Emerging from the narrow alley into a slightly wider one, it felt like we had been shuffling for hours. Time had blurred into a meaningless concept, lost somewhere in the confusion of the chaos. How long had we been trapped in that labyrinth of destruction? I couldn't remember. The thick air, choked with smoke and ash, blanketed the sky, hiding the stars and turning the world into an endless night.
I glanced at Hannah, her figure trembling just a few steps ahead of me. She stood frozen, her eyes locked in a vacant stare, fixated on something far off in the distance—though I knew it wasn't anything in front of her that she was seeing. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks, glistening as they cut through the soot on her skin.
"Hannah?" I whispered, my voice weak and tentative.
She blinked slowly, as if waking from a trance, her gaze shifting toward me. Her eyes were pools of raw emotion—pain, anger, betrayal. The weight of her loss crushed her, and I could see the rage simmering beneath the surface.
"Why?" she croaked, her voice hoarse from hours of crying and screaming. "Why did you leave them?"
Her words hit me like a physical blow, but I couldn't respond immediately. My throat tightened as guilt welled up inside me, clawing at my insides. I had lost them too—our parents. They were gone, and yet here was my little sister, the only family I had left, staring at me like I was the one who had killed them.
"You just... left them," she continued, her voice trembling, barely above a whisper. "Are you going to leave me to die too? Like you left Mom and Dad?"
Her words cut deeper than any blade could. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What could I say? My chest tightened the weight of her accusations pressing down on me until it was hard to breathe.
"You were supposed to protect them," she spat, her tone now ice-cold, venom dripping from every syllable. "You're the older son, the brave one, the protector. And what did you do? You ran. You're a coward."
"I–" I tried to defend myself, but the words caught in my throat, suffocating me. The silence hung between us like a death sentence.
"This is all your fault," she hissed, her eyes narrowing, filled with nothing but hate.
I snapped. The grief, the guilt, the helplessness—it all boiled over, and before I could stop myself, I shouted back. "It's not my fault! How can you blame me? Do you think I wanted to leave them? Do you think I wanted to watch Mom and Dad die?" My voice cracked, but I pressed on, the tears burning behind my eyes. "Dad made me leave! He forced me to run because if we stayed, we all would have died! Do you really think that's what they would have wanted? For us to throw our lives away too? Do you think I wanted this? That I didn't want to stay and fight?"
"Shut up," she snapped, her voice breaking. "It should've been you instead of them." Her words were like a knife twisting in my chest, each syllable drawing blood.
I stood there, stunned, the full force of her bitterness and grief crashing over me like a wave. She blamed me for everything. My own sister believed I should've been the one to die in their place.
I clenched my jaw, swallowing the sob that threatened to escape. I had no defense. I couldn't change what had happened, and I couldn't take away her pain. But I wasn't going to abandon her, no matter how much she hated me right now.
With a voice heavy with sorrow, I whispered, "Blame me if you need to. Hate me for the rest of your life if that's what it takes. But you're my sister. And no matter what you think of me, I will protect you. I won't leave you." My voice wavered, the weight of my promise bearing down on me.
Hannah didn't respond. She just turned away, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs as she sank to the ground behind the wreckage of a burned-out car. She hugged her knees to her chest, her head resting on them, and cried.
I stood there, watching her, feeling more helpless than I ever had in my life. The ash-filled sky above us, the ruined city around us—it all felt like it was closing in. But despite everything, one thing was clear. I couldn't afford to break down. I had to stay strong—for her. Even if she never forgave me.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to collect myself. 'Come on, Jagger, pull it together,' I urged silently. The weight of the situation pressed on my chest, but I forced myself to focus. There was no time to fall apart now.
Cautiously, I moved toward the opening of the alley, needing to get a sense of our surroundings. The scene that unfolded before me was pure devastation—an apocalyptic nightmare. The entire city was engulfed in flames, the inferno lighting up the dark sky. Thick clouds of smoke hung heavily above, turning the stars into distant, dim spots. The stench of burning metal and flesh assaulted my senses, making it hard to breathe.
Screams echoed from every direction—agonized cries for help, the last desperate pleas of the dying, and the cold, guttural growls of creatures stalking their prey. The streets were littered with the bodies of those who hadn't been fortunate enough to escape, their lifeless forms sprawled across the pavement like broken dolls. The sight was so overwhelming that I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, my stomach twisting as bile rose in my throat. I staggered, gripping the wall beside me for support, fighting the dizziness that threatened to pull me under.
The city was on the verge of collapse. Soon, it would be overrun by the creatures that lurked in the shadows. A few pairs of glowing red eyes flashed in the distance, watching from the cover of darkness. 'They're everywhere,' I realized, my pulse quickening. The monsters were out there, hunting—waiting.
I couldn't afford to freeze. Forcing my legs to move, I crept back toward Hannah, keeping low to avoid being spotted. As I made my way through the rubble, my eyes caught on something—a small axe, half-buried in the ground beside a dead man. His blood had long since dried, staining the earth beneath him dark crimson. I scanned the area, heart pounding in my ears. No movement. No eyes watching. Certain I was alone, I darted forward, yanking the axe free from the dirt and clutching it tightly in my hand. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I hurried back to the alley, settling beside Hannah, keeping my voice low and soft. "You need to rest," I murmured gently. "Tomorrow's going to be rough. If you need anything... I'm here."
She didn't respond—didn't even look at me. Instead, she shifted further away, curling up into a ball as if trying to disappear from the world. Her quiet sobs filled the silence, each one a dagger to my heart. The words she'd spoken earlier still stung, but I knew they were born from a deeper pain, one that ran far beyond our current situation. I shook my head, trying not to dwell on it. Now wasn't the time.
"You can sleep now. I'll keep watch."
She turned her back on me, her body trembling as she wept. I watched her for a moment, feeling helpless and hollow. There was nothing I could say to ease her grief, nothing I could do to take away the fear and trauma that had settled deep in her bones. All I could do was keep her safe—at least for tonight.
Clutching the axe, I gazed out into the burning city, my mind racing. There was no telling what the morning would bring, but one thing was certain: we weren't going to get out of this easily.
-
[Congratulations, you're now a Hunter.]
The words hung in the air like a dream. "So, it's true," I thought, staring at the notification floating before me. "I became a Hunter." My heart raced with a mixture of annoyance and disbelief.
Hesitating for a moment, I tapped the notification, my fingers trembling slightly.
[Class: Warrior]
[You have been granted a 'Unique Skill' by the God of Survival: 'Regeneration (S-rank)']
I blinked, the title sinking in. "The God of Survival? Regeneration?" I thought, my mind racing. "Isn't that... a bit too overpowered?" But as the reality of it settled in, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. I let out a breath. "Thank you, I guess?" I muttered, half-joking. Still, something about it felt ominous, as if this power came with a price.
"Status," I whispered, willing the next menu to appear.
-
Name: Jagger Ashton
Race: Human
Class: Warrior
Level: 1 [0/50xp]
HP: 100/100 (scales with dexterity)
MP: 100 (scales with intelligence)
[Stats]
STRENGTH: 5
AGILITY: 5
STAMINA: 5
DEXTERITY: 5
INTELLIGENCE: 10
(Stat distribution points: 0)
-
I stared at the numbers, my lips curling into a frown. "My stats are... kind of terrible," I sighed. Strength, agility, stamina, dexterity—everything seemed to be at the bottom of the barrel. Only intelligence stood out. "At least I won't be an idiot in this world," I muttered. "But still... for a warrior, this feels... off."
"Skills," I called, shifting to the next display.
-
[Skills]
Regeneration (S-rank): [Passive] Effect: Heals all non-fatal wounds or illnesses at an accelerated rate. Missing limbs can regrow, but fatal injuries cannot be healed. Grants complete immunity to poisons.
Cross-slash (D-rank): Level 1 [Perform a horizontal and vertical slash attack.] Cooldown: 1 minute. MP: 25.
Quickstep (D-rank): Level 1 [Instantly move a short distance in any direction.] Cooldown: 10 seconds. MP: 5.
Aim throw (D-rank): Level 1 [Increased accuracy when throwing a weapon.] Cooldown: 10 seconds. MP: 10.
-
"Okay, these are pretty decent," I nodded, scanning the list. But Regeneration... S-rank? It felt unreal. An ability that let me heal from nearly anything, even regrow limbs? "Thanks, I guess, God of Survival. But seriously... isn't this way too broken?"
Suddenly, a new notification blinked into existence.
[The God of Survival is pleased by your gratitude and has heard your prayers.]
"What the...?" I muttered, staring at the message. "This is getting weird."
I scratched my head, feeling the weight of this sudden power and responsibility pressing down on me. I glanced over at Hannah, lying fast asleep beside me. Her face was streaked with the remnants of dried tears, her expression finally peaceful. At least she was able to find some rest in this chaos. I sighed, turning my gaze toward the bag she had been clutching earlier.
Curiosity tugged at me. I reached for it and began sifting through the contents. Inside, I found four bottles of water, two of which were half-empty, four granola bars, two bags of jerky, and a small zip-lock bag with four painkillers, a bottle of alcohol, and two rolls of bandages.
I couldn't help but smile. "Mom, you always were prepared for anything, weren't you?"
Just as I was about to close the bag, something hard at the bottom caught my attention. I pulled out a small, white plastic box. "What's this?" I whispered to myself, opening it gently.
Inside were Polaroid photos—pictures of our family. Mom, Dad, Hannah, and I, were all smiling together just this morning. My throat tightened as a flood of memories washed over me. I felt the sting of tears welling up, and before I knew it, they spilled down my cheeks, falling onto the photos. Panicked, I wiped them quickly, hoping I hadn't damaged the pictures.
"Mom... Dad... I miss you both so much," I whispered, my voice cracking as the weight of everything hit me all at once. The pictures blurred as more tears came. I couldn't hold it back anymore—I sobbed, clutching the photos to my chest.
In this moment of raw emotion, the power, the skills, the stats—they didn't matter. All that mattered was the aching hole in my heart where my parents used to be.
"Why did things have to turn out like this?" I asked the emptiness, my voice barely audible between the sobs.
And still, the only answer was silence.