It had been seventeen days since Cassius descended into the bunker.
In that time, he'd fallen into a rhythm: wake, clean, repair, repeat. The system didn't care about emotional burnout—only completion. He'd reinforced the bunker hatch, re-sorted medical supplies by expiration, mapped the airflow and patched old vents using laundry unit piping.
Efficient. Quiet. Controlled.
But silence wears thin over time.
—. . .—
[ 09:13 | Motion Detected | External Perimeter – Sector 4 ]
[ Lifeforms: 3 | Status: Human | Threat Level: Low ]
—. . .—
Cassius froze.
—. . .—
[ Shelter Perimeter Breach – Unarmed Survivors Detected ]
—. . .—
He dashed to the surveillance terminal. Static cleared, revealing three figures staggering through thick fog. Mud-covered boots. Torn jackets. Shoulders hunched with fatigue—but they were alive.
A tall woman led the group, axe strapped to her back, her gait steady despite exhaustion. Beside her, a limping man clutched a duffle bag, dragging one leg. And behind them—
Cassius's heart stopped.
He recognized the third man instantly.
Sylas Parish.
His father.
Without thinking, Cassius moved. Up the stairs. Through the hatch. Gun holstered—but visible.
The group halted at the sight of him.
"…Cassius?" the older man rasped, voice gravelly but unmistakable.
"You know him, Mr. Parish?" the woman asked, eyeing the younger man cautiously.
"That's… my son," Sylas replied, disbelief and regret tangled in his tone.
Cassius didn't respond right away. His eyes scanned the man who looked like an aged mirror—ashen brown hair, misty steel green eyes, skin pale with illness or decay. Time hadn't been kind.
The only real difference? Cassius's mismatched eyes—hazel left, steel right—and the faint dusting of freckles across his androgynous face.
"You… look well," Sylas offered weakly. "For your age."
Cassius stared a moment longer, then turned. "Come in."
One by one, the survivors entered. The woman—Senka Myles—immediately beelined for the shower after learning the water still ran. The younger man—Ilyan Thorne—grinned and limped off to the herbal-soaked washroom, eager to treat his wounds.
Cassius and his father were left alone.
The silence returned—but heavier now, filled with unsaid things.
Sylas settled into a chair at the dining table as Cassius began preparing a meal.
"We came from Shelter 9," Sylas began. "It was built into an old coastal town near the beach. Water levels kept rising and falling—made venturing out nearly impossible."
Cassius said nothing.
"Eighteen days in, tensions snapped. The leadership couldn't agree on expansions. Resources were poorly managed. We had around 350 people." Sylas wrapped his hands around the warm mug Cassius placed down. "Day 29, someone tried to enter—claimed to be a survivor. It mimicked the dead."
Cassius looked up sharply.
"It didn't end well. It was kill or be killed," Sylas said flatly. "I was roomed with Senka and Ilyan. We grabbed our things and left."
Silence again.
This was the longest, realest conversation they'd ever had.
"…You can stay," Cassius said after a beat. "I need four F-Grade soul cores per person to register, or one E-Grade for a bulk entry. After that, only two F-Grades per person for continued access."
Sylas blinked—then nodded, genuinely grateful. "Thank you… Cass."
Cassius flinched slightly. That was the first time he'd heard his father say his name like that.
They sat in a quieter silence now. Sylas sipped water. Cassius set the table.
"Since when did you have four arcanes?" Sylas asked eventually.
"They appeared after the Shelter System activated," Cassius answered.
"Still nearsighted?" Sylas asked, squinting. "I recall your glasses... Was it near or farsightedness?"
"Farsighted. Glasses broke during a mission at Shelter 6," he said curtly. "Didn't bother replacing them."
"Mine shattered too, during the initial collapse. Can barely see past an arm's length now," Sylas admitted. "Still—recognized your hair. You've got my color."
Cassius looked up, surprised. He hadn't expected the man to remember something so small.
"I think Senka has the soul cores. She'll bring them once she's done," Sylas added, tone softening. "We're grateful. Truly."
Cassius said nothing—but something in his chest shifted.
An hour and a half later, Ilyan returned, freshly bandaged and glowing.
"That herbal wash hit the spot. Refilled my bottle too. Your turn, Mr. Parish," he said, grinning.
"Thanks," Sylas nodded, limping off.
Cassius turned to Ilyan. "Has he always walked like that?"
"Yeah. Said it happened four winters ago—pulled something in his hip. He's fine now, but it left him stiff. Probably some arthritis too."
"I wouldn't know," Cassius muttered. "I joined a private research team around then. Was isolated. No contact allowed. I got released the day before everything collapsed."
"Damn…" Ilyan whistled. "Bad timing."
A few minutes later, Senka emerged. "Mmm~ Not sharing a bathroom is heaven."
Cassius cleared his throat. "Soul cores?"
"Got 63 F-Grades, and 3 E-Grades. Why?"
"Give me one E and twenty F. The E covers registration. The rest help with upgrades."
Senka nodded, handing them over.
—. . .—
[Soul Cores Detected]
[Bulk Discount Applied: 1 E-Grade Soul Core for 3–10 people]
[20 F-Grades allocated to Facilities and Upgrades]
{Please confirm names.}
—. . .—
"Sylas Parish. Senka Myles. Ilyan Thorne."
—. . .—
[Survivors Registered]
[Shelter Population: 1 → 4]
{Assign Initial Roles}
Core: Quartermaster, Cook, Farmer, Water Purifier
Defense: Guard, Hunter, Scout
Technical: Builder, Crafter, Power Tech
Leadership: Strategist, Resource Analyst, Diplomat
Social: Counselor, Caretaker, Entertainer
Rare: Researcher, Apothecary, Operator
{Recommended:
▸ Sylas: Apothecary
▸ Senka: Scout
▸ Ilyan: Medic }
—. . .—
Cassius raised a brow. "Well then…"
"Roles?" Senka asked.
"System says you're suited for Scout or Hunter."
"Scout. I prefer recon."
—. . .—
[Role Confirmed: Scout]
{Perimeter mobility granted. Resource collection unlocked. +2% Morale Boost}
—. . .—
"Ilyan—Medic or Educator?"
"Medic, for sure."
—. . .—
[Role Confirmed: Medic]
{Healing efficiency increased. +2% Morale Boost. +2% Recovery Speed}
—. . .—
Cassius blinked. "Wow. You two gave solid boosts."
Senka grinned. "Feel a little stronger already."
Moments later, Sylas returned. No limp.
"I feel… lighter," he said, flexing his shoulder. "Bath must've helped."
Cassius stared. "Look in the mirror."
Sylas tilted his head, then shuffled to the wall mirror—and paused.
The face staring back was decades younger.
"What in the…"
"You've got crow's feet and back pain still, but you look 40 again," Cassius said dryly.
Sylas blinked. "That's… weird."
"You're an Apothecary now. That alright?"
"I've only ever been a physicist… but sure. It sounds useful. I'm old—might as well learn something new."
—. . .—
[Role Confirmed: Apothecary]
{+5% Morale. +3% Healing Rate. +2% Herbal Efficiency}
—. . .—
Cassius stared blankly at the screen.
"The world's really ending," he muttered. "Even you adapted."
Sylas sighed, "Cass. Speak clearly."
"Sorry, Father…"