The city smelled of ash and burned concrete. A fine layer of dust coated the streets like a pale fog, and somewhere, in the distance, sirens wailed in patterns only the desperate could understand.
Aris walked calmly through it all. The kid from yesterday trailed a few steps behind, clutching his backpack like it was a life raft.
Step one: Assessment. Step two: Exploitation.
The System had begun its analysis of the survivors. In theory, it calculated every probability, every chance of success or failure, every threat and reward. In practice… it was always one step behind him.
He glanced at a group huddled in an alley. Three adults, armed with scraps of metal and scavenged weapons, arguing over whether to move north or south.
He smiled thinly. Ignorance. Fear. Hesitation. Deliciously predictable.
From a distance, he could see the weak points immediately: one man was shaking, another too confident, the third looking for leadership that didn't exist.
He didn't need to move yet. Observation was everything.
"Here's the first lesson," he said, voice soft but carrying, like a breeze warning of a storm. "Everyone has a weak link. Find it, and the rest fall."
The kid didn't respond. He was trying to keep up, but fear made him stiff. Good. Fear was the fastest teacher, though he'd have to toughen him soon.
---
By mid-morning, Aris had positioned himself perfectly. A crate of supplies—a lucky find in a collapsed store—sat within reach of the weak man. He baited it, just enough to lure the trio into predictable movement.
The system pinged in his mind. Potential hostile interaction. Probability of survival: 21%.
He ignored it. The numbers were irrelevant. He had lived the timeline before; he knew the outcome.
A misstep, and the trio would collapse under their own mistakes. That misstep came naturally.
The weak man lunged for the crate first, ignoring the other two.
The chain reaction was immediate. Weapons clashed, one shouted, the other froze, and chaos erupted like a string pulled too tight.
Aris stepped in with precision. Just a nudge, just a calculated placement, and the outcome was complete.
The trio sprawled on the ground, groaning, disarmed, supplies scattered.
The kid's eyes were wide. "How…?"
Aris shrugged. "We're not here to play. We're here to survive. And to win."
Lesson one: the System underestimates preparation.
---
Hours later, they moved through the ruins of a mall. Aris had mapped it in his head—every collapsed floor, every shortcut, every danger zone. The kid tried to memorize, but he had a long way to go.
"Pay attention," Aris said. "Everything is information. Every person, every object, every sound. If you don't see it, you die."
A sudden movement drew his attention: a shadow flicked across a broken storefront.
The kid froze.
"Good," Aris murmured. "Fear is attention."
A scavenger emerged, gun in hand, looking for prey. The system screamed at him—High threat detected. Avoid engagement.
Aris smiled. Avoid? You don't understand the game yet.
With a subtle motion, he stepped into the shadow. No warning, no hesitation. The scavenger barely had time to react before Aris disarmed him effortlessly.
"Stay down," he said, voice flat. "You'll thank me later."
The man did. Not that it mattered. He wasn't useful. Not yet.
---
By evening, Aris had a new vantage point: a partially collapsed rooftop overlooking the city square. Fires burned faintly across the blocks, illuminating the chaos of a city unprepared for collapse.
He scanned for patterns: movement of groups, the emergence of territorial claims, the survivors who moved confidently versus the weak. The system flagged them all, calculated probabilities, and assigned rewards.
He ignored it. The numbers didn't matter. He was already ahead.
"Tomorrow," he said, voice low, almost to himself, "we start shaping them. Not one, not two… all of them."
The kid shifted, uneasy. "Shaping them? Like… controlling them?"
Aris didn't answer immediately. Control wasn't about cruelty; it was efficiency. A lesson the kid would learn sooner or later.
---
Late that night, he reviewed a set of notes he had scavenged: maps, supply routes, old security feeds. He pieced together the predictable chaos the System had planned for the city.
Every disaster it had prepared, every "random" reward it had assigned, every "event" it had triggered—they were all algorithms, all probabilities, all predictable.
Except me.
He traced paths of movement, noting the anomalies caused by previous survivors' mistakes. Each one was a variable he could manipulate. Each variable was leverage.
The kid finally asked the question Aris had been expecting.
"Why don't they see you?"
Aris looked down at him. The faint firelight danced in his eyes. "Because they can't. The System assumes ignorance. People assume ignorance. And ignorance… can be exploited."
A pause. He glanced toward the horizon. Somewhere beyond, a faint red flare blinked. Not natural. Not random.
He frowned slightly. Someone's awake. Someone remembers. Or someone new is tracking.
The kid shivered. "Is that… bad?"
Aris didn't answer. He didn't need to. The presence of another awakened was not a threat yet—it was a promise. A test.
And Aris welcomed tests.
---
Dawn broke. The city breathed in smoke and dust, but Aris had already planned their path for the day. Every movement was calculated. Every step reinforced his position.
By midday, he reached a junction controlled by a group that looked organized—too organized for random survivors.
First real competition, he thought.
He observed them carefully. Weapons distributed, lookouts posted, their movements rehearsed like they had trained. The system would classify them as moderate threat. Aris classified them differently.
They're competent. But predictable.
A single misstep, a slight manipulation, and they could collapse without firing a shot.
He smiled. Tomorrow, they will.
---
Night fell again. Aris stood atop a ruined tower, overlooking the city square. Fires still burned. Shadows shifted. Survivors moved like pieces on a board, unaware of the hands guiding the game.
Then the signal came. A small, blinking light across the skyline. Not far, not close—just enough to be noticed.
Aris smirked. "The game begins."
The kid looked at him, eyes wide. "The… game?"
"Yes," Aris said. "And the System? It doesn't even know the rules have changed."
A chill passed over the kid. But Aris didn't care. He had no illusions of mercy.
Because the real lesson tonight, the first true threat, was clear:
> Someone else knows. Someone else is awake. And they're coming for me.
---
End of Chapter 3 –