Time passed in a heavy, suffocating silence as we ate the canned rations we had scavenged. I stood up, my joints popping. It was time.
"It's about time we talk about the results of our scouting," I said.
All eyes in the hall turned toward me.
"Sean, you start."
Sean cleared his throat, still looking a bit shaken. "The second floor was quiet. The surroundings were too. Honestly, I think we could stay here for a while. We're hidden."
I turned to the others who went to the lab. "And you?"
"We don't have much to say," one of them muttered. "We just found the chemicals like you asked. It was empty."
"Good," I said, leaning against a desk. "Now, I have two things to tell you. One is good news. The other is bad. Which do you want first?"
"Good," Sean said immediately.
"First, we are safe for now. Just like Sean said, the immediate area is quiet. With the food we brought back, we can last about a week if we ration it carefully."
A small sigh of relief went through the crowd. But I didn't let it last.
"Now the bad news," I said, my voice dropping.
"We aren't exactly safe."
"What do you mean?" someone asked, their voice trembling. "You just said it was quiet!"
"You said there weren't many monsters out there," I said, looking at Sean. "What do you think that means?"
"They... they might have moved places because of a lack of food?" Sean guessed.
"Not exactly. In any ecosystem, when the smaller predators leave their hunting grounds, it usually means one thing: there's a bigger one nearby."
The silence in the room turned cold.
"The fact that we only saw one goblin means their numbers here are low," I continued.
"But it also means there is something much bigger than a goblin lurking in this school. We aren't in the 'hot zone' yet, which is the only reason we're still breathing. Unless that thing starts hunting... we're safe. But the moment it gets hungry, these walls won't mean anything.
"So, what's the plan?" Sean asked, his voice tight.
"Should we find a way to hunt it?"
"Are you dumb? Of course not," I snapped. "We don't even know what that thing is."
I leaned back, my eyes staring at the ceiling as if I could see through the concrete. "I might be a crazy gamer, but even I won't jump into a high-level boss fight without leveling up first. Not unless I have extra lives."
"I'm pretty sure we don't have any of those," Sean muttered.
"Exactly. So what, you're saying we should just wait here?" someone from the crowd asked.
"Nah. We move tomorrow. Exactly at noon, just like today," I said. "Actually, it would be better to move right now, but the stress would lead to bad judgment. We need our heads clear. So, we wait."
A hand rose timidly from the group. "Are we sure... are we sure we'll be safe outside?"
I looked at them. The truth was harsh, but lies wouldn't save them. "I don't know. But it's better than dying in this room like rats in a trap."
Sean stayed silent for a moment before asking,
"Is there really no way for us to fight back? I mean, really fight?"
"Not exactly," I replied. "Ever heard of the Cosmic Balance Theory?"
"What's that?"
"It's a philosophical theory. The idea that everything in the universe must be balanced. If these monsters can suddenly appear with this abnormal strength, there's a chance that we might gain something too. A counter-balance."
I looked at my own hands—the knuckles still stained green from the goblin's blood. "Maybe we already have. Maybe we just don't know how to use it yet."
I stood up, signaling the end of the meeting.
"Either way, let's just hope the theory is true. For now, rest. Enjoy what you can. We move exactly at 12:00 tomorrow."
A day had passed.
The clock hit 13:00.
I stood up, the movement feeling smoother, more natural than it had yesterday.
"Everyone, pack what you have. We're moving." I turned to Sean. "Give me the blade."
Sean handed over the rusted goblin weapon, his hand lingering on the hilt. "Do you even know how to use it?"
"Not really," I said, testing the weight. It felt light—too light—in my hand. "But I watched how the goblin held it, and I practiced a few swings while you were all sleeping. I'm pretty sure I'm already better than they are."
"Let's move."
We descended the stairs in a tense, single file. We reached the back door, our planned exit, but there was an unexpected variable. A lone goblin stood guard, its back to us.
"That's bad," I whispered.
"What do we do?" someone asked, their breath
hitching.
"It's luck that it's only one," I said, gripping the rusted hilt. "I'll deal with it."
"Are you sure?" Sean asked.
"Yep. It'll help me check my skills. If it doesn't die in one hit, run back inside and lock the door. Fast."
"What about you?"
I gave him a thin, cold smile. "Don't forget, I'm a goddamn master at survival games. I'll make it."
I waited, my heart rate slowing down instead of speeding up. The moment the creature turned its head to scan the playground, I launched. There was no hesitation. I swung the blade in a horizontal arc, aiming for the gap in its neck.
The rusted metal bit deep. I felt the resistance of bone, then a sudden release as the head spun off the shoulders. If my body were even a fraction weaker, the blade would have jammed. Instead, it was a clean kill.
"It's okay now," I said, wiping a spray of dark blood from my face. "Let's move."
We navigated the streets, a ghost crew hiding behind abandoned cars and stepping over corpses. No one spoke. The silence was filled only by the sound of heavy breathing and pure fear.
Then, we saw it: an electric bus parked by the curb.
"Good. If we're lucky, it still has power," I said.
"Get in."
We found a student who knew the basics of the controls. He checked the display. "We're lucky. Sixty percent battery. That's at least 160km."
"It's heavy enough to run over those things," I noted.
"Drive. Keep the lights off. These things are silent—that's our best weapon."
"This is the only time I feel like that mayor actually did something good," I muttered, thinking of the city's push for green energy.
After forty-five minutes of creeping through the ruins of the city, the mall came into view.
"I don't think we should move further," the driver whispered, his hands shaking on the wheel.
"There's a horde ahead. Goblins. We can't drive past them."
I looked at the mass of green skin blocking the entrance. "Are you dumb? This is a goddamn bus. Run them over."
The driver swallowed hard and slammed the accelerator. The bus lurched forward, the silent motor hummed as we plowed into the crowd. We felt every thud, every bone-crushing jolt as the heavy vehicle rolled over their bodies.
We reached the mall doors. Survivors inside, seeing the bus, scrambled to pull the reinforced glass gates open. We rushed inside, the heavy doors slamming shut behind us, cutting off the shrieks of the horde outside.
A few minutes passed as we collapsed onto the cool floor, finally catching our breath. The air inside was filtered and carried the faint scent of department store perfume—a jarring contrast to the metallic stench of the streets.
I found one of the men who seemed to be in charge and asked about their situation.
"We still have some power," he explained, gesturing to the dim overhead lights. "The mall runs on a mix of solar and grid electricity. We have an emergency generator, too, but we're almost out of fuel."
"Luckily, we brought some with us," I said, thinking of the cans we grabbed from the conference hall.
They gave us some food and gathered around, desperate for news.
We told them everything—the silence of the school, the state of the roads, and the things we had seen. As we spoke, a heavy gloom settled over the crowd. Kids clung to their parents, crying softly, while the adults stared at the floor, paralyzed by the reality that help wasn't coming.
"You came from the school?" one man asked, eyes wide. "How did you manage to get a bus through that?"
We explained the situation—the logic of the noon departure, the silent electric bus, and the presence of a predator that was much bigger than the goblins.
As I finished speaking, a man stepped out from the crowd and walked straight toward me.
"So, you're the one who brought them here?"
Before I could answer, he pulled me into a sudden, tight hug. "Thank you," he choked out. "Thank you for bringing my boy back."
It turned out he was the father of one of the students who had been trapped in the conference hall with us. He had been at work when the world ended and had been losing his mind with worry.
A sharp pang of guilt pierced my heart. I thought back to my wish—to the moment I prayed for it all to disappear.
But as the man held onto me, the doubt didn't paralyze me like it did before.
I looked at my bruised knuckles. I didn't care anymore if m
y wish was the cause or if this was just a nightmare of fate. I had made my choice. Whether I was a monster or a hero didn't matter. I was going to fight back.