22:18.
Sixty-one minutes after the event.
The city had shifted to a different frequency.
The hysterical screaming from earlier had faded. In its place were scattered impacts, distant and continuous fire alarms, and—
Occasional gunshots tearing through the night.
Ethan left the rooftop.
Height was no longer safety.
Elevation meant exposure.
Exposure meant being seen—
Not only by humans.
He moved down the fire stairs and stopped at the twelfth floor. There was a transfer landing here, partially shielded by concrete structure. Limited visibility, but concealed.
The system interface surfaced quietly.
[Environmental Assessment: Relatively Safe]
[High-Adaptation Activity: Increasing]
[Recommendation: Avoid Prolonged Stay in a Single Location]
Ethan leaned against the wall.
Then he heard footsteps.
Not dragging.
Not frantic running.
Measured. Intentionally quiet.
Human.
He didn't reveal himself.
Instead, he tightened his grip on the axe and adjusted his position to the side of the doorway. If someone rushed in, he would have half a second of advantage.
The door opened slowly.
A tall man leaned in first. Cautious. A gun in his hand, though not raised.
"I'm not here to take anything," the man said, voice low.
Ethan didn't respond.
In this environment, silence was often more intimidating than speech.
The man stepped into the light.
Marcus Reed.
There was blood on his clothes—some dried, some fresh. The barrel of his gun still radiated faint residual heat.
His eyes immediately found the axe in Ethan's hand.
They locked gazes.
Neither relaxed.
"You alone?" Marcus asked.
"For now," Ethan replied.
Not confirmation. Not denial.
Marcus nodded without pressing further. His eyes swept the space, verifying there wasn't a third person.
"This building isn't secure," he said. "High-adaptation types are starting to move upward."
A subtle shift in Ethan's expression.
"You're sure?"
"I lost someone," Marcus said.
No explanation.
No description.
Ethan understood the weight of that sentence.
It wasn't emotion.
It was information:
I've already paid the cost.
The tension between them eased—slightly.
Not enough.
At the Same Time · Parking Structure Entrance
Lena had been forced out of the hospital.
Not by fear.
By structural failure.
When the backup power destabilized, when security doors were broken from the inside, the medical system had already lost meaning.
She carried a medical pack and crouched behind an overturned ambulance with three other survivors.
One was a young intern, hands trembling.
Another was a security guard with a leg wound—bleeding controlled, mobility limited.
The fourth—
Had died in the last surge.
"We can't stay here," the intern whispered.
"We can't run blindly either," Lena replied.
Her gaze lifted toward the nearby high-rise cluster.
Several floors were still lit.
That meant—
Either someone had secured it.
Or it hadn't fallen yet.
Either way, it was better than here.
"Follow me," Lena said.
No promise of safety.
No guarantee of survival.
Just a direction.
Back to the Transfer Landing
Ethan and Marcus stood within the same space, keeping over a meter between them.
"Where are you headed?" Marcus asked.
"Out of the city center," Ethan said.
"Too early." Marcus shook his head. "The outskirts will collapse first."
"You're certain?"
Marcus was silent for a second.
"I'm not certain about anything," he said. "But I am certain that solo survival probability is dropping fast."
That struck.
Almost simultaneously, the system interface appeared.
[Notice: Coordinated Group Behavior Reduces Short-Term Risk]
The system never advised alliances.
It only provided probability.
Ethan looked at Marcus.
"Cooperation isn't trust," he said.
"Agreed," Marcus replied without hesitation.
A dull thud echoed from below.
Not an explosion.
Something heavy falling.
Then the familiar breathing.
Not human.
More than one.
Marcus raised his gun instantly.
Ethan stepped back, adjusting his angle.
No communication.
Yet their positioning aligned.
In that moment, they were no longer strangers.
But they were not allies either.
Outside the Building
By the time Lena and the others reached the structure, they were exhausted.
She looked up.
Emergency lighting glowed on the twelfth floor.
Someone was there.
She knocked on the stairwell door.
Not loudly.
Not desperately.
Three knocks. Evenly spaced.
Inside, both Ethan and Marcus froze.
"Human," Ethan murmured.
"Female," Marcus added.
They didn't open the door immediately.
Lena waited ten seconds.
Then she spoke:
"I can stop bleeding. And I can tell you who's already beyond saving."
The door opened a crack.
Ethan's eyes were calm. Alert.
"Before you come in," he said, "none of you have been bitten. Correct?"
Lena raised her wrist and turned her neck, exposing skin clearly.
"No," she said. "If I had been, I wouldn't be standing here."
A brief silence.
Then the door opened fully.
This was their first convergence.
No greetings.
No relief.
No "you're still alive."
Only rapid, clinical assessment.
Who was useful.
Who was a liability.
Who might become a threat within the hour.
Lena scanned the two men.
She immediately determined which one was more dangerous.
Not Marcus.
Ethan.
Because in his eyes—
There was no hesitation left.
Moments later, they shared the same space.
No one used the word alliance.
But all of them understood:
From now on, their choices would affect each other.
The sounds below were getting closer.
High-adaptation entities were moving upward.
Ethan tightened his grip on the axe.
Marcus checked his magazine.
Lena placed her medical kit within reach.
They stood close—
Without lowering their guard.
This was the beginning of cooperation.
And the possibility of betrayal.
In this world—
The ones who survive are not necessarily friends.
And the real test had only just begun.