The city hadn't moved while he was gone. It never did. Buildings still leaned like tired bones. Smoke still hung in the air like an accusation no one wanted to speak aloud. The checkpoint had taken three hours to reach. The return took five. Not because Elias was slower. He wasn't. He'd fought. He'd bled. He'd seen the bones of soldiers who once believed in barbed wire and steel fences. And he'd come back with more than gear.
He came back with proof.
That something else was out there. That the virus didn't just kill. It changed.
The crowbar in his hand was cracked now, the head of it stained with old blood turned black. He carried it anyway. Not because it was effective. But because it reminded him that even iron could split if you hit it hard enough. Everything could break. Even him.
The house came into view at sundown. The sky bleeding in muted purples. The trees shaking in the wind like they'd seen him before and didn't want to again.
The garage door was still down.
Good sign.
He tapped twice, then once, in the same rhythm he always used—just in case. Nothing responded. Not Max's voice. Not the shuffle of feet. The quiet was thick enough to make him hesitate.
He opened the door slow.
Inside, it smelled like dust and old sweat. The smell of people trying not to die.
Max was still on the mattress. Pale. Eyes open, barely. He didn't sit up.
"You're alive," he whispered.
Elias knelt beside him, pressing the back of his hand to Max's forehead. Not warm. But not as cold as the day before. "Barely," Elias muttered. "But yeah."
He unpacked the battery first. Hooked it into the makeshift solar panel he'd grabbed off the military roof. The light above them flickered once. Then steadied. A soft glow. Orange. Faint. But real.
Max stared at it like it was magic.
Elias gave him half the water he brought. Held the bottle for him. The boy drank slow, his hands too weak to hold it.
There was a silence between them. Not awkward. Just thick. Heavy.
Then Max said, "Did you find the checkpoint?"
Elias nodded. "What's left of it."
"Any people?"
"No." His voice cracked slightly on the word. Then steadied. "Something else."
Max didn't ask. Smart. Or scared. Elias didn't want to describe what he saw. He didn't want to say the word mutation out loud. Like it would make it more real. Make it spread.
The system pinged.
Shelter Upgrade Complete
Crafting Bench: Unlocked
Random Upgrade Gained: Water Purifier [Basic]
He blinked. In the corner of the garage, near the pile of scavenged junk, something shimmered once. Then solidified. Not magic—just… out of sync with the world. Like the system had reached into reality and dragged something from thought into metal. The purifier wasn't big. Just a cylinder with a filter box and a refillable drum.
But to them, it was priceless.
He laughed. Quiet. Bitter. "We've got clean water now."
Max coughed. "So we're rich?"
"In apocalypse terms? Yeah. Filthy."
It felt good. That moment. Short. Dumb. But human.
He let himself have it.
They spent the next hour sorting supplies. Food in one corner. Medical in another. The small crafting bench blinked into existence beside the purifier. Basic menu. Simple layout. Options grayed out, most of them locked behind materials they didn't have. Scrap metal. Wiring. Old electronics.
But the bench offered something else too:
Available Blueprints:
Reinforced Crowbar (Needs: Metal Shards, Tape)
Makeshift Blade (Needs: Pipe, Sharpened Scrap)
Weak Molotov (Needs: Bottle, Fuel, Cloth)
Elias memorized them.
He wasn't a blacksmith. But he could learn.
He had to.
Night came too fast. The kind that made every sound louder. Every creak suspicious. Every shift of shadow a possible ending.
Elias sat with his back to the door, weapon in hand, eyes wide open. Max slept behind him, breathing slow. The garage had no insulation. The wind crept in through the cracks.
And then, around midnight, he heard it.
Not a moan. Not a scream. A voice.
Outside.
Speaking. Clear. Human.
"...don't go in there... too quiet…"
A second voice. Lower.
"Shut up. I saw someone moving earlier. Might be supplies."
Footsteps. Close.
Elias didn't move. His breathing slowed. His grip tightened.
Bandits.
He wasn't ready.
They hadn't knocked. They hadn't asked. They were whispering, but not hiding. That meant confidence. Maybe desperation. Worse—maybe both.
The system buzzed.
Optional Quest: Defend Shelter Threat Detected: 2 Humans [Unknown Intent] Reward: +150 Coins / Item Drop / Skill Chance
He ignored the quest. Not because it wasn't tempting—but because the reward didn't change the danger.
He leaned back slowly, nudged Max's shoulder.
The boy stirred, blinking. Elias didn't say a word—just pressed a finger to his lips. Then pointed at the door.
Max went still.
They waited.
More footsteps. Then the soft rattle of the doorknob. Garage entrance. Metal against metal.
Locked.
One of the voices cursed under his breath. The other tapped something—probably a crowbar or pipe—against the handle.
"Should we break it?" one asked.
"Too loud. Might draw those freaks."
Silence.
Then retreating footsteps.
Elias didn't relax. Not for a full ten minutes after. And even then, he only let his head drop forward.
Max whispered, "People are worse than monsters sometimes."
Elias didn't answer.
Because he already knew.
He waited until the sun was bleeding in again. Until the shadows shrank.
And only then did he open the inventory.
Coins: 230 Inventory Items:
Dirty Tendon (Crafting)
2x Bandage
Water Bottle (Half)
Journal Pages
Military Knife (Worn)
Reinforced Glove (Left only)
He hovered over the creation tab.
Skill Available: [Skill Creation Lv.1] Cost: 100 Coins per attempt Warning: Failure rate high. Skill random.
His fingers shook slightly.
He tapped "Create."
The screen pulsed.
Creation in Progress…
Then—pain.
Not in his hands.
In his head.
Like something was being torn out of him. Or shoved in.
Visions—flashes—wires—blood—names that weren't his—shadows crawling backward—eyes that blinked with no face.
Then—
Silence.
Skill Created: [Tendon Sense Lv.1] Type: Passive Effect: Detects movement within a 10m radius via micro-vibrations.
Elias blinked.
Max was still asleep.
But Elias could feel his breath now. Without looking. He could feel the faint scratch of a rat under the floor. The shift of the wind outside. Like the world was mapped by tremors.
He smiled. Small. Worn out.
But real.
Power didn't always look like lightning or fire.
Sometimes, it looked like a boy who didn't flinch when the wind changed. Who sat still. Who listened harder.
He closed his eyes.
Let the silence press against him.
Then whispered, "Not just surviving anymore."