Morning arrived in shades of gray.
For the first time in three days, the snarls and howls outside Liam's apartment fell quiet. The streets, once alive with the hunting sounds of mutated beasts, now echoed only with wind and the distant crackle of electrical transformers failing one by one.
He hadn't slept — just waited, muscles tight, ears attuned to every creak of the building.
Then, just after dawn, it happened.
**Silence.**
Not peace.
But a stillness — like the world had inhaled and forgotten how to breathe.
Liam stood by his door, go-bag slung over one shoulder. In his hand was the reinforced broomstick-spear, now wrapped with copper wiring and a detachable taser core rigged from a salvaged self-defense device.
His body felt lighter than it should. His mind sharp, too sharp — thoughts moving fast, faster than they used to. He noticed everything: the flickering of the hallway bulb, the way dust spun in the air like it was suspended in syrup, the exact pitch of the wind moaning through a broken vent.
And deeper than all of that... **a feeling**.
Something beyond instinct. Beyond reason.
It came from the hum — the ARC resonance that had nested inside his skull like a phantom organ. Today, it felt alive. Not a sound, but a **presence**, nudging him.
Pushing him.
**Kill.**
Liam flinched at the word as it crossed his mind.
It hadn't come from fear. It hadn't even felt alien.
It felt like **permission**.
---
He unbarred the door.
No sudden movements. No barks or screeches.
Just quiet.
Liam stepped out into the hallway. The air was thick — not with smoke or dust, but **energy**. Every step felt heavier, but also more deliberate, as if gravity itself was focused on him.
He passed the blood-streaked walls, the torn-open apartment of his neighbor — a place he refused to look into — and descended the staircase with careful, calculated steps.
Near the exit, he paused and pulled open the metal door just a crack.
The street outside was empty.
Papers danced in the breeze. A toppled scooter lay smoldering beside an abandoned police cruiser. But no movement. No creatures.
Now or never.
He stepped out.
---
The world had changed.
Buildings bore the scars of claw marks and scorched patches where fire had failed to hold. Streetlights flickered on and off, controlled now by dying batteries and broken systems. Moss grew up the sides of vending machines, and trees were beginning to burst through sidewalk cracks at unnatural rates.
Liam moved low and quiet, following alleyways toward the small shopping arcade a few blocks away. If he was lucky, there would be medicine left. Maybe even water filters.
He passed an apartment courtyard where pets had once played. Now it was littered with bones — some small, some disturbingly large. A torn leash still clung to a collar embedded in a cracked wall.
He forced himself not to linger.
---
Ten minutes later, he reached the arcade entrance.
Glass doors shattered. Storefronts gutted. A body slumped over a bench — civilian, male, mid-thirties. Torn throat. Eyes wide open.
Liam gripped his spear.
The hum returned, louder now. Stronger. Not just in his head — he could **feel it** in his spine, in his fingertips. It throbbed in his palms when he gripped the weapon, the pulse syncing with his heartbeat.
A quiet growl echoed from deeper in the corridor.
Liam froze.
He edged around a fallen signboard and saw it.
**A dog** — at least, it used to be. Once a Shiba Inu. Now, its body was nearly twice the size, eyes glowing faintly red, fur bristling like spines. Patches of its skin were armored, metallic, glinting unnaturally. ARC exposure had warped it beyond recognition.
It hadn't seen him yet.
He should have backed away.
But the hum… whispered again.
**Kill.**
He took one step forward.
His foot landed on broken glass.
The creature's head snapped up.
Time slowed.
It lunged.
Liam didn't think. He moved.
A sidestep. Spear raised. He jammed the taser end into the creature's flank and activated the charge. The jolt stunned it just long enough for him to follow through — a sharp jab into the throat. A crunch.
Blood sprayed.
It collapsed.
He stood over the body, panting. Watching.
Waiting.
The hum surged.
And for a moment — just a moment — he **felt good**.
Not relieved.
Not safe.
**Powerful.**
The hum was no longer passive. It was feeding him. Encouraging him.
As he knelt to reclaim his weapon, his reflection caught in the glass of a nearby vending machine.
His eyes… shimmered.
Faintly. Barely.
But unmistakably.
He stepped back, horrified.
"No," he whispered. "No. No."
But deep down, beneath the panic, something else stirred.
**Curiosity.**
---
With a full pack and the knowledge that the streets would only grow worse, Liam made a decision.
He couldn't stay in Osaka.
The city was collapsing.
Rumors from intercepted radio broadcasts — static-filled, half-garbled — spoke of temporary shelters being established further inland, toward Kyoto and Nagoya. Military convoys were spotted along highways. Survivors were moving in groups. Some even whispered about people who had learned to control the ARC energy. Channel it.
He had to find them.
Or die trying.
He picked a direction.
Southwest.
He moved quickly, quietly, slipping between buildings and avoiding wide streets. The roads were no longer his. They belonged to the changed, the twisted — and perhaps something worse that hadn't yet revealed itself.
As the city began to fade behind him, a single thought pulsed with each step:
> "I killed it. And I felt nothing."
Not guilt.
Not joy.
Just the hum.
And the memory of **power.**
---