As he sifted through the wreckage of his apartment, Connor ensured there were no more monsters hiding nearby and stepped through the wall into his neighbour’s. Utter devastation lay before him, with the remains of at least five wolves and over a dozen goblins scattered about. The broken window permitted the wind to enter, and the cool spring air sent a chill through him, prompting him to zip up his jacket a little higher.

“Matthew?” he called out, hoping to find him as he checked each of the rooms, a mirror image of his own apartment.

His neighbour’s front door was missing, large pieces of it scattered down the hallway, and occasionally beneath a corpse. Blood had painted the walls, and Connor had to press his hand to his nose, attempting to filter out the foul stench and suppress the urge to vomit. This was nothing like the video games he had played, and he struggled to comprehend that this was real.

“Kaaagh!” he heard from the door and turned to see a bloodied goblin come charging in.

Freezing for a moment, he found his courage as it raised a rusty blade, scrambling across the ground towards him. Hefting the table leg he had taken as a makeshift weapon, he watched as it drew nearer until he swung at its head. His strike hit perfectly, and Connor observed with a measure of satisfaction as it shot away, through the open window, shrieking as it fell.

He looked out and saw several dozen more monster remains on the road, but far more humans lay dead around them. Stepping back from the window, he tripped over a wolf’s head, landing on his rear. In fear, he glanced at the dead eyes and noticed a metallic glint beneath it. Returning to his feet, he used his weapon to nudge it slightly and realised there was a sword protruding from its chest.

Wrapping his hands around the hilt, he drew it out, a sickening sound squelching from the corpse as blood ran down the blade and he tilted it so it didn’t cover his hands. Admiring the blade, he realised it was incredibly sharp, with a peculiar inscription running along the flat side from the hilt to the tip. As he swung it around a few times, he sensed his arms moving as if they had trained with it before, and he smiled to himself, pleased to have a proper weapon. Looking at it again, he blinked several times as the strange writing illuminated, a faint hum emanating from the blade.

“Thank you, Matthew. I’ll avenge you with this,” he said, aware that it might be a bit cringe-inducing, but he wanted to reassure himself that he wasn’t robbing his former neighbour. Checking the last room, which Connor had saved for last, he opened the door to uncover what appeared to be a small armoury.

“Who were you?” he breathed out, glancing at the various blades on the wall and a suit of armour in the corner. Dozens of photographs adorned the wall, seemingly of knights, but Connor chuckled to himself when he realised that Matthew had been into re-enactments or something, as one photo depicted several knights sitting in a fast food restaurant.

“Connor?” he heard Peter calling, and he poked his arm out of the door to indicate his location. “We didn’t hear anything and thought it would be safe to come in. Whoa.”

“I know, right? Look at this.” He held up the sword, pointed to the glowing engraving, and handed it to Peter for inspection. Peering closer at the other swords on the wall, he noticed they were different—fake, with dull edges; one even bore a ‘Made in China’ stamp.

“Who was this dude?” Peter asked, glancing about the concealed armoury.

Lifting the shield off the wall, it felt heavy in Connor’s hands, and the leather straps on the back were soft and weathered. Slipping his arm through, he took the sword back from Peter, grinning at him as he felt powerful. Four suits of armour adorned the mannequins along the wall to his right, but the one at the end caught his eye. The first three looked amateurish, with thin metal plates, and he recognised some of the men wearing them in the pictures, but this last one was different, a completely different design to the rest.

“Peter, go check the kitchen and grab anything that might be useful.” Peter noticed where Connor’s gaze was directed and understood his thoughts. Hurrying away to complete his task, Connor watched him leave before attempting to undo the clasps on the armour, lifting pieces down and putting them on himself. It was heavy, and some of it didn’t fit over his clothes, so he focused on protecting his chest, forearms, and thighs.

“There’s no food.” Peter returned a few minutes later as Connor tightened the last clamp on his arm. “You look equally ridiculous and dangerous, but yeah, there’s nothing in the kitchen. There’s not just a lack of food, but also no fridge, cooker, or even cutlery.”

“What?” Connor shook his head in bewilderment, pushing past Peter to see for himself. True to his word, the kitchen was empty; everything had been stripped out and it looked like any other room in the apartment. He had already searched everywhere else and had only glanced in here, not really questioning why the kitchen was as it was. “Who were you?” Connor whispered to himself quietly as Peter shrugged his shoulders in the hallway.

Turning away, Connor decided to let the mystery rest and returned to the armoury, grabbing pieces of the other suits and shoving them into Peter’s hands. He argued that, even though they weren’t fighters like him, they should still wear something protective, as it might save their lives. Grabbing knives and anything else small and dangerous, the duo returned to Connor’s apartment, giving Grace her gear as she began putting it on without question.

Once dressed, she slipped the baby carrier over her head and tightened the straps before placing Susan in it. Susan seemed to enjoy the attention Grace lavished on her, blowing bubbles with her spit and gazing in wonder at the blue lights emitted from her hands. They exchanged a look of concern, with Grace worried about a blast of fire hitting her face, but there was nothing they could do at that moment.

Finally ready, Connor led the way out into the corridor through Matthew’s apartment, stepping over a man’s corpse—an unfortunate victim of the wolves’ intrusion. Large claw marks scarred a lift door, while the other was completely missing. Nervously pushing the stairwell door open, Connor peered out, listening for monsters, but there was only silence apart from their breathing. Leaning over the railing, he looked up and down but saw nothing.

“It’s clear!” he heard echoing upwards, darting back in fright before peering over the edge once more and seeing human hands running along the rail, and he sighed in relief.

“Let’s go,” he urged the others, and they began to follow. Peter carried two large bags filled with food and clothing, while Grace held one containing supplies for Susan. Connor’s back had been hastily packed with anything that resembled a weapon, the hilts of two blunt swords poking out from the top.

As they checked each floor, Connor was surprised to find no more monsters and wondered why they had targeted his floor. His only guess was that the corpse he had passed might have inadvertently led them there, and from that point, the situation spiralled out of control. It took almost half an hour to make their way down cautiously, ducking into a corridor at the first sign of disturbance, but they only saw the occasional neighbour rushing to make it up the stairs.

Arriving on the ground floor, Grace stayed on the first floor, waiting for the all-clear and trying to muffle Susan’s crying. Connor peered into the lobby and noticed the glass windows were shattered, with splintered wood scattered everywhere. A few survivors were moving about, which Connor took as a sign of relative safety. Sighing, he continued down to check the underground car park. He froze when he saw the first door dented, with red blood trickling down from the shattered window. It was too small to climb through, so he edged closer.

Hearing a sniffling sound, he paused and held his breath, as it sounded like a dog but was more than likely a wolf. Inching closer, he held his shield out, hoping to use its mirrored surface to see inside. Peering around the corner, he saw one of those strange pulsing orbs, or whatever it was, floating in the midst of the parked cars. Most of them had been damaged, some flipped over, and he realised how they had gotten into the building.

Stepping back, time seemed to freeze as the sound of glass crunching filled the stairwell, echoing upwards. Glancing at Peter, who appeared deathly pale, they flinched when a snarling wolf slammed against the metal door, which thankfully held. However, its snapping jaws broke through the small window. Connor swung his sword upwards, slicing the lower part of the wolf’s jaw, causing it to pull back yelping and squealing as a chunk of flesh was torn away by the remaining shards of glass in the frame.

“FIREBALL!” Peter shouted as a ball of fire, the size of Connor’s clenched fist, shot into the garage.

The sound of something squealing in a high-pitched tone in a panic made Connor realise it had hit something, but his elation was short-lived as a blast of hot air, followed by a loud crump, blew the door off its hinges, slamming it into the wall. Connor had been inches away from being in the way and felt fortunate for stepping back. An intense heat washed over him, forcing the two of them back, and the fire alarm went off, sending water cascading down on top of them.

“Run!” Connor shouted, shoving Peter up the stairs as a singed goblin stumbled into the stairway in a daze.

Stabbing it through the stomach, Connor turned and ran, taking the stairs two at a time and urging Peter to hurry. Hearing a howl, he turned partway and blocked a wolf’s bite with his shield before falling backwards. He felt something crunch in his pelvis as he grunted in pain, but the adrenaline coursing through his system dulled the pain, and he swung his sword wildly at the wolf. Forcing it back, he got back to his feet and turned to run, swiping backwards and slicing it across the face until he reached the lobby door, just as Grace appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

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“Grace! GET OUT!” he shouted, using the door to shield himself from another blow from the wolf with the bloodied face. Pushing her through with Peter, he slammed it shut with a loud boom that echoed through the stairwell.

Confronting the wolf, he noticed another one trapped behind it, smoke wafting from its singed fur. The odour of the burning, decaying flesh made him feel nauseous, but he fought to suppress the impulse to vomit. The wolf before him lunged once more, and he swung his shield at it, attempting to slash with his sword, but it struck the concrete wall and ricocheted, deflecting the blow.

Cursing himself for not considering the narrow confines of the stairwell, he shifted closer to the bannister. Jabbing out, the wolf dodged and swiped at him, but he shuffled back, giving it room to climb up to the landing he occupied. Raising his sword this time, he carved down, catching it in the head; however, the damage was minimal, leaving an ugly wound down its snout, which only enraged it.

Seeing it prepare to jump once more, he steadied himself and shouted, recalling how he had slain his first wolf, thrusting out his shield arm to catch its face. The head exploded in a shower of gore and the rest of the body flew backwards and slid down the wall allowing the second wolf to charge up. Connor fell down and used the shield to keep its head far enough away to avoid its fangs as it snapped at him, but it yelped and pulled away suddenly.

Clambering to his feet, he saw a brush handle with a knife taped to it protruding from its shoulder, and he spotted another man holding another makeshift spear further up. Yelling to draw the wolf's attention, it looked up at the other man, and Connor seized the opportunity, jabbing forward and embedding the sword almost to the hilt in its other shoulder. As the corpse fell away, it slid off the blade, nearly dragging him with it, and he stood there panting, nodding his thanks to his saviour. He recognised him from having seen him a few times in passing and was glad for his arrival.

“That was close,” he grinned, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, thanks.” He panted, leaning against the bannister to recover after the surge of magic had exhausted him.

Nodding farewell, he stumbled into the main lobby where Grace and Peter waited alongside others who watched him emerge. As he crashed to the ground, Peter caught him before he fell, and Connor felt himself being dragged to a corner and leaned against the wall. He noticed a wet spot on his side and realised there was a bloody patch spreading across his stomach.

“Crap,” he whispered, wincing as it became sore to breathe.

“Heal! Heal!” Grace shouted, as though trying to urge her magic to work harder. She dropped to her knees beside him and placed her hands on his injured side. He felt a strange warmth flowing through her hands, and he grunted as it felt like thousands of needles were prickling across the wound. Strength returned to his arms and legs as the pain eventually faded, and he sighed in sweet relief when he felt normal again. Reaching down, he noticed there was still blood on his clothes, but upon finding the hole in his hoodie, he stuck his finger in and probed the site of the wound, feeling no pain at all.

“You idiot.” Grace said, using her wrists to support Susan as her hands were bloody. He realised that a gag had been carefully placed over her mouth as she screamed and he understood why.

“I’m alright, blame that pyro over there,” Connor said as he slowly got to his feet in front of the others who had been observing. “The car park is gone; we’ll need to find somewhere else.”

The small crowd parted as he walked forward, stepping onto the path outside with glass crunching beneath his feet. He looked up and down the road but couldn’t see any monsters, even as the fire alarm continued to blare into the night, adding to the chaotic sounds. Smoke drifted from the entrance of the underground car park, though not as much as he had anticipated. Peter and Grace had followed him, with Grace wiping her hands and attempting to use the water from the sprinklers to wash his blood from her hands.

“Peter, how far is it to your work? It’s a distribution centre, isn’t it?” Connor asked, looking in what he thought was the right direction.

“About a fifteen-minute walk, usually,” he said, pointing in the opposite direction. Connor turned around, realising they would need to pass close to the strange light sphere he had seen from his kitchen.

“Great, simply great.” He sighed, adjusting his grip on the sword. He examined his shield and was pleased to find it in perfect condition, without a single scratch or dent. He contemplated who might have crafted it, as he had anticipated it to be a flimsy piece of metal, yet it was remarkably sturdy, and he was grateful to have discovered it.

Setting off, they cautiously made their way down the road, following Peter’s directions. Chaos reigned as looters ransacked shops and mobs roamed the streets, hunting for monsters. They took refuge inside a restaurant when several goblins came charging up the street, pursued by a mob, and as they passed, Connor was taken aback.

Amidst the group, they spotted police officers, teenagers, and some elderly individuals who surprisingly moved with a spring in their step, along with a reverend. It was an eye-opening mix as they pursued the monsters wielding crude weapons, some firing magic from time to time. Glancing at the other two, Connor simply shrugged his shoulders, uncertain of what to say about it.

Setting off again, they made their way down until they finally reached their destination. Checking his phone, Connor realised it had taken almost three hours for them to get this far, and his heart sank when he looked over the wall they were hiding behind. Surveying the compound, they weren’t the first to arrive, but were dismayed to see the strange ball of light in the middle of the yard.

As they trudged about, several goblins poked at anything that piqued their interest, including the corpses of both humans and monsters. He grimaced upon witnessing one take a bite. It was a grim sight, and he wished to finish up as soon as possible. Following Peter’s last attempt at assistance, he preferred that Peter refrain from using his magic anywhere near the vehicles, which appeared to be relatively intact, yet he would need to get closer to confirm.

Grace suddenly placed her hands on his arm, and Connor felt a surge of energy coursing through his body, the heaviness in his arms dissipating. “That’s it, I’m afraid; I don’t have much left in me,” she said as Connor noticed her sagging from the effort. They had realised that magic wasn’t infinite, and he would need to be cautious from this point on.

“Thanks,” he grinned, “You two stay here. If I…”

“Don’t you dare say it.” She growled. “I swear to god I will find a way to revive you and then have Peter immolate you.” The two of them flinched and looked at each other, scared of her threat.

“Ok, keep Susan safe.”

They were still soaking wet from the sprinklers at home, but they had found a moment to at least get Susan into some dry clothes and to change out the bib that was muffling her cries. Their hand had been forced, but Connor promised himself that it was only temporary; once they were on the road, he could take it off again.

Counting to three in his head, he leapt over the wall and shouted a war cry at the goblins, drawing their attention. They were spread out, which Connor was glad for, as it meant he could face them in smaller groups. He had dispatched a few on the streets but wasn’t entirely confident in his skills yet.

“Come on, you vermin,” he muttered to himself. “You’re usually the training monsters.”

Charging forward, he drove his sword into the stomach of the first foe before bashing his shield into the face of another. Blood exploded from its nose and mouth, along with a few teeth as it flew backwards. Using his foot to kick the first goblin off his sword, he hacked at the third one approaching him, slicing it from shoulder to stomach.

His arms seemed to move of their own accord at times as he fought the creatures, hacking and slashing his way through them. Once or twice, he felt one of them land a lucky blow, but his new armour easily deflected the hit, and he used his armoured limbs as blunt weapons, kicking or swiping them away. Stalking up to the remaining one that tried to crawl away, he drove his sword through its back as it screeched and died.

He stood for a few seconds, panting heavily, listening for any more enemies while counting the bodies of his kills. Pleased that he had taken down all those he had seen, he jogged back to the others and assisted them in climbing over the fence. Carefully making his way back, he entered the main office in front of Peter and drew his knife, recalling his lesson on fighting in the stairwell. Hearing giggles and screeches, a goblin leapt over a counter in the lobby, but to his surprise, he caught it and drove his knife into its stomach, astonishing the two of them with his reaction speed.

“Guess that’s magic for you," Peter grinned. “It’s rather like a game. Who do you think did this? The Russians, the Chinese, or the Americans?”

“Nah,” Connor said, wiping sweat from his forehead with some paper towels he’d discovered. “You reckon humans could do something like this? Has to be aliens.”

“Boys! Enough talking, get back to finding those damn keys.” Grace hissed as she followed them inside.

“Over here, Karl usually kept them,” Peter said, beckoning them towards an office before pausing in the doorway and turning away, his face turning green.

Connor pushed past him and saw a man lying dead on the floor, with several sharp blades jutting from his back. In the corner lay a goblin corpse, charred and still smouldering faintly, and Connor thought it looked as though it had been electrocuted since the office hadn’t caught fire. He guessed it was magic and stepped around, discovering a bundle of keys in a puddle of blood next to him.

Seeing a jacket on a stand in the corner, he used it to clean the keys somewhat and exited the office to find the other two peering out of the windows for more monsters. Jingling the keys, Peter approached and began rummaging through them, discarding several. Connor had merely grabbed everything, even those that resembled building keys, opting to take all of them just in case.

“Got it,” Peter said, holding up one set. “It just came back from the garage yesterday,” he explained, clicking the button. Several spaces down, one of the van’s lights illuminated as the doors unlocked, and Connor felt relieved.

Rushing down, he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, wincing at the van's loud noise. He slammed it into first gear and took off. The gate was unlocked, but as he slowed to nudge it open, he spotted a wolf running down the street towards them and sped up. Shouting while bracing himself, he crashed through it; the gate swung around and swatted the wolf away, but he kept driving.

“What’s the quickest way to the airport?” he asked Peter, who was in the back.

“Follow this route, take a right at the shopping centre, and the motorway is just there,” he shouted from the back as Connor swerved around cars, trying to go as fast as possible. Weaving in and out, they passed a few other vehicles, including a truck that had been converted into a monstrous battering ram, blasting loud music, metal spikes dripping with blood.

“It really is the end of the world,” Grace commented, looking out the window as they drove past.