The world was too silent.
Alva realised that now… silence was more frightening than noise.
Because noise meant something alive.
Silence meant something waiting.
Her boots sank a little into the ash-covered highway as she walked.
Ruined buildings stretched out like broken bones, the sky still stained purple from the meteor radiation.
Her breaths were steady.
Her steps were controlled.
She wasn't the weak, trembling girl from her old world anymore.
But she wasn't delusional either.
Everything here could kill her.
Even the air felt like it had teeth.
—
A faint scraping sound echoed from the collapsed shopping mall ahead.
Not loud.
Not fast.
Just one dragging step.
Alva's fingers tightened around the metal spear she found yesterday.
It's here again…
The mutated monsters didn't breathe like humans.
They didn't groan or roar unless attacking.
They moved like shadows—slow, soft, almost polite.
She lowered her body and exhaled, centering her balance.
One more step.
Another.
And then—
something… someone… moved on the rooftop above the mall.
Not a monster.
Too tall.
Too focused.
Too… restrained.
The figure crouched at the edge, eyes glowing an eerie silver.
Wolf-ears twitched once.
Beastman.
Her heart slammed once against her ribcage.
He wasn't looking at her.
He was looking at the monster.
He was hunting.
Alva froze and watched in complete stillness as he jumped—
silent, smooth, graceful—
and landed on the creature's back in a single fluid motion.
No sound.
No wasted movement.
Just a clean, precise strike to the skull.
The beast crumpled.
The beastman rose slowly, stray dust falling from his hair.
Then… he turned his head slightly—
just enough to show that he had known she was there all along.
His gaze didn't wander over her body.
He didn't grin.
He didn't speak.
He simply looked.
Measured.
Judged.
As if he was trying to decide whether she was prey…
or something more dangerous.
Alva didn't flinch.
She raised her spear and held his eyes without fear.
Monster corpses rotted at their feet.
Wind whispered like a blade.
Quiet.
Sharp.
Finally—he blinked once and stepped back without approaching.
He wasn't claiming her.
He wasn't attacking her.
He was simply… acknowledging her existence.
Then he vanished back into the ruins.
Alva stood there, breath steady, pulse loud in her ears.
This world wasn't like the novel she read.
Here, beauty didn't instantly attract protectors.
Here, the strong recognised the strong.
And she smiled—small, sharp, confident.
"Alright," she whispered.
"I'll survive on my own terms."
And she continued forward—
toward deeper danger.
Not running.
Walking.
As someone who refused to be prey.