Owen and the group moved cautiously down the centre of the street. It was his plan, though not everyone was sold on it.

“We should stick to the sides,” whispered Hassan, a man who carried himself like a soldier—everything from his stance to the way he fought suggested a military background. His weathered appearance only added to the image. “Stay close to the buildings. We’re too exposed out here.”

“The Dreadclaws don’t hunt in open areas,” Owen said quietly. “It might seem safer to take the alleys or hug the walls, but that’s their territory.”

Hassan studied him, clearly uncertain. Owen’s so-called "Skill" was still a mystery to them, just like Callan’s strange magic. But the sooner they accepted the System as their new reality, the better their chances of survival. Owen had demonstrated enough knowledge to earn their trust, for now. Reluctantly, they followed his lead, though tension hung heavy in the air. Hassan had a point—the open streets might feel exposed, but it was better than walking into a Dreadclaw ambush in the shadows.

A low growl suddenly pierced the silence, yanking Owen’s attention toward a shattered storefront. The windows were blown out, shards of glass littering the pavement, and blood smeared the ground. No bodies—just blood. Owen knew what that meant. The corpses hadn’t been eaten; they’d been moved. To where, he knew exactly, but he had no intention of going there.

Only someone like Ansel would be reckless enough to do that.

A Dreadclaw scout shot out from the shadows of the shop, its claws scraping the glass as it leaped. The group flinched instinctively, all except Hassan, who reacted with unnerving calm. He stepped forward and met the creature head-on, striking its skull mid-air with the butt of his weapon. The Dreadclaw’s head snapped to the side from the impact, but it wasn’t enough. With a fierce spin, the creature slammed its tail into Hassan’s chest, sending him flying back into Louis’ arms.

Owen didn’t hesitate. With the speed granted by his new abilities, he closed the gap in seconds, driving his makeshift weapon—a chair leg with a jagged spike—straight into the Dreadclaw’s mouth. Blood sprayed as the creature screeched in agony.

Callan was there a heartbeat later, his weapon morphing around his fist. A single spike jutted from his knuckles, extending into a lance as he punched, the metal spear sinking deep into the Draedclaw’s side. The beast realised it was trapped, but it was too late.

The rest of the group swarmed in, adrenaline and fury propelling them forward. They attacked with everything they had, fists, feet, and whatever makeshift weapons they carried.

Within minutes, the Dreadclaw lay dead on the bloodied pavement.

Owen wiped his brow, his breath ragged. He hadn’t levelled up from the fight, but the others—those who hadn’t battled before—did. It was a hard truth about fighting as a group: experience was split, and the more people involved, the smaller the gains.

Not lingering for a single moment, they continued. The subway wasn’t too far away. If it continued like this, then they’d reach by the end of the day. But of course it was never going to be so easy.

They saw the signs for the station, but instead of heading straight for it, Owen took them left.

“What’s there?” Caroline asked, hinting that Owen knew that there was danger ahead.

“A nest,” he said, subconsciously quickening his steps.

“A nest?!” Louis whispered with vigour, and quickly matched Owen’s pace.

“That subway is blocked. We need to go the long way around. Should be safe.”

“Should be?” Louis asked, tightening his grip around his weapon.

“Then what about the safety of the entire subway? If that’s a nest—” Caroline said, ripping her gaze away from the station.

“It’s not. They haven’t breached. The military should be there.”

“The military?” Hassan spoke up.

Gunfire cracked through the streets as if answering. It was coming from far away.

“The army’s here?” Louis said excitedly.

Owen nodded, nerves tighter than steel. “The west is guarded. The east—here—is under siege.”

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“How have we not heard gun fire until now?” Caroline inquired.

Owen was about to answer, but Hassan was the first to speak. “They are conserving ammunition. If we are getting by with transformed leg chairs using nothing but our own strength, then the army has realised they can do the same. They’re not stupid.”

“So guns are still in use?” Jock asked. “I’ve read a few books that when the apocalypse hits, it disables them.”

“That’s not like that here,” Owen said. “We still have all of our technology. It’s only a matter of time before the world leaders fight back. We don’t want to be here when it happens.”

“Wait.” Caroline frowned, realising the magnitude of his words. “Are you saying the military will level this place? How many survivors are there?”

“The military makes tough decisions that would benefit the greater cause,” Hassan spoke up. “In the case that the Dreadclaws are unstoppable, or breed to a point of threatening the world—they won’t just send regular bombs. They’ll nuke it.”

Silence wrapped them in a suffocating blanket. It was Louis that broke the silence. “How did the military get here anyway? Shouldn’t they be in a base or something?”

“Wasn’t there a live demonstration today?” Caroline asked. “A few friends had gone to see it…” Her voice trailed off at the reminder that they were somewhere in the subway. Or they were dead.

“So this System,” Louis said. “Whatever it is, is actually guiding us to a safe area?”

Owen remained silent. In some ways, he was correct. But the System wasn’t some benevolent being. It was doing it for its own benefit above all else. To get contestants into the Land Between. To begin the war.

A few hours had passed, and although the subway was all around them, there was only one access point. In theory, they could enter wherever. But they’d have to fight a massive amount of Draedclaws. And they’d have to face worse. The safest method of entering was on the other side of the city. However, that took time.

In that time, they had faced 4 more Dreadclaw scouts. They had defeated 3 of them, resulting in Owen and the others Levelling up. Again, Owen placed his one single point into Dexterity, putting him to 20 in total. The reasoning was simple for him. Placing one point in Vitality or Strength wouldn’t be the difference between surviving a strike, or killing a monster. But Dexterity? It offered him both offence and defence; a route to escape. A single point in Dexterity went a long way, and he was already feeling the benefits of it.

But that wasn’t going to last for long.

The sky was growing dark, casting black shadows across the streets. Owen recalled the horrors of the first night—the Dreadclaws domain. The first round of breeding was complete, and warriors would be sent through the streets; through the underground.

No doubt Ansel was already 40 in all Attributes by this point. Owen remembered the scene of him entering one of their nests, slaughtering the Dreadlcaws with nothing but his bare hands. Coming out on top with a mountain of Attributes and Titles.

Owen knew himself. He wasn’t capable of that. It was taking all he had to keep walking, to face the monsters head-on. Honestly, he was surprised he hadn’t turned tail and ran. But something deep within him was forcing him ahead.

It was the pursuit of strength. The chance of becoming someone new. Maybe it was childish, but now, in this world, he could be someone entirely different to how he was before. He could evolve and flourish.

He could enter a new world and experience unfounded culture and exploration. How exciting was that?

But as the night grew darker with every moment that passed, and hearing the unnerving howls in the distance, joined by the cracking of gunfire, Owen dampened that excitement and let reality take hold.

First, he had to survive Earth.

Owen brought everyone into a fast food shop. There was only one place that could withstand the abuse of even a warrior class Dreadclaw, and that was the huge, industrial sized refrigerators. Ansel himself had tested their durability. Owen was going to do the same. With the wealth of knowledge given to him, they slowly, and carefully, checked all the corners of the fast food restaurant.

“Frank, take Callan and check that corridor,” Owen said, as he checked another with Caroline and Louis.

Frank—one of the office workers who had selected the Warrior Class—rounded the corner. Owen didn’t know much about him. But he often held high spirits in the office. Owen always heard him laughing from over the cubicles. He often warned him if Chris was coming round. Now he was a former shell of himself, bitten by fear, and constricted by the scenes of gore and horror around him.

A silent, deadly hunter awaited him. It pounced on him in a single second, tearing open his throat. Owen, Callan, Louis, and the others responded as quickly as they could, killing the monster in a frenzy. Caroline rushed to Frank, but it was too late. By the time she crouched down, he was already dead.

Owen’s hands trembled. A thought flickered through his mind. Could he really do this? He slid his back against a wall, thoughts turning blank. He had died because of him. He had told Frank to go into the corridor, and he died as a result.

The realisation took him by surprise. The severity and strength a leader had to have. And this was just the beginning. Soon, if he made it out alive, he’d be in the Land Between, with a kingdom of his own.

Nausea assaulted him, threatening to turn his stomach upside down, but there was nothing left. All he could do was dry heave. Sounds of hissing and roars came from down the street, Dreadclaws in search of bodies to send back to their queen.

“Owen—”

Someone said his name, but it was muffled. What is even his name that was being said?

“Owen!” Caroline shouted and slapped him hot across the face. It woke him up.

“What—” Before he could get another word out, Louis dragged him across the floor and threw him into the fridge. Power was out, but it was still cool. It sobered him up, barely.

Abandoning Frank’s body, everyone squeezed into the chiller. The massive, industrial door thudding shut, silencing the outside world almost in its entirety. All Owen heard was the all consuming silence and the rhythm of everyone’’s breaths.

A reminder that they were still alive. For now.