They arrived at the quarantine zone by mistake.
Aurora didn't mean to come this way. It had been a red zone—burnt, bombed, left to rot. She remembered because she had died there in her last life. Broken bones, blood in her lungs, betrayal echoing in her ears.
But that had been five days from now.
In this timeline?
It was still breathing.
Barely.
And it reeked of death.
They walked through cracked hospital signs, splintered fences wrapped in rusting barbed wire. Tents torn open like flayed skin. Blood dried in wide, dark pools.
"This place… it's supposed to be gone," Aurora whispered, more to herself than to Jace.
"You've been here?" he asked, eyeing the scattered bones with caution.
She didn't answer.
Because it wasn't the bones that worried her.
It was the silence.
No birds. No flies. No moans. Just a heavy, unnatural stillness. The kind that made your gut crawl before your brain caught up.
She crouched beside a crushed ambulance. Pressed two fingers to the pavement.
Warm.
Not sun-warm. Blood-warm.
Still fresh.
Jace didn't notice.
He was poking at a dented ID badge near a shattered stretcher. "Dr. Elira Voss. Biogenetics Division… Wait—this place was doing experiments?"
She yanked him back before he could finish the sentence.
"Run."
"What—?"
Then the scream tore through the air like a siren made of bones.
Not human.
Not infected.
Worse.
---
It came out of the collapsed ER like a nightmare stitched together from old regrets.
Seven feet tall. Pale, glistening skin like peeled wax. Arms too long. Mouth split too wide. Eyes—none.
It moved like it remembered how to be human but chose not to.
Jace froze. "What the f—"
"Move!" Aurora shoved him, dodging as the creature lunged.
The Variant hit the ground where they stood seconds ago, shattering concrete like cardboard.
"Go north, find a sewer entrance!" she shouted.
"I'm not leaving you!"
"I'm not asking you!"
She turned and ran the other way.
Because she remembered this thing.
She remembered what it had done to her. It had smiled when it tore her spine in two.
---
Aurora vaulted over a wrecked gurney and ducked behind an overturned SUV. Her breath came fast, sharp.
> [Alert: Danger-Class Entity Detected]
[Variant-Type Infected: Class Delta-1]
[Evolution Boost: +2%]
[Skill Unlocked – Death Reflex]
— Your body remembers how to survive death. Reaction speed increased by 60% in fatal threat zones.
Her veins lit up with a heat that wasn't hers. Her fingers twitched, tightening around the crowbar.
She waited.
Waited until she heard the scraping sound of claws on metal, until the smell of rotting chemicals hit her like a punch.
Then she moved.
Rolled.
Swung.
The crowbar hit its side—and bounced.
Useless.
The Variant hissed.
Then turned.
---
It grabbed her mid-air.
Fast.
Too fast.
It slammed her into a wall hard enough to crack stone. The wind left her lungs in a rush. Her head spun.
It opened its mouth. Rows of teeth. Too many.
She spat blood in its face.
"You killed me once," she whispered. "But I got better."
Her hand slipped into her boot.
Pulled the knife.
Buried it in the side of its throat.
It howled.
Black blood sprayed.
It staggered.
Not dead—but bleeding.
That was enough.
---
Jace found her fifteen minutes later, limping, covered in gore, dragging the knife behind her like it owed her money.
He ran to her, eyes wide.
"You're—how the hell—what was that thing?!"
Aurora didn't answer.
She dropped to her knees.
Pulled up her status screen, fingers trembling.
> [Kill Confirmed: Class Delta-1 Variant]
[Kill Count: 3]
[Evolution Progress: 9% → 17%]
[Trait Mutation: 1 Active]
[Warning: Mutation Threshold Approaching. Personality Shifts Possible.]
Aurora stared at the screen.
Then at her hands.
They weren't shaking anymore.
They didn't even feel tired.
She was breathing just fine, like she hadn't fought something that could snap steel like twigs.
Jace sat beside her, watching her silently.
"You're not like the others," he said, finally.
She looked at him.
And for the first time since her rebirth… she smiled.
But it wasn't a kind smile.
It was something darker
By the time Aurora and Jace reached the outpost on the hill, night had begun to fall—and so had the temperature.
Smoke curled from within rusted barrels. Metal scrap fences wrapped around concrete slabs like crude bones. A watchtower stood crookedly, held together by wires and desperation. The guards up top aimed their rifles, suspicious and silent.
A sign hung from the gate.
Hollowpoint Refuge. Survivors Welcome. Liars Shot.
Charming.
Jace looked at Aurora. "Should we… trust this?"
She didn't answer. Her eyes were glued to the crooked watchtower.
She knew that name. That sign. That barbed wire. That bloodstain on the corner wall—it used to belong to a kid named Levi. He'd bled out screaming after being thrown out for stealing a can of beans.
No trial. No mercy.
Just judgment.
"Stay behind me," she said quietly.
And she stepped forward.
---
A grizzled man with an undercut and a military jacket came to meet them at the gate. His shotgun hung lazy at his hip, but the look in his eyes was sharp and dry, like broken glass.
"State your business," he said.
Aurora tilted her head slightly, calculating. "We're looking for shelter. Supplies. Information."
He stared at her longer than necessary, eyes flicking to the dried blood on her shirt, the crowbar strapped to her back.
"You alone?"
"No."
Jace stepped forward. "We're not infected."
"Didn't ask if you were."
That was when Aurora caught the flicker of movement behind the guard. A figure in the shadows of the watchtower. Lean. Tall. Leaning against the rail with the arrogance of a man who never worried about being shot.
Her heart stopped.
And then it roared.
Luther Cain.
The man who'd once sworn to protect her in the last life.
The man who sold her out for food, for favor, for freedom.
The man who let her burn.
---
She kept her face blank.
He didn't recognize her yet. Of course not. She looked different. Stronger. Sharper. Colder.
Back then, she'd been just "that girl who fixed radios" and followed orders. Now? She looked like a predator.
Still, when he finally walked down the tower, boots echoing, his eyes met hers—and something flickered.
Not recognition. Not yet.
But unease.
Like the past had started whispering in his ear again.
"Well, well," Luther said with a lazy smirk. "New blood."
Aurora didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't breathe.
Until he spoke again.
"You got a name, sweetheart?"
She smiled slowly, venom sweet. "Ash."
She lied easily.
He grinned. "Welcome to Hollowpoint, Ash."
Welcome back to hell, she thought.
---
Inside, it looked like a community—but it smelled like a trap.
People gathered around fire drums, children huddled near makeshift tents. Women bartered cloth and bullets. Men polished guns they probably hadn't earned. The air held a strange mix of relief and paranoia.
It was safety—on someone else's terms.
And that someone was Luther Cain.
He ran this place like a king built from scraps. Every person owed him something. And if you didn't? You vanished.
Aurora clenched her fists as she passed a woman with one eye, scrubbing blood off a shirt that didn't belong to her.
She'd seen that woman die in her last life too.
She'd begged for help.
No one came.
---
Jace leaned in. "This place is messed up."
"It's worse than it looks," she murmured.
"You've been here before?"
"Not in this life."
He blinked. "What—?"
Before he could ask, someone shouted behind them.
"Hey! You—new girl. Boss wants a word."
Aurora turned slowly.
Three men stood there, weapons slung, eyes cold.
Luther's lapdogs.
Perfect.
She gave Jace a sideways glance. "Stay here. Don't talk to anyone."
"What if—?"
"If something happens, run. Don't look for me. Just run north."
He nodded reluctantly.
And Aurora followed the men back up to the tower.
---
The office hadn't changed much.
Still cluttered with maps, guns, and ego. Still reeking of cigar smoke and stale liquor. Luther sat behind the desk, legs propped up, that same smug expression on his face.
"You've got a soldier's walk," he said. "And blood under your nails. What were you before this?"
She shrugged. "Dead. Aren't we all?"
He chuckled. "Cute."
His eyes narrowed, suddenly sharp. "You look familiar."
"Lots of corpses do."
He studied her longer.
Then—leaned forward.
"You ever kill someone who trusted you, Ash?"
The room dropped ten degrees.
Aurora stepped forward, slow and quiet, until the desk was the only thing between them.
"Yes," she said. "And I didn't regret it."
Luther smiled again—but this one wasn't amused.
It was wary.
Good.
Let him fear her before he remembered who she was.
Let him feel death creeping back.
---
She left the office with new quarters, a ration card, and the weight of her past pressing against her spine.
She didn't tell Jace anything.
Not yet.
Because she needed to be sure.
Tomorrow, she'd visit the old supply bunker.
She'd look for the bodies.
For proof.
For the files Luther kept hidden under lock and lies.
Because if he was still doing experiments on survivors?
If he was still feeding people to the infected for data?
Then she'd burn Hollowpoint to the ground.
With her own hands.
And this time?
She'd make sure Luther Cain stayed dead