CHAPTER 5: BREA BRAGAT
Right… He had almost forgotten about the tutorial quest. The chaos and horror of everything happening around him were too overwhelming, making it nearly impossible to process the absurdity of his situation.
Anon glanced away from his phone, his gaze shifting to the roaring legion of undead beyond the barrier. The stark reality pressed down on him like a weight: it was kill or be killed. If he didn't complete the quest—if he didn't kill someone—it would be his own life forfeited. The choice was brutally simple yet impossibly cruel. He would either fall to these monstrosities or to another player grappling with the same grim decision.
'Which would hurt more?' The thought slithered into his mind like a serpent. 'A blade in my gut… or being ripped apart by those things?'
A single, dry chuckle escaped his lips. It was bitter, hollow. Anon quickly caught himself. He couldn't afford to dwell on morbid thoughts—not now. They were a slippery slope, and he couldn't afford to fall.
'Would I be fine… with dying?'
Just as the thought crossed his mind, he immediately shook his head. The answer hit him with blunt finality: No. Of course not.
His fingers tightened around his phone until his knuckles turned white. Who in their right mind would be okay with that? Death was terrifying—an abyss of unknowns.
But the alternative? Murder. Even in this nightmare, the weight of the word crushed him. The quest's objective was clear: take a life, or forfeit his own. It should have been an easy choice, but the knot in his stomach said otherwise.
'What should I do?'
Realizing that his spiraling thoughts were dragging him down, Anon closed his eyes and forced himself to take a slow, deep breath. He held it for a moment, then exhaled, allowing the tension in his body to ebb away.
He opened his eyes and muttered, "I should check the map."
Pulling up the game's GPS, Anon studied the screen with forced focus. His finger swiped across the map, zooming out to find the next Safe Zone. After a moment, his eyes landed on a circular outline formed by dashed lines.
'This has to be it,' he thought. 'The next Safe Zone.'
"Huuu…" He let out a sharp breath, steeling himself. There was no point in lingering any longer. He pocketed his phone, gripped his bat, and started moving without another word.
"W-Wait up, Anon!" Brea called after him, her voice tinged with panic, afraid she'd be left behind.
Several minutes passed in silence as Anon and Brea walked, he in the front and she trailing behind. The air between them grew heavier with each step, weighed down by unspoken words. Anon was too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice, and Brea, hesitant and unsure, dared not break the uneasy quiet.
It wasn't until Anon suddenly stopped in his tracks that the stillness was interrupted.
Brea, who had been staring down at her feet, nearly bumped into him. She lifted her head, her expression a mix of curiosity and caution.
"Hmm? What's wrong, Anon?" she asked hesitantly, as though afraid her question might provoke him.
Anon, aware of her timid demeanor but unwilling to address it, glanced sideways. His eyes rested on the building before them—a small convenience store with weathered windows and a faded sign.
Without looking at her, he asked, "...Are you thirsty?"
"Thirsty?" she echoed, tilting her head slightly, confusion clear in her tone. The question seemed to come out of nowhere.
"Let's go inside."
He didn't wait for her response, pushing the door open with a soft jingle and stepping inside the store. Brea blinked, startled, before quickly following after him.
Inside, the air was cool and stale, carrying the faint scent of plastic and cleaning supplies. Rows of neatly stocked shelves stretched before them, untouched and eerily pristine.
"It's kind of a bummer that the cars don't work here," Brea said, her voice tentative as she tried to break the oppressive silence between them.
Anon, now rifling through the fridges, didn't look up. "We don't know that for sure. Could be we just haven't found any working keys yet. But yeah, it's weird that no one's driving around. You'd think someone would've figured it out by now."
He pulled out a bottle of sports drink, twisted the cap off, and took a long, satisfying gulp. When the first bottle was empty, he grabbed another and continued drinking, clearly parched.
"Mhmm… That's good," he murmured, holding up a chilled water bottle toward Brea. "You want some? It's surprisingly cold. Who'd have thought?"
"Oh, yes… Thank you," she replied, accepting the bottle with both hands.
"No problem."
Anon turned his attention back to the shelves, systematically scanning for anything useful to take with them. He didn't waste words or energy, his focus entirely on the task at hand.
Brea, meanwhile, stood in place, sipping her water quietly. Her gaze followed Anon as he moved through the store, her mind churning with thoughts she couldn't quite vocalize. There was something about him—something in the way he carried himself. His determination, his resilience, even his occasional sharpness. She couldn't decide whether to admire it or fear it.
She swallowed another sip of water, the chill from the bottle grounding her for a moment.
'Who is he, really?' she wondered.
The silence between them returned, but it felt less suffocating now, as though the act of sharing even a few words had loosened some of the tension.
For the first time in a while, Brea felt a flicker of something other than dread—a strange, quiet comfort in Anon's presence. But she didn't dare let herself hold onto it too tightly.
A while later, Brea broke the silence. Her voice, soft and unsteady, carried through the stillness of the store, filling the empty space around them.
"You know, Anon… You remind me a little of my older brother. He's much older than you—he's in college now—but he has the same quiet, hard working attitude. No matter how much of a hassle something was, he always felt a strong sense of responsibility for me. He always took care of me."
She gazed down at the water bottle in her hands, her thumb absently brushing against its surface as if it were her brother's face she was holding. The memory brought a faint warmth to her expression, a momentary reprieve from the fear and despair that clung to her since arriving in this place.
"He wasn't the most sociable," she continued, her voice soft with nostalgia. "He didn't have many friends. Most of the time, it was just the two of us. At least once a week, we'd do something together. We were close… He was always there for me."
A small, bittersweet smile appeared on her face as she spoke. Her brother wasn't just family—he had been her protector, her confidant, her constant in a chaotic world. She paused for a moment, lost in the warmth of those memories.
"Actually… before I came here, we were together at the mall. He left me for a moment to go to the restroom, and I was on my phone, scrolling through apps… That's when the message appeared. I don't even know what I was thinking, but I remember pressing 'Yes.'" Her voice cracked slightly, her grip tightening around the bottle. "Before I knew it, I was here… Alone. Without him."
She blinked rapidly, her eyes growing blurry with tears. "I wish I could see him again. I wish he was here to help me. He'd know what to do…"
Her words trailed off, and her breathing hitched as she fought to hold back her emotions. Despite her efforts, a tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another.
"I… I was so scared," she whispered, her voice trembling. "When I got here, I searched everywhere for him. I thought maybe, somehow, he'd been brought here too. But instead… instead, I found that man. That crazy man who chased me."
Her body shivered at the memory. She clenched the bottle tightly, her knuckles white. "I begged him to go away… begged him over and over, but he just laughed. He enjoyed watching me run, watching how scared I was. If… If you hadn't been there to save me—" Her voice broke completely, and she buried her face in her hands. "I… I don't know what would have happened to me…"
Her quiet sobs filled the store, raw and unrestrained.
Anon, who had been staring blankly at the glass bottle in his hand, finally looked up. He didn't move to comfort her, but he didn't look away, either. Her words, her crying—they pierced through the haze of his thoughts, grounding him. For the first time in hours, his mind cleared, and with that clarity came resolve.
His hesitation, his doubts, the spiral of fear that had held him captive—they weren't gone, but they no longer felt insurmountable. Listening to Brea reminded him that he wasn't the only one suffering, and that he wasn't entirely powerless.
He had saved her once. He could keep doing so.
Anon stood up from his crouched position, his thoughts momentarily cleared by the sound of her muffled sobs. Watching Brea, her face buried in her hands as she tried to stifle her crying, he felt a pang of guilt. His distant demeanor, born from his own struggle to process everything, had likely weighed on her more than he realized.
He walked over to her and crouched slightly, placing a gentle hand on her bowed head. The touch was light but intentional, meant to offer her some reassurance.
"...Don't worry," he said softly, his voice carrying an unusual steadiness. "I won't let anything bad happen to you, Brea. I'll make sure you get back to your older brother safe and sound. I promise."
Slowly, she peeked up at him through teary eyes, her face streaked with sadness and vulnerability. Her trembling gaze met his, and for a brief moment, the weight of the fear she had been carrying seemed to ease.
"...Anon. Thank you." Her voice cracked slightly, but it was filled with genuine gratitude.
He gave her a small, reassuring smile, the kind that felt foreign on his face but seemed right in this moment. "Mhm. But…" His tone shifted, firmer now, though still kind. "At the same time, you've got to protect yourself, too."
Anon reached for her hand, carefully lifting it and placing the glass bottle he had been holding into her palm. His actions were deliberate, his gaze steady as he met her confused expression.
"Wh-What is this, Anon?" she asked, looking down at the object in her hand.
"It's something useful," he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Given our situation, we need every advantage we can get." He paused, letting his words settle before asking, "Have you ever thrown a molotov before?"
"H-Huh?!" Her startled exclamation broke through the lingering heaviness in the air, a mix of shock and disbelief flashing across her face.