Dawn crept pale and colorless through the broken windows of the library. Survivors stirred restlessly, pulling cloth over their mouths, tying sleeves tight, checking the meager weapons they'd scrounged. Candle stubs had melted into wax puddles on the floor. Everyone moved with the heaviness of people who had survived one impossible night only to realize the next would be worse.
Ethan's body still ached, essence low but steady enough to move. He rubbed at the ache behind his eyes and tightened the straps of his pack. Marcus loomed near the barricade, crowbar slung over his shoulder, impatience rolling off him. Kira leaned against the doorframe, her edges blurring faintly as she practiced short flickers in and out of phase. Ravi folded his improvised map with surgical precision, committing every turn and alley to memory. Caleb—still pale but alive—stood nearby, his veins glowing with faint Titan-Blood light, as if his body hadn't yet decided it belonged among the living.
A dozen people gathered to follow them out into the day. The rest stayed behind, clinging to walls and flickering candles as if safety had weight. Some wept when the doors unbarred. Others turned away, unable to watch them leave.
The city greeted them in brittle silence. Ash drifted like snow, coating burned cars and cracked pavement. Somewhere far off, a siren wailed, then choked itself into quiet. The air smelled of iron and dust.
"Stay high," Ravi murmured. "Rooftops when possible. Fire escapes. Fewer blind corners."
They climbed a rusted ladder to the first roof. From there, the world looked like a graveyard of glass and steel. Smoke curled from scattered buildings. Below, the streets crawled with the twisted remains of what had been people—mutants stumbling in uneven rhythms, growling at walls, clawing at car doors that no longer held meaning.
"They don't group," Marcus muttered, crouching low as one shambled beneath them. "That's something."
"Not yet," Ravi said. "System said beasts would come in seven days. These are only the ghosts of the first night."
They moved across rooftops, timing their runs between distant crashes. Twice Kira flickered forward, scouting ladders and escape routes. Once, a mutant's head snapped up, eyes burning white in the smoke, but it only shrieked at the empty sky before limping away.
By midday, heat radiated from the concrete, sweat sticking Ethan's shirt to his back. His arms trembled each time he vaulted a gap. Every movement burned a sliver of what little essence he had left. Still, they pressed on, driven by something that wasn't just hope—it was defiance.
When they reached the edge of a broad avenue, Ravi motioned them down a fire escape into the shell of a small office block. Voices echoed in the stairwell—low, urgent. A barricade of desks blocked the landing, and beyond it stood a cluster of armed survivors.
"Hold it!" a man barked. "Identify yourselves!"
Marcus raised both hands, stepping into the light. "Not enemies. Survivors."
A pause. Then one of the guards stepped forward—a broad-shouldered man with tired eyes and a scar across his temple. He scanned Marcus once, twice, then froze.
"Marcus?"
Marcus blinked. "Darren?"
The barricade shifted. A woman appeared behind the man—cheekbones sharp with hunger, hair tied back in a ragged knot. For a heartbeat, the world fell still.
"Tina?" Marcus's voice cracked. The crowbar slipped from his hand, clattering against the tile.
She broke into a run. He caught her halfway, lifting her clean off the ground. For a moment the whole building seemed to breathe with them—the raw relief of finding someone who wasn't supposed to exist anymore.
"I thought you were gone," Darren rasped, voice shaking. "We thought everyone on our block was dead."
Marcus laughed through tears. "Picked Titan-Blood. Turns out it keeps you hard to kill."
Tina swatted his chest, half sob, half smile. "You always did take the stubborn path."
Ravi gave them a moment, then stepped forward with his map. "We're heading east. Looking for these—Sanctuaries the voice mentioned. If you're staying here, you'll starve. Come with us."
There were eight in Darren's group. Their leader—a wiry man named Harker—eyed Ethan warily. "We move for a reason. And we don't follow anyone we don't trust."
"Trust's earned," Marcus said evenly. "You'll see what kind we're worth."
That night, the groups shared what food and water they had in the gutted lobby. Conversation circled inevitably back to the system.
A young nurse from Harker's side spoke first. "One of my choices was Bone-Knit. Said I could mend bones by touch. But I… I picked something else. I was scared."
A teacher murmured, "Mine was Word-Binder. Voice of command, short bursts of control. I thought it sounded wrong. Like it'd turn me into something else."
Darren added, "I only had three—Endurance, Titan-Blood, something with speed. I chose strength. Figured it'd keep me breathing."
Tina's eyes glistened. "Four for me. One was to shield others. I didn't take it. I wish I had."
Ravi scribbled notes furiously, muttering to himself. "Backgrounds… skillsets… occupations. The System's tailoring paths by prior experience. We weren't chosen equally—it's shaping us like tools."
Someone muttered from the dark, "And him? The healer?" All eyes turned to Ethan.
He looked down at his dimming veins. "I'm no god. I can't do what I did again until tomorrow. And when I do, it costs me half my life to make it happen."
Kira's tone was sharp. "Then it's a power that paints a target on your back."
"She's right," Ravi said softly. "Word will spread. Miracles always do."
Ethan didn't answer. He couldn't. The truth was, he hadn't stopped thinking about the others—the ones he hadn't saved.
By dawn, they were moving again—twenty people now, weary but together. The sky was a pale bruise as they crossed the river and followed Ravi's hand-drawn map toward the eastern quarter. Buildings gave way to open streets, and then, abruptly, to a wide civic square.
That was where they saw it.
A dome of fractured light shimmered above the square—half-formed, translucent, like glass spun from lightning. The air beneath it buzzed with energy. Static raised the hairs on Ethan's arms.
"The Sanctuary," Ravi breathed. "It's real."
All around the square, survivors were gathering—dozens of them. Some knelt in the open, weeping. Others hammered stakes into the ground, staking tents close to the flickering barrier. The air was alive with desperation and awe.
Kira's hand hovered near her knife. "Crowds this big never end well."
"They've already heard the call," Marcus said grimly. "Word spreads faster than fire."
Before anyone could answer, a crash erupted from across the plaza. A mutant burst from the shattered glass of a storefront, its body a lattice of bone and sinew. It barreled into a group of people at the barrier's edge, scattering them like leaves.
Screams cut through the air.
Ravi swore under his breath. "If we fight here, we'll light the whole square up."
Ethan's veins burned, instinct urging him forward. He saw a woman pinned under a collapsed bus frame, blood pooling beneath her leg. She screamed for help, eyes locking on him.
His essence still hovered dangerously low—half-empty from the night before. His Reversal was spent. But he couldn't look away.
"I can help," he said, already stepping forward.
Marcus caught his arm. "Not yet. You'll kill yourself."
The dome of light pulsed brighter above them, humming with resonance. The ground trembled faintly as if the city itself were holding its breath.
All around, people shouted—some fighting, some fleeing, some praying to unseen gods.
Ravi's voice was low but urgent. "This place won't hold. Whatever the system promised, it's breaking."
Ethan stared at the flickering dome, at the chaos unfolding beneath it—the first fragile proof that safety was possible, and how quickly hope could turn to ruin.
He whispered, "If this is a Sanctuary… how many more will rise—before they all fall?"
The light above them flared once, blinding white, and the world answered with a scream.