The next day, Noah woke up at dawn, pulling himself from the thin blankets that had kept him warm overnight. The cool air of the early morning brushed against his face as he stepped out of his tent. The sun had just begun to rise, painting the New York City skyline with hues of orange and pink. In the distance, two birds were playfully darting between the branches of Central Park's trees, their tiny bodies effortlessly dodging twigs and leaves with agile grace.
Noah stood there for a moment, breathing in the morning air and gazing at the chaotic beauty of the city that still managed to survive, even after all the destruction. But his mind wasn't focused on the birds, nor the serenity of the moment. He was already thinking ahead—planning his next move.
Today was going to be different.
He quickly dressed, pulling on his worn boots and securing his scythe to his back. After gathering his few belongings, Noah headed toward the Central Park Zoo, his steps deliberate, his purpose clear. He had no time for hesitation.
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When Noah arrived at the zoo's entrance, he noticed a crowd of about thirty people had gathered. Men and women, their faces a mix of determination and anxiety, were all standing in line. Some whispered to each other, while others stared straight ahead, nervous but focused.
At the gates, a middle-aged man wearing a dark coat emerged. His voice was commanding but polite, immediately drawing the attention of the crowd.
"Welcome, everyone! I appreciate you all coming out today. Now, to keep things moving smoothly, I'll need you all to line up. When it's your turn, place your hand on this sphere here," the man explained, holding up a glowing orb. "This is an Information Sphere. It will assess your stats and eligibility for today's event. Please cooperate, and we'll get started."
*An Information Sphere?* Noah's eyes narrowed slightly. *They're not cheap. They must have quite a bit of resources backing them. Interesting.*
The sphere wasn't the most common way to gauge a person's level, but its accuracy and ease of use made it valuable. Whoever was running this operation was serious, and they had the coins to back it up.
One by one, people stepped forward, placing their hands on the glowing orb. A faint light would flare within the sphere, followed by a number appearing inside.
The first man placed his palm on the sphere, his face tight with concentration. After a brief flash, the orb displayed a glowing number: 10.
"Excellent. You may proceed," said the gatekeeper, motioning the man forward.
The second person stepped up, a middle-aged woman this time, visibly shaking. The sphere glowed again, but when the light faded, the number 8 appeared.
"I'm sorry," the man at the gate said, shaking his head. "You're not eligible. Please step aside."
The woman's shoulders slumped, and she quietly moved out of line. The process continued—some passed, others were turned away with disappointment etched on their faces.
"11," said the gatekeeper as the next person, a young man, was allowed through.
Noah stood in the back, watching carefully. His eyes flickered as he observed the sphere, analyzing its light, its readings.
So they're using this to screen people for combat readiness... Good to know.
A few places ahead of him, a girl stepped forward. She was short, but there was a sense of strength about her that immediately caught Noah's attention. Her lean, fit body was clad in simple but practical clothes, and her casual stride gave off an air of relaxed confidence that belied her physical capability. With a sharp bob-cut framing her face, she looked young—maybe 16 or 17—but the way she carried herself suggested she could easily be older, perhaps even in her early twenties. Her age was a mystery, and Noah couldn't quite pin it down.
The girl's eyes sparkled with mischief as she stood in line, her hands stuffed in her pockets as if this whole process was nothing more than a joke to her.
"Thanks for the opportunity!"
She said with a sly grin when it was her turn, her voice casual, almost mocking.
As she placed her hand on the sphere, the guard at the gate—who had been composed up until that point—seemed to falter. He blushed, clearly flustered by the girl's presence, as the orb flared to life. The number inside the glowing sphere read 15.
"F-fifteen?" the gatekeeper stuttered, his face flushing red.
"P-please, go ahead," he managed to say, clearly struggling to maintain his professionalism.
The girl flashed him a wink, casually sauntering past the gate as if she owned the place.
Noah watched her, intrigued.
She's strong. Definitely someone to keep an eye on, he thought, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. There was something about her—an unpredictability that piqued his curiosity.
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When it was finally Noah's turn, he approached the sphere without hesitation. The crowd murmured as they noticed him. His cold, calculated demeanor always drew attention, especially from those who had no idea who he was. He placed his hand on the glowing orb, and after a brief flicker, the number 10 appeared.
"All good. You can enter," the man at the gate said, motioning for Noah to move forward.
As Noah walked through the entrance, he was greeted by a group of guards, all standing in a row, directing the new arrivals. They led the participants deeper into the zoo, through winding paths and past shattered animal enclosures. The area had been repurposed for something entirely different—something darker.
Eventually, they arrived at an open clearing in front of what used to be the tropical exhibit. The air was thick with tension, and Noah could feel the weight of what was about to happen. In the center of the clearing stood a man—tall, imposing, with sharp features that demanded attention. He appeared to be in his forties, but his presence made him seem timeless, like someone who had weathered more than just years. His long hair was slicked back, falling over his broad, muscled shoulders.
The man's eyes were feline—predatory. They scanned the crowd, his yellow irises reflecting a primal intensity. Noah felt an immediate shift in the air as soon as the man spoke, his voice low and raspy.
"Welcome," he said, drawing out the word with deliberate slowness. His gaze lingered on each person, evaluating them.
From his coat pocket, he pulled out a thick cigar and casually lit it, the smoke curling up around his face. "My name is Yong Nam-joon," he said, exhaling slowly. "And I'm the one in charge of protecting Central Park."
Yong Nam-joon's eyes gleamed as he looked at the group, his expression hardening. "Let me make one thing clear—this is my territory. You are all guests here. Do what you're told, and there won't be any problems. Disobey, and... well, let's just say it won't end well for you."
A murmur rippled through the crowd, but no one dared challenge him. Noah remained silent, watching carefully.
"But enough of that," Yong continued, a sinister smile curling on his lips. "Let's get to the reason you're all here..."
Suddenly, a piercing howl echoed through the clearing, causing several people to jump in surprise. From behind one of the broken enclosures, something large moved, its presence obscured by the dense vegetation. With a sudden burst of movement, the creature leapt over the bars, landing heavily behind Yong Nam-joon.
It was a wolf—no, an enormous, jet-black beast. Its fur was sleek, its body towering over even the already massive Yong Nam-joon. The creature's red eyes glowed with a dangerous intelligence as it padded closer to its master, who reached out and stroked its fur casually.
"A few days ago," Yong Nam-joon began, "my men and I managed to capture this fine specimen. But it's not enough." His eyes gleamed with a hunger that sent chills through the crowd. "I want the alpha—the pack leader. And you're going to help me get it."
The crowd was dead silent. Noah, however, remained calm, his eyes narrowing slightly.
So this is what we're dealing with. Interesting...