Aaron and Emily moved through the shattered supermarket with careful, deliberate steps, breaths shallow, ears tuned for the slightest shuffle beneath the broken shelving. The early-morning light filtering through the cracked skylights turned drifting dust motes into pale ghosts, shimmering and fading with every movement.
They kept low. The place had been picked clean by survivors long ago—and prowled by things far less human ever since.
Aaron tightened the straps on his pack, the motion automatic. "We need somewhere better than the security room," he murmured. His voice sounded oddly loud, as if the gutted store wanted to swallow the sound. "Every time I use the System, something out there reacts. I just don't know how far the pulse carries."
Emily swept her gaze across a row of overturned freezers, her grip on the pry bar whitening. "Then we find somewhere thicker. Somewhere with fewer entrances." She nudged aside a loose can with her boot, wincing at the echoing clatter. Both froze.
Silence pressed back.
They moved deeper, navigating the aisles like ruins. Open voids, toppled displays, and wide line-of-sight pathways made the darkness feel predatory. Aaron kept noticing it—too many approaches, too many blind corners, too much space overhead for something to nest.
"This place feels wrong," Emily whispered as they entered the back corridor. The air here was stale and cold, the walls stained with old leak marks and claw scrapes. "Even if we cleared it… it's too exposed."
Aaron nodded, jaw tightening. He paused at the staff-only door, listening to the faint hum of wind rattling ceiling panels. "Supermarket's a death trap," he said quietly. "Too many ways in. Too much room for things to hide. And if my System activity draws them…"
"Yeah." Emily exhaled, tension bleeding into her shoulders. "This can't be our refuge."
They pushed on, just far enough to confirm what they already knew. The loading dock was cavernous and wide open, its half-closed shutters letting in a blade of morning light. Broken pallets and overturned trolleys gave shape to the hollow space, but nothing resembling security.
Aaron shook his head. "Forget it. No way we secure something this big. Not with just us."
Emily didn't argue. Her eyes flicked around the shadows, then to the far ceiling beams where the darkness pooled too heavily.
"This isn't a refuge," she said quietly. "It's a lure."
A distant, echoing click—like claws on tile—carried from somewhere deeper in the complex.
Both turned sharply, weapons raised.
"Yeah," Aaron whispered. "We're done here. Let's move."
They backed out the way they came, slipping into the dim corridor and putting distance between themselves and the vast, empty trap behind them. Somewhere out there, a safer shelter existed—one they needed to find before the next System pulse brought unwanted company.
Aaron adjusted the worn strap of his pack as he and Emily moved along the cracked roadside, the supermarket shrinking behind them like a bad idea they were glad to escape. The wind carried the faint metallic tang of distant ruins, rattling loose signs and whispering through broken windows.
He kept his eyes on the treeline ahead, scanning instinctively. Their next refuge would need to be better—stronger—something that could actually hold if the monsters were drawn to him again.
A thought tugged at him.
A possibility.
He slowed, placing a hand on the rough bark of a leaning power pole. "Emily… give me a second."
She paused beside him, brow creasing. "System stuff?"
"Yeah."
He exhaled, then spoke aloud, feeling the familiar tingle of interaction crawl through his spine.
"**System,**" he said quietly, "**can the Defensive Constructs make weapons of superior quality?**"
The world seemed to tighten—air drawing in, sound thinning—before the *System's* presence pressed into focus. Its voice arrived like a cool, clinical whisper threading directly into his awareness, neither male nor female.
> *"Affirmative. Defensive Constructs can fabricate enhanced physical weapons."*
Aaron felt a small spark of hope flaring beneath the fatigue. "Enhanced… how enhanced?"
The System replied without hesitation, as if the information had been waiting just behind a curtain.
> *"Superior durability. Improved edge retention. Optimized balance. Potential integration with user abilities. Cost: **1 Charge point**."*
Emily blinked. "Wait—only one? That's it?"
Aaron rubbed the back of his neck. "That's… cheap. Maybe too cheap."
The System responded again, tone unchanged, but somehow carrying an undertone he hadn't heard before—like anticipation.
> *"Clarification: One Charge point per standard weapon. Additional enhancements may modify cost. Defensive Constructs are optimized for rapid battlefield deployment."*
Emily let out a low whistle. "Aaron, that's huge. If we can gear up properly… picking a safe place gets a lot easier."
He nodded, though a prickle of unease slid down his spine. Every Charge spent drew attention. Every improvement made them safer—but also noisier in the eyes of whatever hunted System activity.
He looked at the treeline again, imagining weapons crafted to perfection appearing in their hands.
*Worth it,* he thought. *It has to be.*
"Alright," Aaron murmured under his breath. "Maybe the next fight won't be so one-sided."
Emily smiled faintly. "Just make sure the next safe house is, you know… actually safe."
He huffed a quiet laugh, feeling the System's presence recede.
"Yeah," he said, starting forward again. "Let's find somewhere that won't get us killed before we start upgrading."
They followed the cracked footpath toward the industrial district, gravel crunching beneath their boots. Long shadows from rusted streetlamps stretched across the road like skeletal fingers, and every gust of wind carried the faint groan of abandoned buildings settling under their own weight.
Emily kept glancing over her shoulder, shoulders tense. "Feels like we've been too exposed for too long," she muttered.
Aaron couldn't disagree. The supermarket had been a maze of bad angles and blind spots. Out here—open street, decaying industrial units ahead—they were at least able to see the danger coming.
But one thought kept chewing at him.
He slowed, motioning for Emily to stop beside a rusted, vine-wrapped fence. Her eyes narrowed. "What now?"
"Something I should've asked earlier," Aaron said. He lowered his voice, almost instinctively. "With how the System reacts… and how those things keep showing up… I need to know how far they can sense what I do."
Emily shifted her weight, adjusting the grip on her pry bar. "Yeah. That's been bugging me too."
He exhaled, feeling that familiar cold thread of focus tighten through his mind.
"**System, at what distance is Administrative Action detectable?**"
The surroundings seemed to hush—air stilling as the System's attention locked onto him. The voice arrived with its usual measured neutrality, sliding cleanly into his thoughts like a blade through cloth.
> *"Administrative Actions are detectable by nearby entities within **100 metres**."*
Emily's eyes widened. "A hundred metres? That's not much warning, Aaron."
He grimaced. "It explains a lot. Every time we thought we were being quiet… I was basically setting off a flare."
"A silent flare," she muttered. "That only the monsters can hear."
He rubbed a hand across his face, tension knotting in his jaw. "This means every upgrade, every ability, every point I use—it paints a target on us. Not city-wide, but close enough."
Emily's voice softened, though the edge of worry stayed. "We'll work around it. One hundred metres isn't too bad. If we find somewhere thick-walled… somewhere with only one or two entrances… you could use the System without waking up half the suburb."
Aaron nodded slowly, staring down the stretch of silent industrial buildings ahead. Warehouses. Workshops. Possibly secure rooms buried deep inside.
"We need to find a place where one of those things can't just wander in while I'm lighting up the radar."
Emily nudged him with her elbow—gentle, but encouraging. "Then let's find it. Before you have to use another charge."
He took a steadying breath, feeling the System's presence fading from the forefront of his mind, leaving behind only the echo of its answer.
One hundred metres.
Close enough to be deadly.
"Alright," Aaron said, pushing off the fence and moving forward again. "Let's find a place we can actually survive in."
The industrial district loomed ahead—rows of squat, concrete buildings with metal roll-up doors rusted halfway open, silent as mausoleums. The sky above them was turning overcast, dimming the pale morning light and making the long strips of cracked asphalt feel colder.
Aaron felt the weight of the System's "100 metres" answer lingering in the back of his mind like a countdown. Every choice he made carried danger. Every use of his Abilities risked something closing in.
Emily walked beside him in silence, but he could see the tightness in her posture—the same mix of determination and exhaustion that he felt twisting in his own chest.
They passed a collapsed fence, stepping around a spread of broken glass. Emily finally spoke. "So… what's our plan once we find a building that isn't a death trap?"
Aaron shrugged one shoulder. "Secure it. Fortify it. Try not to attract anything for at least a night."
Emily snorted softly. "Sounds almost easy when you say it like that."
"Yeah well," Aaron muttered. "It never is."
He felt the faint hum before he heard the System—an internal vibration, like a note plucked inside his ribs. He stopped walking immediately.
Emily noticed, turning sharply. "Aaron? What is it?"
He raised a hand. "System's trying to tell me something."
The world dimmed around the edges as the System's presence sharpened into focus. The voice entered his mind with smooth, mechanical calm:
> *"User Aaron: Minimum relational limit has been surpassed. Eligibility condition met."*
Aaron blinked, confused. "Eligibility for what?"
Emily frowned. "What does that mean?"
The System continued, tone eerily neutral:
> *"Emily qualifies for party inclusion. Reason: Cumulative cooperation time has exceeded threshold."*
Aaron's breath caught. "Party inclusion…?"
Emily stepped closer, wary. "Aaron. Explain."
He swallowed. "The System's saying… you can be added. Like a party member."
Emily stared for a long moment, then let out a disbelieving laugh. "A party member? What is this, some kind of game mechanic?"
"Apparently," Aaron said dryly. Then the rest of the information filtered through him, and he froze. "Wait. There's more."
The System obliged:
> *"Party members may be assigned as Secondary Administrative Users.
> They will possess identical abilities to Primary User."*
Emily blinked. Twice. Hard.
"You're telling me… I'd get *your* abilities? All of them?"
Aaron nodded slowly. "That's what it sounds like."
She let out a breath, shaky and a little stunned. "That would change everything. Our survival… our chances… even just scouting would be—" She stopped, the seriousness settling into her expression. "Aaron. That's huge."
He looked away, scanning the empty street as if expecting danger to appear the moment they said it aloud. "It's also risky. Every Administrative Action I take attracts things. If you had the same abilities… it doubles the risk radius."
"Or," Emily countered, stepping into his line of sight, "it doubles our firepower. Our options. Our ability to protect each other."
He hesitated—because she was right, and because the idea of sharing his System, this strange burden he had carried alone, made something in his chest tighten unexpectedly.
The System waited, silent but present.
Emily folded her arms. "So… do you want me in your party?"
A puff of cold wind stirred the dust at their feet.
Aaron met her eyes. "Emily, if it keeps us alive? Yeah. I want you in it."
Her expression softened, just slightly. "Then say it."
He took a breath, steady and deliberate.
"**System… add Emily as a party member.**"
The hum built again, like the moment before lightning strikes.
And the abandoned street suddenly felt far less empty.
A dull metallic creak echoed from somewhere deeper in the industrial block—just enough to make both of them pause mid-step. The place felt like a skeletal maze of half-collapsed warehouses and wind-rattled sheet metal, the air thick with dust and the lingering smell of old machine oil.
Emily rubbed her arms, trying to shake off the uneasy chill. "This place better have somewhere we can actually hole up," she muttered.
Aaron opened his mouth to reply—but Emily suddenly gasped, pressing a hand to her temple.
"Whoa—Aaron—something just popped up in my vision."
He spun toward her. "System?"
"Yeah," she whispered. "It's… a screen? No, an overlay." She squinted into the middle distance. "I have… points? Attribute Assignment points?"
Aaron blinked. "You do?"
Emily nodded sharply, sounding half stunned. "Ten of them."
He felt a wave of surprise ripple through him—relief, excitement, and something like awe. "Ten? That's… that's a lot."
Emily gave a weak laugh. "No kidding. What the hell am I supposed to do with ten?"
They stopped beside a warehouse wall where creeping vines crawled up the cracked concrete. The quiet felt heavy—like the whole district was holding its breath.
Aaron leaned closer, voice low. "Can you see the Attribute list?"
"Yeah." She pointed at invisible labels only she could see. "Strength. Agility. Endurance. Perception. Intelligence. And…" her brow furrowed, "Mutation Potential. But that one's locked."
Aaron nodded. "Same as mine."
Emily lowered her hand. "Okay, genius. What do you think I should pick?"
Aaron hesitated—ten points wasn't small. It could reshape someone. But Emily just raised an eyebrow.
"Come on. You know this stuff better than I do."
He sighed, thinking through the brutal logic of their situation. "If we're going to survive—and if we're going to pick a place to defend—we need information. Early warning. Eyes."
Emily waited silently.
"So," Aaron said, gesturing along the empty street, "I think you should focus on **Agility**, **Endurance**, and **Perception**."
She blinked. "Scout build?"
"Exactly."
Emily's lips twitched into a wry smile. "What, you're the tank now?"
"I'm whatever keeps us alive," Aaron shot back, though the humor didn't fully reach his voice. "Agility helps you move fast and quiet. Endurance keeps you standing when things go wrong. And Perception…"
He paused, letting the importance sink in.
Emily crossed her arms. "What about Perception?"
Aaron lowered his voice. "Perception increases the minimap range for hostile detection."
Emily's eyes widened. "Seriously?"
"Yeah. Automatically. The higher it is, the earlier we know something's coming. Could be the difference between getting pinned or having a whole minute to escape or prepare."
Emily blew out a long breath, considering the shadows stretching across the ruined street. "Ten points," she murmured. "Ten. That's enough to actually… shape a role."
"It's huge," Aaron said. "If you're going to scout… you need that range. Badly. The earlier we know something's closing in on us, the more alive we stay."
Emily nodded slowly, determination carving into her expression. "Agility, Endurance, Perception. Yeah… that feels right."
She straightened, a spark of focus in her eyes. "Alright. Let's do this."
Aaron gave her a small, encouraging smile. "Spend the points. I'll keep watch."
Emily took one final breath—then focused inward.
And that was when the pain hit.
Her breath hitched sharply, shoulders tightening as if an invisible hand had clenched around her chest. She staggered back a step, one hand bracing against the wall as her fingers curled involuntarily.
"Emily?" Aaron's voice sharpened. "Hey—Emily—what's happening?"
"It—ah—" Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding as another wave tore through her. "I—I think it's—ngh—updating my body—"
Agility surged first.
Her tendons tightened like bowstrings. Muscles along her legs twitched violently, restructuring. Emily hissed through her teeth, bending forward as though her own limbs didn't quite belong to her yet.
Then Endurance hit.
A deep, bone-deep ache rippled through her ribs and spine, like her skeleton was being reforged from the inside. Sweat beaded instantly along her forehead. Her breathing turned ragged.
"Aaron—this—this fucking hurts—"
He moved closer but didn't touch her, afraid contact would worsen whatever the System was doing. "Emily, stay with me. Look at me."
Her eyes snapped open—bright, sharp, dilated.
Then Perception began updating.
And that pain was different—sharper, blinding, stabbing behind her eyes. She cried out, hands flying to her temples as her pupils thinned, widened, shifted—trying to process more than a human brain was meant to.
The entire industrial block lit up for her in impossible clarity.
Every distant creak.
Every shifting shadow.
Every faint trace of movement.
Aaron watched helplessly as she breathed through it, chest heaving, trying not to collapse.
After several long, agonizing seconds, it stopped.
Emily sagged against the wall, then slowly straightened. Her posture had changed—balanced, reactive, coiled as if the world had gone into slow motion around her.
She lifted her head and opened her eyes fully.
Her gaze was razor-sharp.
"Done," she said quietly, breath still shaky. "I feel… different. Better. Faster."
Aaron nodded, still wide-eyed. "Good. Now let's find somewhere to test out your new scouting range—and hopefully not die in the process."
Emily managed a smirk, though it was thinner, still recovering. "Lead the way, Party Leader."
He rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop the grin.
If they were going to survive this world, at least they'd be facing it together—and now Emily wasn't just more capable.
She was dangerous.
She was evolving.
And the world around them had just become much, much smaller.