.
Or a nest.
Elias crouched low behind a flipped van half a block away, scanning the broken parking lot. Shopping carts scattered like bones. One was melted halfway through the metal frame. Acid? Heat? He didn't want to guess.
He saw no movement.
But the air felt wrong. Too dry.
Max leaned in. "What's the play?"
Elias didn't answer.
The system pinged.
New Quest: Investigate the Supermarket Ruins. Reward: +15 Coins / 1 Random Item. Optional Condition: Avoid Detection. Bonus: +5 Coins
Elias stared at the prompt until it faded. He didn't speak it aloud. Max didn't hear the voice. Only he did. Always him. It made him wonder, not for the first time, if he'd actually died back then. If this was some afterlife with rules and rewards and punishments you had to earn.
"We go quiet," Elias whispered. "No lights. No talking. Stay three steps behind. If I say stop, you freeze. If I run, you don't ask why."
Max nodded.
Elias crossed the lot first. Bent low. Every shadow a threat. Every creak of gravel another betrayal of his position. His heart didn't race anymore. It slowed — like it was conserving power for when it actually needed to panic.
Inside, the air was worse.
Thick.
Mold-heavy.
And something else.
A smell that wasn't death.
Not exactly.
More like fermentation.
As if something had been rotting — and then decided not to rot anymore.
He raised a hand.
Max froze.
They moved aisle to aisle. Elias's eyes scanned every shelf, not for food — but for what wasn't there. No footprints. No dust. Just drag marks. Wide. Smooth.
Something slithered here.
But it didn't make sense. It should've been loud. A creature that big, it should've rattled windows.
And yet… nothing.
They reached the meat section.
The freezers were shattered.
But not looted.
Inside one, where frozen patties used to be, a nest of bone and shredded cloth had been woven together like a bird's roost. Human hair tangled in the fibers. Bits of teeth. Something worse.
Elias felt his jaw tighten.
Max stepped closer.
Elias grabbed him.
Too late.
From behind the shelf, something clicked.
Not a growl. Not a hiss.
Just a sound like someone cracking their knuckles slowly. Repeatedly.
And then it dropped.
From the ceiling.
Its body was long — too long. Arms dangling like ropes, skin slick and stretched over bones like wet paper. It had no eyes. No nose. Only a mouth that seemed to breathe even when it was closed.
It didn't see them.
Not yet.
Elias didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
The system pinged again.
Danger Identified: Tier 2 Variant — The Husher
Effect: Echolocation-based. Soundless Movement. Silences victims before feeding. Weak to Light/Reflection.
He scanned the shelves.
No mirrors.
No light.
Just—
He saw it.
A small hand mirror in the baby products section.
Ten feet away.
If he could reflect the daylight from the broken window—
The Husher moved suddenly.
Elias threw a can across the floor. The sound was small — a clink.
But that was enough.
The Husher snapped its head. And silence exploded around them.
Real silence.
Max's scream was muted before it left his mouth.
The world turned quiet.
Like their ears had been stolen.
Elias moved. Fast. Snatched the mirror. Angled it toward the window. A single ray of light caught the Husher's skin — and it hissed without sound, retreating toward the ceiling.
He didn't wait.
Didn't think.
He grabbed Max and bolted.
Didn't stop until the sun kissed their faces again.
Outside.
Alive.
Max gasped, coughing sound back into his lungs.
"What the hell was that—"
Elias looked back only once.
The Husher stared from the broken glass, its face unreadable.
Then it turned — and disappeared back into the dark.
Elias opened his system.
Quest Complete. +15 Coins. Bonus Achieved. +5 Coins. Random Item: Compact Solar Light (One Use)
He pocketed the light.
Didn't smile.
Didn't speak.
Only wrote one more line in the notebook.
Light saves. Sound kills. Trust neither.
And they walked west — toward the next danger.