Ethan didn't sleep that night.
Not because of monsters; though distant roars and screeches still echoed through the city, but because for the first time since the apocalypse began, he was no longer aimless.
For the first time since the apocalypse began, he had direction.
The broadcast kept replaying in his mind: humans hurling fire, moving at blinding speeds, lifting trucks with bare hands.
A safe zone. Others like him.
But to get there, he'd need more than determination and a crowbar.
He'd need a plan.
…
The first light of day entered through the broken panes of windows.
Ethan checked his scavenged backpack contents which included a half-empty water bottle and two sealed dented cans of food and a crowbar and a sling bag made from scrap cloth which barely stayed together.
It wasn't enough. The city swarmed with swarms and larger beasts and collapsing infrastructure and God knew what else made the available supplies insufficient for his journey.
He needed supplies. Weapons. Mobility. And, if possible… something permanent from his improvisation draws.
He moved through the ruined streets with caution while staying low and quiet during his supermarket departure.
The red rift in the sky maintained its pulsing state as an open wound which illuminated the destroyed buildings with an unnatural light. The pavement displayed scorch marks and acid-eaten metal and deep claw gouges which indicated that monsters roamed the streets even when they remained hidden.
Every scavenging trip was a gamble.
The first stop was a sporting goods store three blocks down. The store had broken windows yet its shelves mostly stood upright.
He moved through carefully, crowbar at the ready. The air reeked of blood while the dust revealed old footprints that made his skin feel uneasy.
Ethan discovered 5 useful items including a durable hiking backpack and two water flasks and climbing equipment and a hunting knife that was still usable despite its dull condition.
He discarded the torn sling bag then secured everything into a proper backpack by tightening all straps.
As he worked, he muttered under his breath: "I'm not a soldier. Not a fighter. But I can plan, I can think".
That's when the system chimed softly:
DING!
~----~
[Survival Instinct Detected: Improvisation Synergy Increased]
>Planning ahead strengthens adaptive responses. Future draws may align better with survival strategies.
~----~
Ethan blinked, surprised.
The ability wasn't just reacting, it was learning with him.
Next, he searched a ruined pharmacy. Most of it had been looted, but he managed to find a few things; a half-crushed med kit, bandages, basic antibiotics and painkillers, and a half-broken lighter.
As he stuffed the kit into his pack, a thought struck him; he'd been relying on reactive improvisations.
What if he tried to simulate survival scenarios to force useful tools now, before needing them in combat?
Outside, he set up a crude 'threat simulation' in an abandoned alley, balancing a slab of broken concrete above his head using unstable debris. If it fell, it could crush him.
The danger felt real enough that his heart raced and sweat beaded his brow.
The wheel spun, then...
DING!
~----~
[Improvisation Draw Activated: Simulated Threat]
…
He pressed his palm down.
…
[Improvised Gear: Field Ration Synthesizer]
>A jury-rigged thermal processor that converts scavenged organic material into safe, edible rations. Limited to 5 uses.
~----~
'Yes!' Ethan cheered silently.
The device materialized; a crude metal canister with glowing coils. He stared, awestruck. Food was one of his biggest concerns. This solved it… for now.
But then he saw the IP cost.
~----~
[Permanent Acquisition: 10 IP (Tier 1)]
[Current IP: 9]
~----~
He clenched his fists. One more point and he could keep it forever. That meant fewer nights starving. More energy for fighting, thinking, and surviving.
He placed the synthesizer in his pocket for emergency situations while keeping a resolute expression.
Ethan managed to collect enough supplies which would last him through one week by midday. His pack contained medical equipment and rope along with water bottles and a synthesizer for emergency food preparation and a dull knife and crowbar.
Still, it didn't feel enough.
The threats against him went beyond monsters. The risk of falling bridges and unstable buildings and hostile other survivors required him to have mobility.
He simulated another threat; this time dangling himself from a second-story ledge by rope until his hands nearly gave out. Thankfully, the wheel spun again.
DING!
~----~
[Improvised Gear: Kinetic Grapple Launcher]
>A compact launcher with retractable tether. Allows rapid climbs and controlled descents. Limited 5 uses.
~----~
Ethan tested it immediately, firing the hook into a nearby roof.
The hook effortlessly pulled him up, helping him scale the building in seconds. Ethan was thrilled. For the first time since the world ended, he stood atop a rooftop, looking at the horizon, and he could see a path forward.
From up here, he saw more. He spotted routes leading westward that avoided main infested zones.
He also saw collapsed highways that creatures couldn't cross, including narrow alleyways and rooftops connecting via improvised grappling.
The city wasn't safe. But with his power, his planning, and sheer stubborn will…
He could make it.
That night, as he ate his first synthesized ration and stared at the distant western skyline glowing faintly under the rift, Ethan opened his status screen again.
~----~
[Improvisation Points: 9]
[Potential Permanent Gear: Field Ration Synthesizer or Grapple Launcher]
~----~
He thought about it long and hard. Food was vital, especially in an apocalypse. But then again, mobility was life.
Either choice could mean survival tomorrow or doom the day after.
But as his hand hovered over the permanent lock option, a low, guttural roar echoed from somewhere beyond the rooftops; deep, resonant, and massive. The same sound he'd heard that first night.
Ethan tensed instinctively, his grip on the crowbar automatically tightening as his gaze fixed westward.
"Whatever's out there," he whispered to himself, "I'll be ready".
Tomorrow, the journey began.