Arrival at the Mall Perimeter
The streets narrowed as the group pressed forward, buildings leaning like broken teeth on either side. Ash drifted in the air, clinging to their clothes, while silence followed every step. Ahead, Laoag's skyline loomed—marred by faint columns of light where gates pulsed like open wounds in the sky.
Marko led in front, spear steady in his grip, its tip catching faint light. Ara guarded the rear, bow strung, eyes sweeping the windows and ruins. Between them, the survivors carried what they could salvage—pipes, knives, and even broken furniture reshaped into weapons.
The quiet didn't last.
From a collapsed shop, goblins spilled out, snarling as they rushed. Marko's spear blazed, fire sparking along the blade as he struck. Ara's arrows whistled through the air, each leaving a trail of frost before piercing their targets.
Jun, hands shaking but jaw tight, grabbed a brick and hurled it. It flew with surprising force, cracking a goblin's skull. Stunned by his own strength, he grabbed another, eyes wide with sudden resolve.
"Don't stop!" Ara shouted, loosing another arrow.
The group fought as one, their shouts echoing through the street. Pipes smashed, stones flew, and Marko carved a burning path at the center. The clash was short but brutal, leaving goblins broken on the ground.
Jun's chest heaved, then a shaky grin broke through. "I... I can really do this."
Marko clapped him on the shoulder. "Then keep at it. We need every hand."
With each fight, their unity grew, though the weight in the air only deepened as the gates ahead shimmered like storm clouds at the edge of the world.
By midday, the mall rose before them—its cracked walls reinforced with cars, barbed wire, and rusted metal sheets. Smoke curled from cooking fires inside, and the faint murmur of voices drifted over the barricades.
Relief swept the survivors. Some cried openly, others quickened their steps, hope pulling them forward.
But before they reached the gates, armed figures appeared on the barricade. Spears, blades, and crude guns aimed down at them.
"Stop right there!" A man barked, sharp with authority. His eyes lingered on Marko's flaming spear and Ara's bow. "Survivors, or trouble?"
Marko raised a hand. "Survivors. We fought our way here. We just want shelter."
The guards muttered among themselves. One sneered. "Plenty of mouths inside already. If you want in, prove you can fight."
Ara's voice stayed level. "We're not helpless. We've faced gates. If you want proof, look at them." She pointed to Jun and the others—battered but still standing.
The guards exchanged uneasy glances. At last, their leader lowered his spear. "Fine. But remember—the mall isn't a refuge. It's a fortress. And in a fortress, only strength keeps you here."
The barricade creaked open. The group hesitated only a moment before stepping inside, hearts pounding.
Behind the mall's walls, safety awaited—or something far more dangerous.
Meeting Jeric
The barricades groaned as they held back the crowd outside the mall, the air thick with dust and the scent of smoke. Survivors peered from behind crates and tarp shelters, their wary eyes fixed on the newcomers. The air carried smoke, sweat, and rust—the smell of a fortress built from desperation.
From the atrium, a figure stepped forward to the entrance, his presence commanding attention without a word. Jeric. His uniform was torn, sleeves rolled up, but the bearing of a man used to keeping order remained unmistakable.
The guards straightened as he approached, stepping aside. Jeric's gaze swept over the group, pausing on Marko's spear, Ara's bow, and the frost still clinging to her fingertips.
"I'm Jeric," he said, voice firm and even, carrying over the murmurs. "I lead the survivors here. This mall is our stronghold. And you are?"
Marko stepped forward. "Marko. This is Ara." He nodded toward her, and she gave a brief dip of her head. "We found survivors on the way and brought them with us."
A middle-aged woman clutching a child bowed her head. "We heard there was a stronghold here. If not for these two, we wouldn't have survived the monsters on the road."
Jeric inclined his head. "Then you've fought hard. Few make it through Laoag's streets anymore. Where did you come from?"
"Paoay," Marko said simply, shifting the spear on his shoulder.
Jeric's brow creased. "That far? The roads are overrun. Why risk it?"
Ara stepped forward, voice quiet but steady. "Because hiding in Paoay won't last if this city falls. The gates are spreading. If Laoag collapses, our families won't escape it."
Marko's tone hardened. "Someone has to hold the line here, or it spreads to everything we know."
Jeric studied them in silence, weighing their words. Before he could answer, a murmur rippled through the survivors. Fingers pointed past the shattered doors toward the horizon.
Above the Capitol, near Gilbert Bridge, the sky twisted. A gate pulsed there—not small and flickering like the others, but vast. Its light warped the clouds, painting the sky in unnatural colors.
The crowd hushed. Even the guards shifted uneasily, lowering their weapons.
Jeric's jaw set. "That... isn't just another gate."
Ara's grip tightened on her bow. "It's enormous. Bigger than anything we've seen."
Marko stared, the Trial's flame humming in his blood. "That's the one. If it isn't stopped, it won't just be Laoag that falls."
The gate throbbed brighter, as though answering. For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then Jeric turned back to them, voice clipped but steady. "Come inside. We'll need every hand when that thing opens."
The barricades shut behind them with a heavy clang, a sound that offered no comfort. Above the Capitol, the storm had already begun to gather.
Resolve
The barricades clanged shut behind them, the sound echoing through the mall's hollow halls. Survivors whispered from corners of makeshift shelters, eyes wide as they watched the newcomers.
In the dim atrium, couches and benches were pulled into a rough circle around a lantern's glow. The usual hum of voices was hushed, weighed down by the threat looming beyond the walls.
Jeric stood in the center, hands braced on the back of a chair, eyes scanning Marko, Ara, and the survivors who had joined them. Then he fixed his gaze on Marko.
"So," he said evenly, "you came all the way from Paoay, risking those roads. Did you awaken some kind of power? Because without it, you won't stand a chance against what's coming."
Marko straightened, hand tightening around his spear. "I did. I can channel flame energy through this spear—strength, speed, and precision. Ara awakened too—she can manifest ice arrows with deadly accuracy. We're not helpless."
Jeric's eyes flicked to Ara's bow, then back to Marko. "And that's enough to face what's forming above the Capitol?"
Marko's jaw set. "Power or not, I can't sit back while it spreads. If Laoag falls, it won't stop—it'll reach Paoay, San Nicolas, and every home we know. Someone has to stand and fight."
Ara leaned forward, bow across her lap, her voice calm but sharp. "We saw the gate forming above the Capitol. It's massive. If it isn't stopped, none of us will survive—no matter where we hide."
The atrium fell silent. Even those pretending not to listen leaned closer, conversations fading into stillness.
Jeric leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His tone lost its edge but not its firmness. "So you intend to fight it head-on. Fortify the city. Hold the line at the Capitol."
Marko nodded steadily. "If we repel it there, maybe the rest can endure. But if we wait... if we hide... it will consume everything."
For a brief moment, Jeric allowed himself the faintest nod of approval. "Then we plan. Routes, supplies, who can fight, and who can't. We'll need every blade, every hand."
Before the plan could take shape, heavy boots thudded on the upper floor. Survivors shrank instinctively.
Rodney appeared with a handful of men, leaning against the railing like a king surveying his court. His smirk carried more threat than humor.
"So these are the bold travelers," Rodney drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. "From Paoay, was it? Risking your necks just to run into another grave."
Marko's grip on his spear tightened, but he stayed seated. Ara's eyes narrowed, bow angled, fingers brushing the string.
Jeric cut through the tension. "Rodney. We need them. That gate above the Capitol—none of us can handle it alone."
Rodney barked a sharp laugh. "Handle it? I've got walls, food, and enough hands to hold this place. Why gamble on chasing a death sentence?"
His men chuckled, but unease spread among the survivors.
Ara's voice cut sharp. "You think hiding behind walls keeps you safe? When that gate opens, nothing here will stand."
Rodney's smirk flickered but returned with a scoff. "Then let it fall. Better to defend what's mine than chase ghosts."
He jabbed a finger toward Marko and Ara, then toward Jeric. "Leave if you want to play heroes. But hear me—if you walk out those doors, you don't come back. My food, my walls, my rules."
The atrium grew heavy, survivors shifting uneasily between Jeric's calm resolve and Rodney's hard survivalism.
Jeric stepped forward, placing himself between Rodney and the group. His voice was low but carried steel. "This isn't about your walls, Rodney. If Laoag falls, everything falls. We either stand together, or we all die."
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then Rodney spat over the railing, turned, and stalked back into the shadows of the upper floor. His men followed, their footsteps fading into the hollow mall.
Only then did Jeric exhale, shoulders tight. He turned back to Marko, Ara, and the others.
"We can't count on him," he said grimly. "Which means it's on us."
Returning to their task, Jeric continued. "We can't waste time. That gate above the Capitol isn't waiting for us to decide if we're ready. We need a plan."
Roles and Responsibilities
After hours of discussion, Jeric began assigning roles, precise and methodical. "Scouts on the bridge approach. Runners to report movement. Fighters up front, ranged cover in the rear. We can't let anything spill further into the city if that gate opens."
Marko leaned forward, spear across his knees. "I'll take the vanguard. Ara covers me from the rear."
Ara gave a curt nod. "I can hold a line if I have height and sight. Just don't block my shot."
"Good. I'll support you too," Jeric said confidently. "I can move objects with telekinesis and negate physical attacks when needed. That should help the team during monster attacks and raids."
Jeric also assigned people to be the vanguard and melee fighters. Some already gained experience in hunting and repelling monsters.
A nervous young survivor spoke up. "I—I can carry supplies... or patch wounds. My father taught me first aid."
Jeric nodded. "Good. We'll need every hand."
For a moment, it almost felt like order—a force forming to stand against the growing threat.
Then boots echoed from the upper floor, and Rodney appeared again.
"What now?" Jeric asked, irritation in his tone. "If you don't plan to help, stay out of this and don't disturb us."
Rodney grinned, his voice dripping disdain. "So you really plan to march into the Capitol like lambs to the slaughter?"
Jeric's group looked back with annoyed expressions.
"It's none of your business," Jeric said, expression unreadable. "We're just setting roles."
Rodney mocked, slow claps echoing in the hollow atrium. "Roles, scouts, defenses... You talk like an army, Jeric. But let's be real—you're cobbling scraps. Half of these people are green. That boy there looks like he can barely lift a knife." He jabbed at the young survivor, who lowered his eyes in shame.
"That's enough," Jeric said firmly.
Rodney only grinned wider. "No, what's enough is this farce. You want to throw lives away chasing that... thing in the sky? Go ahead. But don't expect me to feed your crusade when you limp back. Oh wait—I already said, you cannot come back once you leave, hahaha."
A cold silence fell. Survivors exchanged uneasy glances. Rodney's laughter bounced off the walls like a hammer cracking glass, breaking the fragile unity forming in the atrium.
Marko finally rose, spear glinting faintly in the lantern light, leaning on it. His gaze locked on Rodney, steady and unflinching. "We didn't come to ask your permission. That gate will consume everything if no one fights. Hide here if you want—but don't stand in the way of those willing to act."
Ara stood beside him, bow at her side, voice sharp as steel. "Walls rot. Food runs out. When that gate opens, you'll see—no barricade will hold. At least we'll be out there trying to stop it."
Jeric glanced at them with a nod of approval, then faced Rodney. His tone was clipped, irritation clear. "Last time I'll say it: step aside and stay out of this, or pick up a weapon and fight. Don't waste my time poisoning morale."
Rodney's grin faded into a sneer. He leaned over the railing, eyes flashing contempt. "Fine. March to your deaths. Don't expect me to shed a tear when that gate eats you alive."
With a snap of his fingers, his men followed him into the shadows of the upper floors. His cruel laughter lingered even after the footsteps faded.
Silence settled over the atrium. Only the restless shifting of survivors remained.
It's Time to Move
Jeric exhaled slowly, jaw tight. "We've wasted enough time." His eyes swept over the group—Marko, Ara, Jun, and the others who had followed them—and his voice hardened with resolve. "If we stay under this roof, we live in Rodney's shadow. I won't gamble our survival on his cowardice."
He let the words hang for a moment, then continued. "The Capitol is the heart of the city. If Laoag is to stand again, we take our ground there—not in a mall, hiding behind barricades. That's where we prepare. That's where we build."
Murmurs rippled through the survivors. Fear flickered in their eyes, but so did a spark of hope.
Ara nodded firmly. "He's right. The longer we wait here, the stronger that gate grows. If we fight, we fight where it matters."
Marko planted his spear against the cracked floor. "Then we move. Not as wanderers—this time with a purpose."
Jeric gave a short, approving nod. "Good. We leave before dawn. Tonight, we gather everything we can carry—weapons, food, and medicine. Whatever will keep us alive when we make our stand."
The survivors sprang into motion at his command. Some rushed to the grocery aisles, scavenging cans, rice sacks, and bottled water. Others pried open the shuttered hardware store, pulling out hammers, axes, crowbars—anything that could be reforged into weapons.
Jun hefted a box of nails and rope, determination burning in his eyes after his awakening. "This'll help us fortify when we get there," he muttered more to himself than anyone.
Ara moved through the grocery section with quiet efficiency, filling a pack with dried goods. Marko secured bundles of metal pipes and wooden planks, his strength making the work look easy. Every clang of metal and rustle of supplies echoed like a promise—they would not be caught unprepared.
Jeric stood at the atrium's center, directing the flow. "Take only what you can carry. If it slows you down, leave it. Out there, speed is survival."
For the first time since entering the mall, the survivors felt a shift. Not just fear pushing them forward, but purpose. A plan.
Above, the massive gate pulsed again, its glow scorching the night sky beyond the broken glass doors. It loomed like a challenge, daring them.
And this time, they were ready to answer.