The door creaked shut behind him.
Damian didn't bother locking it. If something wanted in, a deadbolt wasn't gonna stop it.
The house smelled like detergent and old laundry. Too clean. Too normal. It felt like walking into a museum of a life that didn't belong to him anymore. The scent made his stomach turn. This place used to be home. Now it was just another place he didn't think he fit.
He stood there for a second, listening. Fridge humming in the kitchen. Clock ticking on the wall. Normal sounds from a world that was already dead and didn't know it yet.
Three steps in and—
"Where the hell were you?"
His sister stood at the hallway entrance. Hoodie way too big for her, hair tied back messy like she'd been pulling at it. She looked like complete shit. Phone clutched in her hand with that blue tab lighting up her face.
She wasn't angry.
She was terrified.
"I had to handle something," Damian said.
"Handle what?" She stepped closer. Her hands were shaking. "Everyone's going fucking crazy. The internet's completely broken. There's this menu thing floating in my face telling me I'm a civilian-class target. What's that supposed to mean?"
[Level: 0]
STR +0 | DEX +0 | INT +0
[User: Eva Voss]
[Passive ability: None] (civilian-class target)
[New Global Quest: Approaching…]
[Time Remaining: 133 Hours]
She was trying to act tough but it wasn't working. Kept her thumb hovering over the call button like someone was gonna magically show up and fix everything.
Nobody was coming. Not anymore.
"Moscow," she said. Her voice got higher. "That was you, right? They keep showing the same footage over and over. Fires everywhere. Dead things in the streets. Some guy in a black mask cutting through them."
Damian said nothing. Just watched her figure it out.
Her eyes went to the mask in his hand.
Long pause. She just stared at the thing.
"Holy shit."
He didn't deny it.
"You actually killed those things?"
"They would've killed others."
Simple as that. No point making it sound pretty.
"But you're not—" She stopped herself. Swallowed hard. "How'd you even make it out alive? Those things looked like they could tear through concrete."
He walked past her and dropped the mask on the kitchen table. It hit the wood with a dull thunk.
"I didn't."
She went completely still. "What?"
"Forget it."
He turned on the tap. Water rushed out, hitting his bloody knuckles. The pipes made that groaning sound they always did. Red swirled down the drain. His hands wouldn't quit shaking now that he'd stopped moving. All that adrenaline finally crashing out of his system. Left him with forty-three dead faces burned into his head. He'd counted them while waiting for extraction.
Forty-three things that used to be human.
"There's this tab," she said from the doorway. Voice barely above a whisper. "Says I'm system-compatible. But nothing else happened. No powers, no skills, nothing."
Damian turned off the water. The sudden quiet felt wrong.
"You haven't awakened yet."
"What's that mean?"
He leaned against the sink. Water still dripping from his fingers. "Means you haven't been fucked up enough to wake it up."
She went quiet at that. Sat down slow.
"You said it's not over."
"It's not. Moscow was just the start."
"Why now? Why is this happening?"
"Someone lit the First Flame." Me. I did this. "Whole system started up. Now everyone else is trying to catch up."
She didn't push for details. Smart girl. Probably could tell he was already giving her more than he should.
He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, twisted the cap off, and sat across from her. The kitchen felt smaller than it used to. Everything did. TV was still going in the other room. News people trying to explain shit they had no clue about. Terrorism. Virus outbreak. Chemical weapons. Whatever helped them sleep at night.
They had no fucking idea what was coming.
Damian killed half the bottle and closed his eyes. Everything hurt. His head felt like someone was hammering nails into it. Coat still reeked of smoke and blood. Shoulder throbbed where that Pack Leader had nearly taken his arm clean off.
Sleep. He needed real sleep, not whatever half-conscious bullshit he'd managed in the back of that cop car.
But his brain wouldn't shut up.
Seven points dumped into Perception right before he'd passed out. Didn't feel different at first. Now though?
He could hear the window rattling behind him when wind hit it wrong. Could see his sister's left eye twitch every time fear spiked through her. Could feel something building outside, way off in the distance but getting closer. Like pressure before a storm hits.
Perception wasn't about seeing better.
It was about knowing when death was coming for you.
Only reason he made it back in one piece.
That and the kitchen knife.
He pulled it out, set it next to the mask. Plain black steel. Nothing fancy about it. No glowing effects or anything like that. But it had cut through things that shouldn't exist. Things that had been human once.
His sister was on some forum, scrolling through endless posts. Everyone asking the same desperate questions. "What are these levels?" "Is this a game?" "What the hell is happening to us?" "Why can't anyone explain this?"
No answers anywhere. Just thousands of people screaming into the void, hoping someone, somewhere, had a clue.
They didn't get it yet. This wasn't about points or upgrades or finding some magical solution in a webtoon.
This was about staying alive long enough to see tomorrow.
His eyes were burning. Body wanted to drop right there on the kitchen floor and not move for twelve hours. He almost let it happen.
System chimed.
[System Notice]
Global Threat Map Updated Current Status: Stabilizing...
Next Event: Unknown
Time Remaining Until System Surge: 132 Hours
One hundred thirty-two hours. Five and a half days to breathe before hell opened up somewhere else and dumped more nightmares onto the streets.
Not enough time. Never enough.
But it'd have to do.
No mission this time. No forced objective dragging him back into the meat grinder. Just a countdown ticking away in the corner of his vision. Time to rest, plan, figure out how to keep people breathing when the world went to shit again.
Because it would. He knew that for sure.
The next gate would be even worse.
It always was.
He didn't give a shit about right now. Walked to his room and shut the door. Fell onto his bed still wearing everything, coat, boots, that reeked of blood all of it. Didn't shower. Didn't change. Just hit the mattress and was out cold. First real sleep he'd gotten in forever.
[Level: 7]
STR +8 | DEX +9 | INT +11 | PER +7
[User: Damian Voss]
[Passive ability: Void] (Usable)
[Ability: Shadow Step]
[New Global Quest: Approaching…]
[Time Remaining: 132 Hours]