Chapter 3: When Something Finally Answered
Brian didn't know how long he ran.
Time had stopped behaving like time sometime after the second alley, after his lungs started feeling like they were lined with glass. The city blurred into fragments—brick walls, shattered storefronts, overturned cars like dead animals on their sides.
His legs screamed at him to stop.
"Not… now," he gasped. "Just—just a little more."
The growls behind him faded, not because he'd outrun them, but because he'd turned so many times he didn't know where they were anymore.
That realization scared him more.
Brian ducked into a narrow service corridor between two office buildings and collapsed against the wall, sliding down until he hit the ground. His chest heaved violently. Every breath tasted like rust.
He pressed his forehead to his knees.
"Okay," he whispered hoarsely. "Okay. You're alive. Still counts."
His hands shook uncontrollably. The lamp—his lamp—was gone. He didn't remember dropping it, but his palms were empty, scraped raw.
A thin line of blood trickled from his knuckles.
"Fantastic," he muttered. "Lost my only weapon. Ten out of ten survival skills."
The city wasn't screaming as loudly here. The corridor trapped sound, muffled it. Somewhere above, something clanged as the wind knocked loose metal against metal.
Brian stayed still, listening.
No footsteps.
No growls.
Just his own breathing and the distant, ever-present chaos of a world breaking apart.
He laughed weakly. "So this is it, huh?"
No answer.
He tilted his head back against the wall, staring up at the slice of sky between the buildings. It was dark now, the stars barely visible through smoke and drifting ash.
"I had plans," he said aloud. "Did you know that? Stupid ones, but still."
His voice cracked, and he hated that more than anything.
"I was gonna save money. Travel. Maybe figure out what I actually wanted to do." He swallowed. "I didn't even get a chance to be disappointed properly."
Something skittered nearby.
Brian went still instantly, heart pounding. He scanned the corridor, every muscle tensed.
A rat darted across the ground, disappearing into a drain.
Brian exhaled shakily. "You scared the hell out of me."
The rat didn't care.
He pushed himself up, wincing as pain flared in his side. Something was definitely bruised—maybe cracked.
"Can't stay here," he told himself. "Nowhere to hide forever."
He crept toward the end of the corridor, peering out cautiously.
The street beyond was quieter than before. Too quiet. Abandoned cars sat with doors open, their interiors looted or soaked in blood. A traffic light flickered uselessly, cycling through colors for no one.
Brian stepped out slowly, senses screaming.
His phone buzzed.
He flinched so hard he nearly dropped it.
"No way," he whispered.
The screen lit up—not with a call, but with static. Lines of distortion crawled across it like ants.
"Great," Brian said weakly. "Now my phone's haunted."
The static cleared.
Text appeared.
Not a notification. Not an app.
Just words.
> Scanning host condition…
Brian froze.
"…What?"
The words vanished. More replaced them.
> Vital signs unstable
Psychological stress: critical
Environmental threat level: extreme
Brian stared, mouth dry. "Okay. Okay, this is… this is shock. Hallucination. Totally normal response to mass death."
The phone vibrated again.
> Compatibility confirmed
Brian laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. "With what?"
The screen went black.
For half a second, he thought it was over—that whatever his brain had conjured had finally burned out.
Then the air around him shifted.
Not visibly. Not audibly.
Just a pressure change, like the moment before thunder breaks.
Brian's ears rang.
"Hey," he said, voice unsteady. "I don't like this part."
A sound echoed—not from the city, not from any direction he could point to. It felt like it came from inside his skull and everywhere at once.
Ding.
Brian clutched his head, stumbling back against a car.
"Okay, nope, definitely don't like that."
The sound came again, clearer this time.
Ding.
Words appeared in the air in front of him.
Not on his phone.
In the air.
Bright, clean, impossibly there.
> System initializing…
Brian's knees nearly gave out.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no. I'm not doing this. I'm not the guy. I don't sign up for this."
The words didn't care.
> Host identified: Brian Nolan
Age: 20
Status: Alive (barely)
"Hey," Brian said faintly. "Rude."
A sharp pain lanced through his chest, dropping him to one knee. He gasped, fingers clawing at his shirt as his heart hammered violently.
> System awakening delayed beyond optimal window
Reason: Host survival without assistance
Brian choked out a laugh. "You're… welcome?"
The pain eased, replaced by a deep, bone-level exhaustion.
> Core function activating
The words flickered, then reorganized.
> Primary Skill Unlocked:
10× Multiplier (Passive)
Brian squinted. "That's it?"
Silence.
He waited.
"…Hello?" he tried. "Is there an instruction manual or do I just guess?"
Another line appeared.
> Multiplier applies upon acquisition
Brian frowned. "Acquisition of what?"
The system did not elaborate.
"Fantastic," Brian muttered. "Cryptic voice in the sky. Always helpful."
A low growl echoed from the far end of the street.
Brian's head snapped up.
A figure staggered into view, dragging one leg. Its clothes were torn, face slack, jaw working as if chewing something invisible.
The infected locked onto him.
Brian's pulse spiked. "Bad timing," he said.
He scanned frantically, eyes landing on a length of rusted metal pipe near the curb.
He grabbed it.
The pipe felt light in his hands. Too light.
The infected lunged.
Brian swung wildly, fear fueling the motion.
The pipe connected with the infected's skull—
—and shattered.
Metal splintered, fragments flying.
Brian stared at the broken piece in his hand. "You've got to be kidding me."
The infected crashed into him, knocking him to the ground. Its weight crushed the air from his lungs. Its mouth snapped inches from his face, hot breath stinking of rot.
Brian shoved at it desperately, muscles screaming.
"No—no—get off—!"
His hand brushed against something on the ground. Hard. Solid.
A fallen brick.
He grabbed it and smashed it down with everything he had.
Once.
Twice.
The infected went limp.
Brian rolled away, gagging, chest heaving.
He stared at the brick in his blood-slick hand.
The air flickered.
Ding.
Text appeared.
> You have obtained: G-rank — Ordinary Brick
Brian blinked. "…Excuse me?"
The words shimmered.
Ding.
> 10× Multiplier activating…
The brick in his hand grew hot.
Brian yelped, nearly dropping it as light surged over its surface, reshaping, refining.
The weight changed.
The texture smoothed.
The brick became something else entirely—dense, dark, etched faintly with lines that pulsed once before fading.
Ding.
> You have obtained: S-rank — Impact Brick (Special Attribute: Shatter)
Brian stared.
Then he laughed.
Not a small laugh. Not a hysterical one.
A stunned, disbelieving bark of sound that tore out of him like he'd been holding it back for days.
"You mean," he said breathlessly, "I almost died because I picked the wrong brick?"
The system did not answer.
Another growl echoed nearby.
Brian tightened his grip on the brick, feeling its weight, its balance.
"…Okay," he said quietly. "Okay. I get it now."
More infected began emerging from the shadows, drawn by noise.
Brian pushed himself to his feet, exhaustion still heavy, fear still very real—but something new burned under it.
Not confidence.
Not hope.
Understanding.
"Still human," he muttered, backing away slowly. "Just… not helpless anymore."
The system interface hovered silently at the edge of his vision, waiting.
And for the first time since the world ended—
Something had finally answered him.
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End of Chapter 3