A low groan rumbled from John's chest as his eyes fluttered open, the dim light filtering through the window doing little to soothe his throbbing temples. Every muscle in his body protested with a dull ache, a predictable consequence of the previous night's ordeal. Yet, despite the physical discomfort and the lingering tendrils of exhaustion, his mind was remarkably clear, every detail of his encounter with the old man after falling asleep and the chilling appearance of the dragons that had happened the day previously and how they signalled the start of the terrifying, irreversible changes to the world seared into his memory. Slowly he sat up, his gaze drifting aimlessly around the room, attempting to get his bearings and distract himself. Where exactly was he?
Then, like a punch to the gut, the memory of his first kill surged forward, sickeningly vivid. The gurgling gasping, the scent of fear and the blood, it all replayed in his mind's eye with nauseating clarity causing a cold sweat to break out on his brow as he found himself profoundly grateful that his dreams had spared him a repeat performance of having to relive through that again as he barely kept himself from breaking or throwing up just remembering it. The rest of the night's chaos followed swiftly through his mind: Alice's unexpected arrival, his brush with death, her miraculous intervention and their shared decision to seek refuge in this abandoned house serving the perfect distraction to draw his thoughts away from murder.
He lifted a hand, pressing his palm against his forehead, rubbing his temples in a futile attempt to dispel the residual anxieties. Speaking of Alice, she was an immediate, inescapable presence. She bounced around him with the restless energy of a caged sprite, her eyes wide and unblinking as she observed him as if he were a particularly fascinating, if slightly disappointing, exhibit in an old-world carnival.
"Ooooh, you're finally awake!" she chirped, her voice a rapid-fire succession of high notes. "Awww, but it doesn't seem like anything has changed. I mean, you were glowing a bit and stuff while you were asleep and I thought you were evolving like a Pokemon, or like a digital creature! But instead, nothing at all has changed. You're still exactly as you were; you didn't even level up or change or become super skinny or muscly or anything." Her initial giddiness deflated into a sigh of profound disappointment as she punctuated her observation by poking him in the stomach, a finger sinking slightly into his soft flesh to prove her point as she poked her tongue to the side.
John flinched, swatting her hand away. "What are you doing? And what do you mean, glowing? The last thing I remember is lying down and somehow being out like a light. Wait, you drugged me!" His voice started low, laced with confusion, then escalated into an angry shout that made Alice squeak and recoil, pointing a shaky finger at him.
"You, how – how did you know?! I made sure there was no proof or evidence, so how?!" she demanded, her voice a theatrical blend of fear and overdramatic disbelief.
"Calm down," John managed, his own anger warring with the absurd sight before him. "I just want to know the why, how and lastly, if you did anything to me while I was out cold." To his surprise, she visibly relaxed at his words, her tense shoulders dropping a fraction.
"So… you're not mad?" she asked, inching back towards him, her eyes wide and watery, reminding him strangely of a tentative cat seeking reassurance.
"Please, just answer my questions," John reiterated, his patience wearing thin but his curiosity demanding answers.
"Fine, fine, I'll tell you," She relented, pulling her hand from behind her back, though he suspected some clandestine finger-crossing had occurred. "First, it's a special sleeping drug I made from some unique, glowing flowers I found when I became… well, Alice. You seemed like you wouldn't be able to rest otherwise, so I decided to give you a small push to help you sleep. And lastly, noooo, I didn't do anything to you, I promise." She paused, then added in a rush, a little too quickly, "But, uhm, your big knife thing kinda broke when I tried playing with it while you were asleep and I don't know how, I promise!" She finished with an exaggerated innocent whistle, a gesture that landed with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.
John sighed, a long, weary exhalation that seemed to carry the weight of the new world. He honestly expected something to have happened, but not that. His machete was barely used and now already ruined. He shook his head. There was no point in crying over spilled milk, especially when the world outside was already in a state of utter disarray. He reached for his pocket, intending to check his phone for the time, only to find it neatly placed on the small table beside the bed. A quick glance confirmed his suspicion: Alice had, without a doubt, rummaged through it. He merely shook his head again, feeling it would be pointless to make a stink about it and instead just checked the screen and finding it was almost seven in the morning.
"Did you get any rest?" he asked, a stern note entering his voice. He slowly swung his legs out of bed, heading towards what he hoped was a bathroom to freshen up and relieve himself. "I thought we were going to do shifts so that we could both get some rest. So why didn't you wake me up when it was my turn?"
Alice giggled, a bright, unapologetic sound. "Well, you seemed to need the sleep more than me and it's not like I didn't sleep. You make a very soft, squishy bed pillow, just so you know." Her wide, unblinking smile was almost infectious, but John merely sighed again. He wasn't sure what he expected her to say, but it certainly wasn't that. The thought of her snuggled up against him, using him as a cushion, was… unsettling, yet oddly innocent in its complete lack of self-awareness well making him feel a strange goodness about himself that he couldn't place.
"Alright, I'll go make us some breakfast," John announced, shaking off the lingering awkwardness. "Should make the most of the fresh stuff while it's still on hand. Who knows when we'll be able to get fresh ingredients for free like this again. My guess is that traders might sell it at a cost, if we manage to find any that is. Any real preference or is eggs, toast and either bacon or whatever's available good for you?" He took out his phone to send a quick text to Fae, checking in on her safety, as he made his way to raid the kitchen.
"Nope, but wait, are you telling me you can cook?" Alice asked, appearing in the kitchen doorway, her eyes wide with genuine surprise.
"Yep," John said, already rummaging through a cupboard. "When I was younger, one of my dreams was to be a cook, so I learned a lot. Admittedly, nothing fancy and I judge more by taste than exact measurements, but I think I'm pretty decent at it. Or did you think I was big because all I could do was eat without knowing how the food was made?" he asked jokingly with a laugh, his barb clearly hitting its mark as Alice's face flushed a deep crimson with embarrassment.
"Eggs, toast and a meat side is fine. Whatever you decide, I'm good with it," she mumbled, clearing a spot at the kitchen table.
"Fried or scrambled egg? And coffee, tea, or milk?" John asked, finding a toaster for the bread while simultaneously frying some sausage and bacon. He hummed a quiet song that was stuck in his head. as he worked, the familiar rhythm of cooking a welcome distraction, a small pocket of normalcy in a world gone mad. It was something he often enjoyed, a focused task that helped him keep calm and clear his mind. "Hmm, seems they have the expensive stuff here. Real quality coffee."
"Scrambled and coffee would be real good in the morning. One spoon coffee and five sugars with milk," Alice rattled off, then added. "Oh and can you make the toast really, really light with a thin layer of butter? Pretty, pretty please?" She pleaded with him, clasping her hands together. John simply gave her an 'okay' sign and a small, triumphant dance erupted in her seat.
He soon brought over the plates, the aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filling the air. As he set the table, John helped himself, Alice already loading her own plate with gusto.
"So, tell me about you," she said between bites of a sausage link, chewing thoughtfully. "So far, all I know is you like fire, glow when you sleep and your best friend is a phone. Oh and you make a very nice pillow for cuddling up to. So tell me about you and I'll do the same. We are traveling together now, after all, so it should help."
John paused, considering her words. She had a very good point. "Well, I'm thirty-one, single and, as you so clearly pointed out last night, a loner. I have a brother and parents back home that I want to check on and make sure they're okay, I'm worried they made bad choices... I used to be good at working with my hands, always preferred practical tasks over books, but oddly enough, I loved reading novels, manga and enjoying more anime that was probably healthy. My hobbies are things like gardening, cooking and, well, reading as I mentioned. I'm also an avid fan of games and music, to use a quote I heard before, 'A person doesn't stop playing games because they get old; rather they get old because they stop playing.' And well, I took that to heart." He took a sip of his coffee, the rich, bitter taste awakening his senses.
"Oh and I studied and took a career in herbalism, got qualified and everything, but things there went bust so I'd rather not talk about it right now." he admitted, a flicker of extreme annoyance crossing his features. "So, I ended up taking odd jobs, handyman work and so on a range of other things just to get by and try to help my family where I could, I mean they also worked but just wanted to pull my weight." He told her before taking another big sip seemingly debating about the next part to share. " I was also dealing with depression that hit me real hard when my grandparents passed. It made life… heavy. Funny thing is, even with all this chaos going on and the sheer unpleasantness of it all, I think I will fit better in this world than my old one." He finished his meal, looking at her expectantly. "Your turn now to share, don't you think?"
Alice, catching his stare, quickly finished her own plate and gave a big, eager smile. "No girlfriend or anything? No someone special? Just your family and your phone friend?" she asked, wiggling her pinky finger at him for some inexplicable reason. John just gave her a blank stare and sighed.
"At one point, there was and I wasted quite a few years because of it. We were on and off and then I was an idiot simp only realizing it when it was too late. When I did try to find someone new and actually move on, well it was a bit too late into the old world's timeline standards and all that nonsense." He said with a shrug, the memory a dull ache rather than a sharp sting. It was part of who he was, a lesson learnt the hard way.
Without a word, Alice slid off her chair and wrapped her small arms around him, pulling him into a surprisingly strong hug. "Well, you have me now. You aren't so alone anymore. So, let's get packed up and get going to that family of yours."
A small, genuine smile touched John's lips, a rare sight these days. He returned her brief embrace before she, with characteristic zeal, began raiding the kitchen for non-perishables. She piled dried goods, canned foods and preserved fruits into her backpack, her movements swift and efficient.
Meanwhile, John retrieved the dagger the jester had given him. Its weight in his hand felt surprisingly good, a solid, cold presence. It was far better than nothing, certainly a significant upgrade from the collection of kitchen knives he had briefly considered using well realizing he would need to risk using it rather than being cautious. He tucked it securely into his belt, the worn leather feeling like a second skin.
Leaning over his shoulder, Alice's eyes widened and almost immediately, stars seemed to appear in their depths as she caught sight of the gleaming blade. "Ooooh, pretty, pretty shiny, shiny. Gimme, gimme?" she cooed, her hands slowly reaching out, fingers twitching with an undeniable urge to touch. John, however, was quicker, pulling the dagger slightly out of her reach with a knowing look. He wasn't about to let another weapon fall victim to her curious, destructive tendencies.
The peculiar weight of the chosen object settled into John's grasp, a sensation both alien and profoundly right. "Nope, not this one," he declared, his voice firm, a spark of almost manic excitement in his eyes. He carefully positioned the weapon, a piece of his uncertain future and to Alice's astonishment, his new cloak seemed to instinctively respond, its fabric subtly shifting to form a snug pouch, holding the item securely against his side. "This is something special for me. It's going to be the weapon I choose to use from now on. True, the reach isn't great, but I think it's far superior to what I had. And you still didn't tell me anything about yourself."
Alice stared, a mixture of awe and wistful annoyance painting her features. "Well, that's convenient. Didn't know it could do that," she mused, then a wide grin split her face ignoring his remark about avoiding mentioning her own history. "That's so cool! Aww, why did I have to give the cloak to you instead of keeping it?" Her excitement was palpable, but just as quickly, she tried to rein it in, a faint pout betraying her feigned indifference. "Oh well, it should still be of better use for you than for me. I guess."
John simply chuckled, already turning towards the door. "Let's get going. Sun's up and I won't be stopping for much until we get to my house. This delay was already too much in my opinion, even if I might have needed it." As he spoke, he swung his heavy pack onto his back and in a blink, it seemed to be absorbed, its bulk disappearing as the cloak shimmered subtly, conforming to his form as if the pack had never been there. The sensation of lightness was disconcerting, yet undeniably efficient.
He adjusted the hood of the marvellous garment, a wry grin touching his lips. "The plot armor is strong with this one," he intoned in an exaggerated, gravelly voice, then let out a short, sharp laugh at his own morbid humour. The sound died in his throat, however, the laughter replaced by a chilling silence as he pulled open the door and stepped outside, Alice close behind him.
The scene that greeted them was a punch to the gut. The air, once crisp with the promise of a new day, was thick with the acrid scent of ash and onset decay that shouldn't be possible after a scant few hours. The street, which should have been bustling or at least peacefully quiet, lay utterly broken—a landscape of shattered concrete and twisted metal. Houses that once stood proud were now hollowed shells, some with their roofs collapsed inwards, others with walls reduced to rubble. Burnt-out cars lay on their sides, their windows shattered like spiderwebs while knocked-over phone poles leaned at precarious angles, their wires dangling uselessly like severed nerves. The morning light cast long, eerie shadows across the devastation, highlighting the grim reality that had descended upon their world.
And then, motion. Small, dog-like creatures, gaunt and unnaturally swift, darted between the wreckage, their eyes glinting with an unsettling intelligence. Their ragged fur and sharp teeth spoke of a primal hunger. John's mind, usually analytical and strategic, immediately shifted into overdrive, the previous light-heartedness evaporating like morning mist.
"They should be a good source for training," he murmured, his voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the chaos around them. "Doubt they will give much experience other than practical combat. If the things I've read and watched hold true, they might have a core or gem in them, a magic source perhaps. If not, maybe they can drop an item or currency? Beyond that, I'll need to learn if they disappear when killed or if their remains persist. If they don't, then it will be a grim learning curve on how to skin them and most critically, to test if their meat is edible. Adapt and survive, that's the only choice we have now, the only path forward."
His eyes swept over the apocalyptic tableau, then narrowed with an intensity that surprised even him. "Funny, I should feel nothing but fear and trepidation right now, but instead, I feel this surge of excitement, a grim anticipation about this part." He paused, a flicker of a past memory crossing his face, a shadow of an experience far darker than this present moment. "I felt far worse when I had to take a life before, a human life. But this feels entirely different. This right here, this broken, dangerous world, is where I'll thrive. Where I simply must thrive. I will grow stronger, I will make my place in this world and I will make those responsible pay dearly for all of it!"
The last words erupted from him, a raw, primal roar torn from his very soul, echoing through the desolate street. High above, perched on the fractured remains of a building, a weird, rat-like creature with long, wicked claws and glowing red eyes twitched. It let out a sharp, hissing noise, a challenge, a warning, a new enemy responding to the declaration of war that had just been screamed into the dawn.