Shin Takamura glanced at the Safe Zones marked on his system interface. The closest one was in Tokyo. By train, it would take him roughly two hours to get there. He had to make it—no matter what.
But staying alive until then was the real challenge. He still lacked combat skills, but thanks to his upgraded stats, his body felt sharper and stronger—like a blade finally honed.
He ran like the rest of the panicked crowd, fleeing—but he did it smart. With guns now in play, he zigzagged as he moved, anticipating stray bullets. He could've taken his own route and avoided the herd entirely, but he figured most of the people running had no real confidence in their abilities. Meaning they weren't strong. Not like the ones chasing them… the ones laughing as they hurled fireballs and gunshots.
Still, he kept his distance. Just a few meters between himself and the nearest runner—enough space to avoid sudden crossfire or an impulsive betrayal.
Then came the roar of an engine.
A truck barreled down the road behind them—no doubt packed with lunatics looking to rack up kills and earn coins to live in luxurious safe zones. Screams erupted as people scattered.
Shin bolted to the side, sprang onto a trash bin, and vaulted onto a low rooftop. His upgraded agility carried him across buildings with ease, leaping from one to the next like a shadow. It wasn't the safest move—he ended up separated from the group—but it was the only one that kept him alive.
Gunshots rang out behind him. Then came the screams.
Men. Women. Children.
Shin clenched his fists. If only he'd reached those women before they died… he could've absorbed their skills instead of them dying for nothing.
He didn't stop until the train station came into view. Ducking into a nearby building, he took a moment to scout the area. It was packed—people cramming in, desperate to board and escape. But where there were people, there was blood. And where there was blood… there was death.
That's when he realized something.
Humans were monsters by nature.
He used to believe that kindness was what made people human. That by holding onto morals—empathy—one could be stronger than the chaos. That goodness meant something.
But he was wrong.
The system didn't turn people into monsters. It simply peeled back the skin to show what had always been underneath.
When the apocalypse began, the masks dropped. Neighbors turned on neighbors. Families tore themselves apart for a few extra points. Survival didn't bring out the best in people—it brought out the truth.
And the truth was… they were animals.
No. Worse.
Animals killed to eat.
Humans killed for coins. For status. Some, just for the thrill.
This world didn't reward the good. It fed the ruthless, the cunning—the ones who embraced the darkness.
But there was one thing about humans that hadn't changed. One thing that never would:
Their fear of the unknown.
It was basic psychology.
People didn't just fear strength. They feared uncertainty—what they couldn't predict or understand.
Shin rose from his hiding place. The men with guns—likely Darren's faction—had left, satisfied after their slaughter.
He entered the station and boarded the train. Those who had survived Darren's crew glanced at him, but he said nothing.
He didn't need to.
His posture was firm. His face unreadable. His heartbeat steady. Confidence wasn't about volume or flash—it was about control.
If they couldn't tell what skill he had, couldn't gauge his power… they wouldn't dare test him.
If he'd bragged or roared like some meathead, they'd have sized him up.
But silence?
Silence bred fear.
One man tried to meet his gaze.
Shin didn't blink. He just stared—calm, steady—as if he'd already killed the man in his mind.
The guy looked away first. Weak.
The train pulled away from the station, and silence settled like fog. No one spoke. No one trusted.
Then… a girl approached him. She looked no older than eleven. Big jade eyes. Shoulder-length black hair and freckles sprinkled across her nose. She smiled.
"Why are you angry, mister?" she asked, tilting her head with a sweet, soft voice.
Shin's hand instinctively drifted toward the dagger hidden beneath his shirt. A child who'd survived the second Elimination Round? That wasn't normal. She could be dangerous.
But instead of attacking, she pulled out a chocolate bar. Snapped it in half. Offered him a piece.
"Don't worry, mister!" she beamed. "My mommy says we're going to a safer place. Right, Mommy?"
Her gaze flicked toward a middle-aged woman seated across from him. The woman quickly reached over and yanked the girl back.
"I'm so sorry, sir. Please forgive her." Then to her daughter: "What did I say about talking to strangers?!"
Shin relaxed his grip on the dagger. He now held a piece of chocolate in his other hand.
The girl kept staring at him—those wide, innocent eyes filled with something he hadn't seen in days: hope.
He hesitated… then sighed, and popped the chocolate into his mouth.
She beamed.
He didn't smile back—but for a fleeting moment, it was enough.
The train moved through the decaying city. Everyone sat still, locked in their silence, too afraid to speak or make the first move.
Shin didn't sleep.
He stayed alert the entire ride until they finally reached Tokyo.
As soon as the train halted, panic erupted. People scrambled, some even diving out of the windows. No one trusted the doors. No one trusted each other. Not when a stab in the back could come just for being the first to stand.
Shin remained seated, eyes flicking to the system map visible only to him. The safe zone wasn't far. He wasn't sure if the coins he had were enough to get him in—but that didn't matter.
He stepped off the train.
Tokyo—his birthplace.
He inhaled, expecting nostalgia.
But… it didn't feel like Tokyo anymore.
Because the Tokyo he knew was gone.
TBC