The makeshift alarm which was actually just a collection of cans strung with wire rattled softly in the morning breeze, but Zeph was already awake.
He'd been up for an hour, listening to the sounds of the ruins stirring to life below. Distant screams. The crash of falling concrete. The wet tearing sounds that meant something was feeding.
Just another peaceful morning in hell.
His base stretched across the middle section of what had once been the Aurora Bridge, suspended forty feet above the rubble-strewn canyon that used to be the Fremont district. The choice of location wasn't random, it was tactical genius born from three years of hard-earned paranoia.
It had a single point of access from either end, meaning it was easily defensible. It was high enough that most ground-bound Hollows couldn't reach him, yet low enough that flying predators preferred easier prey elsewhere. The rusted superstructure provided perfect camouflage for his salvaged solar panels and water collection system.
Most importantly, anyone trying to reach him had to cross fifty yards of open bridge deck. This gave him plenty of time to put an arrow through their skull or slip away through the maintenance tunnels he'd carved into the concrete supports.
Zeph rolled out of his sleeping bag—military surplus, naturally—and stretched his absurdly long frame. Six-foot-nine of lean muscle and sharp angles, wrapped in the kind of casual clothes that made him look like an oversized teenager instead of the ruins' most feared scavenger.
The baggy cargo pants and oversized hoodie weren't just for comfort. They hid the lean predator underneath, let people underestimate him right up until his katana opened their throats.
Besides, as a former pro gamer, he truly loved wearing comfortable clothes. That was a part of him that the ruins couldn't change.
He walked to his wall calendar, a pre-Descent relic he'd salvaged from a classroom. Most of the dates were crossed off in red marker, a countdown that had been running for exactly three years.
July 30th stared back at him.
His fingers trembled slightly as he drew the final X.
'Today's the day.'
Sixteen years old. The magic number. Any moment now, the System would activate, flooding his consciousness with power and possibility. Mana, Stats, the whole RPG package that separated the living from the soon-to-be-dead in this nightmare world.
The excitement was almost enough to make him forget the hell he'd survived to reach this moment.
Three years of pure, unfiltered brutality.
The memories hit him like they always did; sharp, bitter, tinged with blood and desperation. Learning that hunger could drive you to eat things that used to have names. Discovering that a human scream sounded different depending on what was doing the killing.
Understanding, with crystalline clarity, that mercy was a luxury that got you murdered.
The ruins weren't just dangerous because of the monsters. Hollows were predictable, they wanted to eat you. Feral beasts followed simple territorial instincts. At least, when there wasn't a beast tide.
Humans were the real nightmare. They lied, betrayed, tortured for entertainment. They formed gangs that preyed on the weak, cults that sacrificed children to gain favor with the entities lurking in the deep places.
And somewhere along the way, fighting to survive in this meat grinder, Zeph had become something just as dangerous as the things he hunted.
The other scavengers called him "Ghost." Partly because he could appear and disappear without warning, partly because looking into his storm-gray eyes was like staring into the face of death itself.
He'd earned that reputation one corpse at a time.
'All worth it,' he told himself, checking his gear with practiced efficiency. 'Just need to awaken, get strong enough to make the journey, and then...'
The nearest Sanctuary was Northern Bastion, roughly eight hundred miles through Wildlands infested with creatures that could tear an unarmed human apart without effort. Right now, he'd last maybe fifty miles before something turned him into a snack.
But with a System, with levels and skills and all the advantages that came with awakening?
He could make it. He could start fresh. He could—
"Bastard! Come out!"
The voice echoed across the bridge, rough with excitement and barely contained violence.
Zeph's lips curved into a cold smile. He recognized that voice. Fat, stupid, and persistent as a case of the clap.
He grabbed his gear and stepped out of his shelter, the morning sun casting his shadow across the cracked concrete like a dark omen.
Buster stood at the far end of the bridge, all five-foot-four and two-hundred pounds of him. The kid was covered in grime and old grease stains, his round face split by a grin that showed too many missing teeth.
In his hands, he held a fucking chainsaw.
"Miss me, Ghost?" Buster called out, revving the weapon with theatrical flair. "Been looking forward to this reunion for weeks!"
Zeph almost laughed. This was their ritual dance. Buster would show up with some new weapon, talking big about revenge for the supply cache Zeph had liberated from him six months ago.
Then Buster would charge, Zeph would beat him bloody, and the fat idiot would run away crying and begging for his life.
It was honestly one of the few sources of entertainment in this shithole. Which explained why he hadn't killed the idiot after so long.
"Still mad about those ration bars?" Zeph called back, his voice carrying easily across the distance. "I told you, survival of the fittest. You were too slow to keep them."
He reached behind his back, fingers wrapping around Phantom's hilt. The katana was absurdly wide for its type, more like a sword-shaped club than a traditional blade. But it was perfectly balanced for his frame, and the weight behind each swing could punch through Hollow bone like paper.
Buster's grin widened. "Oh, things are different now, Ghost. See, I had my sixteenth birthday last week."
The words hit Zeph like a physical blow.
He focused on Buster's eyes for the first time, really looked at them, and felt his blood turn to ice water.
There was a faint glow in those pupils. Barely visible in the morning light, but unmistakable once you knew what to look for.
System integration. Active abilities. The telltale sign of someone who'd awakened!
Buster had awakened!
And Zeph was still just a very tall, very dangerous baseline human.
'Fuck.'