Joon-woo crouched low on the new building's rooftop, heart steady after the jump. The gap he'd leapt wasn't large, but in this twisted new world, a single misstep could lead to a fatal drop. He straightened slowly, scanning the roof's surface. Metal vents, a humming HVAC unit, and a few scattered crates offered no immediate threats. Good. At least here, no monsters lurked waiting to pounce.
The sky deepened into navy hues, the last strips of daylight fading. Distant fires glowed like embers in a vast dark sea. Below, he could still make out the faint cries of survivors and the snarls of beasts testing their new hunting grounds. With nightfall, weaker humans would fear to roam, while nocturnal monsters might gain an upper hand. He needed a safe place to rest—a room with a door he could lock, or at least barricade.
He approached the rooftop's maintenance door. It stood slightly ajar, darkness spilling from within. He paused, listening intently. Nothing. He tried nudging the door wider with the tip of his blade. A faint creak, but no reaction. If monsters hid inside, they'd likely be drawn by any sound. Still no movement or hiss. Encouraged, he stepped in, sword raised.
Dim emergency lights glowed weakly along a corridor. It smelled musty, as if the building had lost power and ventilation hours ago. He moved slowly, feet placing carefully to avoid making noise. The corridor led to a small lounge room—perhaps a break area for employees—judging by the coffee machine and chairs inside. No monsters visible. He checked behind an upended table and inside a closet. Empty.
Breathing easier, he considered staying here for the night. But an upper-level lounge might not be best if he needed a secure exit. He needed a room deeper inside with fewer windows and only one door. Then he could block it and rest without worry of ambush. He crept down a flight of stairs to the next floor.
This level seemed to be a set of conference rooms and storage closets. Perfect for barricading. He passed two conference rooms with shattered windows and broken chairs—looked like a struggle happened here. Blood smeared on a whiteboard told a grim story. He grimaced and moved on. The next door was intact and locked. He tried the handle—no luck. Could a locked room mean no one had entered or left, thus no monsters? Possibly.
He stepped back, lifted one foot, and kicked near the lock. The doorframe splintered slightly. Another careful kick and the door popped open. He raised his sword immediately, in case something waited behind it. Only stale air greeted him. The room inside was small and cramped, lined with filing cabinets and a single desk. No windows, just a single door. Perfect.
He closed the door behind him and shoved a heavy filing cabinet in front of it for good measure. The metal screeched a bit, but no immediate snarls answered from outside. Safe enough.
Finally, a moment's rest. He lowered himself to the floor, back against the wall, sword resting across his lap. He reached into his pocket for one of the energy bars he'd scavenged and ate it slowly, savoring the bland sweetness. He needed nourishment. Fatigue pressed at his bones—the day had been long: countless fights, constant tension, always alert.
He checked the System:
[Status]
STR: 7
AGI: 7 (6 base +1 from sword)
VIT: 6
INT: 7
WIL: 8
LCK: 5
Skills: Basic Sword Mastery (Basic), Quick Slash (Basic), Parry (Basic)
Class: Swordsman (Rare - Growth Type)
Equipment: Lesser Blade of Dawn (Uncommon)
Storage: Key Fragment, Minor Catalyst Bead
Everything intact. Maybe in a few days, he'd find more Key Fragments or catalysts to evolve his gear or Class. Growth Type Classes often had hidden milestones—defeating stronger monsters, completing certain tasks, or acquiring rare items might unlock higher Skills or attribute boosts.
He leaned his head back, eyes closed. The muffled screams and howls drifting through the building reminded him that rest was a luxury. Still, he had to sleep sometime, even if just a short nap. Exhaustion dulled his reactions, and a tired fighter made mistakes. Before sleeping, he should consider a watch routine. But he was alone—no allies to take shifts. He'd have to rely on the barricade and his light sleeping habits to alert him if something tried to break in.
A soft scuffle outside the door made him stiffen. He held his breath, hand tightening on the sword's grip. Footsteps, hesitant and light. Not the clicking of claws—this sounded more like shoes. Human?
"Anyone in there?" a voice whispered, barely audible.
He hesitated. Another survivor who found this floor? He debated ignoring them. Interacting with strangers was a gamble. Yet, if they were hostile, they'd break in. If friendly, maybe they had news or information.
He cleared his throat quietly. "Yes. Who are you?"
A soft gasp. The voice hushed, then replied, "Just two survivors. We… we saw monsters down the hall and need a place to hide. Please, let us in. We won't cause trouble."
He frowned. Trust was dangerous. But two sets of eyes and ears could help keep watch while he dozed. Also, if they betrayed him, he was confident he could handle them—he had Skills and a good blade.
"Alright," he said softly. "No sudden moves when I move the barricade. Understood?"
"Understood," the voice replied, relief evident.
He rose, pushing the cabinet aside cautiously, sword ready. He cracked the door open, eyeing the corridor. Two figures stood there, trembling. A man and a woman, both clutching improvised weapons—a mop handle and a wooden chair leg. They looked exhausted, eyes red from fear. No visible monster bites or suspicious wounds.
"Get in," he said curtly, stepping aside.
They entered quickly, and he sealed the door again, sliding the cabinet back. The pair slumped down, breathing hard.
"Thank you," the woman managed, voice shaky. "We've been running all afternoon. The monsters… it's insane."
He nodded, not lowering his guard entirely. He leaned against a filing cabinet, sword still in hand. "Name's Joon-woo," he offered, if only to set a calmer tone. He'd hidden his name before, but at this point, what difference did it make?
The man exhaled, "I'm Ha-jin. This is Mi-sun. We—uh, we got separated from another group. Too many monsters."
Mi-sun nodded, hugging her makeshift club tight. "We barely got any Skills. My Class is something like… Apprentice Guardian, but I don't know what that means. Just got a defensive Skill that reduces damage slightly, I think."
Ha-jin said, "I'm a Runner Class, I think? I got a Skill that boosts my sprint speed for a short time. Not very helpful against claws and teeth."
Joon-woo studied them quietly. Apprentice Guardian, Runner—both sound like common Classes. Defensive and mobility-based, but not much offense. They'd rely on him if monsters attacked. On the other hand, having a Guardian who could reduce damage might combine well with his offensive Skills. Runner could scout or lure monsters into traps. Potential synergy if he chose to work with them, at least temporarily.
He sighed. "I can fight," he said. Understatement, but no need to brag. "You two can help keep watch. We take turns sleeping. That way we're less likely to be ambushed."
They exchanged relieved glances. "Deal," Mi-sun said softly. "I'm so tired…"
Ha-jin nodded vigorously. "We owe you. If you hadn't let us in, who knows…"
Joon-woo shrugged. He didn't rescue them out of pure kindness—he needed rest too, and trusted himself to handle betrayal if it came. But these two looked genuinely grateful and terrified, not cunning schemers.
He set a quick watch order: first he'd rest for an hour while they both kept quiet watch, then Mi-sun rests, then Ha-jin. He'd rotate short shifts. Not a perfect plan, but better than sleeping alone. They agreed, grateful for any structure.
He slumped down, still holding his sword, eyes half-lidded. Exhaustion weighed on him. He told them to wake him if they even suspected movement outside. They nodded, taking positions near the barricaded door.
As he drifted off, he considered his next moves: In the morning, check on the park herbs, maybe search a known artifact spot, then hit a weaker Rift for early loot. These two survivors—he'd see if they could keep up. If not, he'd part ways. Allies were only as good as their reliability.
For now, at least, a fragile alliance formed in a quiet, broken office room, three strangers sharing a candle in the dark. He closed his eyes, letting exhaustion claim him, sword resting against his shoulder. The apocalypse's first night had fallen. Tomorrow would bring more trials and, with luck, more growth.