The morning mist coiled thick and heavy through the outskirts of Havenbrook, a small town fringed by the forest near the spawn and Kai's base. Groans of infected drifted from the treeline, punctuated by panicked shouts from scattered participants. 202 remained — desperate, reckless, dangerous.
Kai crouched behind a fallen log, rifle in hand, pistol holstered at his chest, hatchet resting at his waist. Eyes sharp, he tracked the male avatar he had saved yesterday. The figure was moving deliberately, guiding a lone participant through the narrow streets toward a side alley. Something felt wrong. This wasn't a rescue.
Kai sprinted, hatchet ready. "Stop! That way's not safe!"
The male avatar spun, rifle raised — and Kai caught the subtle motion: hands grabbing the participant's backpack, yanking it toward themselves. The scuffle erupted instantly. Boots slipped in mud, hands grasped gear, arms swung wildly. Kai swung his hatchet, forcing the avatar back. No grace, no choreography — just raw, frantic struggle.
The participant stumbled, panic flaring, dragging the backpack halfway. An infected lunged from the fog. Kai fired just in time, the shot ringing out sharply, knocking it aside. But Havenbrook responded violently. From the mist, a horde surged, groaning and snapping. The participant tried to flee, but the swarm overtook them, devouring them before Kai could intervene again. Rage and helplessness collided in his chest.
Kai and the male avatar tumbled, wrestled, shoved through frost-bitten leaves along the alley. He drove the avatar back, slamming them to the ground and pinning them briefly. The scuffle ended messy, tense, raw.
Kai stepped back, rifle steady, breathing hard. "You… you just killed that person," he growled.
The avatar huffed a short laugh through mud and sweat. "They were in the wrong place. I got what I needed," he said, nodding toward the backpack now secured.
Kai froze for a fraction of a second. Something was off — not the avatar itself, but the tiny cracks in their confident façade. A split-second hesitation before taking a shot. The way they glanced at threats Kai had already marked. Subtle smirks, measured breathing, hands adjusting weapons with precision.
(Wait… that stance… that method… those micro-adjustments… it can't be…)
Recognition crept in slowly, unsettling. Every controlled breath, every calculated motion felt familiar.
"No… it can't be. Clara?" he whispered, disbelief threading his voice.
The male avatar froze, smirk faint, brushing dirt from their gloves.
"So… this is where you were instead of work, huh?" Clara said, teasing, sharp.
Kai shook his head, exhaling. "Yeah. Home," he said quietly. "This… this is where I thrive."
The forest hummed around them, mist rolling along the town streets. Participants scattered in panic, gunfire erupting — all reality now, no illusions. Every shot, every strike could end in death.
The horde pressed closer, groans echoing through the alley, fog thick with menace. Kai and Clara backed toward cover together, weapons ready, hearts racing. Survival wasn't about skill points or XP — it was instinct, timing, and trust.
[Day 12 – First Day Survived – 198 Participants Remaining]
Kai tightened his grip on the hatchet, stealing a glance at Clara. Not friend. Not enemy. But understanding her, even a little, could make the difference between life and death.
End of Chapter 8