David pulled up his status with a thought, the interface materialized, blue text sharp against his vision. David stared at the bloodline entry. Three hundred thirty-seven points. Plus two hundred free experience he could spend.

  However, his act of defiance had yielded no tangible benefits and that now felt increasingly reckless. Still, his gut told him that he wanted to see what he got when his bloodline improved.

  On the other hand he'd seen the value of Katie having a Health pool. Watched magic save her life through directed resource application.

  He needed that safety net. They all did.

  Based on what Camila and Mark had said his accumulated experience should get him at least a level in system initiate – meaning he could but health right now. Maybe even add in a linked attribute right now.

  He needed a margin of safety so he dumped all two hundred available experience points into the title. It leveled up immediately.

  His hand hovered over the mental selection, ready to grab Health on pure instinct.

  Then his analyst brain kicked in. Don't just react. Understand first.

  He walked to the obelisk and pressed his palm against the cool stone. "How does Health actually work? What does it do beyond healing?"

  His mana dropped as information flooded his consciousness.

  [HEALTH IS A VITAL RESOURCE CREATED BY THE INTEGRATION OF MANA INTO LIVING BEINGS.]

  So far, expected. David waited for more, feeling his magic reserves drain steadily.

  [IT SERVES TO SUSTAIN VITAL SYSTEMS, INCREASING DURABILITY AND EXCELLING AT FUELING HEALING AND RECOVERY BOTH NATURAL AND ENHANCED.]

  Translation: Health wasn't just hit points. It was where magic met biology. The fuel for recovery, like Katie had experienced but also for mitigating injury in the first place.

  [AVAILABLE HEALTH WILL MITIGATE INJURY IMPACT ESPECIALLY WHEN COMBINED WITH APPROPRIATE ATTRIBUTES AND SKILLS.]

  David paused, the system was really pushing this. Would Katie have shrugged off the horrible strike if she had bought health before the fight?

  [IN EXTREME CASES IT CAN RENDER THE USER IMMUNE TO CERTAIN INJURIES OR TRANSFER DAMAGE FROM THE BODY TO THE RESOURCE POOL.]

  That was a shield made of life force. Take a hit that should kill you, and instead it just drained your Health pool.

  [THIS RESOURCE HAS EQUIVALENTS FOR ALL PHYSIOLOGIES WITH EXISTING SYSTEM USERS AND IS THE MOST WIDELY USED RESOURCE POOL FOR ALL BEINGS FACING RISK OF INJURY.]

  The system's version of "everyone picks this for a reason, dummy."

  David pulled his hand away, breathing hard from the mana expenditure. His magic had dropped to maybe seventy percent from that single question.

  Worth it. The information crystallized his decision.

  He selected Health without hesitation, feeling the strange sensation of a new resource pool opening in his consciousness. Now he needed to research the linked attributes…

  "Come on people!" Camila's voice cut through his concentration. "We all know we're getting Health so we don't die. Let's go. There are people out there who need our help and we need to use the remaining daylight well."

  David flushed, time. It all came down to time. He reluctantly left the Obelisk and turned to see her organizing gear with military efficiency. Katie had spread out supplies on the hood of her car like a quartermaster taking inventory.

  The mundane domesticity of it created cognitive dissonance. Preparing for an apocalypse supply run like they were packing for a camping trip.

  Except camping trips didn't require weapons.

  David moved to help Katie organize the haul from the Lopez apartment and her building. A long hook ended crowbar and a machete from Mr. Lopez’s tools cellar lay on the car hood alongside an assortment of other improvised weapons. The only actual weapon they had found was the gun Carl had taken.

  "OK," Katie said, her HR organizational skills on full display. "We need to make sure everyone has something. Mark?"

  Mark picked up a solid wooden baseball bat, testing its weight with a few practice swings. "This works. Good reach, sturdy." Then he took a chisel.

  Camila claimed the aluminum bat with athletic tape wrapped around the grip she had already used. "This is mine from college. Feels right." Then she took a claw hammer that she awkwardly belted to her waist.

  Katie took a large kitchen knife and the smaller of the two hockey sticks, again a college sports option. "I'm not great with weapons, but these I understand."

  Charlie had the larger hockey stick. "I've got mine. Plus I have Firebolt…"

  David strapped on the tool belt that went with the machete, settling the sheath then thoughtfully adding a couple of sturdy screwdrivers.

  "Everyone has a primary weapon and a backup plan," he said, his analyst brain cataloging their resources. "Keep distance if possible. Don't let anything touch you. We saw what happened when Mr. Lopez made contact."

  The reminder sobered everyone. Katie unconsciously touched her shoulder where the wound had been.

  David held his hands up showing the group a couple of other tools “we should take these as well, not as weapons but we might need the tools.” The group divided the few other tools between them.

  "We're as ready as we're going to be," Camila said. She looked at Billy, still sitting with Bessie near the obelisk. "You're sure you're OK staying here?"

  Billy nodded, stroking his dog's head. "She's getting stronger. I can feel it through the bond. But she's not ready to move yet. You go help people. I'll watch things here."

  "And Sarah," Katie added, glancing at the unconscious woman.

  "And Sarah," Billy agreed. "If Carl gets back, I'll fill him in."

  They loaded into two cars. David driving the sedan he'd borrowed with Camila in the passenger seat and Charlie in the back. Mark and Katie taking Katie's Honda Civic.

  As David started the engine, his phone showed it was early afternoon. Maybe three or four hours of good daylight left.

  They needed to move fast.

  The moment they pulled out of the park's protective barrier, David's anxiety spiked like someone had injected adrenaline directly into his veins.

  The calming influence he hadn't realized he was feeling vanished like turning off a white noise machine. Suddenly every sound was too loud, every shadow a potential threat.

  His hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough to hurt.

  "You OK?" Camila asked, noticing his tension.

  "Just adjusting," David managed. "Being in the safe zone, you don't realize how much it helps until you leave."

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  Camila nodded, her own shoulders tight. "I feel it too. Like someone turned up the volume on my fear."

  The drive should have been five minutes. David stretched it to ten, driving carefully and watching for threats.

  The streets were still eerily empty. This was a snapshot of early morning, following a dramatic night, translated to now. Most people had been home.

  Asleep when the wave hit.

  They were halfway to the plaza when the smell hit first. Burned rubber and something worse underneath it.

  David slowed instinctively, his stomach tightening.

  Around the next curve, twisted metal blocked most of the road. Four or five cars had collided in a chain reaction, likely when drivers fell unconscious simultaneously.

  But that wasn't what made David's throat close.

  Fire had swept through the wreckage. The cars were gutted, blackened shells with their windows blown out. Heat had warped metal into grotesque shapes.

  And inside those shapes were lumps that had once been people.

  David pulled to the side, giving the wreckage a wide berth. The stench was overwhelming now, chemical and organic mixed into something that made his eyes water.

  "Oh God," Camila whispered.

  In the rearview mirror, David saw Mark's Civic slow to a crawl. Katie's hand was over her mouth.

  "Police cruiser," Camila said, pointing to one of the burned vehicles. The distinctive light bar on top was melted but recognizable. "They were responding to something when it happened."

  David forced himself to keep driving, navigating around the worst of the wreckage. His analyst brain wanted to process what he was seeing, catalog the tragedy.

  His emotional brain just wanted to throw up.

  "We were days too late," Camila said quietly. "Even if we'd woken up immediately, we couldn't have helped them."

  The weight of that truth settled over the car like a physical thing. How many scenes like this were scattered across the city? The country? The world?

  How many people had died in the first seconds of the mana wave, killed by the sudden loss of consciousness while driving, operating machinery, standing at the top of stairs?

  "Charlie, I need you to let me know when to turn into the plaza," David said once they were past the wreckage, needing to focus on something actionable. "Look away from that. There's nothing we can do."

  Charlie's voice came from the back seat, subdued. "Next light. Take a right."

  The plaza was a typical suburban shopping center. Anchor stores at each end, smaller shops in between, vast parking lot mostly empty at this time of day.

  They did a complete circuit first, checking for threats and opportunities. A contractor’s truck sat near the gas pumps of the 7-Eleven. A box van was parked near the loading dock of a 24-hour store.

  Potential upgrades to their transportation if they could claim them.

  "Pull up near the 7-Eleven," Camila directed. "Away from the gas pumps."

  David parked fifty feet from the store entrance. Mark pulled up beside them a moment later.

  They got out, weapons ready, fanning out like they'd discussed. The afternoon sun beat down with unseasonable warmth, making David sweat under his tool belt.

  The plaza was silent except for the soft sounds of their movement.

  Then David heard it. The whisper at the edge of perception.

  He froze, straining to hear. It was faint, directionless, like wind through leaves except there was no wind.

  The sound he'd heard before. During his initiation. In the apartment with Mr. Lopez.

  The whisper of the Nath.

  "David?" Camila looked back at him, confused by his sudden stillness.

  He waved her forward, not trusting his voice. The whisper was there, constant, but too quiet to localize.

  Maybe he was imagining it. Maybe the stress was making him hear things.

  Mark and Katie approached the 7-Eleven's front door with Charlie backing them up. Just like they'd discussed.

  The whisper grew louder.

  David's stomach dropped. It was getting stronger as they approached the store.

  "Wait," he hissed.

  Katie paused with her hand on the door handle. "What's wrong?"

  "I hear something," David said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Inside. Something's in there."

  Charlie frowned. "Bro, it's totally quiet. There's nothing to hear."

  But Katie had frozen, her head tilted. After a few seconds of silence, her eyes widened.

  A soft thunk from inside the store. Something falling from a shelf.

  The whisper in David's ears suddenly resolved into almost-words. Move. Hunger. Move.

  Not in any language he spoke, but his brain parsed meaning from the alien sounds anyway.

  "Back up," David said urgently. "Everyone back up now."

  Two figures emerged from behind a center display, visible through the store's glass front.

  Both were dressed in paint-stained work clothes and heavy boots. Construction workers, David's brain cataloged automatically.

  Both were moving on all fours. Not crawling, but up on hands and feet like animals.

  Both were clearly, unmistakably dead.

  One had a massive contusion on the side of his head, the skull visibly misshapen. The other just looked gray, his skin the color of old meat.

  They moved with jerky, uncoordinated movements that made them seem more puppet than human.

  "Charlie," David started to yell, "Firebolt…"

  Mark moved faster. He grabbed Katie and pulled her back from the door, then slammed it shut and braced his foot against the bottom to keep it closed.

  The two dead men continued their bizarre four-legged shuffle toward the door. They hit the glass beside it with wet thumps, staggering back in confusion.

  One pressed tentatively at the door, trying to rear up on its hind legs but managing only a clumsy half-stance before dropping back down.

  Mark held the door closed easily. The creatures weren't trying to break through, just pushing without strategy or strength.

  "Fight or retreat?" Mark asked, his voice surprisingly steady.

  "Madre de Dios," Camila breathed, her bat up on her shoulder. "We retreat, of course, estúpido."

  Charlie had his hands raised, ready to cast. He looked between Camila and David, uncertainty written across his face.

  David's mind raced through calculations. Two creatures. The group was armed. Charlie had Firebolt. David had Halt.

  But more than that—there could be people inside. Survivors who'd made it this far and were now trapped with these things.

  And they needed supplies. The park was woefully unprepared for the refugees that would start arriving.

  "No," David said, surprised by the certainty in his voice. "There's only two and we need supplies. Plus, there could be people in there with them."

  He raised his voice to carry to both groups. "Everyone get ready to retreat back toward the cars if needed. Don't let them touch you. Charlie, as soon as you have a clear shot use Firebolt. If we look like we're in trouble I'll use Halt. Then everyone pile in."

  To his surprise, they moved to follow his directions without argument.

  Camila shifted her grip on her bat. Katie raised her hockey stick. Mark prepared to release the door.

  "OK," David said, his heart hammering. "Let's go."

  Mark stepped back and the door swung open.

  The first dead man lunged clumsily out, its movements all wrong, like it had never learned to walk.

  Charlie's Firebolt caught it square in the back with a whoosh of heat and light.

  The creature didn't even react. It just kept moving forward, even as its clothes caught fire and the air filled with the smell of burning cotton.

  Then the smell underneath hit. Two-day-old corpse, meat left in the summer heat, the sweet-rotten stench of decay.

  David gagged, forcing down bile.

  "Again!" he shouted.

  Charlie hit it with a second Firebolt, this time catching the head as it lolled forward. The hair ignited. Skin sizzled with a sound and smell that reminded David horribly of cooking pork.

  The creature shuddered but kept coming.

  The third Firebolt ended it. The dead man dropped face-first onto the pavement, smoke rising from its burned clothes.

  "David!" Charlie's voice was shaky. "I've only got juice for two more. You want to do your thing on the second?"

  The second creature had cleared the door and was shuffling toward them with that same horrible four-legged gait.

  David stepped forward, focusing hard on the thing approaching him. Not a person anymore. Just a threat. A problem to solve.

  "Halt!"

  The word of power tore from his throat, burning mana as it shaped reality. The creature face-planted, its limbs suddenly locked.

  For a moment, no one moved.

  Then Camila screamed and charged forward, bat raised high.

  The spell broke whatever paralysis had held the group. They swarmed the downed creature with weapons rising and falling.

  David heard his own voice joining the others, wordless shouts of fear and aggression. His crowbar came down again and again, each impact sending shocks up his arms.

  The creature's movements grew weaker. Then stopped.

  Silence fell over the parking lot except for their heavy breathing.

  David's hands were shaking. His mana felt depleted, that hollow exhaustion settling into his chest.

  Then something rushed through him like the first hit of coffee on an early morning. Energy and warmth and the sharp clarity of survival.

  Experience. The system rewarding them for the kill.

  "We won," Charlie said, his voice somewhere between wonder and horror. "Holy shit, we actually won."

  Katie was breathing hard, Mark had a distant look David recognized from medical shows, the professional disconnect needed to function through trauma.

  Camila just looked grimly satisfied. "Two down. Anyone hurt?"

  They checked each other quickly. No injuries. No contact with the creatures.

  They'd done it. Fought and won against animated corpses using magic and improvised weapons.

  David looked at the 7-Eleven's open door. The promise of supplies—food, water, medical gear—waited inside.

  They'd earned this. Fought for it. Proven they could handle threats and claim resources.

  "Let's see what we've got," David said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "Stay alert. Clear each aisle before moving to the next. Shout if you see anything."

  His mana was low but at 40% he had enough to take another shot. Charlie was nearly tapped out. But they were inside now, and the store was theirs for the taking.

  David couldn't shake the feeling that it had been too easy. Two creatures, quickly handled. Almost like a tutorial encounter designed to build confidence.

  But his necromancer senses, the whispers he could hear but not fully understand, had gone quiet with the creatures' destruction. Not silent but quieter, the murmur was still there in the background.

  For now, that was enough.

  They'd survived their first real combat operation. Now to claim the loot. He had to stop himself as he started to apply video game parlance, Mark was right about one thing, he couldn’t afford to treat this like a game.

  The apocalypse was still a nightmare, but at least they were learning how to fight back.

  David stepped through the door into the dim interior of the 7-Eleven, crowbar ready, and tried not to think about how many more fights were waiting for them in the days ahead.