The path to the safe zone grew increasingly treacherous as the sun dipped below the horizon. The rain had stopped, but the streets were a maze of wreckage and shadow. Oliver moved cautiously, his senses on high alert. Every creak of metal or distant howl sent shivers down his spine.
The journal had said the safe zone was nestled in the northern outskirts of the city, beyond the ruins of an industrial district. It would take hours to reach on foot, but Oliver couldn't risk using his lightning power recklessly to clear the way—it drained him too quickly, and there was no guarantee he'd have the strength to defend himself if something attacked.
As he turned a corner, he stumbled upon a strange sight: a small group of people huddled around a fire in the remains of a parking garage. They looked ragged and malnourished, but they were alive. It had been weeks since Oliver had seen anyone other than himself—or the creatures.
He debated whether to approach. Survivors could mean allies, but they could also mean trouble. The memory of betrayal lingered from an encounter weeks ago, when scavengers had nearly left him for dead after ambushing him for supplies.
Before he could decide, one of them spotted him.
"You there!" a man called out, standing quickly and raising what looked like a makeshift spear. "Don't come any closer unless you've got no ill intent!"
Oliver raised his hands slowly, showing he wasn't holding a weapon. "I'm just passing through," he said, his voice steady. "Looking for the safe zone to the north."
The group exchanged glances. A woman, her face gaunt but her eyes sharp, stepped forward. "Haven's Gate?" she asked. "You're headed there?"
Oliver nodded. "You know of it?"
"We do," she replied, lowering her weapon slightly. "But the road there's not safe. Corrupted beasts roam the area, especially near the old factory district. We barely made it this far."
"Have you been to Haven's Gate?" Oliver asked, stepping closer.
The woman shook her head. "No, but we've heard rumors. It's fortified, run by people who've... changed. Like you." Her eyes lingered on him, and Oliver realized she had noticed the faint, lingering sparks at his fingertips.
"I don't mean any harm," he said. "But if you're not going there, you should find shelter. This city's crawling with things worse than wolves."
The man with the spear frowned. "And you think you're strong enough to make it? Alone?"
"I don't have a choice," Oliver replied. "If you're smart, you'll keep to the shadows and move quickly. This place isn't safe."
The group murmured among themselves, but Oliver didn't linger to hear their decision. He turned and continued north, his pace quickening.
The woman's warning about the factory district weighed on him, and it wasn't long before he understood why. The air grew heavier as he approached the looming smokestacks and crumbling warehouses. A foul smell of decay and burnt metal hung in the air, making him gag.
He heard them before he saw them—low growls and the scuttling of claws against concrete. The creatures were waiting.
Oliver pressed his back against a wall, peering around the corner of an old assembly plant. Three corrupted beasts prowled the area, their bodies twitching unnaturally as if barely held together. Unlike the wolf he had fought earlier, these were humanoid but grotesque, their limbs elongated and their faces twisted into monstrous visages.
He clenched his fists, summoning the smallest flicker of lightning. He couldn't take them all at once, not with his current abilities. He needed a plan.
Scanning the area, he spotted a cluster of rusted oil drums piled haphazardly near one of the creatures. A faint smile tugged at his lips. If he could lure them close enough…
Taking a deep breath, Oliver stepped out from cover. The nearest creature turned its glowing eyes on him, letting out a guttural roar. The other two followed, their movements unnervingly fast.
"Come on," Oliver muttered, backing toward the oil drums. The creatures charged, their claws scraping the ground as they closed the distance.
When they were within range, Oliver raised his hand, channeling his energy into a single bolt of lightning. The crackling arc struck the barrels, igniting the residual oil within. The explosion was deafening, a fiery blast that consumed the nearest creature and sent the others sprawling.
Oliver didn't waste a moment. While the two remaining beasts writhed on the ground, stunned, he darted forward and plunged his dagger into the chest of the closest one, aiming for its core. It let out a horrible shriek before dissolving into ash.
The final creature recovered quickly, lunging at him with surprising speed. Oliver barely dodged, feeling its claws graze his arm. Pain flared, but he pushed through, summoning another bolt of lightning. This one wasn't as strong, but it was enough to stagger the beast. He drove his dagger into its core before it could recover.
Panting, Oliver stood amidst the wreckage, his body trembling from exertion. He retrieved another shard from the ashes of the fallen creature, adding it to the two he already carried.
The path ahead was clear, but his strength was waning. He couldn't afford another fight like that, not tonight. Gritting his teeth, he pressed on, the faint hope of Haven's Gate pulling him forward like a beacon.