Elias returned through the hushed ruins with the weight of his kill slung over one shoulder. A lean animal—half-feral dog, half-wolf perhaps—hung limp, its blood still dripping in a thin thread that speckled the pale ash under his boots.
He looked composed, with the only betrayal being the faint smear of red that lingered at the corner of his mouth, already darkening as it dried.
The others weren't here, he'd made sure of that. They didn't need to see him this way.
"System" he thought, a dry murmur beneath his calm expression. "You've been quiet."
A pause, then the familiar voice slid in, slick with amusement:
[System]:"Miss me much?"
Elias didn't break stride. His eyes tracked the horizon, the broken spires, the skeletal husks of buildings that leaned together like conspirators.
"…Get over yourself," he said softly, words lost to the wind.
The voice chuckled, distorted:
[System]:"Preserving your prey for later, are we? That's new."
Elias shifted the carcass on his shoulder, the blood scent thickening around him. He ignored the sting of hunger that flickered in his chest, a craving that never truly went out.
"I told you," he muttered, his tone flat, deliberate. "I will not hurt them."
[System]:"Ah, them. How noble. How quaint. You sound almost convinced yourself."
Elias's jaw flexed, but his pace never faltered.
"They're not yours to touch," he said finally. "Not now. Not ever."
For a moment, Elias thought the System had gone again, slipping back into whatever void it nested in. Then, like a whisper sliding along the edges of his thoughts, it replied:
[System]:"…We'll see."
Elias' expression remained unreadable, calm to the point of alien. But inside, the hunger gnawed.
And though he refused to acknowledge it, some part of him knew: the System was never silent. It only waited.
Earlier that afternoon, the group had stopped sooner than usual.
Darius was the one who spotted it first: the faint depressions in the ash, too fresh to be forgotten. Human footprints. Not theirs. Beside them, a tin can still faintly warm to the touch, and the coil of smoke rising weakly in the distance.
They weren't alone out here.
Mara had stiffened at the sight.
Darius had made the call: "We camp here. Better to watch them pass than stumble into them."
So they'd split. Darius and Mara scouted one side of the street. Elias drifted another way. And the quiet hours had peeled open enough time for him to hunt.
Elias was close to their camping site, but before he reached the overpass, he felt them.
Heartbeats. Not close yet, but too many to be coincidence. He slowed, eyes narrowing.
From the drifting ash, figures emerged; four, no, five of them. Survivors like his own group, though more ragged, more hollow. Hunger had its hold on them; the way their eyes latched to the animal bleeding over Elias's shoulder.
They froze when they saw him. He froze them further by simply standing, watching.
The boldest of the five stepped forward, lips cracked, voice low from thirst. "Do you… need that?"
Elias tilted his head. The words almost amused him.
"Why else would I hunt it?"
A ripple of unease passed through the strangers. Another; gaunt but steadier, raised her hand, gesturing toward a young woman in their group. "She's a good cook. We could share it. Make it last longer."
Elias studied them without answering. He could feel it; how their thoughts circled around the same desperate calculation: Can we take him? Do we dare?
He almost smiled.
Turning without a word, Elias shifted the carcass higher on his shoulder and walked on, back toward the faint glow of his campfire.
Behind him, the strangers didn't speak. Their hunger spoke for them. He could hear it in their ragged breathing, the way their steps fell back into rhythm, trailing him from a distance.
They were following.
And Elias didn't care.
The camp was quieter than it should have been.
No low voices. No scrape of Darius's knife against stone. No rustle of Mara shifting rubble for cover.
Only Hana.
She sat cross-legged near the skeleton of a fire pit, scarf wrapped around her narrow shoulders, gaze darting every so often toward the ruins. Watching for the others. Waiting.
When Elias stepped into view, her head snapped up. Her eyes found the carcass slung over his shoulder before they found his face. Relief flickered there. But it faltered as quickly as it bloomed.
The blood drying at the corner of his mouth caught her eye.
Elias dropped the animal with a dull thump beside the fire pit. Dust leapt up, caught in the fading light. He said nothing, brushing ash from his sleeve with the calmness of a man returning from an errand, not a hunt.
Hana swallowed. Her small voice pushed through the unease:
"…Thank you."
Elias crouched beside the carcass, running his fingers along its coarse hide as if testing the weight again.
Finally, he murmured, "This will do much good tonight."
Hana's fingers tugged at her scarf, twisting the fabric tight around her hands. Her gaze never left him, torn between gratitude and the creeping suspicion she didn't dare put into words.
The ash fell thicker as night drew close, coating the camp in a pale skin. Hana had curled into herself, back against the wall of a half-collapsed pillar, scarf pulled high to cover her mouth. Her eyes fought sleep, though it was clear she was losing.
Elias sat apart, half-shadowed.
It came without warning.
The world folded inward. The air thinned. For a moment, he could not tell if he had closed his eyes or if the ash had drowned all light.
Then the silhouette rose before him.
A shape cut against the dark, vast and towering. Its head was that of a crow, beak jagged like broken steel. Black feathers dripped into the void, not falling but floating, each one glowing faintly with a coal-like ember before turning to ash.
The voice came next;
A static-crush of bones grinding together, half-language, half-noise. The syllables fractured, layered, some too deep to belong to a throat.
The fragments carved themselves across Elias' thoughts:
—[ Ash hungers. Flesh is memory. ]—
—[ All doors open. All thresholds crossed. ]—
His body did not move. His pulse stayed steady. To anyone looking, he could have been meditating, or asleep.
Inside, the weight of the words imprinted against his skull. A demand. A call. A reminder of what had already begun.
The crow-headed silhouette lowered toward him. When its beak opened, no breath stirred, only the hum of endless, gnawing hunger.
For the first time, Elias spoke into the vision. His voice was even, unshaken:
"I heard you."
The feathers stilled. The static cracked.
And then the shape dissolved, ash scattering into nothing.
The world returned, the ruined camp, the dead fire pit, Hana shifting faintly in her sleep.
Elias's eyes opened slowly, though he wasn't certain he had ever closed them. The ash drifted the same as before, but the world felt… thinner. As if a veil had been tugged half aside.
Hana stirred in her corner, the scarf slipping down to reveal the curve of her jaw, her lips parted in shallow sleep. The faintest tremor moved through her body, a dream shiver, fragile and human.
Elias's gaze lingered. Perhaps a little too long.
"Careful there… you're getting attached. You never know when they'll cease to exist." The System's voice crept into the quiet.
"…I won't let that happen."
The System chuckled. "You don't get to decide. Not with her. Not with any of them."
Elias's jaw tightened, but he said nothing more.
Far beyond the ruined walls, several meters away, a steady sound stirred. Not loud nor close, but enough for Elias to hear it, the rhythm unmistakable;
Heartbeats.
Several of them.
He closed his eyes again, listening. Those people from before. They hovered at a distance, not yet daring to approach, but their hunger would sooner or later push them forward.
------------------------
AT:
Elias's exchanges with the System are sometimes always inward, more thought than spoken word. That's why you'll often see italics used to mark those moments.
If you're enjoying the journey so far, your power stones mean a lot. They help me keep building this world for you.