The woman led the way, her rebar spear glinting faintly in the dying light. Kael followed, stepping cautiously over cracked concrete and shattered glass. His body still ached from waking up.
It felt like every joint had been dislocated and forced back into place. The trash still clung to him like a second skin.
He glanced back at the one called Finn. The boy seemed just over sixteen.
His armor was patchy, made from duct tape and metal plates he had found. Nervous eyes. The kind of eyes that hadn't yet hardened.
Silas brought up the rear, his expression unreadable, but the rebar stayed close to his side.
Kael could feel the man's suspicion like a knife pressed lightly to his spine.
They moved through the ruins, deeper into the bones of what must've once been a city.
Buildings leaned at unnatural angles. Some had collapsed entirely. A burnt-out hovercar lay half-sunk in the pavement.
Ash hung in the air like ancient fog.
Kael broke the silence.
"So… do you people have names, or do I just call you 'Angry,' 'Silent,' and 'Kid?'"
Silas grunted.
"You talk too much for a corpse."
The woman didn't stop walking, but she chuckled under her breath.
"Name's Riven. He's Silas, and the boy's Finn. You already gave yours—Kael, right?"
"That's right."
"Well, Kael," she said, without looking back,
"You're lucky I have a taste for weird things. And you? You're about as weird as they come."
Kael smirked.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"No, you shouldn't," Silas growled.
They arrived at a half-collapsed tower, its steel bones jutting into the sky like broken ribs.
Riven ducked through a rusted service hatch. Inside, it was dark, cold, and narrow.
Finn handed Kael a tattered cloth.
"You should wipe your face. You've still got… banana or something on your chin."
Kael blinked, then accepted the cloth and cleaned himself up as best he could.
"I was hoping it was blood. Bananas are worse."
They went down a rough stairwell, lit by the occasional flicker of neon wires. As they went deeper, the world grew quieter.
Soon, only the sound of breathing and distant echoes remained.
At the base of the building, Riven shoved open a reinforced door. Inside was a makeshift bunker—part subway station, part survivalist dream.
Crates of supplies. A table with scattered maps. A cracked monitor was humming dimly.
"You'll stay here until we figure out what to do with you," Riven said.
"Very good hospitality noted,"
Kael replied. "Do I get a bed, or just more garbage?"
Finn pointed toward a sleeping bag in the corner.
"You can use mine for tonight. I'll take the bench."
Kael raised a brow.
"Thanks, kid. Not many people offer kindness in a world like this."
Finn shrugged awkwardly.
"You spoke that weird language. That was… kinda cool."
Kael sat down, exhaling slowly. His ribs still hurt. His limbs trembled from fatigue. But he was alive.
Again.
[System Notification]Resting...
Status: Semi-Stable Physical
Fatigue: High
Mental Load: 42%
Skill Update: 'Tongue of Babel' – Minor Accent Mimicry Gained
Tip: Rest in a safe zone to speed up neural stabilization.
"Great," Kael muttered.
"At least the voices in my head are punctual."
Silas leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "
You got a parasite in that brain of yours?"
Kael looked up, giving him a lazy grin.
"Just a passenger. Helps with languages, mostly."
"You mean it tells you what people say?"
"It does more than that. I don't just understand—I speak like I was born here."
Riven poured something into a chipped metal cup and handed it to Kael.
"Water. Don't waste it."
He accepted it gratefully, though it tasted like rust. Still, better than nothing.
"So…"
Riven sat across from him, propping her feet on the table.
"You said you died."
"I did."
"How many times?"
Kael hesitated.
"Too many."
"Bullshit," Silas muttered.
Kael met his gaze.
"You think I'd choose to wake up in a trash heap for fun?"
Riven tapped her fingers on the table.
"I don't care if you're crazy or cursed, Kael. If you're useful, you live. If not—well, we've got enough mouths to feed."
Kael nodded.
"Fair enough. Then here's my offer: I'll pull my weight. I've survived worse than this. You need someone who can translate, talk, negotiate, and—when I'm back to full strength—fight."
"You got no gear. No weapons," Silas snapped.
"Not yet," Kael said calmly.
"But I've died before. I get stronger. Always."
Silas didn't look impressed.
But Riven was thinking.
She stood.
"Fine. You're on probation. Tomorrow, we scout the edge of Sector 7. You come with us. You earn your place."
Kael nodded.
"Deal."
_____________________________________________________________________________
Later that night, Kael lay in the corner, staring at the crumbling ceiling. The distant hum of wind filtered through cracked walls.
Finn had already fallen asleep, curled under a makeshift coat.
Kael opened the system interface mentally. The familiar grid flickered into place.
_____________________________________________________________________________
[INFINITY CORE - STATUS WINDOW]
Host: Kael
Vessel: Scavenger Boy (Low Grade)
Core Sync Rate: 12%
Active Skills:
Enhanced Awareness (Lv. 4) – Detect minor threats, track sound patterns
Survival Instincts (Lv. 5) – Improvised danger reaction, pain resistance
Weapon Proficiency (Lv. 3) – +15% handling for melee weapons
Tongue of Babel (Lv. 1) – Language comprehension & mimicry
Passive Trait Acquired:
Dimensional isolation (Locked) – Access memories from past lives
Dimensional Echoes. That was new. And locked.
'Figures.'
"Every time I think I know the system," he whispered to himself,
"It reminds me who's really in charge."
He closed the window, letting the silence settle again.
What kind of world was this?
He'd seen magical empires, galactic warzones, hellscapes, and divine heavens.
But this place… it felt older. Colder. Like something had burned it all down and left only ghosts behind.
He turned his head toward Finn.
The boy mumbled in his sleep. Something about his sister.
Kael sighed.
He hated getting attached.
But the weak ones always reminded him of people he'd failed before.
And that was dangerous.
____________________________________________________________________________
The next morning came with smoke-tinted skies and bone-white clouds. Kael's body still ached, but it moved better than yesterday, if only slightly.
Riven handed him a dull combat knife.
"You get metal, you keep it. You drop it."
Kael nodded.
They set out through the ruins again—Riven up front, Silas trailing behind, Finn beside Kael.
Their path took them through scorched alleys, collapsed towers, and shattered courtyards. Kael's eyes scanned everything, absorbing every angle.
"What's the story with this place?" he asked quietly.
"Sector 7?" Finn replied.
"Used to be a research zone before the fall. Now it's just trash and some weird stuff."
"wired stuff?"
"Rifts. Creatures. Things that don't obey normal rules. The higher you go, the weirder it gets."
Kael hummed.
"Sounds familiar."
They passed under a broken monorail. Then, Kael felt something.
A tingle. A low vibration in his skull.
[Warning: Host has entered Proximity Zone - Unstable Rift Signature Detected]
"Wait," Kael whispered.
Riven turned. "What?"
"We're being watched."
"How do you know?"
Kael's eyes narrowed.
"Because whatever's out there… it just learned I'm here."
And then, from the shadows beneath a rusted overpass, something crawled out.
Thin, tall, hunched like a question mark. Skin stretched like wet parchment over bones. No eyes—just a slit that pulsed in the center of its head.
It didn't walk.
It floated.
Silas raised his weapon. "Contact!"
Riven cursed. "Riftspawn. Of course."
Kael's breath caught.
No gear. No power-ups. No time.
And yet, somewhere inside him… something old stirred.
A voice. Not the System.
But himself.
"Let's see what dying a hundred times taught me."