The farther they walked from the supermarket, the quieter Exeter became.
Gone were the distant screams, the hollow groans, the echo of something crashing through an abandoned shopfront. Out here—on the outer rim of Sowton Industrial Estate—the silence felt deeper. Thicker. Like the city itself was holding its breath.
Snow-grey skies hung low over warehouses and distribution centers, their metal siding streaked with grime and long, dark lines of old rain. Wind rolled through the open lots, stirring plastic wrappers and loose gravel across the ground. It felt colder here, as if the sunlight refused to follow.
Aaron tightened the strap of his backpack. "How's your Perception field?"
Emily slowed, focused… and inhaled sharply.
"It's… wide," she whispered. "Like a bubble around us. Maybe one forty,one fifty meters? I feel things shifting inside it. Breathing. Moving."
She swallowed, steadying herself. "I can't see them, not exactly. But when something steps the wrong way… or drags its foot, I feel the direction."
Aaron nodded, already impressed—and relieved. "Good. We'll need that."
They approached the first row of industrial buildings—long squat rectangles with shutter doors, loading bays, and office windows too dark to see through. Aaron crouched beside a dented work van and motioned for Emily to join him.
"Anything?"
Emily closed her eyes for a moment.
"…Three," she whispered. "One in the unit across from us, behind that shutter. Slow. Heavy."
A beat.
"Another behind the green skip to your right. Smaller… scraping. Feeding on something."
"And the third?"
Emily opened her eyes, her expression tightening. "Farther away. Northwest. Moving fast."
"How fast?" Aaron asked quietly.
Her jaw tensed. "Too fast. Let's move."
They circled the skip first.
A wet, clicking sound echoed softly from behind it—like a beetle gnawing on metal. Emily raised her hand, signaling Aaron to wait. Her breathing slowed, her body shifting into a stance he hadn't taught her, but that somehow looked… right.
When she peeked around the corner, she flinched back instantly.
"Aaron," she whispered. "It's one of those crawlers. Thin legs. Broken spine. It's tearing into a fox."
Aaron's stomach twisted, but he forced a slow nod. "We need to test something. If I take it out with a silent strike… do you feel any changes?"
Emily steadied herself. "Do it. I'll tell you."
Aaron moved.
Quiet. Focused.
He used no System assist—not yet. Instead, he crept forward and grabbed an abandoned length of metal rebar leaning against the skip. The creature didn't hear him; its jaws were too deeply buried in its kill.
With a sharp exhale, Aaron drove the rebar downward.
The crawler spasmed, legs jerking wildly, then collapsed.
A faint pulse of gold flickered in the corner of Aaron's vision.
+1 Charge
Emily blinked, startled. "I felt that."
"You… felt the charge?" Aaron whispered.
"No. The System. Like a tremor in the air. Small—really small—but definitely there."
Aaron's expression darkened. "So even kills send out a signal."
"Not big," Emily said quickly. "Not like when you used Defensive Constructs or reinforced the room. This was more like… like dropping a pebble in a pond. A ripple."
"That's still bad if something's watching the water," Aaron murmured.
Emily pointed ahead. "Then we test the next one. Quietly."
They moved toward the shuttered warehouse.
Emily pressed her palm lightly against the metal, eyes distant as she focused.
"It's right behind the door," she whispered. "It's big. Breathing slow. And it's blocking the way in."
Aaron exhaled slowly. "Okay. We lure it out."
"Or," Emily countered, "we get higher ground first. There's a ladder on the west side. I can sense it."
Aaron blinked. "You can sense ladders now?"
Emily's cheeks flushed slightly. "No… just the structure. Elevation changes."
He grinned despite himself. "That's insanely useful."
They moved around the building, Emily guiding him with subtle hand motions—hesitating whenever something shifted at the edge of her perception, pulling him back whenever a new sound echoed through the metal alleys.
Her instincts weren't just good.
They were survival-grade.
When they reached the ladder, they climbed to the roof, both breathing heavily from tension rather than effort.
From up high, the industrial estate looked like a maze—rows of warehouses, delivery yards, storage units, forklifts frozen mid-task, and distant plumes of smoke rising from somewhere deeper in the zone.
Emily crouched beside Aaron. "See the one that was moving fast?"
He looked where she pointed—and froze.
A creature sprinted down the far street, weaving between vehicles. Its limbs were too long. Its gait too fluid.
It stopped.
Turned its head.
Sniffed the air.
Emily's voice trembled. "It's picking up a noise. Might not be us."
Aaron didn't blink. "We don't give it a reason to check."
They stayed low, silent.
Minutes passed.
Long, cold, heavy minutes.
Finally, the creature darted away, climbing over a delivery truck like a spider and vanishing behind a warehouse.
Emily exhaled shakily. "That one… I can feel how wrong it is."
Aaron nodded. "And now we know what your Perception can detect."
He looked at her—really looked at her—seeing not just a survivor, but a growing asset.
A partner.
Someone the System itself seemed determined to sharpen.
"Emily," he said softly. "We're going to survive this. But only if we use your abilities right."
Emily swallowed, but nodded. "Then let's start with that warehouse. I want to see if I can tell what type of monster is inside before we open the door."
Aaron shook his head. "As much as id like to know, i think its an unnecessary risk. Atleast until we make some proper weapons" looking down at his piece of rebar.
Slowly, carefully, they moved across the rooftop and down, moving out of the area.
The inside of Moto Exeter smelled of dust, petrol fumes, and the faint chemical sting of long-abandoned cleaning products. The glass front of the building stretched across the entire car park side—broad, exposed, fragile. Every panel reflected their silhouettes like pale ghosts moving against a world gone hollow.
Emily's Perception field stretched outward like a second skin. "Still clear," she whispered. "No movement within range."
Aaron nodded and approached the first structural pillar, the one anchoring the corner of the glass façade.
"This is our test point."
Emily stayed close, watching the windows with tightened eyes. "If anything reacts… I'll know."
Aaron placed his hand on the steel pillar.
STRUCTURAL MORPH — 5 Charges Required
Reinforcement Parameters: Load-bearing, Exterior Fortification
Optional Add-On: Window Replacement (Steel/Stone Composite)
Warning: Ability activation may be detected within 100m. Proceed?
Aaron exhaled. "Window replacement… Let's see what that does."
He confirmed.
The air shifted—dense and heavy like a pressure front rolling through the building. The pillar brightened first, steel veins thickening and knitting together into a denser alloy. Then the glow spread outward, crawling along the floor like liquid light before rising up the glass façade.
The windows responded instantly.
Cracks spider-webbed across the panes—not from shattering, but from something forcing its way through the molecular structure. The glass dissolved soundlessly into dust-like particles that swept inward in a soft metallic sigh, then reformed.
A new wall grew in their place.
Stone and reinforced steel, layered and interlocked like they had been forged centuries ago and reinforced yesterday. Smooth enough to look intentional, strong enough that nothing short of a tank could breach it.
Emily stepped back, awed. "Aaron… you just replaced the whole front wall."
He swallowed hard. His pulse hammered—as much from the drain as the sight.
"Yeah," he whispered. "And without making any real noise."
Emily went still, eyes widening. "A ripple."
Aaron stiffened. "How big?"
"Small," she reassured him quickly. "Like before. Something might've felt the echo, but the source is too far for a direct pull."
Aaron inspected the new stone-steel barrier. It blended perfectly into the service station's structure, a seamless replacement that made Moto Exeter suddenly feel less like an exposed glass showroom and more like a bunker.
"We could replace the entire façade," Emily whispered. "Every weak point. Turn this place into a fortress."
Aaron nodded slowly.
The idea carried weight.
Possibility.
Hope.
"And the best part?" he murmured. "Anything that relied on breaking glass to get inside… can't anymore."
Emily touched the new wall with the tip of her fingers. "It's cold. Solid. You could do this across the whole building?"
"Not all at once. Too risky. But piece by piece?"
He nodded again.
"Yes."
She exhaled—a long, relieved breath. "Then this might really be home."
Aaron scanned the room again. Wide interior. Good sight lines. Multiple escape routes. Reinforceable structure.
"This is the best chance we've seen," he said. "We make it safe. Quietly. And then we claim it."
Outside, the wind pressed against the newly solid wall with a hollow thud.
The building didn't even shiver.
Inside, Aaron felt—for the first time since the world had ended—that they might survive more than just the day.
________________________________________
Tom Hale moved through Sowton Industrial Estate with the same mindset he'd used on patrols years ago—controlled breathing, steady steps, every sense stretched thin but never panicked. Calm is control, he reminded himself. Panic got people killed. Calm kept his boy alive.
Jacob stayed close to him, clutching the length of rebar the way most kids clutched a phone. The evening light slanted across the metal units, long shadows cutting the space into uncertain shapes.
"You see anything?" Tom murmured.
"Just… movement far off," Jacob whispered. "Nothing close. Yet."
Tom nodded. His lad wasn't trained—not properly—but he had a decent eye. Better than some bootnecks Tom had served with.
They passed the skeletal frame of a warehouse whose doors hung open like a broken jaw. Something had torn through its interior days ago—claw marks up the walls, divots in the concrete. Jacob paused, staring too long.
"Don't linger," Tom said softly. "Eyes up. Look for routes, not threats."
Jacob swallowed and kept walking.
The deeper they moved into the estate, the stranger the air felt. Still, but… stirred. Vibrating faintly against Tom's ribs, as if some invisible pulse had rolled through minutes earlier.
"What's that?" Jacob asked.
"Someone used an ability," Tom muttered. "Close enough that we felt the aftershock."
Jacob tightened his grip. "Good or bad?"
Tom wasn't sure. Abilities drew monsters like flies to a carcass. But they also meant someone nearby was alive. Strong enough to be using the System.
He scanned the rooftops, the blank windows, the quiet cross-streets. "Keep low. Whoever used it might still be in the area—and so might what it summoned."
They crept forward another hour, avoiding open lots and the echoing hiss of something dragging itself along tarmac behind an office block. The smell of oil, dust, and faint rot drifted by on the breeze.
Then they saw it.
Moto Exeter, rising above the industrial sprawl like a misplaced island of civilization. But more importantly—different.
Reinforced.
The massive glass walls that once fronted the service station were gone, replaced with slabs of dense stone and steel welded and shaped into place. The structure didn't look ruined or wrecked. It looked deliberately altered. Purpose-built. Defended.
Tom let out a low whistle. "Well now… someone's been busy."
Jacob's eyes widened. "Dad… this is like a fortress."
"Someone with a morph ability," Tom said. "Or a damned powerful one."
They approached cautiously, Tom raising a hand in quiet signal—move slow, keep to the middle, show no threats. He didn't know if the people inside were friendly, desperate, or unhinged.
The reinforced front doors stood half-open. A young woman with wary eyes and posture like a coiled cat stepped into view, a makeshift spear in her hands. Behind her, a man with dark hair and haunted focus rested a hand on what used to be a counter—now reshaped into a waist-high barricade of stone.
Tom felt the tension radiating from them both.
He lifted his palms. "Friendly! Ex–Royal Marine Commando, name's Tom Hale. This is my son, Jacob. We're looking for—honestly? A place that isn't about to collapse if something snarls at it."
The man—Aaron, he introduced himself—watched him with the sharp, exhausted eyes of someone who'd nearly died more than once in the last twenty-four hours.
Emily—alert, precise—studied Jacob for weapons, injuries, fear, and something else Tom couldn't read.
Tom stepped forward. "We're not here to cause trouble. We've been scouting all day. Saw your… upgrades. Thought maybe you had room for two more."
Aaron's expression softened, just a fraction. "We've room. And we could use the help."
Jacob's shoulders sagged with relief. Tom placed a hand on his back, steadying him.
Inside, the building felt solid, grounded—stone where glass should be, reinforced beams shaping corridors into defensible lines. Someone had carved purpose back into the ruins of the old world.
Tom walked a slow circle, nodding. "Whoever did this knows what they're doing."
Aaron shrugged. "Still experimenting."
Emily added, "It's safer than anything else in the estate."
Tom let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. "Then we're home, for now."
Jacob stepped beside him, wide-eyed at the sturdy walls and the faint scent of warm stone.
Tom placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder.
Safe enough to rest. Safe enough to plan.
For the first time in days, he felt something like hope curling beneath his ribs.
________________________________________
Tom eased himself onto one of the newly reinforced stone benches near the entrance foyer, feeling its solidity press up through him—a kind of stillness he hadn't had since the night the System came online. The place Aaron had shaped wasn't pretty, but it was strong. It felt like the first structure in days that might actually outlast the things prowling outside.
Jacob drifted close, scanning the corners, pacing the room with restless, fox-like steps. The kid had always been alert, but ever since the System awakening, his movements had gained a strange precision—like every shift of his weight was measured.
Aaron and Emily stood across from the two of them, both looking worn down but ready, the bruised determination of survivors who hadn't decided whether hope was worth the risk.
Tom took a slow breath, letting the silence settle before breaking it.
"Alright," he said, voice low. "You two should know what we found out on the road. Call it intelligence, call it scraps of truth—doesn't matter. It's all we've got."
Emily leaned forward a little. "We'll take anything."
Aaron nodded beside her. "Every detail helps us plan."
Tom massaged a tight spot in his neck. "First off—the System doesn't hit everyone the same. It hits families. That pattern's clear enough. Most get nothing. A few get awakened. And some… very few… get more than one awakened inside the same household."
He tapped his chest.
"Me and Jacob. We were one of the lucky ones."
Emily's eyebrows rose. "Both of you? That's incredibly rare."
Tom gave a slow shrug. "From what we've seen? Aye. Maybe one out of every twenty awakened families has more than one."
Jacob swallowed, then added quietly, "It was… pretty scary at first. A lot of people panicked. We left with two other families. Only ours made it."
Tom rested a hand briefly on his son's shoulder before continuing.
"I got a Strength-line ability. Force Modulator. Lets me push more power through a strike for a moment. Hard hit, sharp impact. Useful… but loud. Everything out there feels it."
Aaron nodded. "Mine attract the monsters too. I'm starting to think any use of System energy is detectable."
"Aye," Tom agreed, rubbing his jaw. "Feels that way, doesn't it? Charged abilities ring out like a bloody beacon. Jacob and I learned that halfway through the industrial estate. Barely slipped out before a pack closed in on us."
Emily shivered. "Then this place wasn't just luck. You got here right before we sealed it."
Tom gave a dry chuckle. "Thought we were walking into a service station with glass walls and vending machines. Instead we walk into a stone-and-steel fortress some lad shaped with his bare hands."
Aaron flushed slightly and looked away. "Just trying to keep us alive."
"And you're doing better than most," Tom said plainly.
Jacob cleared his throat. "My ability's… scout-like. Perception. Pathfinding. I can mark routes in my head, see movement better, avoid blinds. I put all my attribute points into agility and perception."
Emily gave a small smile. "Smart kid. That'll keep you alive in this city."
Tom nodded approvingly. "He's fast. Faster than he was yesterday even. I put my points into strength and endurance. Kept it simple."
Aaron crossed his arms thoughtfully. "So the System gave all four of us abilities. That's not a coincidence."
"Could be," Tom said. "Could be something else. But one thing seems clear enough—the System likes teams. Groups. Families or… people who might become one. Natural units."
Emily frowned. "Units. Like we're being slotted into roles."
"Aye," Tom said. "Jacob's a scout. I'm your heavy. Emily, you're your team's eyes. And you…" He nodded toward Aaron. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like what you can do. Builder-class, maybe? Terrain shaper? Whatever it is—rare."
Aaron shifted, uncomfortable with the praise.
Tom leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"We survived the industrial estate because we acted like a two-man team with a shared purpose. You two survived the city centre the same way. Now there are four of us."
He let that sink in.
"Four awakened. Four roles. Four reasons this place might hold."
Emily inhaled slowly, her gaze drifting over the reinforced stone walls. "We could build something here. A proper refuge. Something long-term."
"A settlement," Aaron murmured.
Tom's smile was faint but solid. "Aye. A foothold. That's how every war turns—someone digs in deep enough to make a line that doesn't break."
Jacob edged closer to his father. "Like a start."
Tom wrapped an arm around him, pulling the young scout gently against his side.
"A start," he said softly. "That's all any of us get. But it's more than most."
The Moto Exeter foyer hummed faintly with the quiet thrum of System-made reinforcement, and for the first time in days, Tom felt the cold grip of despair loosen—just slightly.
Hope didn't scream.
Hope didn't roar.
Hope whispered.
And right now, the whisper felt loud enough to hear.