The next day,
The morning sun filtered through the reinforced glass of the shelter, casting pale, deceptive stripes of light across the floor of the second room in Maxine's house.
Max woke with a groan, his back seizing up. Yesterday's labor had left his muscles knotted and his skin bruised, but the physical pain was a dull thrum compared to the sting of Kaelen's words from the night before.
He forced himself up and walked out of the room. He met Maxine in the kitchen. She was already dressed in her combat gear, her hair tied back in a severe, practical ponytail. She looked tired, but when she saw him, her face brightened.
"There he is," she grinned, tossing an apple at him. "I was half-tempted to serve you that leftover cake for breakfast."
Max caught the apple, leaning against the counter. "Don't threaten me with a good time."
Maxine's smile faltered slightly as her eyes traced the purple bruise on his forearm—a souvenir from a crate that had slipped yesterday. "Max..." she sighed. "you're pushing yourself too hard."
"I'm fine," Max dismissed, taking a bite of the apple. "It was just a little accident. Clumsy ol' me."
Maxine chuckled. "Alright, but you should be careful next time," she muttered. "Maybe I'll talk to Jack to stop giving you tough jobs…"
"No!" Max cut in sharply, startling Maxine. But then he sighed. "I mean… I'd appreciate that, Maxine, but please don't talk to Jack… or anyone else on my behalf. I can take care of myself."
Maxine was still stunned by his first response. She put on a wry smile to mask her turmoil. "Um… okay. If you say so," she said softly. "I'm just trying to look out for you."
Max smiled. "I know. And I'm grateful for that," he exhaled. "But… sometimes, you have to let me be the one to handle my own problems. You can't always keep jumping in to save me like I'm some pathetic… pet."
Maxine let out a dry chuckle. Then she looked into his eyes and sighed. "You know what? You're right," she said, her tone laced with a genuine remorse. "I may have been a little overprotective and… overbearing over the couple of months since we got here. And I'm sorry if it made you feel… pitiful. I didn't mean to make you feel that way."
Max sighed and walked towards Maxine, cupping her face. "It's okay, Maxine," he said softly. "You don't make me feel pitiful. You make me feel the need to keep living. In fact, you're the only reason I'm still on the side of humanity. I've wanted to become a zombie for a long time now. At least then I won't have to worry about eating, or sleeping, or dying."
Maxine let out a small laugh. "Shut up, Max. You shouldn't make jokes like that," she giggled. "Zombies are ugly. And if you become one… I will be forced to give you a makeover."
Max eyes widened. "Oh no, not a makeover," he yelped dramatically, pretending to be terrified. "Anything but that."
Maxine burst into an uncontrollable laughter. She couldn't hold it in anymore. Meanwhile, Max just stared at her, admiring her beautiful smile.
After a while, Maxine finally stopped laughing and pulled back, clearing her throat. "Okay, so uh… I'm heading out on patrol," she said, checking the straps of her gloves. "I'll be checking the sector 4 perimeter."
Max nodded. "Alright. Recon for me," he said, keeping his voice light. "Survey mission in the Blackwood sector. Boring stuff. I'll probably just be counting trees."
Maxine chuckled and began walking out of the house. "Okay. Be careful, Max," she said, stopping at the door. Her eyes lingered on him, a flash of unvoiced worry.
"You too," Max smiled.
Maxine nodded, flashed him one last smile, and walked out the door.
Max sat there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where she'd been standing. The warmth in his chest turned cold again.
After a while, he freshened up and also left the house, heading for his mission briefing.
The briefing room was cold and utilitarian—bare concrete walls, flickering fluorescent lights, and a single holographic display projecting a map of the wasteland outside the Shelter.
Max filed in with the rest of the recon squad, nine grown men who barely acknowledged his presence. He found a spot in the back, away from the burly cluster near the front.
"Listen up," the squad leader barked, silencing the low murmur of conversation. "We've detected unusual energy signatures in Sector 9-C. It's a possible dungeon formation or monster hive. The job is simple: We go in, we map it, we get out. No engagement unless necessary. Understood?"
The squad members responded with adrenaline pumping through their veins.
-"Yeah!"
-"Alright, let's do this!"
-"What are we waiting for?!"
Max didn't even say anything. He didn't understand how and why they would be excited to be on recon. It wasn't like they would actually fight the monsters.
But then, the front door hissed open, and the room went silent.
Kaelon walked in. He wasn't scheduled for this run, but he moved with the swagger of a man who owned the building. He was fully armored in a black tactical gear. His eyes swept the room, lingering on Max for a fraction of a second too long, clearly indicating malice.
He was the shelter's golden boy, and everyone knew he had his sights set on Maxine. But to him, Max was the only thing standing in his way of claiming the fire princess.
"Change of plans," Kaelon announced, turning to face the squad leader. "Command wants an Awakened escort. I volunteered. So therefore, I get to lead this mission."
The squad leader didn't even argue. He stepped back immediately. "Of course," he said reverently. "The squad's all yours."
Kaelon snickered. "Excellent," he said haughtily. "Besides… someone has to make sure the recon squad doesn't get themselves killed."
The squad members chuckled nervously. Max said nothing.
"Okay, so the formation is standard," Kaelon continued, pointing to the map. "I'll take the vanguard. Thorne and Hox on flanks. The rest of you men to support, and..." He paused, his finger hovering over the rear of the formation. "Caldwell. You're on rear observation. Keep the comms open, and… try not to slow us down."
Max let out a sharp breath. His job was a death sentence in polite language. The rear observer was the last to move, and in most cases… the first to be picked off.
"Oh, and…" Kaelon added, tossing a heavy, dented pack onto the floor near Max's feet. "Use the Mark IIs. The new gear is only allocated for the real men here."
The other squad members laughed, but Max didn't pay them any attention.
He simply looked at the pack. It contained a comms gear, a rifle with a scratched scope, and a rusted dagger. The perfect set of equipments for a useless asset like him.
Max didn't argue. He just nodded. Then he removed the dagger from the pack and stuffed it in his boot.
"Understood." he said, before hoisting the bag onto his shoulders.
Kaelon smirked. "Good. Let's move."
The journey to Sector 9-C was a march through a graveyard of civilization. The highway was a cracked spine of asphalt jutting out of the overgrowth, cars rusting in gridlock where their drivers had died a year ago. Vines the thickness of pythons strangled crumbling skyscrapers, and the air tasted of wet ash and ozone.
This was humanity's legacy.
Kaelon took point, moving with the casual confidence of someone who'd never truly feared death. His awakened senses swept the environment constantly. Behind him, the squad moved in tight formation: Thorne and Hox on the flanks, both veterans in their late thirties with the hard eyes of men who'd survived too many close calls. The rest of the squad—Miller, Chen, Rodriguez, Vickers, Okonkwo, and Salazar—maintained the center, weapons ready, eyes scanning.
Max brought up the rear, the heavy pack digging into his shoulders, the damaged comm unit crackling with static every few seconds.
They followed the remains of Old Highway 47, a six-lane road that was now a river of cracked concrete and weeds, nature reclaiming what humanity had abandoned. Rusted traffic signs hung at impossible angles, their warnings meaningless now.
The irony wasn't lost on Max. The world itself had become one massive construction zone, rebuilt by monsters instead of men.
"Contact, two o'clock," Kaelon's voice crackled over the comm. "Single H-Class. Level 1."
Max spotted it also—a zombie stumbling between two overturned semi-trucks. Its milky eyes swept the area without focus, jaw working soundlessly.
"Hold position," Kaelon ordered. "Let it pass."
The squad froze, barely breathing. The zombie continued its aimless wandering, passing within twenty meters of their position without noticing them.
After it disappeared into the treeline, Kaelon signaled forward. "Move out. Stay quiet."
Max recorded the sighting on his datapad:
[Single Humanoid-class entity. Level 1 monster. Sector 9-B, checkpoint alpha. No aggressive behavior. Threat level: low]
They pushed deeper into the wasteland.
The forest thickened as they left the highway behind, following a barely visible trail that wound through what had once been a suburban neighborhood. Houses stood in various states of collapse—roofs caved in, walls crumbling, yards completely swallowed by vegetation. A child's swing set stood rusted and still in one yard, the seat hanging from a single chain.
Max tried not to think about what had happened to the child who'd played on it.
"Checkpoint Bravo," Thorne announced quietly. "Three klicks from the target zone."
"Copy that," Kaelon replied. "Take five. Check your gear."
The squad spread out slightly, finding cover among the ruined houses. Max set down his pack and checked his rifle. The scope was indeed scratched, the crosshairs slightly off-center. He'd have to compensate if he actually needed to fire it.
Rodriguez approached him, offering a canteen. "Water?"
"Thanks," Max said, taking a long drink. The water was warm and tasted faintly metallic, but it was wet.
"How you holding up, kid?" Rodriguez asked. He was one of the few who didn't actively treat Max like garbage—just passive indifference instead of active hostility.
"I'm fine." Max replied flatly.
Rodriguez studied him for a moment, then shrugged. "You got more balls than sense, volunteering for these runs. You know that, right?"
"I didn't volunteer," Max corrected. "I was assigned."
"Same difference out here." Rodriguez glanced toward Kaelon, who was scanning the horizon with glowing eyes. "Just… watch yourself. The monsters aren't the only dangerous things in the wasteland."
Before Max could respond, Kaelon's voice cut through the comm. "Break's over. We're moving."
The squad reformed and continued deeper.
Sector 9-C was a dense stretch of forest that had consumed what satellite imagery suggested was once a small shopping district. The buildings were barely recognizable now—just geometric shapes buried under vines and moss, their glass fronts shattered and gaping like empty eye sockets.
"This is it," Kaelon announced, checking his tactical display. "Energy signature should be… one hundred meters northeast. Standard sweep pattern. Eyes open for dungeons or monster nests."
The squad advanced cautiously, weapons raised. The forest here was different—quieter, darker. The canopy overhead blocked most of the daylight, creating a perpetual twilight. The undergrowth was thick with ferns and strange, bioluminescent fungi that pulsed with faint blue light.
Max's datapad showed the energy readings Thorne had mentioned. They were stronger here, more focused. But the pattern was wrong. Too regular. Too… deliberate.
Something was off.
"Kaelon," Max called out in concern. "The readings—"
"I can see them, Caldwell. Stay focused on your job." Kaelon dismissed him.
Max clenched his jaw but said nothing.
They reached a small clearing twenty minutes later. In the center stood the remains of what might have been a fountain—a circular stone structure with a dry basin, completely overgrown with moss and creeping vines.
"Fan out," Kaelon ordered. "Check the perimeter."
The squad spread out in a loose circle, each member checking their sector. Max moved to the eastern edge, rifle up, scanning the treeline.
Nothing.
No movement. No sounds except the occasional rustle of wind through leaves.
Too quiet.
"Clear east," Max reported.
One by one, the others reported in. Clear north. Clear west. Clear south.
"Alright," Kaelon said, moving to the center of the clearing. "Vickers, Chen, set up the resonance scanner. Let's see what we're dealing with—"
"Guys!" Hox's voice cracked like a whip. "I've got something here!"
Everyone converged on his position at the northern edge of the clearing. Hox was kneeling, brushing dirt away from something on the ground.
Max's breath caught.
It was a crystal. Palm-sized, perfectly cut, glowing with a faint golden light. The kind of treasure that only appeared in dungeons or monster lairs—worth a fortune back at the shelter.
"Holy shit," Miller breathed.
"There's another one," Chen said, pointing to a spot three meters away. Another crystal, identical to the first.
"And another," Salazar added.
Kaelon's eyes widened, greed flashing across his features before he schooled his expression. "Spread out. Check the entire clearing. There might be more treasures in the area."
The squad scattered, and within minutes, they'd found seven more crystals—all identical, all lying on the ground in a rough circular pattern around the clearing.
"This doesn't make sense," Okonkwo muttered. "Treasures don't just… lie around like this."
"Who cares?" Rodriguez laughed, pocketing two crystals. "This is the easiest score we've ever made."
Kaelon was already calculating. "Command said scout and report. But if we can secure these ourselves…" He trailed off, the implication clear. Turn in some, keep the rest. Split the profit.
"Sir," Max said carefully, stepping forward. "This isn't right."
Kaelon's eyes snapped to him. "What?"
"This entire setup. It's wrong." Max gestured to the crystals. "Treasures don't appear like this. There's always a guardian. Always a trap. Always something. And look around—there's no monster sign anywhere. No tracks, no droppings, no territorial markings. It's too quiet. Too easy."
"Maybe we got lucky," Kaelon said dismissively.
"Or maybe something wants us to think we got lucky," Max pressed. "This could be bait."
Several squad members shifted uncomfortably. Max was voicing what some of them were already thinking.
Kaelon's jaw tightened. "Your job is to observe and record, Caldwell. Not to question my decisions."
Max frowned. "I'm just saying—"
"And I'm just ordering you to shut up and do your job." Kaelon turned back to the others. "Keep searching. There might be more."
Max stood there, frustration burning in his chest, but he bit his tongue. He'd done his duty. He'd tried to warn them.
As the squad continued searching, Max's eyes drifted to the far edge of the clearing. Something stood there, half-hidden by overgrown bushes.
A tombstone.
It was ancient, and cracked down the middle. At its peak, embedded in the stone, was a crystal—green, and pulsing with a light that seemed to drink in the surrounding shadows.
Max stared at it, unease crawling up his spine. The tombstone felt… wrong. Like it didn't belong to this world. Like it was watching him.
But before he could say anything, Vickers shouted from across the clearing.
"I found something else! Ground's soft here—it feels hollow!"
Kaelon rushed over. "Start digging."
"Sir, I really don't think—" Max tried again.
Kaelon growled. "Caldwell, I swear to God, if you don't shut your mouth—"
"Guys!!"
A scream cut him off.
Everyone froze.
Miller stood twenty meters away, staring down at the ground where he'd been digging. His face had gone white.
"What is it?" Kaelon demanded.
Miller didn't answer. He just pointed.
Max moved closer and saw it—a massive horn, easily a meter long, jutting from the earth. It was bone-white and covered in strange, geometric patterns that seemed to shift when you looked at them directly.
Kaelon's eyes widened. "Shit!"
"Everyone, get back!" he ordered quickly, his voice suddenly tense. "Get away from—"
BOOM!
It was too late.
The ground erupted. And a large creature burst from the ground like a landmine made of flesh and fury.
It was massive—Five meters tall at the shoulder, built like a cross between a bear and a rhinoceros, covered in thick, armored hide that looked like cracked stone. Its head was dominated by three horns—two curving forward, one jutting from its brow—and its eyes burned with molten orange light. Saliva dripped from rows of teeth designed to crush bone.
The whole squad froze in horror, chills crawling up their spines.
It was a Behemoth.