The silence in the dilapidated building was oppressive, thick like a blanket that refused to lift. Yeon-ah sat by the entrance, her yellow eyes sharp as they scanned the darkened ruins outside. The world beyond was still, the once-bustling streets now nothing but hollow shells, skeletal remains of a forgotten time. The cold air seeped into the room, causing her to pull her tattered cloak tighter around her slender frame.
Her sword rested at her side, the blade gleaming faintly in the dim light. Despite the quiet, Yeon-ah's body remained tense, coiled like a spring, ready to react at the slightest sound. She knew too well that moments like these—moments of peace—were often short-lived.
Behind her, the woman she still didn't know much about, the one who had become her unspoken mentor, rested against the wall. Her breathing was steady, but Yeon-ah could tell that even in sleep, the woman was half-alert, her body trained to respond to danger at any moment. The wound on her arm was wrapped, but it would need better tending soon. For now, though, they didn't have the luxury of supplies or time.
Juna slept fitfully nearby, her small frame curled up into a tight ball. She had been through more than Yeon-ah had first thought possible for someone her age. There was a hardness in Juna's eyes, a resilience that belied her youth, but even now, as she slept, her face was contorted with fear.
Yeon-ah's gaze flicked between the two of them, a deep sense of responsibility settling over her. They were her companions now, whether she had chosen them or not. In a world as broken as this, trust was fragile, but it was the only thing keeping them alive.
The hours passed slowly. The sky outside had darkened completely, the faint glow of distant fires barely visible on the horizon. Night had fully settled in, bringing with it an eerie stillness. The quiet pressed down on Yeon-ah, making her skin crawl. She had always hated the quiet. It felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Just as Yeon-ah's mind began to wander, the faintest of noises caught her attention. Her body tensed immediately, her hand flying to her sword. She rose slowly, her movements careful and deliberate, her yellow eyes scanning the darkness beyond the doorway.
The sound came again—this time more distinct. It was a faint shuffling, barely audible, but enough to set off alarm bells in Yeon-ah's mind. She crouched low, her sword drawn but held close to her body, ready for whatever might emerge from the shadows.
From behind her, she heard the woman stir. "What is it?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper, but sharp and alert.
"I don't know," Yeon-ah murmured back, her eyes never leaving the darkness outside. "Something's out there."
The woman rose to her feet, her movements as quiet and efficient as ever. Despite the injury on her arm, she was prepared for a fight. Yeon-ah could feel the tension between them, the silent understanding that danger was near.
Juna, now awake, shifted nervously, her eyes wide as she looked between Yeon-ah and the woman. Fear flickered in her gaze, but she remained silent, understanding that noise could be deadly.
The shuffling sound grew closer, more deliberate. It wasn't random movement; something—or someone—was approaching.
Yeon-ah's grip tightened on her sword as she moved toward the entrance, her body poised to strike if necessary. The woman flanked her, the two of them forming a silent, deadly team. Even in the limited time they had spent together, they had developed an unspoken rhythm, an understanding of each other's movements in battle.
The sound of footsteps suddenly ceased, and for a moment, the silence returned, heavier than before. Yeon-ah's heart pounded in her chest, but her mind remained calm, her senses sharp.
Then, without warning, a figure stepped into the faint light cast by the building. It was a person—an older man, his clothes ragged and torn, his face gaunt and hollow from hunger. His eyes, wide and bloodshot, locked onto Yeon-ah and her companions.
"Please…" he rasped, his voice weak, trembling with fear. "Help… me…"
Yeon-ah didn't lower her sword. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the man. He looked desperate, but desperation was dangerous in this world. People did terrible things when they had nothing left to lose.
The woman beside Yeon-ah spoke, her tone cold and measured. "What do you want?"
The man stumbled forward, his hands raised in surrender. "I… I've been running… from them…" His voice cracked as he spoke, and Yeon-ah could see the terror in his eyes. "The monsters… they're close. Please, I just… need a place to hide."
Yeon-ah's grip on her sword tightened. She glanced at the woman, uncertain. They had no reason to trust this man, no way of knowing if he was telling the truth or if he was leading something—or someone—straight to them.
But then, from behind him, came the sound that confirmed his story: the unmistakable guttural growls of the Devourers.
Yeon-ah's blood ran cold. The Devourers had found them.
"Inside, now!" the woman barked, pulling the man into the building and shutting the door quickly behind him.
Juna scrambled to her feet, fear etched across her face as the growls grew louder, closer.
Yeon-ah could hear the unmistakable sound of claws scraping against the ground, the clicking of bone as the Devourers moved through the shadows, searching for their prey. There was no time to run, no time to hide. They had been found.
"We fight," the woman said, her voice steady despite the looming threat.
Yeon-ah nodded, her sword at the ready. The weight of survival pressed down on her once again, and she steeled herself for the battle to come.