The "safe zone" didn't look safe.
If Ravi had to describe it in one word, it would be cheap.
The blue dome shimmered faintly over the metro terminal like a badly made lampshade, buzzing every few seconds as if it was struggling to stay up. The cracked walls and broken tiles of the old station were still there — littered with cigarette butts, half-rotted posters, and the faint, damp stink of mold. The system had slapped glowing walls over a ruin and declared it "safe."
He stepped across the threshold, half expecting the barrier to electrocute him.
Instead, text appeared in his vision:
[Safe Zone: Eastern Terminal][PvP Disabled][Time until next scenario: 2 hours, 13 minutes]
Two hours.
Enough time to rest. Or panic. Or both.
The players poured in behind him, tripping over each other in desperation. The relief that swept through the crowd was almost physical. A few people collapsed to the floor, shaking, finally letting themselves sob. Others sprinted toward the glowing panels at the center of the station, desperate for answers, for stability, for anything that wasn't teeth and claws.
And then there was… him.
A man in a suit and sunglasses, standing behind a plastic folding table as if this were a Sunday bazaar and not the end of the world. He leaned on the table with one elbow, grinning broadly. On the table sat a basket of apples.
"Fresh fruit! Only 100 Coins each!"
Ravi stopped dead. "…Really? The world cracks open, and the first business we get is a fruit vendor."
The man adjusted his sunglasses, clearly pleased with himself. "A deal you won't find anywhere else."
Ravi's balance flashed in the corner of his vision: 500 Coins.
He did the math. Five apples. Or… a weapon. Or five apples and beat someone with them.
He snorted under his breath and moved past. The fruit seller wasn't even the strangest part. Beyond him, blue panels hovered in mid-air like floating billboards. Players crowded around them, shouting as glowing lists scrolled past.
Weapons. Armor. Food. Consumables.
The prices made Ravi's stomach sink.
A battered metal bat — 400 Coins.A rusty dagger — 350 Coins.A loaf of bread — 50 Coins.A bottle of water — 75 Coins.
He stared at the numbers. "…So I can stab things with bread, or eat the dagger. Fantastic."
Nearby, two men were fighting over an item labeled Long Stick — 300 Coins.
"It's just a broom handle!" one shouted."No, it's a staff! Look at the description!"
To prove his point, the second man grabbed it and began sweeping the station floor with perfect indignation.
Ravi covered his mouth, choking down a laugh. "Yep. Humanity's last defense force."
But as he scrolled through the panels, his vision flickered.
[System Notice: Price list loading…][Error: Unstable signal detected.][Message Injected.]
The letters warped, twisting into shapes that hurt to look at. Then they snapped into a single line of text only he could see:
@Unknown_Origin: Someone else walks your path. Don't let them get ahead.
The words burned like a brand — there, then gone.
The panel refreshed, returning to its list of overpriced weapons as if nothing had happened.
Ravi's hand tightened on the edge of the screen. "…Someone else? What, this is a race now?"
He scanned the room instinctively. The safe zone was a hive of movement. People sobbed, argued, or laughed too loudly in denial. A woman shouted at the apple vendor until he gave her a "discount" — 95 Coins instead of 100.
All normal chaos.
But at the far edge of the station…
A cloaked figure leaned casually against a cracked pillar. Their hood was drawn low, shadows hiding their face. Unlike everyone else, they didn't move. They didn't speak. They didn't even seem to breathe.
For a moment, Ravi thought he was imagining it.
But then — just barely — the figure's head tilted.
In his direction.
A chill ran down his spine.
He blinked.
Gone.
The pillar was empty. The crowd surged past, oblivious.
Ravi's fingers brushed the iron pipe at his side, knuckles white around the rusted grip. "…Yeah," he muttered under his breath. "Safe zone. Sure."
The system timer ticked silently in the corner of his vision.
[Next Scenario: 2 hours, 07 minutes.]
For some reason, it felt less like a countdown to survival and more like a clock ticking toward a blade already hovering over his neck.
The system's silence was almost worse than the roar of monsters.
Every tick of the timer reminded Ravi that the safe zone wasn't permanent — just a pause in the slaughter. The kind of pause that let you breathe long enough to realize you were still drowning.
He leaned back against one of the cracked stone pillars, scanning the glowing panels again.
Weapons. Armor. Consumables.
The list scrolled endlessly, like some bored developer had just dumped every object from a second-rate RPG into the apocalypse.
His balance — 500 Coins.
Not nearly enough.
Every decent weapon cost more. A short sword? 1,200. A reinforced shield? 1,800. Even a pair of gloves labeled "Combat-Grade Leather" cost 700.
So this was the trap. The system gave just enough to survive the first hunt, then dangled real weapons out of reach like candy on a string.
And the worst part?
People were still buying the apples.
"Three! Give me three!" a man shouted, hurling his entire balance into the vendor's hands. He clutched the fruit like it was sacred.
Ravi rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Incredible. Humanity's been alive for five hours, and we've already reinvented overpriced produce."
Still… a weapon mattered more than food. Hunger killed slowly. Beasts killed quickly.
He hovered his hand over the panel. The bat was still there — dented, wrapped in old tape, but solid.
[Item: Metal Bat (Worn)][Durability: 36%][Effect: +2 STR][Price: 400 Coins]
It was worse than his pipe. But it was also… an actual weapon.
He tapped it. The panel chimed, coins vanishing from his balance. A faint shimmer appeared in front of him, resolving into a heavy bat that clattered against the tiles when he caught it.
The weight was good. Solid. His fingers curled around the taped grip, testing its balance.
Better.
His pipe was still tucked into his belt — backup now.
The purchase left him with 100 Coins. Barely enough for bread and water.
Around him, players compared their new gear. A few had daggers, one idiot had actually bought the broom handle and was calling it a "quarterstaff." Most, though, had nothing but fear in their eyes.
And whispers.
"Did you see the notifications? Contribution scores…""…Someone cleared seventy percent by himself…""…There's rankings. I swear I saw rankings—"
Ravi tuned them out. He didn't care about leaderboards. He cared about staying alive.
But then the panel flickered again.
Not like before — not the warped static of @Unknown_Origin. This time, it was subtler. A faint shimmer at the corner of his vision.
He turned his head.
The cloaked figure was back.
Closer.
They stood in the shadow of a maintenance stairwell, hood still low, body hidden beneath ragged cloth. The crowd flowed around them without noticing, like the figure wasn't even there.
Ravi's pulse quickened.
He stepped forward — once, twice — weaving between the other players.
The figure didn't move.
Then, as if mocking him, they lifted one hand slowly, deliberately.
Two fingers.
A casual salute.
Ravi froze.
The hood tilted, just enough for him to see the faint curve of a smile beneath the shadow.
Then the figure flickered — not walked, not ran, but flickered — like a bad projection.
Gone.
The space they had occupied was empty, dust motes drifting lazily in the glow of the blue barrier.
Ravi's grip tightened on the bat until the tape bit into his palms.
"…What the hell are you?"
The timer ticked down again in his vision.
[Next Scenario: 1 hour, 51 minutes.]
For the first time, Ravi wasn't sure if he was waiting for the next hunt… or for the cloaked figure to reappear.
And this time, he had the feeling that when they did, it wouldn't be to wave.