As Silas moved through the decrepit and hauntingly empty town, his mind swirled with questions. What had happened here? Where had all the people gone? The silence pressed against him, thick and oppressive, broken only by the faint rustling of the wind against rotted wood and shattered glass.

He saw signs of ruin everywhere. The cobbled street beneath him was cracked, with grass and vines pushing through the gaps, reclaiming the space that had once been lively. Carts, half-filled with belongings hastily packed, stood abandoned as though their owners had left in a desperate hurry. Some were overturned, their contents spilled onto the broken road—clothing, cooking utensils, even children’s toys, now dulled with dust and decay.

The further he walked, the more he noticed: splashes of dark stains, rusted weapons lying where they had been dropped. Pieces of armor and torn fabric caught on broken fences, as if a battle had erupted in the streets. The town had not simply faded into abandonment—it had been forced into it.

Then, he stepped into the town square.

Before him stood a towering tree, or what remained of one.

Once, it must have been grand, its trunk thick and gnarled, its branches spreading wide to shade the square. Now, it was withered and broken, a skeletal husk devoid of life. Not a single leaf clung to its blackened limbs. Mold, dark and foul, crept up its bark like veins, strangling whatever vitality it once held. The sight of it sent a shiver down his spine—he had never seen a tree like this before. Something about it felt… wrong. As if it were not merely dead, but blighted.

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Tearing his gaze away, he scanned the rest of the square. Among the dilapidated buildings, three stood out—structures that had weathered the aging and destruction of the town better than the rest.

A library, proud and tall, its stone walls still intact despite the grime that coated its once-pristine facade. He imagined the wealth of knowledge it might hold. If there were any written records of what had happened here, they would be inside.

A hospital, its roof partially collapsed but standing tall nonetheless. The thought of medical supplies crossed his mind. If he was hurt again, or if he found others in need, such a place could prove invaluable. He considered his own healing ability—his wounds had mended with impossible speed, yet the idea of relying on it without knowing its limits made him uneasy. Was there a cost to his regeneration? Did it slow if he was too weak? Could it fail altogether if he was injured too severely? He needed to test it, but not recklessly. For now, having proper medical supplies as a backup was the smarter choice.

A small chime resounded in his ears.

+1 Vitality.

He started, blinking as a subtle change coursed through him. It wasn’t strength, nor speed, nor energy—it was something deeper. He felt more substantial, as if his very existence had grown heavier, more anchored to this world. The sensation was strange, unfamiliar.

Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus. His status could wait until later. First, he needed to find a safe place to stay.

And then there were the barracks—strong, built to last. The small militia that once protected this town had taken refuge there. Perhaps weapons remained. He would need to defend himself eventually.

He weighed his options, considering the benefits each place offered. Knowledge, supplies, protection. All of them crucial.

But then his eyes drifted downward. The entrances to each building lay shrouded in shadow. The darkness at their thresholds was thick, stretching deep within like an open maw, waiting. The light of the sun had saved him before, kept the monsters at bay. Would the same be true in those darkened halls?

His pulse quickened.

He had to choose. But no matter where he went, danger surely awaited