I sat still on the couch, back against the torn-up armrest, listening.
Nothing.
No crunching leaves, no distant footsteps, not even the chirping of birds anymore. The fire must've caused enough noise to keep anyone from hearing where I ran off to. That, or they were still confused. Either way, silence was good. I could think.
My body was aching. Not because of injurie, I managed to make it out with no scratches, but because this body wasn't built for what I just did. I was thirteen. And not the good kind of thirteen. Malnourished, underweight, and barely holding together on stamina. My muscles felt like wet rags, and even holding the Glock on the run felt like it weighed ten kilos.
I looked down at my hands.
Shaky. Thin. Slightly pale. My nails had dirt stuck under them, and there were faded bruises across my wrists. Old signs of abuse maybe. Could've been part of this body's past before I took over. Doesn't matter now.
"Haaah..."
Letting out a long breath, I leaned my head back.
My mind was oddly quiet. Not in a numb way. Just... focused. The adrenaline faded but didn't leave me in a wreck. Must be part of the Assassin Template. Arthur Bishop's influence is already taking root. My thinking was clear. Emotions still there, just dialed down, controlled. I liked that.
'Right... let's break it down.'
Step one: survive. I already did that part. Escaped. Killed. Hid.
Now, step two: stay alive.
This body wouldn't last long if I kept going like that. I'd need food, protein, vitamins, water. Proper rest. A couple of weeks of consistent meals and maybe I could be functional. Months if I want to be combat-ready. Bishop or not, instincts only take you so far if your arms can't lift a gun steady... Literally.
I checked the window, still nothing outside. Good.
'Next... equipment.'
I had one Glock 19 with two full mags, and one .38 snub revolver with four shots left. Both looted from the cannibals. I also had a folding knife and a small tool kit I found in the cabinet. Along with two small bottle's of water and a large coat, in case it got cold.
Not bad for a start, but not nearly enough.
That's where the Shop comes in.
I had 1090 SP saved. Enough to make some starting moves, but not enough to waste on luxuries. Every item I buy counts toward the daily purchase limit, so I can't spam purchases. That means every slot matters..
I opened the Shop again.
[ Grand Shop ]
• SP: 1090
• Purchase Limit: 30 Types / 5 Units per Type (Resets Daily)
'Right... focus on essentials.'
I needed:
One decent melee weapon, preferably quiet:
- As much as I want to try hand-to-hand combat skills without a weapon, I'll always need something that'll make it easy to take down enemies silently and efficiently.
A durable backpack:
- An essential for any survivalist especially for someone like me, and of course I'd always wanted one just for the heck of it.
Basic med kit:
- I might be raising a red flag by thinking of it this early on. But alas it's the most essential thing I'll ever need if I want to continue surviving and thriving in the future.
Water purification:
- I don't want to waste my points for just buying gallons of water that will take up my purchase limit and eventually weigh me down. so I'll just go for the smart option.
Rations:
- There's no alternative for this, I need nutrition and fast. My body is my tool and I need to keep it at maximum performance.
Maybe a sleeping bag:
- The last thing I wanted to die off of is hypothermia. Got to keep that temperature up.
That should be enough for now.
I wouldn't upgrade the purchase limit yet. That could wait until I had more consistent SP flow. Better to stock up and build a rhythm before burning 200 SP on that upgrade.
Then there's the other issue.
The world.
2031 August 21. Approximately 2 years before the Canon scenario takes place. Which means the outbreak had already spread to a global scale. If memory serves me right, TheLastOfUs timeline was a slow burn at first, then full collapse. We're in the post-collapse stage now.
Which means infected are everywhere.
And people?
Worse.
They smile while they gut you. Pretend they care before selling you out. Cannibals, raiders, cults. The cordyceps aren't even the main threat most of the time.
That's why this system... these abilities... they're my edge. My tools to make sure I'm not just another corpse in a ditch.
But I won't rush. I'll lay low, stock up, watch. Let them come to me if they want. By the time they realize something's wrong, I'll be gone. Or they'll be dead.
'For now... I rest.'
I looked up at the cracked ceiling.
Tomorrow, I move again. Deeper into the woods. Maybe find a higher elevation or a lookout point. A place where I can map out the area better.
The plan's simple:
- Survive.
- Stock up.
- Train.
And when I'm ready?
I'll make them remember the day they lost track of me.
***
I woke up a few hours later, the pain in my lower back reminding me that the couch I passed out on wasn't exactly made for comfort. My joints felt stiff, like they'd been wrapped in wires all night. I groaned and sat up, rubbing my neck. Still alive. That's a plus.
I checked the boarded windows. No movement outside. No noises either. I was still in the clear. For now.
The sun was already dipping a little lower, probably getting close to 6 PM. Meaning I've got about two hours before night hits full swing. And I know enough from both games and stories, night is never your friend.
Right now, I've got three main problems.
One. My body. It's not good. I'm fast enough to sneak and clever enough to outmaneuver people, but I'm still running on a 13-year-old's skeleton that probably hasn't seen proper food in months. Maybe more. Weak muscle definition. Shorter reach. Limited stamina. That's not just inconvenient. It's dangerous.
Two. Shelter. This place is good for now, but it won't hold forever. A few nailed planks and a broken door aren't going to stop a group of infected if they decide to say hi. Or worse, people like David's goons. That guy doesn't strike me as the forgive-and-forget type.
Three. Long-term survival. I've got some points to spend. A backpack full of supplies. A couple of weapons. That's it. No friends. No allies. No fallback plan. Just me.
I stood back against the wall next the couch and pulled the gun from my waistband. Checked the mag again out of habit, both from my gaming escapades and this new mentality from the template. I set it down next to me, then mentally opened up the Grand Shop again.
[ Grand Shop ]
SP: 1090
Products:
• Weapons
• Materials
• Clothes
• Foods
• Medical essentials..
...etc
Nothing flashy. No glowing swords. No god-killing weapons. Just the essentials. Which, honestly, is what I need. First thing I searched for: Protein bars. Dumb? Maybe. But my stomach was starting to feel like it was trying to eat itself.
The system showed a few options. I picked the cheapest brand that still looked edible. 2 SP each. I ordered five. 10 SP total. Not bad. Next up: vitamins. If I'm going to rebuild this body, I'll need to start from the ground up.
Basic multivitamin pack. 15 SP. Grabbed two of those. Then looked for water purification tablets. 10 SP for a pack of fifty. Bought one.
Next, weapons. I've got a Glock, but no suppressor. Couldn't find one compatible, sadly. Needed to install a threaded barrel, to technical for me right now to think about. Whatever. I'll have to do without for now.
I kept my finger away from the expensive stuff. I can't afford to blow all my points on gear that'll make me feel cool but won't help in the long run. Right now, I'm thinking smart. Low visibility. High mobility. Minimal weight.
I scanned the available knives. Found one that matched the general build of a Karambit. Tactical, short reach, good for close quarters. 35 SP. I clicked it into the cart.
Total spent: 85 SP.
Still left with 1005. Not bad.
The moment I confirmed the purchase, the items appeared in front of me with a low hum, like they'd phased in through reality. The shop had a weird way of making everything feel instant but low-key. No bright lights or dramatic sounds. Just... efficient. Clean. I liked it.
I chewed through one protein bar like a man possessed. Didn't taste great, but it didn't matter. It was fuel.
With the basic nutrition problem handled, I sat cross-legged and started forming a game plan. Not just for the night. For tomorrow and beyond.
Step one: Rest, recover, build up my body. I'll find a spot in the woods tomorrow to train. Simple workouts. Bodyweight stuff. Push-ups. Squats. Running. Nothing major. Just consistency.
Step two: Upgrade my template. Arthur Bishop's instincts already saved my ass more than once, but I need more. The next one's Jack Reacher. 150 SM. I've got 15 so far.
I'll need more. Meaning more kills.
More kills means more danger.
But that's the game now, isn't it?
Step three: Establish a base. This cabin isn't permanent. But if I can patch it up, reinforce the doors and windows, maybe stash supplies here, it could work as a checkpoint. A fallback. Until I find something better.
I glanced down at my hands. Still callous-free. Still soft. Although I killed like eight people, These weren't killer's hands.
Not yet.
But they will be.
Because this world doesn't give you the luxury of peace. If you want to live, you fight. And if you fight, you win. Or you die. Simple.
I'm not planning to die again.
And if I have to become a monster to survive this broken world... then so be it.
***
[ Pov ]: Third Person
The forest behind the Lakeside Resort remained quiet, the night falling like a slow, creeping fog.
David's men were still combing the area. They hadn't found the trail yet.
But they would.
But until then, the hunt will continue on both sides.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Word count: 1730 words.
Thank you for reading.
To be continued.