Chapter 6: The Weight of Vigilance
The tacit agreement in the arsenal dissipated into the heavy, oily air of Necropolis-7. A nod, a step back, and the two parties separated, crawling like scorpions to opposite corners of the same sandbox. Klaus didn't trust them, and certainly they didn't trust him. The grenade in his hand had been the final argument, but its deterrent effect had an expiration date.
He slipped through the hole in the fence far from the couple, moving fast and low, his heart pounding a warlike rhythm against his ribs. The Tactical Backpack [UNCOMMON] was now significantly heavier, filled with ammo and supplies he hadn't had time to transfer to the ring. Every step reminded him of both his loot and its value.
His goal now was to find a safe place to process his haul and reorient himself. The map on his HUD showed the safe zone shrinking more aggressively, pushing all remaining survivors into a dense urban corridor. The arsenal sat at the edge of this new area, a location soon to become a hotspot for conflict.
He found refuge in what appeared to be an old bank. The main vault—a massive steel and concrete chamber—was open, its multi-ton door permanently jammed. It was a natural bunker. He tucked himself into the darkest, deepest corner, far from the entrance, and finally exhaled.
The first thing he did was put on the Ballistic Vest [COMMON]. Heavy and restrictive, it limited his movement slightly, but the weight was a small price to pay for surviving a pistol shot or flying shrapnel. Next, he began the meticulous task of organizing his inventory.
Item by item, he transferred the contents of the backpack into the ring's extra-dimensional space. Ammo boxes, the survival kit, the grenades. Each object vanished from his hands, the weight on his back diminishing, while the number on his HUD steadily climbed.
>> INVENTORY (132.7/1000 kg) <<
Seeing that number—a tangible proof of his success—was a surge of motivation. He wasn't just surviving; he was thriving in the middle of hell.
Finally, he reached for the main prize. The Thermal Vision Goggles [RARE]. Sleek, black-framed, with dark lenses. When he put them on, the world changed.
The darkness of the vault was replaced by a world of outlines in shades of gray, black, and bright orange. The concrete walls were cold, dark gray, but he could see the residual heat of his own footsteps on the floor. Focusing on the massive vault door, the layers of steel and concrete became semi-transparent, revealing the bank's lobby on the other side. It was like seeing another world.
>> BATTERY: 97%. ESTIMATED DURATION: 7:45 HOURS. <<
This changed everything. Ambushes became nearly impossible. He could scout buildings knowing exactly what—or who—was on the other side of a door. It was the ultimate survival item for a cautious collector like him.
While testing the goggles, scanning the empty lobby, a bright orange heat form entered his field of vision outside. He froze. The shape was human, moving cautiously, rifle trained. One of the recruits from the arsenal? The man with the hunting rifle?
The figure paused behind a column, almost outside the bank's door. It was clear he hadn't seen Klaus enter—but was he tracking him? Or just clearing the area?
Klaus held his breath. The M1911 was in his hands, but shooting would dramatically reveal his position. He observed through the walls as the recruit crouched, seeming to listen. Minutes dragged by. The tension was a steel wire stretched to its limit.
Then, suddenly, the heat form moved. But not toward the bank. It turned and ran, quickly disappearing from his thermal view. A second later, Klaus heard what had scared him: the heavy, electronic growl of a Heavy Bot, something much larger than the Sentinels, passing down the street.
He exhaled, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The goggles had just saved his life—not by detecting a threat, but by allowing him to assess one, letting the situation resolve itself.
The experience shook him. He could no longer afford complacency. The couple from the arsenal was a reminder that other survivors were as dangerous as the environment, and now he had valuable gear that others would kill to possess.
The rest of the day was spent on defensive reconnaissance. Using the thermal goggles, he explored the upper floors of the bank, mapping escape routes and identifying choke points. He was no longer actively hunting loot; he was consolidating his gains and preparing for the night.
As darkness fell, a new message from the System flashed on his HUD, unlike any before. It wasn't red or yellow, but a cold blue.
>> ALERT: NIGHT EVENT – 'SPECTRAL HUNT' <<
>> DURATION: 6 HOURS. <<
>> DETAILS: SPECIAL HUNTER UNITS (SPECTERS) WILL BE ACTIVATED. THEY ARE FASTER, QUIETER, AND DETECT TARGETS VIA BODY HEAT. EXPERIENCE AND LOOT REWARDS ARE SUPERIOR. <<
>> RECOMMENDATION: FIND THERMAL SHELTER OR KEEP CONSTANT MOVEMENT. <<
Klaus looked at the goggles in his hands, then at the thick vault walls. Thermal shelter. He had it. While most recruits would face a night of absolute terror, hunted by invisible predators, he was safe. More than safe—he had the advantage.
He nestled into the back of the vault, bank door locked, a trap of wires and cans set up in the lobby. The M1911 was in one hand, the shotgun in the other. Outside, he occasionally heard bursts of gunfire, muffled screams, and a new sound: a sharp electronic hiss that must belong to the Specters.
But inside the vault, there was only silence and the soft hum of his own equipment. With the thermal goggles on, he could see, even through meters of concrete, the faint, ghostly heat signatures of Specters patrolling the streets. They were fast, their forms shifting, almost liquid.
He had no intention of confronting them—not tonight. His goal was survival, and his loot was already secured.
Day 3 ended differently from the previous days. It was no longer about the desperate struggle for basic resources. It was about managing acquired wealth, navigating new threats from other survivors, and using his technological advantages to stay one step ahead of death.
The ring on his finger felt heavier than ever, but the greatest weight now was constant vigilance. He had much to lose. And in Necropolis-7, having something to lose was the deadliest danger of all. As the "Spectral Hunt" unfolded outside, Klaus, the Collector, watched and waited, his empire of items safely stored in a space beyond this world.