Wren stood behind a makeshift barrier of corrugated metal. A chilling dawn breeze swept through Emerson, tugging at the ragged tarps that served as roofs for half the settlement.
People coughed and shuffled around in threadbare coats, trying to get a small fire going. Thick ash coated the ground as usual, turning every step into a dull crunch.
He felt the strain from the recent expedition. His limbs ached. A bandage was wrapped tight around one bicep. The trek east to that run-down fortress had proved it existed, but it also showed just how unprepared they were to occupy it.
They had limited food, minimal gear, and no illusions about how dangerous the roads could be.
He turned as Fernandez approached from behind a rusted car hull. "We need you at the center again," Fernandez said, voice low. "Argus wants a plan."
Wren nodded. He followed the man past the battered courtyard, where a few children tried to scrape dust off a piece of broken plexiglass.
The settlement was silent except for the soft clinks of metal and hushed voices. They had lost the energy for chatter.
They reached a re-purposed shipping container that formed Argus's command post. Naia was already inside, crouched beside Derek—the malnourished survivor they'd rescued from the fortress.
Derek still looked pale but had at least gotten a meal and some rest. He sat, hugging his knees, while Naia offered him a canteen.
Argus stood at a small table with stacked papers. A single dim flashlight illuminated his notes. He looked up when Wren and Fernandez entered, lines of worry evident on his face.
"We can't stay in this loop," Argus said, voice flat. "We scavenge scraps, fix a few fences, and each time something bigger shows up. We lose a person every few weeks. Sooner or later, we'll be down to nothing."
Wren stayed silent. He knew the truth of that. The city was crawling with beasts that seemed to grow more numerous by the day.
Emerson was a fragile outpost. Its patched walls wouldn't stop a serious incursion.
Naia spoke gently. "Maybe the fortress is our best option, even if it's in bad shape."
Argus shook his head, rubbing his temples. "Derek said the place was overrun once before. It needs real defenses. We don't have enough people or supplies for that."
Derek cleared his throat. "You'd need metal plating, fuel for a generator if you want better lighting, and more ammo. We tried to hold out with our little group, but the monsters were too many."
"We had some solar batteries, but they died. The water was the biggest issue. The river dried up, or got contaminated by who knows what. We just… we couldn't do it."
Fernandez muttered a curse under his breath. "So we either stay here and starve or head there and risk the same end. Great."
Wren folded his arms, scanning the gloom. "We can't do this alone. We might need to find allies, or a stash of better equipment."
Argus nodded. "That's the issue. Who do we trust out there? Half the scavengers we meet would rather rob us than team up."
A silence followed. Wren's mind wandered to the System, the ash-based powers he was slowly honing. If he could level up enough, maybe he could do more.
Summon bigger constructs, fortify walls. But that took time, and each fight drained him. He pulled up his status in his mind:
[System Notification: Status Check - Wren]
Health: 35/50 Stamina: 28/40
Ash Reserve: 60%
Skill: Ash Manipulation (Basic) - LV 1 (24/25 EXP)
Next Level: +1 EXP needed
One measly point short of leveling. He repressed a sardonic smile.
Argus tapped a makeshift map. "Look here," the old man said, pointing to a rough sketch of the city.
"We have three zones we haven't explored well. Possibly some warehouses we bypassed, or a water tower that might hold something. If we can find resources or better weapons, we stand a chance."
He moved his finger to a mark labeled "Railyard." "This area might have metal sheets or leftover rail spikes we can use for reinforcing. But it's a known monster hotspot."
Wren studied the map. The railyard was maybe a day's trek west, deeper into a zone often rumored to house large bug-like creatures.
"Could be worth it," he said at last. "Metal's valuable. We can't defend anything with these flimsy scraps."
Naia nodded. "You'd lead the team?"
He sighed. "I guess. We need more supplies for a real plan, no matter what it is."
Argus set his jaw. "Alright. Gather a small group again. We can't spare too many people. But if you can bring back a load of metal or anything useful, it might buy us time—whether we reinforce Emerson for a while or strengthen that fortress. Either way, we need raw materials."
They formed a party of four: Wren, Naia, Fernandez, and a man named Puck, who was good at rigging contraptions. They prepped with what little gear Emerson had.
Wren took a half-dozen crossbow bolts—scavenged from various corners of the settlement—and his battered machete. Fernandez had his shotgun with four shells left.
Naia carried a spear and an old sidearm with two bullets. Puck wore a tool belt. Not much, but it was all they had.
They set out in the midmorning gloom. The road west was cracked and full of fallen debris. They kept close to walls, scanning each intersection.
The city's silence felt suffocating at times. Occasional gusts kicked up ash clouds, forcing them to shield their eyes.
Wren took point, forming a small ash dagger in his left hand off and on, practicing to keep his skill sharp.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
He wanted that last experience point, but obviously he needed an actual success—like defeating a beast or completing a System-recognized task. Just forging a dagger repeatedly might not do it.
An hour in, they encountered a cluster of small, rodent-like creatures rummaging through a toppled trash bin.
The group froze. Wren signaled them to back away quietly. Those rodents were skittish, but if they sensed threat, they'd swarm.
The party snuck around an alternate street, forging a path over a collapsed scaffolding.
They pressed on. Broken signage and leaning storefronts lined the street. They spotted a sign reading "Telecom Exchange" half-buried in rubble.
Fernandez suggested checking inside for electronics or salvage, but Wren shook his head. "We can't carry a lot. Focus on metal or anything obviously helpful. Let's not risk side hunts."
They turned down a side alley. Halfway through, they heard a moan from around a corner. Everyone tensed.
Puck readied a length of pipe. Wren formed the ash dagger. Carefully, they peeked around: a wounded scavenger lay slumped against a wall, one leg twisted. Blood soaked the ground. He looked near death. A battered rifle lay at his side.
Naia approached slowly. "He's alive," she whispered, kneeling. The man coughed, eyes half-lidded. He mumbled something about "ambushed… spider creatures…"
Wren scanned the area but saw no immediate threat. The man's injuries were severe.
Wren exhaled. They had limited medical supplies. Helping him could slow them down, but leaving him to die felt wrong.
He motioned Puck to patch him up if possible. Puck tried bandaging the gaping wound on the man's leg, but it was beyond basic first aid. The man groaned, delirious.
Wren studied the rifle. It had no ammo. Probably worthless right now. "What's your name?" he asked the scavenger quietly.
"R-Ryan," the man croaked.
Fernandez muttered, "We can't fix him here."
Wren's gut twisted. They had a choice: either carry Ryan back to Emerson or push on and let him die.
He hated it, but the settlement needed those metal supplies. And there was no guarantee Ryan would make it anyway. Argus would want them to finish the mission.
Still, Wren couldn't just walk away.
After a moment, Wren decided. "Naia, you and Puck stay with him for ten minutes. See if he's stable enough to move. If not, we can't help."
It was cruel, but that was the reality. They kept watch while Naia tried to make Ryan drink water. The man's breathing grew weaker. Before the time was up, he stopped breathing altogether.
Naia closed his eyes. Wren let out a slow breath. Another casualty in this ruined world.
They salvaged what little they could: the rifle's strap, a half-empty canteen, a piece of cloth that might be useful for bandages. Then they moved on, leaving Ryan's body to the ash.
The group pressed deeper, following a battered street sign that hinted at the railyard ahead. Wren noticed the cityscape shifting—larger open lots, scattered rails twisted out of shape.
The stench of old oil clung to the air. They paused at an entrance blocked by a massive metal gate that had fallen sideways.
"This must be it," Fernandez said, prodding the gate with his shotgun barrel. "We crawl over?"
Puck found a gap underneath where the metal was bent. It was wide enough to slide through if they removed their packs. They took turns, each slipping under with caution.
Inside, the railyard sprawled: broken freight cars on rusted tracks, debris from collapsed sheds and warehouses. Loose sheets of metal glinted among the rubble.
Naia kept her spear ready. The place felt eerie. There were tall shipping containers stacked haphazardly, some leaning precariously.
Wren signaled silence. They spread out, scanning for any sign of movement.
Fernandez pointed to a cluster of freight cars. "We can search those for metal scraps or tools. Might be something useful."
They crept closer. The ground here was covered in a layer of soot. Each step left footprints. Wren spotted large, clawed impressions that didn't match a human foot.
Possibly the spider-like creatures Ryan had mentioned. He kept his weapon up.
They reached the freight cars. The sides were torn open, possibly by some monstrous claws. Inside one, they found corroded crates.
Puck checked a few, discovering a bundle of old steel rods and brackets. Good salvage. They loaded up some rods into a makeshift sling. It was heavy but valuable.
Wren felt a spark of hope. This was exactly what Emerson needed: tough metal for reinforcing walls or forging better spears.
Half an hour passed, rummaging quietly. They gathered a pile of metal scraps near the exit. Enough for a decently sized load, though not enough to fix all of Emerson's problems.
Then a faint clicking noise echoed from behind the stacked containers.
Everyone tensed. Wren motioned them into defensive positions. He formed his ash dagger, focusing on compressing it more than usual.
He wanted it strong enough not to break after one strike. The System flickered:
[System Notification: Ash Dagger (Reinforced) Created]
Minor Skill Proficiency Gained Ash Manipulation
(Basic) - LV 1 => LV 2 Upgraded: +1 Summon Slot
He felt a subtle rush of energy. He had leveled his skill. That meant his ash constructs might hold together better, and he might be able to summon something extra.
Not a moment too soon.
Fernandez pointed: a spindly shape emerged from behind a shipping container. It stood on six legs, each as thick as a human arm.
Its abdomen rose high, and two large pincers clicked at the front. A mutated spider-like creature. Possibly the same type that had attacked Ryan.
It spotted them, letting out a chattering hiss. Two more of similar shape crawled along the container walls, each about man-sized. This was going to be rough.
Wren's heart pounded. He nodded to Fernandez, who fired the shotgun at the closest spider. The blast tore chunks from its exoskeleton, but didn't kill it.
The spider shrieked, lunging. Wren dashed forward, slashing with the reinforced ash dagger. The blade bit into the creature's body, but thick chitin resisted.
He twisted, forcing it deeper. The spider flailed, spitting a clump of sticky web at him. He dodged aside.
Naia and Puck engaged the second spider. Puck swung a metal rod, striking a leg. Naia thrust her spear into its side.
The spider reeled, but whipped a leg around, knocking Puck off balance. He landed hard, cursing. The spider advanced on him, mandibles clacking.
Wren whipped around, seeing Puck in danger. He flung an ash shard at the spider's face. It embedded in the creature's eye cluster, causing it to recoil.
That gave Puck a moment to scramble back. Naia lunged again, spear tip finding a gap in the exoskeleton. The spider thrashed, green ichor splattering.
Fernandez pumped the shotgun to load another shell, carefully aiming at the third spider that scuttled overhead. He fired. The shot clipped its abdomen, but it spat a web at him, tangling the shotgun barrel.
Fernandez stumbled, trying to peel off the sticky fibers.
The first spider was still thrashing against Wren's dagger. He grit his teeth, pressing his free hand to the spider's flank.
He called on the System to shape more ash around his palm, trying to create a quick spike that might pierce deeper. It formed a short, conical spike and stabbed in.
The spider convulsed, legs twitching. Then it collapsed in a wet heap.
[System Notification: Spider Beast Defeated]
EXP +8 Ash Reserve: 50%
Wren tore his dagger free, spinning to see the second spider pinned by Naia's spear. She had it jammed under a broken piece of crate for leverage.
The spider hissed, raking the ground. Puck slammed a rod down on its head repeatedly until it stopped moving.
[System Notification: Spider Beast Defeated]
EXP +8
The third spider dropped from above, landing near Fernandez. He was still wrestling with webbing on his gun.
Wren sprinted over, ash dagger at the ready, ignoring the burn in his legs. The spider lunged. Fernandez dove aside, dropping the gun.
Wren slashed low, catching the creature's underbelly. It shrieked, rearing back. He followed with another stab, driving the blade up to the hilt.
Exoskeleton cracked. The spider gave a choked rasp and fell limp.
[System Notification: Spider Beast Defeated] EXP +8 Ash Manipulation (Basic) - LV 2 (3/50 EXP)
Panting, the group checked for more threats. Silence, aside from their ragged breaths. Three dead spiders, no sign of others.
Puck clutched a bruised shoulder, Naia's spear tip had cracked, and Fernandez's shotgun was gummed up with webbing.
Still, they were alive. Wren's arm ached from the deep slash that first spider had deflected. But no new serious injuries.
They regrouped, stepping away from the carcasses. "We should bail," Fernandez said flatly, trying to wipe sticky webbing off the shotgun. "We got some metal, that's enough."
Wren agreed. No sense pushing their luck. They collected the rods they had salvaged, bundling them for transport. The load weighed them down, but they needed every piece.
They hurried back to the gate, scanning for signs of more spiders. None appeared. Squeezing under the gate was harder with the extra weight, but they managed. Outside, they retraced their path, staying alert.