The punch came fast, but Nana was faster.
She ducked under the man's swing, her body moving on pure instinct—months of Avalon combat training overriding everything else. Her iron pipe caught him in the ribs with a sickening crack.
"Please—" the man gasped, stumbling backward. "We just need food—"
"You need my food," Nana corrected coldly. "My supplies. My weapons. And you were willing to kill me for them."
There were three of them—or there had been. Two were already dead, dissolving into black mist. This last one, their leader, had a knife in one hand and desperation in his eyes.
They were in what used to be a train station, the cavernous space echoing with their fight. Broken tile crunched under Nana's boots. Graffiti covered the walls—territorial markers from various gangs.
"I have kids," the man pleaded. "They're starving. Please—"
Nana's grip on her pipe tightened. She'd heard variations of this story dozens of times. Some were lies. Some were true. In the end, it didn't matter—if she showed mercy, she'd be the one dying.
I'm sorry, she thought, even as she moved to end it. But I can't save everyone. I can only save—
CRASH
The sound was deafening—glass shattering, metal shrieking, and beneath it all, a roar like thunder.
Water.
Nana's head whipped toward the windows just as they exploded inward.
A wall of water—impossible, violent, angry—crashed through the station with devastating force.
The flood cycle.
She experienced it before, during her first time in Avalon. Watched an entire settlement drown in minutes. But this was worse. The water came faster, higher, with a fury that defied physics.
The man she'd been fighting disappeared under the first wave, his scream cut off instantly.
Nana kicked hard, launching herself toward the stairs as water slammed into her legs. The current was impossibly strong, trying to drag her under, pull her into the churning chaos.
No, no, NO—
Her hand shot out, fingers closing around the stair railing. The metal bit into her palm, but she held on, muscles screaming as the water tried to rip her away.
Climb. Have to climb.
She hauled herself up, one step at a time. The water rose with terrifying speed—already waist-high, then chest-high. Her backpack dragged at her, waterlogged and heavy, but she couldn't abandon it. Couldn't abandon her cameras, her proof.
Move, move, MOVE—
Floor by floor, Nana climbed. The water chased her like a living thing, hungry and relentless. Her lungs burned. Her arms shook. But she kept going.
Second floor. Third floor. Fourth.
The emergency exit was on the fifth floor—she could see the green sign ahead, barely visible through the chaos.
Almost there—
"THERE!"
The shout came from above. Nana looked up and felt her stomach drop.scavengers. Five of them, descending from the upper floors. And from their clothing, their weapons, the tattoos on their arms—
They were from the same gang as the men she'd just killed.
"That's her!" one snarled, pointing. "That's the bitch who killed Marco and the others!"
Of course, Nana thought bitterly. Because today wasn't hard enough already.
They rushed down to meet her, weapons drawn. Nana didn't slow—couldn't slow. The water was right behind her, rising inexorably.
The first scavenger swung a baseball bat at her head.
Nana blocked with her iron pipe, the impact jarring her arms. She kicked out, catching him in the knee. He stumbled, and she drove her pipe into his throat.
Black mist. One down.
The second came at her with a knife.
Nana twisted, letting the blade slice through her jacket instead of her skin. Her elbow crashed into his face, breaking his nose. Her pipe followed, and he was gone.
Three left.
But they were smart enough to spread out, attacking from multiple angles. And Nana was tired, waterlogged, her movements slower than they should be.
A fist caught her in the jaw. Pain exploded through her skull. She staggered, barely keeping her footing on the slippery stairs.
Another hit—this one to her ribs. Something cracked.
Get up, Mina's voice echoed in her memory. No matter how much it hurts, get up.
Nana hand shot out, grabbing the nearest attacker by the collar. She slammed his head into the wall with all her remaining strength. Again. Again. Until he stopped moving and dissolved.
Two left.
"Drown, bitch!" one screamed, tackling her.
They went down together, rolling on the stairs. Water crashed over them—knee-high on this level, rising fast. The scavenger's hands closed around Nana's throat, squeezing.
Nana's vision darkened. Her lungs screamed for air.
No. Not like this.
Her blade—still in her belt—came free. She drove it up under the man's ribs, twisting.
He gasped, blood mixing with water.
The last scavenger backed away, fear finally overcoming rage. "Crazy bitch," he spat, then turned and ran higher, abandoning the fight.
Nana let him go. She didn't have the energy to chase.
She pulled herself to her feet—everything hurt, ribs definitely cracked, jaw throbbing—and staggered toward the emergency exit.
The water was at her thighs now. Climbing faster.
Almost. Just a little further.
Her hand closed around the door handle. She wrenched it open—
And gasped as freezing air hit her.
The rooftop.
She stumbled out, coughing violently. Water poured from her clothes, her hair. Her entire body shook with cold and exhaustion.
But she'd made it.
She collapsed onto the concrete, chest heaving, ribs protesting every breath.
I'm alive. I made it.
Slowly, painfully, Nana pushed herself up and looked out over Avalon.
The sight stole what little breath she had left.
The flood had consumed everything.
The entire city—or at least, everything she could see—was underwater. Buildings jutted up like tombstones, but the streets were gone, replaced by churning dark water.
And everywhere, creatures were dying.
She watched a giant try to climb a crumbling building, only to have the structure collapse beneath its weight. It disappeared under the water, its roar cut off instantly.
Demons fought each other even as they drowned, their violence continuing to the very end.
Hybrids with wings tried to fly above the water, but the rain dragged them down, their wings too waterlogged to support them.
And humans.
So many humans.
They climbed buildings, fought over the highest points, pushed each other into the water for a chance at survival. Nana watched a woman throw a child from a rooftop—not to kill, but to clear space for herself.
The child disappeared under the water without a sound.
Nana felt... nothing.
No horror. No grief. Just a cold, clinical observation.
This is what Avalon does, she thought distantly. It strips away everything that makes us human. Until we're all just animals fighting to survive.
She'd felt this before, during the first flood cycle. Watched Mr. Simon and forty-five others drown. Watched the elderly woman who'd shared her last crackers with Nana slip under the water.
She'd stopped feeling things after Mina died.
After she'd cut her hair and become something colder, harder.
And now, watching hundreds—maybe thousands—die around her, she felt that same terrible emptiness.
I should care, she thought. I should feel something.
But she didn't.
The only thing that penetrated the numbness was a sudden, sharp fear:
Jisu.
The settlement. Darius's fortified building. Were they high enough? Did they have flood protocols?
Please, Nana prayed to whatever cruel god ruled Avalon. Please let them be okay. Let Jisu be safe.
She couldn't lose another person. Not again. Not so soon after finally letting herself care.
Her hands trembled—not from cold this time, but from fear.
I shouldn't have left her. I should have stayed. Should have made sure she was safe.
But it was too late now. The water separated them, impassable and deadly. Nana couldn't reach the settlement even if she tried.
All she could do was survive. And hope.
The temperature continued to drop. Nana's wet clothes froze against her skin, making her shiver uncontrollably. Around her, the survivors on other rooftops huddled together for warmth.
Some would freeze to death before the water receded.
Some would fall asleep and never wake up.
This was the flood cycle's cruelty—even if you survived the water, the cold could still kill you.
Nana forced herself to move. Standing still meant freezing. She wrung out her clothes as best she could, secured her backpack, checked her weapons.
Her cameras were waterlogged. Probably destroyed. All that footage, all that proof—
No, she realized, checking the protective cases. They're sealed. Military-grade waterproofing.
The cameras had survived.
Small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.
Nana found a sheltered corner of the rooftop, out of the worst of the wind, and settled in to wait. The flood would last hours. Maybe a full day. She'd survived it before. She could survive it again.
But as she sat there, shivering and alone, watching the gray sky spit rain onto the drowned city below, one thought consumed her:
Zayne, where are you? Are you safe? Did you make it to high ground?
And beneath that: please be alive. Please. I can't do this without you. I can't keep surviving if I lose you forever.
The water rose higher.
The temperature dropped lower.
And Nana pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around herself, and waited for the cycle to end.
Waited to see who would still be alive when the water finally receded.
Waited to find out if Jisu had survived.
Waited for any sign that in this nightmare city of thousands, she might somehow, impossibly, find the one person her soul was searching for.
But the rooftop remained empty except for her.
And the gray sky offered no answers.
Only rain, and cold, and the endless sound of drowning.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued.