Owen placed 2 of the points he had straight into Dexterity, giving him a total of 13. The faster he ran, the safer he’d be. Besides, he had to be quick for something he was about to do in the near future. Breaking free of the looks of pity, he walked with the others to the centre of the office.

He wasn’t going to lie, the looks hurt; as if they were reminding him of his terrible future. And honestly, the only thing that was pushing him onward was the promise of a God-like Lord Emblem when he entered the Land Between. If it wasn’t for that, maybe he’d just give up and cry in a corner somewhere until his soul imploded.

Okay, maybe he was being a little dramatic.

Owen stood in front of everyone after having gathered them all in the centre of the office. Feeling the heat of being the centre of attention, Grace flashed him an encouraging smile before he explained to everyone their plan of leaving—and he wanted everyone to join him.

It was pandemonium. Chris was the first to object.

“Are you insane?” He shouted, and most seemed to agree. “You want us to leave here and face those things? You must be out of your damned mind.”

“Look,” Owen explained. “We’ve got to make it into the subway before the 7 days are up. The food supplies won’t last beyond two days, and who’s to say stronger monsters don’t come before then?”

The other office workers looked at eachother.

Callan stepped to the front. “We are going with, or without you. But if you want to come, then raise your hand.”

In response, only a handful of people raised their hands.

“You’re making a hasty decision,” Chris said, walking to the front and turning to the people. “We are stronger now because of the Class. Sure, we can leave, but for what? Who knows what is lurking out there, waiting for us?” he waved his hands, gesturing towards the stairwell. “Mike explained it to us well. We can Level up by killing them. It will be hard, but here, we have defences. We can prepare in the stairwell and defend. We can level up and get stronger and only then go out to find our families. Leave now, and we have nothing.”

The others looked up at Chris, nodding their heads. The women were perhaps listening to him more than others.

Owen couldn’t lie, Chris made a compelling point. A point that was far too difficult to best. Owen wasn’t a public speaker. He didn’t know how to rally a crowd like Chris did, or how to manage them. He hated to admit it, but Chris was in his element. Worse, was that he was right—if they weren’t under a time restriction, that was.

Owen tried to convince them for a while, but his words were falling on deaf ears.

“Caroline,” Chris said, stepping closer to her. “This is a mistake. Stay here with us, get stronger, then we can leave. You must admit, it’s the only logical move.”

“I’m leaving,” she said, her voice cut and dry. “My sister is out there somewhere. If there’s one thing I’ve learned during my time as a paramedic, it’s that every second counts. Time here, although getting stronger—if we can even kill the monsters that is—is time not spent looking for her.” She looked at the others. “That goes for all of you, as well. What if everyone got the message to go to the station? If that’s the case, then they are waiting. Family. Friends. Loved ones.”

Owen nodded along, Caroline fully saying everything that he had wanted to, just not able to find the right words. He thanked her internally. After that, 8 or so joined them. But logic—or fear—won out in the end. The vast majority decided to stay and defend the office; around 30 or so.

Fidgeting on the spot, Jock grabbed his arm and turned him away. “They have made their decision. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Right,” he said, but still, it didn’t feel right.

Shaking the feeling, Owen returned with Callan and the others, and prepared.

He remembered what Ansel had done to survive during his first few regressions. Using stacks of magazines and duct tape, he had crafted armguards. They weren’t perfect by any means, but they did prove useful. Moreover, it was better than nothing.

So that’s what Owen did. He gathered all of the magazines in the common area and helped fasten them to Caroline and the others, who helped him in return.

After that, Callan readied all of the weapons necessary: spikes. They were crude and inefficient and wouldn’t last beyond a day, but they were better than nothing. After a few more minutes of preparation and with armour made from magazines, and tape, Owen and the others approached the door.

“You sure about this, Owen?” Louis said. “I mean your leg. Can you run?”

Owen tested his weight on it, wincing as pain shot through. He could walk if he forced it, but every step hurt. “I’m good,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s get this done.”

Louis, who was now actually the strongest amongst them, pulled over the debris. Owen glanced behind him. 12 people all with various looks of nerves and fear and resolution flashed across their faces. He didn’t even know their names.

Then, Louis grabbed the door. Before he could open it, Owen stopped him. He addressed the others. “Halfway down, I need to make a stop. I’ll be the only one entering. Got it?”

Although confused, they nodded.

Owen lit a bundle of newspapers on fire. Confusion only heightened. “There’s a Dreadclaw above the door,” he explained as their grips tightened around their weapons.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Owen told Louis to open it a small amount. He listened, opening the door just enough to throw something out.

Newspaper smoking and crackling with fire, Owen flung it out the door. “Wait,” he said, and counted. 1, 2, 3—he heard something move from beyond the door. “Leave now, the monster is above!”

Louis grit his teeth and swung the door up. Thick, choking smoke billowed through the stairwell. He took a step out and looked above. His eyes widened and stabbed at the beast with all his strength. The monster fell, crashing to the ground, blood spat on Louis’s shirt.

Owen stepped forward and attacked, wildly jabbing the twisted chair leg at the Dreadclaw. It bit into flesh, resulting in a pained screech. The beast thrashed and slammed its arm against Owen, sending him tumbling back, hitting Caroline who was behind.

Louis, Jock, Callan, and another two people ran forward, striking the monster in a craze. Louis got a good hit to the monster’s skull, rattling it. While it was dazed, the others kept on piercing the creature repeatedly with their metal spikes. Again and again, blood splashed and the Draedclaw turned weaker with every second that passed.

It had badly wounded one of the office workers, but that was it. Because of the quick actions of everyone, they subdued the beast and soon, blood trickled down the hall, and dripped down the stairs.

You have defeated a Draedclaw x1

| Owen Taylor level 3 -> 4

| You have 1 Stat point to assign.

Owen immediately put the point into Dexterity, placing him at 14 in total thanks to his Rogue Class. He was now at the peak of humanity. He had the dexterity and agility that a world class olympian had—all because he placed some points in the System.

Caroline was already helping the injured office worker. From his friends' mouths, Owen learned his name was Jim. Owen joined her and said, “What do you need me to do?”

“Put pressure on it,” she said and rummaged in her backpack for bandages.

Owen did as he was asked, putting all of his weight on Jim’s wounded leg. His hand fumbled. Blood spurted. The monster had hit an artery.

“Is it bad?” Jim asked.

“Just a flesh wound,” Owen said with a smile in an attempt to comfort him. He didn’t know if it worked. His own words trembled.

“Oh shit,” Jim said, looking at the ceiling. “Why is this happening?”

“Louis, open the door,” Owen said, looking up at Louis. “We need to get him inside.”

Something slammed against the door. Owen spun back, only to see that furniture was being stacked up against the door. Louis rushed over and crashed against it with the entire weight of his body. The door lurched, but Owen spotted people behind the door struggling to keep it shut.

Caroline ignored what was happening and placed the gauze on Jim’s wound. Her expertise was showing. She only cared for the patient, not what was going on around her. She trusted in the others to clear the way.

“You got it?” Owen asked the paramedic.

“Got it,” She said. “Just get that damned door open.”

Owen nodded and stood up. He turned and slammed his shoulder against the door. “Open the damned door! We have someone injured!” He saw Chris through the glass. They refused to say anything.

Callan tried to work his magic, literally. But it was of no use. He twisted what metal there was on the door, but he couldn’t get his control to work beyond it, couldn’t alter the chairs, or desks, or fridges that they had stacked.

“Damn it,” Owen spat, his mind spinning. They couldn’t use the door, nor could they waste time trying to get in. It was only a matter of time before more Dreadclaws arrived. They had to continue with the objective, continue down.

“Downstairs,” Owen continued, taking the lead, trying his best to ignore the pain not only in his leg, but his arm now. They continued down, passing other floors. Blood markings covered the floors and walls and even the ceiling of the stairwell.

“Owen, we need to get Jim somewhere safe!” Caroline shouted from the back while supporting the wounded man with the help of others.

Owen grit his teeth. There was nowhere damned safe. If any one of them opened any of these doors, they’d be so scared that they’d refuse to go any further. Inside, it was a bloodbath—a slaughter. Owen couldn’t allow them to stop here. They had to reach the 25th floor. “Keep following me,” he said, hobbling down the steps as fast as he could.

Passing by a few more floors, Caroline shouted again, “Owen, we can’t keep going! Jim isn’t going to make it!”

“We’re almost there!” Owen called out, relief in his voice as they finally reached their destination: Floor 25. But his mind was elsewhere, turning over how to break the news. He had decided. It was too dangerous for the others. He would go on alone from here.

Why is it so quiet? Owen thought, glancing over his shoulder.

Everyone had gathered around Jim. Caroline knelt beside him, cradling his head in her lap. His eyes were open, but they were empty, clouded over with death. His chest was still. No breath. For a long moment, no one moved. It was as if they couldn’t accept what they were seeing. Blood oozed from the gaping wound in his leg, pooling beneath him, painting the floor a deep red.

“Owen—” Caroline whispered, her voice cracking as she looked up at him.

Owen’s heart stopped. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His stomach churned violently, and for a moment, everything spun. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus, to push the rising nausea down. “All of you, stay here. Defend the stairwell. Callan, use whatever metal you can find to make a barrier. Whatever happens, do not follow me into this floor, or any of the five above and five below. Understood?”

“Owen, what the hell are you talking about?” Louis shouted, eyes wide with confusion and fear.

“I told you all I need to do something,” Owen said, but didn’t stop. He pushed through the door and locked it behind him. For the future, this was what he had to do.

The air hit him like a wall. A heavy, nauseating stench of blood and rot filled his lungs, clinging to his nostrils. He gagged, covering his mouth as he stepped into the long hallway with rooms lining the corridor. The scene before him was nothing short of a nightmare. Bodies lay scattered, twisted in unnatural positions. Flesh and bone were torn apart, blood staining the walls. Guts hung from the ceiling like grotesque decorations.

Owen couldn’t hold it back any longer. His stomach heaved, and he vomited onto the floor, the acrid taste burning his throat. His eyes watered, and his nose ran as he wiped his face with a filthy, blood-smeared sleeve. His hand tightened around the metal spike he carried, knuckles turning white, matching the pallor of his face.

He had one objective here: to obtain a Lord’s Shard. Ansel might have ignored it, not needing its power. But Owen did. And this was no simple task.

From the far end of the blood-soaked room, he heard a low, raspy breath. The sound of something big, something deadly. An apex predator lurking in the shadows, waiting.

Owen swallowed hard, steeling himself for what was to come.

"Oi!" Owen shouted into the dark. The rough breathing stopped, leaving an eerie silence hanging in the air. For a moment, nothing stirred. Then, from the shadows, like a spider creeping out of its lair, a Dreadclaw twice the size of any he'd faced before lunged toward him, swift and lethal.