The police station loomed ahead, a squat fortress of concrete and steel, its unmarred facade a stark contrast to the city's ruins. Untouched windows and closed doors gave it an air of defiance, as if it alone stood against the chaos that had swallowed everything else. Jin, Echo, Seul, and Joon halted, their footsteps fading into the eerie silence. The promise of shelter, weapons, and answers lay within, but a primal instinct held them back, a warning prickling at Jin's senses. His fingers twitched at his sides, the absence of his broken pipe a constant ache. Without a weapon, his skill was useless, leaving him exposed in a world where survival demanded blood.
Joon broke the silence, his voice sharp and pragmatic. "We can't just stand here." His jaw was set, eyes fixed on the station like it was a lifeline. "If survivors are in there, they'll have intel—maybe food, medical supplies, weapons."
The word weapons hit Jin like a spark. His hands clenched, craving something to hold, to channel his skill into. But Seul shook her head, her arms crossed tightly, fingers digging into her sleeves. "Survivors don't mean safety," she said, her voice low but firm. She nodded at the pristine street—no blood, no bodies, no wreckage. "This place is too clean. You think everyone just vanished? Or were they taken out?"
Silence fell, heavy and sharp. Jin's gaze swept the street, the absence of chaos unsettling. The system's First Cull demanded death, and the lack of bodies suggested someone had the power to clear them—deliberately. Echo ran a hand through his hair, his voice glitching faintly. "If the system rewards kills, what do you think the people in charge do? They take control, crush the weak, and call it order."
Jin didn't respond, but the thought settled like ice in his veins. The strongest would dominate, the weak would fall, and they were caught in the middle, armed with nothing but half-mastered skills and dwindling hope. "We need weapons," he said, voice steady despite the unease. "I can't keep fighting with scraps. If there's a chance this place has something I can use, we take it."
Joon nodded, his posture resolute. "Then we go."
Seul hesitated, her eyes flickering with doubt, but after a moment, she sighed. "Fine."
Echo's smirk was faint, edged with tension. "Walking into the lion's den, huh?"
They moved forward, steps slow and deliberate, each crunch of debris underfoot sounding too loud in the stillness. The station grew closer, its solid walls both a promise and a threat. Jin's instincts screamed—something was watching them, waiting. The air felt charged, like the moment before a storm.
The closer they got, the more details emerged. The street was unnaturally tidy, debris swept to the sides, bloodstains faded but no corpses in sight. Seul's voice was barely a whisper. "Where are the bodies?"
Jin didn't answer. The absence was worse than the alternative. Bodies meant death; no bodies meant someone had the time, strength, or reason to remove them. Joon's jaw tightened. "This place isn't abandoned," he muttered, his hands flexing, ready to spark.
A makeshift barricade came into view—cars, fencing, and furniture piled haphazardly against the station's entrance, sloppy but effective. A police cruiser sat at an angle, its doors open, emergency lights flickering faintly, red and blue dancing on the walls. Blood smeared the driver's seat, but no body. Jin slowed, his senses sharpening. Someone had claimed this place, fortified it, and they weren't amateurs.
A voice cut through the silence, calm and controlled. "Hold it right there."
Jin froze, his heart kicking up. The words weren't shouted, but they carried weight, like the speaker held no fear. His eyes flicked upward. A figure stood on the station's rooftop, silhouetted against the faint glow of the lights, hands empty but posture steady. Shadows shifted behind the barricade—more figures, at least five, maybe more. The gleam of gun barrels caught Jin's eye, trained and ready.
Joon inhaled sharply, muttering, "Shit." Seul stiffened, her hands clenching. Echo's smirk didn't fade, but his eyes narrowed, as if he'd expected this.
The man on the rooftop spoke again, his voice even. "If you're looking for shelter, you're in the right place. But if you're looking for trouble, we'll end this now."
Jin's pulse quickened, but he kept his gaze steady, assessing. The man wasn't threatening outright, but the armed shadows behind the barricade were a clear message. These weren't looters—they were organized, disciplined. If they wanted blood, Jin and the others would already be dead.
"You don't look like looters," the man continued, his tone measured, eyes scanning them. "But not everyone can be trusted. Let's start simple. Who are you, and where'd you come from?"
Jin exhaled, choosing his words carefully. "Survivors. From an office building near the central district. We held out there for a few hours before moving."
Joon crossed his arms, his voice flat. "The area's empty now. Everyone's either dead or gone."
Seul's voice was quiet, hesitant. "We don't know how many are left out there."
Echo's smirk faded slightly. "Not many, from what we've seen."
The man exhaled, his expression unreadable. "Figures." He paused, his gaze sharpening. "The system gave everyone something. I need to know what you've got."
Joon tensed, his tone sharp. "Why?"
The man's eyes didn't waver. "If you come inside, I need to know you're not a threat."
Jin exchanged glances with the others. Hiding their skills wasn't an option—not with guns trained on them. He spoke first, voice level. "I can turn any object into a weapon. Makes me fight like I know how."
Joon sighed, reluctant. "I shoot energy bolts."
Echo rolled his shoulders, voice glitching. "Sound waves. I can manipulate them."
Seul hesitated, then spoke softly. "I can make things heavier or lighter."
The man nodded, as if cataloging their answers. "Alright. Doesn't sound too dangerous." He lowered his stance slightly, less guarded but still alert. "Name's Ryu. I led this division before everything went to hell."
He gestured to the station. "When the system hit, looters came, fights broke out. My team barely held it together. Then the system's announcement made it worse." His voice hardened, a flicker of pain in his eyes. "We lost good people when those monsters were unleashed. But we held this place. Barely."
Jin's jaw clenched. The First Cull—kill or be killed—had torn through the city like a blade. Ryu's voice stayed steady. "We don't take in just anyone. You want in, you contribute. That's the rule."
Joon's brow furrowed. "And if we say no?"
Ryu didn't flinch. "You walk away." His tone was simple, no hostility, just fact.
Jin glanced at the others. Join a fortified group with weapons and structure, or keep wandering, exposed and unarmed. The choice was clear, but not easy. "We're in," Jin said, voice firm.
Ryu nodded. "Good." He moved, leaping from the rooftop with a fluid grace that spoke of experience, landing lightly in front of them. His presence was commanding, not from a skill but from years of authority. Jin started to step forward, but Ryu's gaze locked onto him, zeroing in on the blood staining his clothes.
Ryu's posture stiffened, his eyes narrowing. "Did you kill someone?" His voice was calm, but an edge cut through, sharp and unyielding.
Jin raised his hands slightly, keeping his tone even. "Not like that. We were attacked. A survivor—dangerous, from the prison. She killed others before we found her. We stopped her, but we didn't kill her."
Joon added, his voice low. "She was unhinged. We had no choice."
A flicker of recognition crossed Ryu's face, his jaw tightening. "I've heard about escaped prisoners. Dangerous ones." He exhaled, his stance easing slightly. "Alright. You're clear."
He turned, gesturing toward the station. "Welcome to the station."
Jin's heart steadied, but the weight of Ryu's scrutiny lingered. The barricade loomed ahead, shadows of armed officers watching, their intentions unclear. The group followed Ryu, steps cautious, the promise of weapons and shelter tempered by the knowledge that trust could be as deadly as the system's monsters.