The timeline was accelerating. On day one, there had been only the fog. Day two, the first signs of sickness. Day three, the dead zones where nothing lived. Day four, rumors of changed animals. And now, day five, full-blown monsters prowling the streets.
What would day six bring? Day seven?
He backed away silently, each step careful and measured, his eyes never leaving the spider. He was in no shape to fight—not now, not like this. His spatial power drained stamina fast, and right now, his hands were trembling from exhaustion. His muscles felt like water.
One good hit and he'd go down. And then that thing would drag him into its web, wrap him in silk, and...
He forced the thought away.
He needed shelter. Rest. Safety.
Sanctuary
"Bang, bang, bang."
Elric knocked on the door of Apartment 104, trying to keep the sound loud enough to be heard but not so loud it would attract attention from whatever else might be lurking nearby.
A muffled, cautious voice answered from inside, tense with fear. "Who is it?"
"It's me," he said between breaths, his chest heaving. "Elric. Open up."
The sound of multiple locks being undone followed—deadbolt, chain, another deadbolt that hadn't been there before. Someone had been reinforcing the door.
It cracked open slowly, revealing Natasha.
Relief flashed across her face when she saw him, genuine and unguarded. "Elric, thank God—"
But that relief froze the moment she noticed the unconscious girl slumped over Elric's shoulder.
Natasha's Doubts
"Elric… is that—Jenna Miller? The mayor's daughter?"
Her voice carried multiple layers of emotion—surprise, confusion, and something else. Something that might have been jealousy or fear.
Elric nodded curtly and stepped inside, his body moving on autopilot. He kicked the door shut behind him with his heel, then immediately began throwing the locks again, each one clicking into place with a satisfying sense of security.
Natasha's gaze flicked between the two of them, her thoughts racing in directions she couldn't quite control.
Jenna was beautiful—young, probably only twenty or twenty-one, blonde, athletic, with the kind of figure that made other women insecure. The kind of woman men fought over even before the apocalypse, when there were still rules and consequences.
A bitter pang hit Natasha's chest, sharp and unexpected. She was thirty years old—ten years older than Elric, a full decade of life experience that suddenly felt like a liability rather than an asset. And even though she'd spent the last night in his arms, even though she'd thought they'd formed some kind of connection in this nightmare, she suddenly felt a creeping fear.
Would he cast her aside now that someone like Jenna was here? Would she become… replaceable?
The thought made her throat tight.
Elric didn't notice her inner turmoil, too focused on his immediate needs. He carried Jenna to the side bedroom—a small space that had probably been used as an office before, with a narrow bed pushed against one wall and a desk piled with forgotten papers.
He laid her down carefully, adjusting her position so she wouldn't roll off, then turned to Natasha with an expression that brooked no argument.
"You go in too," he ordered, his voice flat with exhaustion.
Natasha blinked, pulled from her spiraling thoughts. "What? Why?"
"Just do it. I'm locking the door," Elric said, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument or discussion.
He looked exhausted—eyes sunken from overuse of his ability, dark circles that made him look years older. His skin was pale, slightly clammy. His body was trembling in small, almost imperceptible ways that spoke to how close he was to complete collapse.
But even in that state, his presence carried a sharp authority, the kind that came from someone who'd killed and survived.
Natasha hesitated, hurt and confusion warring in her expression. "You're locking us in there? Together?"
"Yeah. I need rest. And I can't afford to watch my back while I'm passed out." He frowned, his jaw tight. "If you two are in there, I know where you are. It's safer that way."
For you, maybe, Natasha thought bitterly.
She pouted, frustration bubbling beneath her exhaustion. "Unbelievable," she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.
Still, she obeyed. What choice did she have?
Before stepping into the side room, she turned to him and asked, her voice softer now, almost pleading, "At least let me bring some supplies? A few bottles of water and a couple packs of noodles?"
She hugged herself, suddenly looking smaller, more vulnerable. "I… I don't want to go hungry in there."
Elric gave a tired nod, leaning against the wall for support. "Fine. Just make it quick."
As Natasha gathered the food with hurried movements, stuffing bottles into a bag and grabbing whatever instant noodles were within reach, Elric's thoughts drifted toward the unconscious girl.
He glanced at Jenna, studying her peaceful face. Her breathing was steady, her face pale but calm. She looked almost innocent like this, stripped of her usual arrogance.
"I wonder…" he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. "Once she's accepted, what will the System give him next?"
Outside, the sound of skittering echoed faintly through the mist—multiple legs on concrete, too many legs, moving with purpose. The spider was still out there, weaving its web—waiting for prey to stumble into its trap.
And inside the dimly lit apartment, the three survivors settled into uneasy silence, the last remnants of normal life slipping away like sand through fingers.
The world they'd known was gone. What came next, none of them could say.
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