At the entrance to the station, soldiers stood guard, assault rifles slung across their chests. Yet their hands gripped bats, pipes, and kitchen knives—tools of desperation in a world turned upside down. Owen would’ve found it surreal, almost laughable, if not for the grim reality of their situation—a world where fiction had bled into his life. They had built makeshift defences, with buses acting as walls, forming a perimeter around their last refuge.

But Owen could hardly take in the sight. His head spun, nausea gnawing at his stomach. He was most likely concussed. A rough-looking woman in military gear guided him down into the subway, where the air felt thick with the scent of sweat and fear. A nurse rushed to his side, steadying him as he could barely stand. Louis was in no better condition, pale and shaking.

“Put them over there,” the nurse instructed, pointing to a spot where others lay injured, wrapped in makeshift bandages. Caroline held the child close, but the boy’s wide, tear-filled eyes stayed fixed on Owen.

“See to the boy first,” Owen rasped, voice weak.

“You should worry about yourself,” the nurse said, glancing briefly at the child. With Caroline and Callan’s help, Owen and Louis sank to the ground. The floor was cold and hard, only a thin tarp separating them from the grimy subway tiles. Around them, the wounded groaned in agony.

The nurse shone a light into Owen’s eyes, shaking his head. “Concussion. Your head’s split open. You’ll need staples. Lucky your skull didn’t crack all the way through.”

Owen barely registered the words, consciousness slipping as exhaustion weighed down on him. But then a sharp cry echoed through the subway, cutting through the murmurs of the crowded space.

“J—Jasp?!”

The boy broke free from Caroline’s arms, stumbling forward, eyes darting through the sea of faces. The once-quiet station was filled with murmurs as heads turned toward the source of the cry. Owen realised just how packed the subway was—hundreds of people crammed into this last sanctuary.

And then, from the crowd, a woman burst forward, tears streaming down her face. “Mum!” the boy cried, his voice breaking. He ran, and she swept him into her arms, clutching him as if she’d never let go. They sobbed together, the kind of tears that come after too much time apart, after the world has ripped everything from you, but somehow, miraculously, one thing has been returned.

Caroline sniffled beside them, unable to hold back her own tears. She covered her face, her shoulders shaking. Owen felt a tightness in his chest, and despite all the pain, despite everything, he couldn’t stop the tears from welling up. He lifted an arm to cover his face, his body trembling as the emotion surged through him.

Good on you, kid, he thought as his eyes grew heavier.

And with that, darkness finally claimed him.

He woke after, well, Owen didn’t know, exactly. Time was difficult to gauge when underground. Once he roused, the world had turned clearer. Dust and dead skin cells floated in front of the dim light cast by candlelight.

He looked at either side of him, failing to spot Louis, Caroline, the child, or any others. With a groan, he roused from the floor, hand on the tarp to support himself.

“Woah,” the nurse said, rushing forward to support Owen. “You can’t get up yet. You’ve barely recovered from the concussion, not to mention that gnarly wound etched on your back.”

Owen muttered compliance before laying on his stomach, and saying, “can you get the people I came in with?”

“Well that answers one of my questions,” the nurse replied with relief. “You’ve kept your memories intact. You remember how you got here? Your name, place of residence?”

“I remember it all,” Owen said truthfully.

“Good,” he said. “I’ll get someone to fetch them, just you stay put for now.”

“Thank you,” Owen said, looking at the man with a 9-o'clock shadow and messy mid length hair. “What’s your name?”

“Jonathan.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“Nah, a nurse. Well, I was. I got fired for medical malpractice.”

“Great,” Owen said sarcastically. “Well, regardless. Thanks.”

Jonathan smiled. "Just kidding. I'll get them for you. Oh, and you don't have to thank me; it's your girlfriend you should be grateful to. Healing magic—who would have thought? If this was before everything went downhill, I'd be out of a job."

About twenty minutes later, everyone gathered. Besides Jasp's mother, there was someone else. Clinging to Caroline's arm was a slightly taller woman with long golden hair tied in a ponytail. She wore a business suit, and from her beautiful features to the way Caroline held onto her, it was clear this was Caroline's older sister—the one Owen had heard a bit about.

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Jasp's mother approached Owen, kneeling down and gently taking his hand in hers. "They told me everything," she said, her voice shaky and eyes glistening with unshed tears. She struggled to hold them back. "Thank you so much for risking your life to save my son. If you hadn't, I don't know what I would have done."

Owen gave a soft smile and squeezed her hand. "Don't thank me. At first, we were going to look the other way. It wouldn't have been the first time."

"But you helped in the end," she replied, gripping his hand tighter. "You saved my boy and brought him back to me. I can never thank you enough for that."

Owen nodded weakly. "It wasn't just me. Everyone helped—we all risked our lives. We... we lost people."

She nodded, a shadow passing over her face. "We've all lost someone. But it's how we keep moving forward while remembering what makes us human—that's what gives us hope."

Louis hobbled over and sank down beside them, leaning against the wall. He nudged Owen with his foot. "You did good."

"You too, jerk," Owen said with a grin.

"Idiot," Louis shot back, but a smile tugged at his lips. They both laughed, and soon the others joined in, a rare moment of levity amidst the darkness.

Reaching this place felt like a weight had been lifted from Owen's shoulders. At least for a few days, they would be safe.

Owen's thoughts drifted to those who had died on the journey here. Jasp's mother was right. From now on, many more would perish—both here and in the Land Between. But honouring their memories and fighting on in their name was what truly mattered. Death couldn't be stopped. Owen wasn't a superhero; it was time to be realistic.

"Sorry, I didn't catch your name," Owen said, turning to Jasp's mother.

"Oh, how rude of me," she replied. "I'm Laila Crane, but you can just call me—"

Owen's eyes widened, his jaw dropping slightly. In his mind, he finished her sentence.

—Lai.

"—Lai," she said with a warm smile.

Lai, the future Sword Saintess, brushed a strand of her long raven hair behind her ear. Her blue eyes, reddened from days of tears, looked at him with gentle curiosity.

"Do you know me?" she asked.

"Ah, no," Owen stammered. "You just remind me of someone from a book I used to read."

***

It had been three days since they arrived at the station, and Owen still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that the Sword Saintess was Jasper's mother. In the story, her greatest desire was to reunite with her child—that was one of the main reasons she pushed herself so hard and became such a powerful Adventurer. Owen had always assumed her child would eventually appear in the story for an emotional reunion.

But what he saw in that shop with Jasper... the only outcome was death.

Apart from trying to shake the shock of being in the presence of not one, but two legends from A Titan’s Journey—Lai and Callan—Owen focused on recovery. He took it easy, letting his body rest.

Thankfully, Caroline had learned a basic healing spell, and now all his wounds were gone. What remained was the deep weakness, the kind that only a good night's sleep on a comfy mattress could cure. But a good bed wasn’t likely to come anytime soon, not until far into the future.

Caroline’s healing skill had progressed because of helping Jonathan, pushing her to the next stage of Mastery. She had gone from Zero to Low. Unlike in other games where skills level up, this System used Mastery to measure effectiveness. One had to deeply understand the skill or possess knowledge in its field. Because Caroline had prior experience as a paramedic, she reached that next stage quickly. Her new mastery gave her not only better healing but also reduced the mana cost of her spell.

During that time, Owen and the others left the station again. After being in a safe location, Owen didn’t think they’d join him. But they did. They managed to get Lai and her son a Lord Shard. However, at the back of his mind, he couldn’t get young Jasp out of his thoughts.

On the sixth day, Chris arrived with a group of about 16 people. Owen’s heart sank as he realised he had made a mistake—he should’ve gone into the tunnels. But his anxiety faded when he didn’t recognize anyone from Chris’s group. And then anxiety transformed into bubbling anger. Maybe more at himself than anything. Jock wasn't there with them. If he had convinced him to stay, pleaded with him... forced him. Maybe he'd still be here.

Chris looked over, but only lowered his head. He held a nasty wound gouged into his arm.

"Everyone's gone," Not seeing a familiar face, Caroline said, hand on mouth.

Louis stepped forward, brows knit in fury. "Hey, asshole--"

But it was Callan who stopped him. "We've seen enough death this week. Let it rest."

"But if it wasn't for him, maybe we could have saved Jim."

"Louis," Owen said, gritting his teeth. "Let it be. Something tells me he doesn't need anyone yelling at him."

Louis was about to say something, to let his emotions run rampant. God knows he needed it. But he bit back his words as he saw Chris break down, sitting on the floor.

Later, Chris explained what had happened. On the fifth day, he had led those who were at the top of the office into the subway after gaining strength, where they found other survivors and taken the first tunnel. All of those taken from the office had died.

Now it was the seventh day, just before nightfall. Everyone had gathered, waiting to find out why they were all told to meet here within seven days. But suddenly, something else drew their attention.

“Stop!” a soldier yelled.

Owen spun around and saw a soldier tumbling down the stopped escalators. At the top of the stairs stood a man drenched in blood, hair slicked back with the gore of monsters. He wasn’t wearing a shirt anymore, and he didn’t need one.

Ansel, the main character, had arrived—just in time.

But there was no chance to assess whether Ansel was friend or foe. A flash of white light snapped everyone’s focus to the centre of the subway station, where a small demon materialised. Dressed in a sharp black suit, holding a matching briefcase, the creature grinned—a grin far too wide to be human.

He was—

“Congratulations on making it here, humans,” the demon said in a high-pitched voice. “My name is Marco, Administrator of the Milky Way Assembly. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He bowed deeply, like a proper gentleman. He was anything but.