The wind carried a chill that didn't belong to summer.
Arin leaned against the school's rooftop railing, hood drawn over his dark hair, watching military vehicles slide like silent shadows through the sleeping city. Even from this distance, the faint red glow of their taillights felt wrong. Too many soldiers for a "health inspection." Too quiet for a normal night.
> "They've started moving," he muttered.
Liora appeared beside him, light-footed as always, her black hair catching the faint moonlight. She didn't speak right away. She didn't need to. Arin could read the tension in the way her green eyes narrowed.
> "I checked the local forums," she finally said. "A hospital block was locked down an hour ago. No news reports, no alerts. Just a sudden blackout on all channels."
Kael climbed up last, shaking off the faint sweat from training. His red eyes caught the light like embers. "They're covering something. It's happening earlier than I remember."
The three stood in silence, only the distant hum of the city filling the air. In their first life, this silence had been a lie—a calm before hell tore through the world. This time, they could hear it breathing.
The next day, they scattered carefully. Arin slipped into online spaces most people didn't know existed, tracing encrypted chatter between low-level government channels and private users. Liora dug through hospitals and research posts under the guise of a curious student volunteer. Kael, being the loudest and boldest of the three, stuck to listening — and picking up whispers where fear was starting to bloom.
> "There's something going on in District 4," Kael whispered, sliding into their usual meeting corner behind the gym after class. "A doctor was dragged out of his house last night. Military escort. Neighbors say his wife's missing."
Liora opened her tablet, a map lighting up between them. "That's close to the first outbreak zone… five days early."
Arin frowned. "Which means they're trying to contain something they can't control." He tapped the map with the edge of his finger. "And we've got less time than expected."
They weren't the only ones investigating.
When Ayla and Rhett stepped out of the shadows near the abandoned pool court, Arin wasn't surprised. The student council president and vice president carried themselves like people who already knew how the world worked.
Ayla's long white hair was tied back neatly, her eyes sharp as winter frost. Rhett, with his messier auburn hair and fiery expression, looked like someone who'd punch a monster just to see if it bled.
> "You're not as subtle as you think," Ayla said calmly.
Kael smirked. "And you're not as invisible as you hope."
Rhett crossed his arms. "We saw what you did during training the other day. That wasn't normal sparring. You three… you're preparing for something."
Silence stretched between them — a quiet, tight thing.
Liora broke it. "If I told you something's coming, something bigger than anything this city's ever seen, would you believe me?"
Rhett's brow furrowed. Ayla's gaze didn't waver. "I'd ask why you sound so certain."
> "Because we're not guessing," Arin said, stepping forward. "We know."
They didn't reveal everything — not about their deaths, their betrayal, or the second chance they'd been given. But they gave just enough. A warning. A hint. A promise of a disaster that would swallow everything.
And that was enough. By the time the conversation ended, they had an unspoken alliance.
> "If this is real," Ayla murmured, "then the five of us are going to need each other."
"No," Arin corrected. "We're going to need to be stronger than everyone else."
That night, the trio moved through the city's edge like ghosts.
They followed the military vans to the hospital's underground entrance, hiding behind dumpsters and broken fences. Arin activated the Linked System's perception boost, shadows curling around their feet to muffle every step.
A soldier's voice echoed.
> "—containment team's late. Subject's getting worse."
"Don't let the press find out. Last thing we need is panic."
Then they saw it. A man in a stretcher — skin pale and vein-like black lines crawling beneath his flesh. His eyes rolled, his jaw clenching against a muzzle. A restrained early carrier.
> "That's him," Kael whispered, rage flickering beneath his voice. "Day 0's patient zero."
Arin's fists clenched. They were already here. The clock's ticking faster this time.
They didn't act. Not yet. But they memorized everything: the routes, the soldiers, the infected. Knowledge was their first weapon.
The morning sun poured lazily through the classroom windows, too bright, too normal for what they knew.
Their classmate — the one who would later trade them for power — leaned against their desk with a grin too wide to trust. His name was Darren Hale, and in their first life, that smile had been the last thing Arin saw before the horde consumed them.
> "You three have been acting weird lately," Darren said, tilting his head. "Always together. Sneaking off. Got some secret cult I should know about?"
Kael stiffened, but Arin placed a calming hand on his arm. "Yeah," Arin said smoothly, smiling back. "We're summoning good grades. Heard it's a forbidden art."
Liora added softly, "You wouldn't survive the initiation."
The class laughed. Darren didn't. His grin faltered just enough to reveal suspicion. But not enough to act. Not yet. He walked away, but Arin's gut twisted. The future betrayer was already watching.
That evening, their preparations intensified.
They expanded their stash location: a locked warehouse on the edge of town. Water filters. Medical kits. Food. Knives. Rope. Solar lights. Everything they'd once died without.
Their Linked System pulsed faintly as they trained. Each movement refined. Each night sharper than the last. Ayla and Rhett joined them, though still unaware of the true storm overhead.
Liora leaned against the railing, eyes glowing faint green in the dim. "The city doesn't even know it's bleeding yet."
> "That's fine," Arin said, his voice steady. "We'll be ready when it does."
Kael tossed a blood-forged dagger in the air, catching it mid-spin. "And this time, no one's getting away with betrayal."
Above the city, thunder rolled — low, heavy, almost like laughter.
The storm had already started.