The refuge city felt different in the morning.
Not quieter—if anything, louder—but… steadier. Like it had learned how to live with the end of the world and decided to keep going anyway.
Sunlight filtered through the translucent barrier overhead, refracting into soft hues as it passed through layers of runes and cloaking magic. From the inside, it looked like a pale dome of glass stretching endlessly across the sky. From the outside, monsters couldn't see it at all.
Clever bastards.
Xander and I walked side by side through the main avenue, boots crunching over worn stone streets patched together with scrap metal and reinforced concrete. People moved everywhere—hunters in armor stained with old blood, merchants pushing carts filled with monster parts, civilians carrying water and food under armed escort.
This wasn't just a shelter.
It was a functioning city.
"Man…" Xander muttered, eyes wide as he looked around. "It's kinda crazy how normal this feels."
I snorted quietly. "Give it time. Normal's just what you call something you haven't died in yet."
He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "You always say shit like that."
Because it's true, I didn't say.
We passed a wide plaza where a massive notice board stood, hammered together from steel plating and glowing faintly with System engravings. Hunters crowded around it, voices overlapping, arguing, laughing, negotiating.
Guild recruitment notices.
I slowed my steps without realizing it.
There were symbols painted beside each notice. Different colors. Different crests. Some had ranks displayed. Others had warnings.
"Silver Oath — Recruiting Frontliners. Minimum Level 15."
"Red Meridian — Escort Specialists. Payment Guaranteed."
"Gravebound — Combat Only. No Weaklings."
I felt a pressure in my chest I didn't like.
This was the real world of System users. Organized. Structured. Predatory.
We weren't players anymore. We were resources.
Xander leaned closer. "Guilds, huh… You thinking about joining one?"
"No," I replied instantly.
He blinked. "That was fast."
"Guilds mean attention," I said flatly. "Attention gets you killed."
Or worse. It gets your secrets exposed.
He hummed, considering that. "Fair… but they do get better quests. Better gear too."
"I know."
That was the problem.
The System also set that up, rumor has it that when reaching a certain level one could create a guild which in truth does give better quest to people who are in one..
As we kept walking, I started noticing things I hadn't before. High-level System users didn't even need to show their panels to feel dangerous. Some of them radiated pressure like standing near a roaring fire. Their equipment was on another level entirely—enchanted armor, weapons humming with mana, familiars perched on shoulders or trailing behind them like shadows.
And then there were the non-System people.
They moved carefully. Watched everything. Stayed near guards or walls. Humanity had survived because the System users protected them—but that protection wasn't free. Nothing ever was.
"Hey," Xander said quietly, nudging me. "You feel that?"
I did.
A group of City Wardens passed us, wearing standardized armor marked with a sigil I didn't recognize. Calm. Disciplined. Strong.
Law still existed here.
That surprised me more than the monsters.
"This place isn't just a refuge," I muttered. "It's a checkpoint."
"For what?" Xander asked.
I looked east.
Beyond the far gate, massive roads stretched out toward the horizon. Caravan routes. Supply lines. Migration paths.
"The big city," I said. "The real one."
He followed my gaze, eyes lighting up. "You mean the one people keep talking about?"
I nodded. "Stronger guilds. Higher-level zones. Better intel. Probably more fucked-up politics too."
Xander grinned. "Sounds awesome."
I gave him a sideways look. "Sounds dangerous."
"Those two things aren't mutually exclusive," he shot back.
Fair.
We stopped near a fountain that had somehow survived the apocalypse, water flowing through purification runes carved into its base. I leaned against the stone edge, arms crossed, watching people pass.
This city felt like a waiting room.
People rested here. Recovered. Regrouped.
But no one stayed forever.
My System panel hovered at the edge of my vision, quietly reminding me of things I wasn't ready to deal with yet. Cooldowns. Mana recovery. Transformation requirements.
Mandatory.
Every time I wanted to go all out.
I clenched my fist.
Base form had gotten stronger. Quick Strike alone was proof of that. The scythe transformation gave me reach, defense, offense—all without drawing too much attention.
But my real power?
That stayed buried.
Good.
"Yo," Xander said suddenly. "You think we could make it to the eastern city someday?"
"Someday I would," I said. "Not soon."
He nodded, surprisingly serious. "Yeah… I figured."
We stood there for a while, just watching the city breathe. Hunters arguing over prices. Kids laughing near guarded zones. Merchants shouting deals like the world hadn't ended.
I didn't know how long this fragile peace would last.
But I knew one thing.
This refuge city wasn't the destination.
It was the starting line.
And somewhere beyond the barrier, beyond the guilds and politics and stronger monsters… was the reason I kept moving forward.
I adjusted my grip on the wand at my side and exhaled slowly.
"Come on," I said. "Let's gather supplies. If we're gonna need to survive this hell hole, we'll need more than luck."
Xander grinned, falling into step beside me. "Yeah. And maybe fewer rats."
"No promises," I replied.
The city swallowed us back into its noise, its light, and its fragile illusion of safety.
And for now… that was enough.
The morning light filtered through the barrier, painting the streets in a soft gold that made even the patched-together city feel almost alive. Shops were opening, hunters returned from early scavenging runs, and civilians cautiously stepped into the safer streets, their faces showing the faint relief of being alive another day.
Xander walked a few steps ahead, hands in his pockets, scanning the market with that slightly naïve grin that made him look like he belonged in a painting rather than a post-apocalypse city. His Friendly Stealth skill was subtle but effective. Vendors greeted him warmly, offered discounts without him asking, and even let him linger by their wares without any judgment.
I noticed all of it. Not for the first time, but this morning, it felt particularly… infuriating.
I stayed in the shadows of the booths, scanning the crowd. People didn't know why they trusted Xander so easily. They didn't know about the System aura the skill subtly broadcasted—an invisible signal saying, "This person means no harm. Approach freely." It was passive, subtle, and absolute. He was unaware of the full extent of how it affected perception. And that's why he looked like an innocent angel even while walking through a chaotic marketplace surrounded by war-torn humanity.
A butcher nodded at Xander with exaggerated friendliness. "Good morning, young man! Looking for supplies again?"
Xander smiled and waved, casual as hell. "Yeah, just picking up some basic stuff. Nothing crazy."
I bristled internally. He didn't even realize why the man smiled so easily, didn't notice the subtle way the System favored him just for existing. Not that I was going to explain. Let him enjoy his halo effect.
I stepped up beside him, wand strapped across my back, scanning prices and items. My presence didn't elicit the same warmth. Vendors were polite, sure, but they weren't smiling. They weren't offering deals. They were measuring me with their eyes, calculating if I was a threat, a System user of unknown capacity.
"See what I mean?" I muttered, gesturing subtly toward a stall stacked with preserved monster meat.
Xander glanced over. "Huh… yeah, they treat me nicer. Weird, huh?"
"Not weird," I replied flatly. "That's your skill broadcasting to their Systems. Friendly Stealth. You're basically walking around like a cute puppy right now."
He laughed softly, tugging his hood back. "I know. It's kind of funny. People just… trust me. I don't even have to do anything."
"Yeah," I muttered, scanning the edges of the market for potential danger. "Which is why you shouldn't get cocky. Not everyone is going to be friendly forever."
We started moving through the market, picking up dried rations, mana-infused water stones, field kits, and a couple of compact storage pouches. Every time Xander approached a stall, the vendors smiled and offered suggestions: "You might like this potion; it's strong against the east-zone monsters," or, "These rations last longer if you carry them with a fire rune attached."
I quietly calculated in my head. Friendly Stealth wasn't just a charm—it was a passive tactical advantage. Without it, Xander might not have gotten the same deals, or even the subtle intel about monster migrations whispered between vendors.
"Don't forget," I said softly, pulling a small pouch of dried meat from my bag, "we're not just buying supplies. We're gathering info. Watch what people say. Watch what they don't say."
Xander nodded, still smiling innocently at the next vendor. "Got it. I'll just… look friendly."
"Exactly," I muttered, glaring at him. "And keep that adorable face under control. Too much attention can be dangerous."
We moved next to the monster exchange. This was where Xander's Friendly Stealth really shined. He handed over the rat meat from our last hunt. The evaluator barely hesitated before inspecting it, nodding approvingly and crediting him immediately.
I handed over my portion separately. The same evaluator barely glanced at it before running the numbers. No smile. No friendliness. Only professionalism.
"See what I mean?" I whispered to Xander. "This is why your skill makes people like you. Not just stats. You radiate harmlessness."
Xander shrugged. "I mean… it's nice. But I guess it makes me lazy, huh?"
"You should be worried," I said flatly. "Not lazy. Lazy gets people killed."
We packed the credits and our new supplies into duffel bags. The weight of the equipment was heavier than I expected, but my mind weighed even more. Every merchant, every hunter, every small interaction whispered something about the city, the world, and the delicate balance between life and death.
Even here, in a supposedly safe refuge, power wasn't just about stats. It was perception. It was skill. It was who you were and what you radiated without trying.
And Xander… he didn't know it yet, but his skill made him a walking advantage—and a danger if he ever misused it.
I glanced east, toward the horizon where the larger city waited. Stronger guilds, higher-level zones, better intel… everything I needed to track down Luna.
And maybe, just maybe, someone here would tell us something useful if we played our cards right.