She turned two of the containers into sniper nests.
With the help of the defenders — some of whom had solid System bows and rifles by now — she had ladders latched to the lower container sides, giving access to roofs that overlooked choke points, each climb sending a tight, hot pull through her injured shoulder that she pushed through on habit..
"Ranged up here," she shouted over the din. "Melee stays low, but you don't chase. Let them come into the funnels."
A couple of workers with fire hoses eyed her uncertainly.
"Hydrants still work?" she asked.
"Yeah. For now."
"Good. Put a hose line along that ramp." She pointed at a sloped access point she'd cleared onto one of the container roofs. "When they try to climb, you knock their legs out from under them. Water's not going to kill them, but it will slow them. Buy us seconds."
"Got it." He climbed to the top, while two more firefighters anchored the hose line at ground level, feeding slack up the ladder so the rooftop operator didn't get ripped off the edge when pressure kicked in.
Seconds meant swings. Swings meant kills. Kills meant armor and weapons and maybe an extra child breathing in the new world.
They moved.
The next wave hit the remodeled bypass and flowed into the shapes she'd cut for it. Where two containers left a narrow gap, beasts were forced to push into a two-wide funnel.
Talia took that spot, spear flashing. Every hard thrust sent a dull burn through her shoulder and a deep ache through her thigh, but the rhythm overrode the pain. Backed by a shield-bearer with one of the new D-Rank iron-rimmed shields, nothing got through them alive.
When the pressure grew too much, she retreated up the ramp, and the firefighters blasted the surge back down the slope with high-pressure jets, knocking beasts off balance and into each other.
They thrashed, stumbled, tried to climb again.
She speared them from above.
[Kill Count: 700]
[Kill Count: 745]
On another stretch, she had a truck parked perpendicular to the flow, its flatbed backed tight against a concrete barrier. She used it as a mid-height platform — jump up, stab down, drop off the far side, and lead a smaller cluster into a dead-end loading dock where three locals with System machetes were waiting.
Her body had already moved past complaining. Pain was background noise now, a constant burn in her thigh and shoulders. Her mind had narrowed to lines, angles, humans and beasts.
Corridor here. Drop there. Kill zone ahead.
The industrial estate was chaotic. She was starting to think like a general.
Stepping back for a quick rest, she finally stopped resisting the vision waiting at the edge of her mind and let it in.
The family fought their own smaller wars.
Grandpa and Grandma guarded the courtyard garden like it was holy ground.
Which, honestly, it kind of was.
Who else put coloured fairy lights around their house during an apocalypse? Maybe they were trying to throw one last farewell party… hopefully not the 'we all die tonight' kind..
Either way—plants were life. Life meant food. And food meant the kids wouldn't starve in whatever world came next.
A corrupted fox managed to squeeze through the side fence gap, eyes black, muzzle bloody. Grandma met it first, her System-spade snapping up in a brutal uppercut that caught it under the jaw. Ash dusted her slippers.
"Seventy-two," Grandpa grunted, planting his new axe in a dog beast that leapt the low brick wall. His vest shimmered faintly as claws skidded off it. "I'm going to have the best fishing territory in the new world, you watch. I've earned it."
"Only if you survive long enough to cast a line," Grandma snorted, swinging again.
Cael and Theo had ranged further out, clearing the streets and hanging lights like they were prepping for a festival instead of an apocalypse.
"We've got the best party street in the postcode. Wish I was there. Mum, take a picture," Talia mentally sent a wish. Cael apparently thought the same, seeing him taking street shots and selfies. "At least someone in the house understands me," she muttered.
With Cael's seventeen teammates and half the neighbourhood now decked out in System armour, their "outer ring patrol" looked weirdly official. A DIY militia. Shotguns, spears, crowbars… and one legend dual-wielding frying pans because the Random System God apparently thought that was a reasonable drop.
Beasts that approached the block rarely made it past the corner.
The kids were starting to get bold.
Jace swung his little hatchet at a wolf already half-dead, finishing it with a squeaky war cry, while Lira smacked it with her plank shield just to be sure.
"Back behind the line," Theo barked, reeling them in like unruly puppies. "Wait till you're at least as tall as Micha and Kira."
Two brunette girls around twelve glanced over. One waved a gleaming System dagger; the other simply nodded, raising her shield before slipping right back into the fray.
Dagger-and-shield twins. Tough little gremlins.
In the back room, Mum and Brielle sat at a table buried under supplies.
Brielle's hands still trembled now and then, but she sorted bandages and painkillers with sharp, stubborn focus. Mum labelled boxes with quick efficiency—System meds separate from normal ones, weapons sorted by type, food separated by spoilage, educational supplies, baby supplies, hygiene packs, everything they might need later.
They were preparing for a future that might not even be on this planet.
Fatigue clung to every corner of the house like smoke.
But so did hope.
And purpose.
Returning to her senses, Talia crept down the ladder latched to the side of the container favoring her left arm and taking each rung carefully as her thigh throbbed in protest.. The last wave had thinned.
For the first time since she'd arrived, patches of open road appeared between the bodies—quiet pockets in the chaos. The defenders moved with less panic now; their strikes were sharper, their rhythm steadier. They were settling into the patterns she'd carved for them.
More residents arrived, slipping into formation without being told. The rumour had spread far: every kill counted toward their family's future. People who had never fought before were stepping up, fear sharpened into determination.
A new firefighter perched on the edge of a shipping container, hose idle across her lap, watching the lanes with wary focus instead of wide-eyed fear.
"You see that?" someone panted beside Talia. "They're… following the routes."
Talia tightened her grip on the spear, feeling every ache from finger to shoulder.
"No," she said. "We're following theirs. I just… edit the choreography."
Her kill count flashed again.
[Kill Count: 920]
[Kill Count: 967]
She felt the next wave before she heard it — not as sound, but as a pressure shift.
Hunter's Vision activated — the battlefield stretching in her awareness like a map of pressure and motion.
They were angling toward the bypass from the residential fringe now, not just the outer rural ring. The beasts were learning too, in their own twisted way.
"Last push here," Talia said, rolling her shoulders. "Then I loop."
"Loop?" the cracked-helmet woman — Launa — asked.
Talia jerked her chin south, then east.
"Hospital underpass, East Blockade, Suburban strip, back here. Circle killing. You'll see me pass through, so don't follow me. Stick to your post. Hold this spot until more reinforcements show up."
Launa nodded, jaw set with tired determination. "We'll hold it. I've got a few defensive ideas to try out too."
More residents drifted in behind them, bloodied and exhausted but joining the lines. Talia glanced at them and added, "Start setting up rest breaks. We've still got eleven hours until the end."
Launa visibly twitched. "Right. I… still can't believe the world is actually ending. And that we're being moved."
"How many kills are you at?" Talia asked.
"Forty," Launa said. "I'll hit the message within the hour."
Talia paused, then said quietly, "Just a suggestion — if you know people with kids, get them here. Let them get experience now. They're safer shooting from a distance."
Launa blinked at her, stunned. "Why would kids need— No, don't answer that." Her expression twisted with dawning fear. "Why do we need a trial if we're supposed to be going somewhere safe? Why didn't I think of it?"
She ran a shaky hand over her helmet. "Shit. Thank you, Talia. I have a ten-year-old at home. And my mum. I didn't bring them. I will now. I'll spread the word too. Get people thinking instead of just reacting. We're running out of time."
Talia's smile was small, tired, genuine. "Don't beat yourself up. I'm only just surfacing myself."
The next wave slammed into the staggered container lane Talia had barely finished shaping. The beasts funneled into a tight three-across choke, scrambling over each other to reach the front.
"Well," Talia said dryly, "your delivery has arrived."
She tapped Launa's shoulder.
Launa huffed a breath that was almost a laugh.
Side by side, they stepped onto the platform to meet the charge — two strangers, freshly connected, fighting like they'd always had each other's backs.
Multi-kill sweeps now — her spear arcs sharpened into something brutal and efficient. Each swing carved through more than one target: a dog's skull, a fox's throat, the eye socket of a charging bear.
Her movements weren't pretty anymore. They were effective.
Kill. Step. Kill. Pivot. Stab. Breathe. Kill again.
Hunter's Vision widened around her like a silent dome — still limited in its uses, but perfect for tracking the battlefield flow. Once she confirmed the beast pattern was smoothing out, she dismissed it.
[Kill Count: 990]
A final boar tried to force its way forward, plowing through the mound of its fallen like a mindless battering ram. She sidestepped cleanly, drove the spear up beneath its jaw, and twisted hard.
It dissolved, ash drifting across her boots.
[Kill Count: 1000]
For a second, the number didn't feel real.
Then a different glow pulsed at the edge of her vision — deeper, heavier, carrying weight.
[Reward #1000: A-Rank Territory Gift Pack Logged]
Talia stood in the centre of the industrial bypass, breath ragged, surrounded by warped steel and mounds of ash, and let the number settle for half a heartbeat, along with her pain.
A thousand corrupted beasts.
One small, battered human body — hers — had done that.
But it didn't feel like victory. It felt like a down payment.
She swept her gaze over the bypass, committing the altered terrain to memory.
Kill funnels: holding.
Platforms: solid access.
Escape routes: clean enough.
Launa caught her eye from atop a container. Talia pointed toward the hospital underpass.
Launa lifted a thumb in acknowledgement, then turned back to her own fight.
Talia limped toward her bike, muscles trembling with every step.
North Industrial Bypass: stabilised. For now. Maybe fully, if luck wasn't a liar.
Her leg felt like it belonged to someone else. Her shoulder burned with overuse. Foresight murmured at the edges of her mind, whispering new waves, new patterns, new demands.
She swung onto the bike anyway.
Industrial chaos simmered behind her as the engine sputtered to life. She eased the bike around, pointing its nose toward the hospital underpass.
Talia Rowe had just hit four figures.
And there were still eleven hours left until the world ended.