Her shoulders.
They were trembling.
Not the slight tremor of exhaustion or adrenaline aftermath. But the uncontrollable shaking of someone holding back a tidal wave of emotion through sheer force of will.
In the harsh shadows cast by overhead light, I could see her profile. Jaw clenched so tight a muscle jumped in her cheek. Eyes squeezed shut, lips pressed into a thin line.
She was scared.
No, not just scared. Terrified. Traumatized. Broken open by what she had done and seen. By what she had become in the space of minutes.
The composed kendo champion, the confident student who never seemed fazed by anything—stripped away. Revealing something painfully human and vulnerable beneath.
"Hey, Aurora." My voice came out quieter than usual, gentler than I knew I could sound. "Come here."
I didn't wait for an answer. Just pulled her into a hug, arms wrapping tightly around her before either of us could think too hard about it.
She was still trembling. Muscles wound so tight it felt like she might snap beneath my touch. She smelled of sweat and blood and that strange ozone scent that clung to her since the sword had appeared.
But underneath it all was something familiar. The faint trace of her shampoo, the laundry detergent she used. Human smells that grounded me in a reality that suddenly seemed very far away.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. We just held onto each other. The quiet hum of the basement filling the empty spaces between breaths.
The warmth of another human being. The undeniable proof that we were still here. It was enough to steady the storm.
I felt dampness against my shoulder where her face pressed. But pretended not to notice.
Eventually, she pulled back. Wiping at her eyes before tears could form properly. Leaving faint streaks through the dried blood on her face.
Her composure was a fragile thing. Reassembled piece by piece like armor being donned.
"Sorry," she muttered, not meeting my gaze. As if the moment of vulnerability were something shameful rather than the most human response possible.
"Don't be," I said, meaning it more than I'd meant almost anything before.
In this new reality, the old rules of social distance and emotional restraint seemed as obsolete as floppy disks. Relics of a world that no longer existed.
She took a deep breath, then another. Each one steadier than the last. I could almost see the shift—Aurora, battle-ready, refocusing on what needed to be done.
Her eyes, still red-rimmed, hardened with purpose. The transformation was remarkable to witness. Like watching someone rebuild themselves from the inside out.
"We need to figure out what's happening," she said, voice steadier now.
Survival always came first. Questions of meaning, of morality, of the cosmic why—those were luxuries for the safe.
And we were anything but.
Chapter 4
I nodded, running a hand through my hair. Grimaced at the tacky feel of half-dried blood.
"So we have some sort of system now," I said, touching my chin like stroking an imaginary beard might help me sound wiser. More in control than I felt.
"We have stats, classes, and powers, apparently. Some people got them, and others..."
I trailed off. Remembering the bodies we'd left behind. The silver eyes. The inhuman movements. Classmates who had become monsters in the space of heartbeats.
"The ones who didn't get a class turned into those things," Aurora finished grimly.
Her hands unconsciously mimicked the grip on a sword that was no longer there. Fingers curling around phantom weight.
"Yeah. Which means this isn't just some weird magic trick or hallucination. This is structured. A system. Rules."
I exhaled through my nose, letting the absurdity settle. A bubble of hysterical laughter threatened to rise in my throat.
"Like something out of a game or movie."
Aurora gave me a wry look. The ghost of her usual sardonic humor briefly animating her blood-streaked face.
"A pretty fucked-up movie."
"Yeah."
The single syllable carried the weight of everything we'd witnessed. Everything we'd done. Everything we'd become in the space of thirty minutes since the world ended.
She shook her head, rolling her shoulders before focusing again. The brief moment of dark humor subsumed by gravity of our situation.
A strand of rose gold hair had escaped her ponytail, hanging across her face. She tucked it behind her ear with a gesture so normal, so everyday, that it created surreal contrast with our blood-soaked clothes and traumatized expressions.
"Anyway. What are your stats?" she asked.
Her tone shifted to something more practical. More immediate. The soldier in her taking over from the scared college student.
I blinked. Right. Stats. That was a thing now.
Blue screens and numbers and abilities that defied the laws of physics. The academic in me stirred, momentarily drowning out terror with curiosity.
"Uh..." I tilted my head, focusing on the memory of the translucent screen that had appeared before everything went to hell. "How do we see them?"
"Maybe we just... say it?" she muttered before trying, voice tentative like testing unfamiliar water. "Hey, System."
Nothing happened. The basement remained stubbornly ordinary. Devoid of floating screens or helpful tutorials.
She frowned, brow furrowing in concentration. "System, open."
Still nothing. The silence seemed to mock our attempt to impose video game logic on reality. Even a reality that had already abandoned most of its rules.
I took a breath and thought about it. The puzzle momentarily distracting me from horror.
If this was a structured system, maybe it worked on intent. A mental trigger rather than verbal command. Like how I'd summoned that strange quill upstairs, before panic had broken my concentration.
I closed my eyes and focused. Clearing my mind of everything but a single thought.
'System. Stats.'
The moment I opened them, a translucent blue screen hovered in front of me. Floating in the air like an intrusive notification, casting ethereal glow across my blood-spattered hands.
The sight of it—so alien, so impossible, yet so undeniably real—sent a fresh wave of vertigo washing over me.
Nathaniel MorettiLevel: 1Main Class: Astral Equationist (★★★★★)
Stats:CI: 20CON: 11INT: 15STR: 12AGI: 11
I exhaled slowly. Half in disbelief, half in resignation.
Yep. This was real. As real as the blood drying on my clothes. As real as the bodies we'd left behind. As real as the sword that had materialized in Aurora's hand and cut through reality itself.
Aurora's voice pulled me back from that particular abyss. "I've got 20 Strength, 22 Agility, 17 Constitution, and 9 Intelligence."
She studied her own screen with focused intensity. Someone reading a map while lost in dangerous territory.
I glanced back at mine. Blue glow illuminating dust motes floating between us.
"I have 12 Strength, 11 Agility, 11 Constitution, 15 Intelligence, and... 20 Cosmic Insight."
She tilted her head. A gesture so characteristic of her that it momentarily transported me back to simpler times. Study sessions and coffee runs and the ordinary rhythm of college life.
"CI?"
I frowned, noticing the discrepancy. "You don't have it?"
She shook her head. Golden strands of hair falling across her face again.
I frowned deeper. My mind already beginning to piece together implications.
"What's your class?"
"Lunar Knight," she replied.
The words rolled off her tongue with strange familiarity. As if she'd always known them.
"Four stars."
I blinked, processing this new information. "Mine's Astral Equationist. Five stars."
Her eyebrows lifted. Surprise momentarily replacing the tension in her face.
"Five? So that's why you have a unique stat?"
"Probably," I said. The academic part of my brain already analyzing, categorizing, looking for patterns in this new framework overlaid on reality.
Aurora glanced at her screen. Swiping through information I couldn't see.
"I'm level three," she muttered, almost to herself.
Then her eyes widened. The full implication hitting her like a physical blow.
"Did I really kill that many?"
"Probably."
The word hung between us. Weighted with all it implied about what she had done. What she had become.
She didn't respond to that. Just studied her hands as if she could still feel the sword that had disappeared. As if its phantom weight lingered like the memory of a severed limb.
Her fingers flexed once, twice. Still stained with blood that looked black in the dim light.
"What do you get for leveling up?" I asked, pushing past the moment. Focusing on the practical, the immediate.
The question of what we'd lost could wait. The question of what we'd gained needed answering now.
She pulled herself out of her thoughts and tapped at her screen. Blue light caught on her features, highlighting the sharp lines of her face. The hollow beneath her cheekbones.
"I got 10 stat points to assign."
I studied her build for a moment. The numbers making a strange kind of sense. Like a character sheet brought to life.
"You seem more reliant on Strength and Agility than Intelligence," I noted, thinking aloud. "I think Intelligence is more of a caster thing. Mages, maybe?"
I paused, considering the implications.
"My class probably uses INT... and this CI stat."
Aurora nodded. Her tactical mind engaging with the problem. Finding comfort in the familiar territory of strategy and optimization.
"That makes sense. I'll put three points each in Strength, Agility, and Constitution, then one in Intelligence."
She swiped at her screen. Confirming the allocation with a decisive gesture. Fingers passing through the glowing interface as if it were solid and tangible rather than a hallucination made manifest.
Her face set in determination. She turned back to me, something sharp in her expression.
A question forming. A plan taking shape.
Before she spoke, the door rattled.