CHAPTER 5 — PATCH NOTES YOU NEVER ASKED FOR
Morning didn't feel like hope.
It felt like borrowed time.
Noctis woke sitting upright, neck stiff, eyes burning. He hadn't slept—not really—but the panic had dulled into something quieter and more dangerous.
Focus.
The city outside looked cooked.
Smoke columns rose like broken fingers. Sirens wailed somewhere far away, looping endlessly until their batteries died. A body lay half in the sunlight, half in the shade.
The half in the sun smoked.
The half in the shade twitched.
"…That's fucked," Noctis muttered.
He stood slowly.
His legs didn't shake.
He frowned.
"…Okay. That's new."
Yesterday, his muscles screamed just from standing. Now they felt… ready. Not stronger in an anime way. Just—efficient.
Like his body had stopped wasting effort.
He stretched experimentally.
No pain.
No stiffness.
"…Did I sleep-level up?" he whispered. "What is this, Skyrim?"
He shook his head, nervous.
"Don't get cocky. People die when they get cocky."
He packed his bag, checked the barricade, and slipped outside.
The moment sunlight hit his skin, something clicked.
He noticed everything.
Cracks in pavement.
Wind direction.
Which alleys had echoes.
Which shadows felt… occupied.
His heart rate stayed low.
Too low.
"…Okay," he whispered. "This is either adrenaline or I finally unlocked basic human competence."
He moved.
Fast.
Not sprinting—but his steps were smoother, longer, quieter.
He stopped short, startled.
"…I didn't mean to do that."
He tried again.
Same result.
His body obeyed perfectly.
No hesitation.
No wasted motion.
A chill crawled up his spine.
"This isn't normal," he said quietly.
By noon, he'd confirmed it.
He climbed six flights of stairs without panting.
Dodged falling debris without thinking.
Caught a falling knife mid-drop—and froze, staring at his own hand.
"…No fucking way."
He slowly placed the knife down.
Hands steady.
Heart calm.
"…Okay. I'm not panicking enough about this."
Which made him panic.
He ducked into a library—quiet, dusty, dead.
Sat at a table.
Pulled out the notebook.
DAY 2 — PHYSICAL ANOMALY (SELF)
– Reduced fatigue
– Improved coordination
– Faster reaction time
– No visible mutation
– Permanent? (Unknown)
He underlined Permanent? three times.
"…If this is temporary," he whispered, "I'm screwed."
The air grew heavy.
Cold.
The shadow arrived.
Noctis's breath hitched—but he didn't scream this time.
Progress.
"…Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Daily loot box."
The pills floated into view.
Different again.
BLUE PILL
Smooth. Warm.
Description:
Foundation.
Your body will remember efficiency.
Gains are permanent.
Growth will be slower—but real.
RED PILL
Sharp-edged. Pulsing.
Description:
Acceleration.
Massive short-term enhancement.
Permanent damage possible.
Survival not guaranteed.
Noctis didn't laugh this time.
He stared.
"…You're actually offering me something good," he said slowly. "That's suspicious as hell."
He remembered last night.
The crash.
The pain.
The almost-death.
"…I don't need to be a god," he whispered. "I just need to not die."
He reached out.
Took the BLUE PILL.
The moment it touched his fingers—
Warmth spread through his spine.
Not fire.
Not pain.
Like a system reboot done right.
Muscles aligned.
Breath deepened.
His heartbeat settled into something powerful and steady.
Not louder.
Stronger.
He gasped softly.
"…Oh."
The shadow vanished.
No dramatic effect.
No fireworks.
Just—
Rightness.
He stood slowly.
Jumped.
He landed lighter than he should have.
"…Holy shit."
He pressed his hand to the table.
Pushed.
The wood creaked.
He froze before it broke.
"…Okay," he whispered. "Not superhuman. But…"
He smiled.
A real one.
"…This helps."
The first zombie of the day charged him an hour later.
Tier 1.
Shambler.
It stumbled out from behind a bus, mouth hanging open.
Noctis froze.
Heart spiked.
"Oh fuck—!"
He moved anyway.
Not bravely.
Reflexively.
He sidestepped, crowbar swinging—
CRACK.
The skull collapsed.
The body fell.
Noctis stumbled back, breathing hard.
"…I killed it," he whispered.
His hands shook.
He looked at the corpse.
"…I killed it."
Then he gagged.
Vomited.
Hands on knees, heaving.
"…Still not okay," he gasped. "Definitely not okay."
He wiped his mouth.
Stood slowly.
"…But I can do this."
He opened the notebook again.
COMBAT RESULT
– Tier-1 neutralized solo
– No injury
– Reaction felt automatic
– Emotional response delayed (shock after)
He closed the book.
"…One at a time," he whispered. "No hero shit."
Somewhere far away, something howled.
Noctis stiffened.
"…And not today."
He turned and walked the other way.
Running wasn't cowardice.
It was experience.
As he disappeared into the streets, the sun climbed higher—and somewhere, deep in the dark—
Something watched.