The first block took me fifteen minutes.
I moved from shadow to shadow, stopping every few steps to listen. The hammer felt good in my hand now, the weight manageable with my increased strength.
The street was residential. Normal houses. Normal cars. I recognized the Hendersons' place, the one with the garden gnomes. The Chens' house with the basketball hoop.
I'd walked this street a hundred times.
Now there were bodies.
I saw Mrs. Henderson first. On her front lawn. I didn't look closely. Kept my eyes forward and kept moving.
A crash from inside the Chens' house made me freeze. Something large was in there, tearing through rooms. I heard wood splintering. Glass shattering. A sound that might have been screaming but cut off too quickly.
[Stealth Level Up! Level 1 → Level 2]
The notification appeared as I slipped past. I barely registered it. My focus was on staying quiet, staying hidden, staying alive.
Half a block down, I saw it.
A dog. German Shepherd mix, or it had been. Now it was easily twice its normal size, muscles bulging under coarse black fur. Bone spurs ran along its spine. Its muzzle was elongated, wrong, and when it opened its mouth I could see too many teeth.
It was in someone's driveway, hunched over something. Eating.
My stomach turned. I pressed myself against a fence and didn't move.
The thing's head lifted. Sniffed the air.
I held my breath. Didn't blink. Didn't move a muscle.
Every instinct screamed at me to run. To get away from this thing before it saw me.
But running would make noise. Movement. It would see me.
So I stayed frozen, watching it through the gaps in the fence.
The dog sniffed again. Turned its massive head toward my direction.
Those black eyes seemed to look right at me.
My heart hammered so hard I was sure it could hear it. The hammer in my hand suddenly felt useless. Inadequate.
Five seconds passed. Ten.
The dog turned back to its meal.
I waited another thirty seconds, then moved. Slow. Careful. Putting houses between me and it.
Made it to the corner without being spotted.
One and a half blocks to go.
My hands were shaking again.
***
The second block was worse.
I could hear them now. Multiple creatures. The sounds coming from different directions. Snarls that didn't sound like any animal I knew. That metal-scraping shriek some of them made that set my teeth on edge.
Smoke hung in the air. Something was burning a few streets over. The metallic taste was stronger here, coating my tongue.
I needed to cross an intersection to reach my street. Open ground. No cover. Streetlights out.
I crouched behind a car and watched.
Two dogs. Both massive. Both changed. They were circling something in the middle of the intersection.
A car. Doors open. Engine still running. Headlights on.
Someone was inside. I could see movement. Hear crying. A woman's voice, pleading.
"Please, please, someone help me!"
My grip tightened on the hammer.
One of the dogs lunged at the car. Claws scraped metal. The woman screamed.
I should help her. I had a weapon. I'd killed one of these things already. I could—
The second dog joined in. They were coordinated. One attacking the driver's side, one on the passenger side. Trying to get in.
Two of them. Two. I'd barely survived fighting one.
My legs wouldn't move. I wanted to help. Wanted to do something. But my body wouldn't cooperate.
The dogs tore at the car doors. The metal shrieked as it bent.
The woman's screaming got louder. More desperate.
Then it stopped.
The sudden silence was worse.
I looked away but I could still hear it. The wet sounds. The tearing. The dogs snarling at each other over...
My stomach heaved but nothing came up.
I'd just watched someone die. Listened to them die. Done nothing.
Because I couldn't. Because I'd die too. Because two of those things would kill me.
The logical part of my brain knew this. Accepted it.
The rest of me felt sick.
The dogs were distracted now. Focused on the car. On what was inside.
This was my chance. Probably my only chance.
I moved low and fast, cutting through a yard, putting houses between me and the intersection. My improved agility made the movement smoother than it should have been, but I still felt clumsy. Loud.
Any second I expected to hear them chase me. To feel teeth on my neck.
But I made it through without being spotted.
One block to go.
My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. My hands were slick with sweat on the hammer's grip.
Almost there. Almost home.
Mom and Dad were going to be okay. They had to be okay.
***
My street looked almost normal.
Almost.
The houses were intact. No fires. No obvious damage. But there were no lights except for a few flickering behind curtains. No people visible. Just empty driveways and the shadows of night.
I could see my house from here. Fourth one on the left. Single story ranch. Brown siding. The driveway with the crack Dad kept meaning to fix.
Both cars were there. Dad's sedan. Mom's SUV.
They were home.
Relief flooded through me, so intense my knees almost buckled.
They were home. They were okay.
I started walking faster, then jogging. The hammer clutched in my hand. My wounded arm throbbing despite the healing.
Please be okay. Please be okay. Please—
I reached the driveway and stopped.
The front door was open.
Not just open. Broken. Torn off its hinges and lying half in the entryway, half on the porch.
The relief vanished, replaced by ice-cold dread.
"No," I whispered.
Maybe they'd escaped. Maybe they broke the door getting out, getting to the car, getting away.
But both cars were here.
Maybe they ran. On foot. Maybe they're at a neighbor's house. Maybe—
I was lying to myself and I knew it.
I approached the broken doorway slowly. Every instinct screaming at me to run. To not go inside. To not see what I was about to see.
But I had to know.
I stepped through.
The entryway was dark. I could see shapes inside. The living room. Furniture overturned. Picture frames on the floor, glass everywhere.
Dark stains on the carpet. On the walls.
"Mom?" My voice cracked. "Dad?"
No answer.
Just silence and the smell. Copper and something else. Something acrid. Like burnt rubber or melted plastic.
I took another step. Then another.
My eyes were adjusting to the darkness. I could see more now.
The couch was overturned. The coffee table shattered. The TV was still on, playing some emergency broadcast, the volume muted.
And between the couch and the television...
Two shapes on the floor.
No.
No no no no no.
My legs carried me forward even as my brain screamed at me to stop. To not look. To not confirm what I already knew.
They were lying close together. Mom's arm stretched out. Dad's hand near hers. Like they'd been trying to reach each other when...
When...
I stopped a few feet away.
I could see them clearly now. The wounds. So much blood. Mom's face turned toward Dad. Her eyes open but empty, staring at nothing.
Dad's glasses were on the floor next to him. One lens cracked.
The coffee table leg near his hand. He'd tried to fight. Tried to protect her.
They were dead.
My parents were dead.
The thought kept repeating but wouldn't connect to anything. Wouldn't make sense.
I'd just talked to Mom three days ago. She asked about work. Asked if I was eating properly. Told me she loved me.
Dad texted me this morning. A dumb joke about IT guys. I'd rolled my eyes. Hadn't even responded.
That was this morning.
This morning they were alive and now...
Now...
Something moved in the kitchen.
I heard it before I saw it. A wet, shuffling sound. Claws on linoleum.
My head snapped toward the doorway that led to the kitchen.
A shape emerged from the darkness.
Low to the ground at first. Then it stood upright on its hind legs.
It had been a cat. Orange tabby. The Johnsons' cat from next door, I thought. Mr. Whiskers or something stupid like that.
Not anymore.
It was the size of a bobcat now, maybe larger. Its body had elongated, limbs stretched too long. The fur was matted and darker, almost rust-colored in the dim light. But it was the head that was wrong. The skull had expanded, the jaw pushing forward into something almost reptilian. When it opened its mouth, I could see rows of needle-like teeth.
And its throat. There was something in its throat. A glow. Orange-red, pulsing like a coal.
We stared at each other.
Then I heard it. Another sound. Deeper in the house. Something larger moving.
The cat thing hissed. The sound was wet and wrong.
Then it opened its mouth wider and that glow intensified.
"Shit—"
I dove sideways as a gout of flame shot across the room.
I wasn't fast enough.
The edge of the fire caught my shoulder. Pain exploded across my skin, sharp and immediate. I smelled burning fabric. Burning hair.
I hit the ground hard, rolling. The hammer slipped from my grip.
The heat washed over the spot where I'd been standing. The curtains ignited. Flames climbing toward the ceiling.
The cat was already moving, circling. Fast. Too fast for me to track properly.
I scrambled for the hammer. My fingers closed around it just as the cat lunged.
I swung wildly. Missed completely. The cat was past me, behind me.
I spun, off-balance.
It spat another burst of fire. Short. Targeted.
I threw myself behind the overturned couch. The fire hit the wall where I'd been, igniting the paint. Blistering it.
My shoulder was screaming. I looked down. The fabric of my shirt was burned through, the skin beneath red and blistered.
Behind the couch, smoke was already filling the upper half of the room. The curtains were fully engulfed. Fire spreading across the ceiling.
The cat was stalking around the couch. I could hear its claws on the hardwood. Click. Click. Click.
I needed to move. Needed to do something. But my mind was blank with panic and pain.
The cat appeared around the side of the couch.
I swung the hammer.
Too slow. Too obvious. The cat darted back, easily avoiding it.
Then it lunged forward and slashed my arm. The same arm the dog had bitten.
Pain. Fresh and bright. Blood welled up, hot.
[Desperate Strike Ready]
The notification flashed.
The cat opened its mouth. That glow building in its throat.
I didn't think. Just reacted.
I kicked the coffee table debris at it. Wood, glass, everything scattered.
The cat flinched back. The fire burst went wide, hitting the far wall.
More flames. More smoke.
The cat recovered fast. Came at me again.
I swung. Connected with its shoulder. Not solid, but enough to knock it sideways.
It shrieked. That wet, wrong sound.
I swung again. Missed as it darted away.
Too fast. It was too damn fast.
My lungs were burning. Smoke thick in the air. I was coughing, eyes watering.
The cat circled. Patient. Like it knew I was already dead.
It opened its mouth again.
I saw the glow intensify.
No time to dodge. No cover close enough.
I threw the hammer.
It was desperation. Pure instinct. The hammer tumbled end over end.
And somehow, impossibly, it hit.
Caught the cat in the head as it was mid-breath. The fire burst sputtered, went wild, hit the ceiling instead of me.
The cat staggered. Shook its head.
I didn't have a weapon anymore. Just my hands.
I lunged at it.
Grabbed it by the throat with both hands. Felt the heat there, building. The thing thrashing, claws raking my arms, my chest.
We went down together. It was stronger than it should be. Twisting. Trying to bite my face.
I squeezed. Put everything I had into it. The increase to my Strength making my grip like iron.
The glow in its throat flickered. Dimmed.
It clawed at my hands. Drew blood. Long gouges down my forearms.
I didn't let go.
Squeezed harder.
Something in its throat cracked.
The cat thrashed one more time. Then went still.
[Enemy Defeated: Mutated Feline - Adolescent] [XP Gained: 50]
[XP: 55/50]
[LEVEL UP!] [Level 2 → Level 3] [XP: 5/75]
[Stat Points Available: 2]
I shoved the body off me and lay there, gasping. Coughing. The smoke was so thick now I could barely see the ceiling.
The room was on fire. The walls. The ceiling. Everything.
I needed to move. Needed to get out.
I tried to stand and my legs nearly buckled. Everything hurt. Burns. Cuts. My arms were a mess of claw marks and blood.
Something crashed in the back of the house. The other creature. The larger one I'd heard.
Heavy footsteps. Coming this way.
I looked around for the hammer. Couldn't see it through the smoke.
The footsteps got closer. Something big was moving through the kitchen. Toward the living room.
I backed toward the front door.
A shape emerged from the smoke and flames.
Massive. The size of a bear. It had been a dog once. Rottweiler, maybe. But it was wrong now. All wrong. Covered in coarse fur that looked almost like scales. The same elongated skull. The same wrong jaw.
And its throat. Glowing. Brighter than the cat's had been.
We stared at each other through the smoke and fire.
Then the flames between us roared higher. A section of ceiling collapsed, right between us. Sparks and burning debris showered down.
The creature flinched back. Made a sound. Not quite a yelp, but close.
It was afraid of the fire.
Another section of ceiling fell. The house was coming down.
The creature backed away. Into the kitchen. Away from the flames.
Then it turned and ran. I heard it crash through something. Glass shattering. The back door, maybe.
It was gone.
I stood there, swaying, barely able to process what just happened.
The fire was everywhere now. The heat unbearable. Smoke choking.
I turned toward my parents. They were right there.
I took a step toward them.
The ceiling groaned. A massive section collapsed right in front of me. Between me and them.
I couldn't reach them.
"No," I coughed out. "No, I can't—"
More ceiling fell. The whole front of the house was coming down.
I looked through the flames. One last time. Could barely see them through the fire and smoke.
"I'm sorry," I choked out. "I'm so sorry."
I turned and ran.
Through the entryway. Out the broken front door. Into the yard.
I made it three steps before my legs gave out. Collapsed onto the grass, coughing, gasping for air.
Behind me, the house roared. I heard more of the structure collapse. Glass shattering. The sound of everything being consumed.
When I finally looked back, the entire front of the house was engulfed. Flames poured from every window. The roof was caving in. Smoke billowed into the night sky.
My home. My parents. Everything.
Burning.
I tried to stand. Made it to my knees before I had to stop. Everything hurt. My shoulder. My arms. My chest. Every breath felt like fire in my lungs.
The notifications were still there. Hovering. Patient.
[Stat Points Available: 2]
Two points. One dead creature. Level three.
I'd gotten lucky. That hammer throw had been blind luck. If I'd missed, I'd be dead. If that larger creature had attacked instead of running...
I'd be dead.
I was weak. Too weak. Too slow. Too inexperienced.
That woman in the car had died while I hid. My parents had died while I was blocks away. I'd barely survived a fight with a creature the size of a house cat.
I needed to be stronger. Faster. Better.
Or I'd die too.
"One to Strength," I said, my voice hoarse from smoke. "One to Agility."
[Strength: 10 → 11] [Agility: 11 → 12]
The changes rippled through me. My muscles felt denser, more capable. My body more responsive.
It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
But it was something.
I looked at my arms. Covered in claw marks. Burns. Blood. The wounds were already starting to close. Slower than before. The system's regeneration struggling with the amount of damage.
I needed to move. Needed to get supplies. Needed to find somewhere safe.
My old bedroom. The back of the house. Maybe not fully engulfed yet.
I forced myself to my feet. Staggered around the side of the house. The heat was intense even here. The flames visible through the walls.
The window to my old room. Cracked from the heat but still intact.
I smashed it with my elbow. Cleared the glass. The smoke inside was thick but not as bad as the front.
I climbed through. Hit the floor coughing.
My old room. Posters on the walls already curling from heat. Desk. Bed.
The closet. My old hiking backpack. The one from the camping trip.
I grabbed it. Started shoving things inside. Clothes from the drawer. A water bottle from the desk.
The bathroom across the hall. Smoke pouring down from the ceiling, flames visible at the far end. First aid kit under the sink. I grabbed it, ran back to my room.
Dad's old knife. The one he'd given me when I turned eighteen. Still in the desk drawer where I'd left it.
A picture frame from the nightstand. Mom, Dad, and me at the beach five years ago. The glass was cracked from the heat. I shoved it in the bag anyway.
The smoke was getting worse. The heat building. I could hear the fire in the walls now. Close.
I threw the backpack on and climbed back out the window.
Hit the ground. Stumbled. Caught myself on the fence.
Away from the house. Over the fence. Into the neighbor's yard.
I didn't stop until I'd put two houses between me and the flames.
Then I collapsed against a tree, wheezing, coughing up smoke and something dark.
I could still see the fire from here. My house. The roof was fully caved in now. Just walls and flames. Everything inside being consumed.
Everything I'd been. Everyone I'd loved.
Gone.
I sat there, back against the tree, and watched it burn.
The notifications faded. The pain in my body started to dull as the regeneration worked. But the pain in my chest, the empty hollow feeling, that didn't fade.
I'd been too weak. Too slow. Too late.
That woman in the car. My parents. How many others tonight?
How many people were dying right now while I sat here?
I looked down at my hands. Covered in blood and ash. Shaking slightly.
I was Level 3 now. Stronger. Faster. But not strong enough. Not fast enough.
Not yet.
I pulled up the status window.
[Status]
Level: 3 XP: 5/75
Stats: Strength: 11 Endurance: 7 Agility: 12 Mana: 0
Unallocated Points: 0
Skills: Cognition - Level 4 Stealth - Level 2 Desperate Strike - Level 1
I needed more. More strength. More speed. More everything.
Because out there, in those streets, there were more of them. Bigger ones. Stronger ones.
And somewhere, there were people still alive. Still fighting. Still screaming for help.
I couldn't save my parents.
But maybe I could save someone else.
I stood up. My body protested but obeyed. The wounds were still closing. The burns still healing. But I could move.
I adjusted the backpack and started walking. Away from the burning house. Into the dark streets.
Behind me, the fire consumed everything I'd been.
Ahead of me, the night was full of monsters.
And I was going to get strong enough to kill them.
All of them.
***
End Chapter 4
Current Status:
Level: 3 XP: 5/75
Stats: Strength: 11 Endurance: 7 Agility: 12 Mana: 0
Unallocated Points: 0
Skills: Cognition - Level 4 Stealth - Level 2 Desperate Strike - Level 1