Maya's POV
My lungs burned. My legs screamed. But I didn't stop running.
Derek's hand was slick with sweat in mine as we sprinted through the broken streets. Behind us, the knife-man's laughter echoed off ruined buildings like we were rats in a maze and he was enjoying the chase.
"Maya, I can't—" Derek gasped.
"Yes, you can!" I yanked him around a corner, nearly tripping over chunks of concrete.
[TUTORIAL INITIATION DETECTED. DISPLAYING BASIC SURVIVAL PROTOCOLS.]
Not now! My vision filled with floating blue screens, blocking my view while I was literally running for my life.
[RULE ONE: RESOURCES ARE SCARCE. COMPETITION IS INEVITABLE.]
"I can't see!" I slammed into a broken wall, pain exploding in my shoulder. The screens adjusted, becoming transparent overlays instead of solid blocks.
[RULE TWO: DEATH IS PERMANENT. THERE ARE NO RESPAWNS.]
"Tell me something I don't know!" I snarled at the voice in my head.
[RULE THREE: BUILD SHELTER, ESTABLISH KINGDOM, OR PERISH IN THE WASTES.]
A map appeared in the corner of my vision. I could see us—two blue dots—and three red dots behind us, closing the distance. But ahead, maybe two blocks away, a structure pulsed with a faint green outline.
[RECOMMENDED SAFE ZONE DETECTED: STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY 67%. SUITABLE FOR TEMPORARY SHELTER.]
I changed direction, dragging Derek with me. "This way!"
"Where are we going?"
"Away from the crazy people with knives!"
We burst into what looked like it used to be a parking garage. Half the upper levels had collapsed, creating a mountain of concrete and twisted metal, but the ground floor was mostly intact. Shadows pooled in the corners. The air smelled like rust and something rotting.
Perfect.
I pulled Derek behind a massive concrete pillar and pressed my hand over his mouth before he could speak. His eyes were wild with terror, but he nodded understanding.
Footsteps scraped outside. Slow. Searching.
"Come out, come out," the knife-man called. His voice was cheerful, like this was a game. "We just want to talk."
One of his companions laughed—a woman's voice, sharp and mean. "Talk about how we're splitting their supplies."
"They don't have supplies, idiot. They're fresh meat. Just arrived."
"Even better. Means they haven't figured out the rules yet."
My heart hammered so hard I thought they'd hear it. Derek trembled against me. I could feel his rapid breathing against my palm.
The footsteps came closer. Closer.
Then stopped right outside the garage entrance.
"Nah," the knife-man said. "Too many hiding spots. Not worth the energy. Let the typhoon get them."
More laughter. Then the footsteps faded away.
I counted to one hundred before I let Derek go. He sucked in air like a drowning person.
"They were going to kill us," he whispered. "They were actually going to—"
"But they didn't." I forced my voice steady even though my hands shook. "We're alive. We're safe. For now."
[TEMPORARY SHELTER SECURED. BEGINNING RESOURCE SCAN.]
The blue screen in my vision changed, highlighting objects throughout the garage. A broken toolbox—USEFUL. A length of chain—USEFUL. Pieces of tarp trapped under rubble—USEFUL.
"What is this?" Derek stared at the empty air, clearly seeing the same screens I was.
"I think... it's teaching us how to survive." I stood up slowly, every muscle protesting. "Come on. We need supplies before that storm hits."
We spent the next hour scavenging like our lives depended on it—because they did. I found a crowbar that felt good in my hands. Derek discovered bottles of water that tasted stale but clean. We collected metal scraps, rope, anything the system marked as useful.
[CRAFTING MENU UNLOCKED. CURRENT MATERIALS INSUFFICIENT FOR BASIC SHELTER CONSTRUCTION.]
"How much do we need?" I asked the voice.
[MINIMUM REQUIREMENT: 47 UNITS METAL. 23 UNITS FABRIC. 15 UNITS BINDING MATERIAL. CURRENT INVENTORY: 12 UNITS METAL. 3 UNITS FABRIC. 4 UNITS BINDING MATERIAL.]
Not even close.
"There's more stuff on the upper levels," Derek said, pointing at the partially collapsed ramps. "Maybe we could—"
Voices outside cut him off.
Different voices this time. Arguing.
I grabbed Derek and we crept to the garage entrance, staying in shadows. Three people stood in the street fifty yards away—two men and a woman, all thin and desperate-looking, circling each other like wolves.
The woman clutched a can of something. Food, maybe.
"I found it first!" she shouted.
"You found it in MY territory!" one of the men snarled back. He had a pipe in his hands, holding it like a weapon.
"There's no territories yet, you idiot! The game just started!"
"Then I'm claiming this block right now!"
The second man lunged for the can. The woman jerked backward. Pipe-man swung.
The pipe caught the second man in the head with a sound like a watermelon breaking.
He dropped. Didn't move. Blood pooled under his skull, spreading across the red dust, making it darker, wetter.
The woman screamed and ran.
Pipe-man grabbed the can, looked at the body for exactly two seconds, then walked away like he'd just picked up litter.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't process what I'd just seen.
A man had died. Over a can of food. And the killer just... left.
"Oh God," Derek whispered. He turned away and threw up, the sound echoing in the garage.
I wanted to do the same. Wanted to scream, cry, wake up from this nightmare. But something in me went cold and hard instead. That same anger from before, but sharper now. Focused.
This world had rules. Brutal, terrible rules. And the only way to survive was to learn them faster than everyone else.
[OBSERVATION LOGGED: PLAYER CONFLICT RESULTS IN RESOURCE ACQUISITION. AGGRESSION IS REWARDED WITHIN GAME PARAMETERS.]
The system's words made me sick. But they were true.
"We need to be smarter than them," I said quietly. "Stronger. Better prepared."
"Maya, that man is dead—"
"And we'll be dead too if we don't figure this out." I grabbed his shoulders, made him look at me. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But I didn't raise you for seven years just to watch you die in this hellhole. We're surviving this. Together."
Derek's jaw tightened. He nodded.
We worked until the red sky started dimming—not dark like night, but deeper crimson, like looking through blood. The temperature dropped fast. My breath fogged in the air.
Strange sounds echoed from the ruined city. Screams. Some human, some... not. Things moved in the shadows between buildings, shapes too big to be people.
[TIME REMAINING UNTIL TYPHOON ARRIVAL: 42 HOURS, 11 MINUTES.]
I checked our supplies. Still not enough. Not nearly enough.
"Maya?" Derek's voice was small. "What if we can't build shelter in time?"
Before I could answer, something scraped against metal above us. On the upper levels of the garage.
We both froze.
Another scrape. Closer.
Then a voice—rough, female, amused: "Well, well. Fresh arrivals hiding in my garage."
A figure dropped from the collapsed ramp above, landing in a crouch twenty feet away. A woman, maybe mid-thirties, covered in scars and holding two wicked-looking knives.
She smiled at us like a predator who'd just found dinner.
"The name's Cassandra," she said. "And you're in Northern Kingdom territory now. Which means everything you have belongs to my king."
She stood up slowly, twirling the knives.
"So here's how this works. You can give me your supplies peacefully... or I can take them from your corpses. Your choice."