Arya stepped out of the narrow alley onto the main street, slow and deliberate. The air here was wider... but it wasn't lighter.
Dust still drifted in the gray morning light. The wind slipped between the buildings with a long, mournful whistle, as if filling the void the people had left behind.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4nru9NLXG6
She paused.
She looked back toward the alley mouth she had just emerged from. Minutes ago... she had been fighting there. That ground had been an arena of life and death against two monsters. Rank F.
Her hand tightened slightly, without thought.
There was no sense of victory. What was growing inside her chest, quiet and steady, was something else.
Confidence.
Not reckless confidence. Calm confidence.
The Shadow had leveled up. And she had become faster in her thinking under the pressure of a kill. But that feeling hadn't erased the tension still coiled in her nerves. Her eyes kept sweeping—the windows, the abandoned cars, the distant rooftops.
Silence in this new world wasn't comfort. It was a quiet warning.
After several more steps, she could finally see the shop at the end of the street. An old, weathered sign hung above the door, swaying slightly with the wind, letting out a faint creak.
Tool Shop
But what seized Arya's attention wasn't the sign—it was the door. The original glass doors were no longer visible.
In their place, thick wooden planks had been nailed across the entrance. Some were uneven, as if fixed in a hurry. Old iron bars had been set crosswise behind them—a clear, desperate attempt to turn the entry into a crude barrier.
The front windows were no better. The glass was broken in several places, but behind the gaps, matching planks were braced from the inside.
A crude fortress... Arya thought. Not well crafted, but it was obvious that whoever was inside had tried to seal the place fast.
She approached slowly. Every step measured.
And before she could close the last five steps—
Something moved near the door.
Two men emerged from the side of the entrance. Both carried crude weapons. The first held a small axe that looked like it had been taken straight from the shop's shelves. The second gripped a long iron pipe in both hands.
Arya stopped immediately. She didn't raise her weapon. But she didn't move closer either.
The two men exchanged a quick glance. Then one of them swept his eyes over her from head to toe—his gaze sharp. Tense.
He spoke in a low voice, but firm. "Stop right there."
Arya obeyed. She stayed several paces from the door. Their eyes weren't welcoming. Not fully hostile... but a long way from comfortable.
The man with the iron pipe scanned the empty road behind her, then brought his eyes back with a direct question. "Are you alone?"
Arya didn't answer right away. She was reading them. Ordinary clothes. Exhaustion clear in their eyes. But most importantly—neither of them looked injured.
She said it calmly. "Yes."
The two men looked again—past her, toward the empty street, then toward the alley she had come from. One of them furrowed his brow. "Where did you come from?"8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXqqy0P6z19
Arya nodded back toward the alley behind her. "From there."
A short silence. As if the word was hard to believe. Then the man whispered, slow, "...There are monsters there."
Arya's expression didn't shift. "I know."
The two men exchanged another look. This time it wasn't just tension. It was clear surprise. The one with the pipe stared at her again, his eyes a little wider.
A girl. Alone. Walking out of an alley full of monsters. Looking neither afraid... nor wounded.
His gaze dropped for a moment to her clothes... then to her hands. No blood. No wounds. He raised his eyes again, slow.
The surprise on his face sharpened. "You..." He paused, then added, his voice altered, "...Nothing followed you?"
Behind Arya, the street was still silent. The alley had let out nothing but the wind. But the guards' looks had shifted now. It was no longer just caution. Now it was curiosity.
A brief silence hung between Arya and the two men. Then the one holding the iron pipe cleared his throat. "I'm Samer." He gestured with his chin toward the other man. "This is Hussam."8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwbPnpWaLxA
Hussam raised the axe slightly in a quick greeting, but his eyes kept tracking Arya with open wariness.
Arya hesitated a beat. Then she said, calm, "Arya."
The three of them exchanged looks for a moment.
Samer asked, "You're from the neighborhood?"
Arya nodded. "Yes."8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7p0awh1Mbu
Hussam took half a step forward—just half—still gripping the axe. "We haven't seen you before."
She answered simply, "I don't go out much."
Another short silence.
Then Samer lowered his voice. "The situation outside... it's bad." Arya glanced toward the street behind her. "I saw."
Hussam hesitated, then asked, "Did you run into... one of those things?"
Arya answered without inflection. "Two."
Both men's eyebrows rose at once. They didn't comment. But the quick glance that passed between them said enough.
Finally, Samer exhaled. "At least you're not hurt."
He stepped closer and gestured toward the entrance. "We just have to be sure."
Arya didn't move. She extended her arms slightly, and Hussam inspected her quickly—her arms, her neck, her face.
No wounds. No scratches. No bites.
He lowered the axe at last.
"Clean."8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvRhVuQmtIt
Samer breathed out slowly. Then he knocked twice on the wooden plank behind him. A soft sound answered from inside. One of the boards shifted slightly—a small, temporary door.
Samer said, "Come in."
Arya stepped toward the entrance. Before she crossed the threshold, Hussam cast one last look toward the street... then the alley. Nothing moved.
He sealed the board behind her.
---
The moment Arya stepped inside, the light dimmed.
The atmosphere inside the shop was completely unlike the street outside. The air was heavier. An old smell filled the place—aged wood, settled dust, the stale sweat of frightened people... and beneath it, a faint metallic tang. Maybe from the tools. Maybe from dried blood.
The shop wasn't lit by electricity. Instead, a few candles had been set out on tables and crates. In one corner, a handheld flashlight rested on a high shelf, throwing a pale beam across the room.
Arya's eyes moved slowly as she entered. Shelves of tools. Crates of nails. Blacksmithing equipment.
But what seized her attention most wasn't the space. It was the sounds. Whispers. Shifting feet. Uneven breaths.
The shop wasn't empty.
The first faces emerged from the shadows: a man sitting against the wall, a woman clutching a small child, a young man standing near the shelves and staring at her with open curiosity.
They were all watching. Quiet murmurs began to ripple through the group.
A teenage girl...
...Someone new.
Did she come alone?
...Is she strong?
...Did she face a monster on the way?
The road was safe?
Maybe she just got lucky...8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡapZ95NTjwQ
Arya stopped for a second just inside the entrance. She didn't move further. She was counting—one... two... three... maybe ten. Maybe fifteen people inside the shop.
The fear in the air was clear. Not loud panic—silent fear. The kind that sits in people's chests and makes them whisper instead of speak.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡizgEBLkb74
Then, abruptly, the whispering stopped.
A middle-aged man stepped toward her. His features were familiar. Arya paused, then recognized him. Uncle Jad.
"Arya?"
His voice was worn down by exhaustion, but it carried a note of relief he couldn't quite hide. He moved toward her quickly, the candlelight catching the fresh lines worry had carved into his face over the past hours.
He stopped in front of her and studied her intently, as if making sure she was real. "You're late... I thought..." He didn't finish. But his eyes—scanning her clean clothes, her steady posture—said more than the sentence ever could.
Arya looked around at the pale faces watching her, then brought her gaze back to Jad and asked, quiet, "I'm here now. What's the situation?"
Before Jad could answer, the silence was cut by slow footsteps from the direction of the tables in the shop's center. Heavy military boots. A sound that didn't match the terror of the people around them.
A young man emerged—late twenties, dark hair slightly disheveled, his features carrying that unmistakable brand of confidence. Or maybe arrogance.
But what seized Arya's attention wasn't his face. It was the weapon in his hand.
Not a household axe. Not an iron pipe like the guards carried. It was a long metal baton studded with spiked heads, a faint blue glow coiling around it. The shaft was darker than ordinary steel. The edges of the heads looked far too sharp—like nothing that had come from a hardware store.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHYfA1kJAAN
Arya's eyes narrowed. A single thought ran through her mind: Loot. Dropped from a monster.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCtpGQaemGo
The young man approached slowly until he stopped beside the table. The way people looked at him made it clear his presence mattered here. Some edged back slightly. Others went still.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWVJRQ7eR4S
He looked at Jad. "So. This is her?"
Jad lifted his gaze. "Yes."
The young man tilted his head, looking Arya over from top to bottom with open condescension, then turned back to Jad. "This is the girl you had us all waiting for, Jad? A lost teenager?"8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2H8GY75dLS
Arya ignored his tone. But her eyes tracked him precisely. She noted the tight grip on the baton. The way he distributed his weight over his feet.
Jad answered evenly, trying to smooth the edges. "This is Arya. Our neighbor's daughter. An old friend."
The young man smiled—faint, and it didn't come near his eyes. Then he looked straight at Arya. "Cam." He said his name simply, but his tone carried something else. Confidence. And maybe the assumption that he was the one in charge here.
Cam stepped toward Arya, trying to press his authority through sheer physical presence. "Arya, huh? Tell me, little girl—how did you get here with clothes this clean? Were you hiding behind dumpsters the whole way?"
It wasn't curiosity. It was an interrogation. Arya recognized it instantly.
She looked at him with calm. "I walked."
Cam's eyebrow rose slightly. Some of the people in the back exchanged quick glances. Cam said, "The street isn't empty."
Arya didn't change her expression. "I didn't say it was."
He studied her for another second. Then, "You saw monsters?"
Arya didn't hesitate. "Yes."
"And?" He leaned slightly against the table.
Arya went quiet for a short moment. Not because she had no answer—because she was thinking. Her eyes shifted slightly. Not just at him—at his hand gripping the baton, at his stance, at the way the people around them were watching.
He's trying to measure my strength, she thought. Or he wants to know if I'm a problem.
She lowered her gaze slightly. And before she could speak, someone else did.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPotrnnyvbY
"Maybe she avoided them."
She didn't deny it.
Cam stared at her for two seconds, then let out a short, sharp laugh. He looked over at Samer and Hussam by the door. "You hear that? She avoided the monsters! Looks like you've got luck beyond our imagination, miss. You made it here simply because you didn't run into a single monster face-to-face. Otherwise, you'd be a corpse in that alley right now."
Lucky, then, the people thought. A few nodded in the back.
Yeah, that makes more sense. A teenage girl walking alone in the street—definitely just lucky.
Cam turned to the rest of the room, as if delivering a performance. "Since we're all spending the night together, let's get to know the new 'lucky one.' I'm Cam, and I'm supposed to be responsible for organizing this group and assigning tasks."
He spun the baton idly between his fingers. "Most of the people who went out there... didn't come back." He gestured vaguely around the shop. "That's why we're here."
Arya scanned the room again. The group was clearer now: a woman in her thirties holding a small child, a bald, middle-aged man sitting near the crates, a thin young man standing by the shelves, an elderly man seated on an old chair.
Cam caught her glance and spoke louder. "Alright." He gestured toward the people. "Since we're staying in the same place..."
He cleared his throat. "...Let's start with introductions."
He pointed to the bald man first. "This is Fouad." The man raised a hand in silent greeting.
Then to the woman. "Layla... and her son." The woman nodded, self-conscious.
To the thin young man. "Malek." The young man lifted his hand quickly.
To the elderly man. "Uncle Raed." The old man nodded, slow.
A few more names were spoken, rapid and low. Arya didn't memorize them all. She was watching something else.
Cam.
The way he stood. The way he spoke. The way people looked at him.
Not an official leader, she thought. But everyone acts like he is.
Finally, Cam brought his eyes back to her.
"And you?" he said.
"Arya." She repeated her name. Simple.
He paused, then glanced at her small bag.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvXXceNarjV
"Do you have anything useful?"
A question that looked casual on the surface. Arya understood it immediately. Equipment. Inside her bag was the Reinforced Leather Armor. The kind of thing that could cause trouble here.
She gave a faint smile and shook her head. "No."
Cam watched her for two seconds, as if trying to read her face. Then he shrugged. "Fine."8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTFwyRSVsKy
He added, in a tone that was almost a sneer, "As long as you're lucky enough to walk among monsters without one of them touching you..." He twirled the baton lightly. "...Maybe you don't need anything."8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcU8REhVnki
A few people chuckled, soft and nervous. Arya didn't laugh. She just looked at him, calm.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡztDYOq7HDE
Inside her mind, one thought sat still and cold.
He thinks luck is the reason...
Her eyes flicked for an instant to the baton in his hand.
Good.
A short silence followed. The whispers started up again, low and uneasy. But Cam didn't take his eyes off her. He kept watching—like he was turning something over in his head.
Then he pushed himself off the table. One step only. The sound of his boot on the wooden floor cut through the quiet.
He looked directly at Arya and spoke, his tone more serious now. "By the way..."
The whispers stopped. Several pairs of eyes shifted toward them. Cam lifted the baton slightly over his shoulder.
Then he asked, flat and simple, "What's your power?"
The room went still.
He added, holding her gaze, "We're trying to put together a survival plan here. It would be good to know... what you can do."8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡX2BwweybDu
Everyone's eyes turned to Arya.
Some curious. Some tense.
And some... doubting.
Arya opened her mouth to answer—
---8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfXTOCmA3eK
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