Arden cross woke up to the smell of burnt roast quickly woke up to the smell of burnt toast and the hiss of rain against his cracked apartment window. For a moment, it almost felt like any other day — the dull neon glow of the city bleeding through faded curtains, the whir of a dying ceiling fan overhead, the endless scrolling of memes on his phone as his alarm blared in the background.
> Same routine. Same boring life. Same city pretending it's still alive.
He groaned, thumbed the screen, and the alarm died. Outside, sirens wailed somewhere far off — nothing unusual. This was Crescent City. The city of "heroes," if you believed the government billboards still clinging to the sides of broken skyscrapers. Heroes that hadn't shown their faces in years.
Aiden rubbed his eyes, feeling the weight of another shiftless morning. He was twenty-one, an ex-gamer turned night-shift courier, half-wishing for something — anything — to break the monotony. His dark hair was messy, his hoodie frayed, his sneakers full of holes. Even his reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror looked tired of existing.
> If a meteor hit this city right now, would anyone even notice?
He snorted at the thought, splashed cold water on his face, and shuffled to the kitchen. The toaster popped violently, ejecting two burnt slices of bread like artillery shells. "Perfect," he muttered, biting into the charcoal and grimacing. "Breakfast of champions."
His phone buzzed again.
Nova: You're late. Again.
Aiden blinked at the message. Nova—her name alone carried a weight. They weren't exactly friends. More like… co-conspirators. She was a junior scientist at the research lab where Aiden delivered packages at night. Always secretive, always wearing that white coat like a shield. And she always texted him before something weird happened.
> Maybe she's the reason I haven't quit yet.
He thumbed a reply.
Aiden: Be there in ten. Try not to blow up the lab without me.
Her response came instantly.
Nova: Not funny. Something's wrong today. You'll see.
He frowned. Nova was rarely rattled. If she was texting cryptic warnings, something big was brewing.
Shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket, Aiden grabbed his bag and stepped into the hallway. The building smelled of damp concrete and old cigarette smoke. On the stairwell, he passed Mrs. Gutierrez, the old landlady feeding stray cats. "Morning, Mrs. G," he said automatically. She just gave him a sad smile, muttering prayers under her breath.
Outside, Crescent City felt heavier than usual. The sky was the color of bruised steel, clouds swirling unnaturally low. The rain had stopped, but the streets glistened like oil. Billboards flickered with glitching slogans: "Stay Calm. Heroes Are Watching Over You."
Aiden pulled his hood up and started walking, earbuds in. Music blasted—a random playlist of old rock and game soundtracks. It should've drowned out the world. It didn't.
Somewhere ahead, a deep metallic groan echoed, like the city itself was shifting. People paused, looking up. A man's coffee cup shattered on the sidewalk. Aiden yanked out an earbud.
"What the—"
That's when the first scream ripped through the air.
He spun toward it. Across the street, a delivery van had skidded onto the curb, driver slumped over the wheel, eyes open but blank. Pedestrians backed away. The ground trembled under Aiden's feet.
A new sound rose—a low, pulsating hum, like a thousand insect wings beating at once. Streetlights flickered. Phones buzzed and died. The billboard above him went black, then flashed a single message:
> DAY ZERO INITIATED.
Aiden's heart slammed against his ribs. "Okay… that's new."
The delivery van's doors burst open. Something spilled out—not packages, not crates. Something moving. Shiny black limbs unfolded like knives. It rose to its full height, a twisted insectoid shape with too many eyes and a face that looked almost human.
Everyone screamed.
Aiden's breath caught. Instinct screamed run, but his feet wouldn't move. The thing snapped its head toward him, mandibles clicking. Then it lunged.
He dove sideways as claws slashed the air where he'd been. He hit the pavement hard, rolled, and scrambled to his feet. People scattered in all directions, some too slow. The creature tore through them like paper.
"Holy shit—holy shit!" Aiden gasped, backing up.
Another message flashed across his vision—not on a screen, but in his mind. A translucent interface blinked into existence before his eyes, glowing faint blue.
> [Survivor System Activated]
Welcome, Aiden Cross. Survive Day Zero.
Objective: Reach Safe Zone A within 30 minutes.
He froze. "What… the hell?"
The interface pulsed again:
> Skill Unlocked: Instinct Dash (Lv.1)
The creature turned toward him again, dripping black ichor. Aiden's hands trembled. He wasn't a soldier. He wasn't a hero. He was just a guy with burnt toast and a broken life.
> No one's coming to save me.
He clenched his fists. "Screw it."
The interface flickered:
> Activate skill? Y/N
"Yes!" he shouted without thinking.
Energy flooded his legs, cold and electric. The world slowed—a rush of adrenaline so sharp it almost hurt. He moved, faster than he'd ever moved, ducking under the creature's swipe, sprinting down the street as glass shattered around him.
People screamed. Sirens wailed. Buildings cracked. More shapes erupted from alleys, crawling, screeching. The city was collapsing.
"Aiden!"
He spun at the voice. Nova stood at the corner of the block, lab coat drenched, clutching a black case. Her eyes were wild. "This way!"
He ran toward her. "What the hell is going on?!"
"No time!" she shouted. "If we don't get to the shelter, we're dead!"
Another creature landed behind her, claws poised. Without thinking, Aiden lunged, grabbing Nova and yanking her aside. The thing's strike missed by inches.
She stared at him, stunned. "You—how did you—"
"I'll explain later!" he yelled, dragging her into a side street. "Where's this shelter?!"
"Underground. Block D," she panted. "But it's a long run."
The interface blinked again.
> Timer: 27:43
Aiden gritted his teeth. "Then we'd better run."
They bolted together through the maze of collapsing streets. The city roared around them—explosions, screams, the hum of alien wings. Aiden's skill burned through his veins, every sense sharp, every sound too loud.
At an intersection, a group of survivors huddled behind a flipped bus, crying. A child reached out toward Aiden, eyes wide. "Please!"
He hesitated. Nova grabbed his arm. "We don't have time!"
He looked at the timer. 25:12.
"Damn it," he muttered, then turned to Nova. "Get to the shelter. I'll catch up."
"You're insane—"
"Go!"
She stared at him for a heartbeat, then nodded reluctantly and ran.
Aiden turned back to the child. The creature stalking them hissed, saliva dripping from its teeth. Aiden's hands shook. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't. But something inside him—something long buried—rose up.
> If no one else is coming… I will.
He activated Instinct Dash again and hurled himself at the monster. Time slowed. His movements blurred. He grabbed a loose metal pipe from the ground, swung it with everything he had, and cracked the creature across its jaw. It screeched, staggering.
"Run!" he yelled to the survivors. "Go!"
They bolted, dragging the child with them.
The creature recovered, eyes burning with hate. It lunged again. Aiden swung the pipe, but it snapped like a twig against the thing's claws. He stumbled back, breath ragged.
The interface blinked:
> Skill Progression: Instinct Dash Lv.1 → Lv.2
A surge of energy ripped through him. The world tilted. He dodged again, barely, then sprinted toward the alley, leading the creature away. His heart pounded, lungs on fire.
He could see Nova ahead, turning back, eyes wide.
"Aiden!" she screamed.
He gritted his teeth. "Keep going! Don't stop!"
The timer flashed: 20:00.
---
End of Chapter 1