The building had gone quiet, but Chetan could not relax.
He stood near the balcony door with the lights turned off, staring into the darkness between the apartment blocks. Two buildings away, six figures remained where they had stopped after being refused entry. From this distance, ordinary eyes would have struggled to make out anything beyond silhouettes, but Chetan's newly enhanced perception kept pulling pieces of information from the darkness. The faint scrape of a shoe against concrete. The metallic click of something being adjusted. Low voices carried by the wind. Six separate breathing patterns, though one of them was difficult to distinguish because the man kept moving farther from the others.
Meera stood beside him, her arms folded across her chest. "They're still there?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Almost forty minutes."
She frowned. "Maybe they're just waiting for us to change our minds."
"Maybe."
Chetan did not say what his instincts were telling him. The group wasn't behaving like desperate civilians. Desperate people tended to make noise. They argued, pleaded, knocked repeatedly, or wandered around looking for another place to stay. These six had done none of those things. After leaving the gate, they had simply moved to a position from which they could watch the building.
That didn't necessarily make them enemies.
But it meant they were calculating something.
Chetan slowly turned away from the balcony. "Everyone needs to stay away from the windows tonight."
Meera nodded. "I'll tell the others."
She walked toward the corridor, but Chetan caught her wrist lightly.
"Don't make it obvious."
She looked at him.
"If they realize we're afraid of them, they'll know we've noticed them."
Meera's expression hardened slightly. "And if they attack?"
"Then we deal with it."
She studied his face for several seconds before nodding.
The apartment complex had changed dramatically in only a few days. Doors that had once been left unlocked were now barricaded. Furniture had been pushed against entrances. Residents who had barely exchanged greetings before the disaster now whispered together about food, water, weapons, and the people outside. Fear had turned strangers into temporary allies, but Chetan knew such alliances were fragile.
The six people outside were only one problem.
The larger problem was that the world was continuing to change.
He could feel it.
Every day there were fewer normal sounds and more unfamiliar ones. Birds had become strangely scarce in some areas while enormous insects appeared in others. Dogs barked differently. Stray cattle avoided roads. At night, things moved through the streets that Chetan couldn't identify.
The mutation was not stopping.
It was spreading through ecosystems.
Chetan walked into the kitchen and placed the upgraded crowbar on the table. Beside it lay the handgun, several magazines he had managed to salvage from abandoned police equipment, a knife, a flashlight, and the enhanced lizard scales he had collected earlier.
He picked up one of the scales.
The material felt completely different from ordinary animal hide. It was hard, slightly flexible, and almost unnaturally dense. He had no idea what rank it had originally possessed, but after his ability had improved it, the scale had become something closer to lightweight armor.
Chetan looked at his palm.
The Golden Touch remained one of the strangest things in his life.
He had initially thought it was a simple enhancement ability. Touch an object, improve it.
But the more he experimented, the more complicated it became.
The enhancement wasn't predictable.
Sometimes an object improved dramatically.
Sometimes it barely changed.
Sometimes nothing happened.
And biological materials were apparently included.
But living organisms were not.
He still didn't know why.
He placed the scale on the table and activated his ability.
A faint golden glow appeared beneath his fingertips.
For a moment nothing happened.
Then the familiar translucent interface appeared.
[Target detected.]
[Mutated biological material.]
[Current quality: B.]
[Enhancement attempt available.]
Chetan hesitated.
The last time he had tried improving the scale, he had gotten a significant result.
But if the enhancement failed, he didn't know whether the material would remain unchanged or deteriorate.
He decided against it.
Not tonight.
There were more important things to worry about.
He put the scale away and checked the ammunition again.
Five rounds remained in the handgun he had originally found. He had later acquired additional ammunition, but he still treated every bullet as valuable. Guns were powerful, but ammunition was finite. A weapon that could not be fed was eventually nothing more than an expensive piece of metal.
Meera returned a few minutes later.
"The residents know," she said quietly.
"About the people outside?"
"Yes. Rakesh told them."
Chetan's eyes narrowed.
"How much?"
"That there are six armed strangers watching the building."
Chetan sighed.
Rakesh.
The man had been watching him since the beginning. Chetan couldn't blame him. Everyone was suspicious now. Still, Rakesh had a habit of spreading information without understanding the consequences.
"How are they reacting?"
"Some want to let them in."
"Of course."
"Others don't."
"Good."
Meera leaned against the wall. "There's something else."
Chetan looked at her.
"Rakesh thinks you should talk to them."
"Why?"
"He says refusing them might provoke an attack."
Chetan considered that.
It wasn't an unreasonable argument.
There was a difference between being cautious and deliberately creating conflict. If six people had weapons and believed they had nothing to lose, attacking the apartment complex might be easier than finding another safe location.
But letting strangers inside simply because they threatened violence was worse.
"We'll talk to them," Chetan finally said.
Meera stared at him. "You just said we shouldn't let them in."
"We won't."
"Then why talk?"
"Because I want to know what they want."
The next morning, Chetan woke before sunrise.
His eyes opened instantly.
There had been a sound.
Not loud.
Not even particularly unusual.
A faint metallic scrape somewhere outside.
He remained motionless.
His breathing slowed.
The ability he'd gained through evolution seemed to awaken alongside him. The world gradually separated into layers.
Wind.
Distant movement.
An insect crawling along the exterior wall.
Someone sleeping in the apartment next door.
Another person shifting beneath a blanket.
And then—
Footsteps.
Three people.
Outside.
Chetan reached for the knife beside his mattress.
He waited.
The footsteps stopped.
His enhanced perception couldn't see through walls, but it gave him enough information to understand that whoever was outside had stopped near the entrance.
Then came three soft knocks.
Chetan got up.
Meera was already awake.
"You heard them?"
"Yes."
They moved toward the living room.
Another knock came.
This time louder.
"Open the gate!"
A man's voice.
Chetan recognized it.
One of the six.
The building gradually began waking. Doors opened. Whispered conversations spread through the corridor.
Chetan walked downstairs with Meera behind him.
Rakesh was already there.
He stood near the entrance with two other residents, gripping a metal pipe.
"You shouldn't go out," Rakesh whispered.
"I'm not going out."
Chetan looked through the narrow opening between the barricades.
Three men stood outside.
The other three were nowhere in sight.
That bothered him.
"Where are your friends?" Chetan called.
A man standing in front stepped closer.
He looked to be in his early thirties. His clothes were dirty, his beard several days old, and there was dried blood along his left sleeve.
"They're nearby."
"Why are you here?"
"We need shelter."
"You have weapons."
"So do you."
The man's answer came without hesitation.
Chetan studied him.
There was no immediate hostility in his voice.
But there was exhaustion.
Real exhaustion.
The man wasn't pretending to be tired. His heartbeat was elevated, but not from aggression. His breathing was irregular. One of the men behind him was favoring his right leg.
"How many people are injured?" Chetan asked.
The man hesitated.
"Two."
"What happened?"
"Mutated dogs."
Meera glanced at Chetan.
The man continued.
"We were part of a group near Pimpri. More than twenty people. Something attacked us during the night. Not dogs like the ones people knew before. These things were bigger. Faster."
His voice became quieter.
"Only six of us made it out."
Chetan didn't respond immediately.
Twenty people reduced to six.
That sounded believable.
But there was another question.
"Why come here?"
"We saw people moving around this building yesterday."
"You followed us?"
"No."
The man shook his head.
"We were looking for somewhere secure. We saw your barricades."
Chetan looked at his injured leg.
"What's your name?"
"Vikram."
"Vikram what?"
"Vikram Joshi."
Chetan nodded slowly.
"Do the others have abilities?"
Vikram's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Chetan noticed.
"Yes."
"What abilities?"
"Why?"
"Because if you stay near us, I need to know what we're dealing with."
Vikram looked at the building behind Chetan.
"Everyone has something now."
"That's not an answer."
The man sighed.
"One can manipulate heat. Another can harden his skin. One can sense movement through vibrations. The injured man can accelerate healing."
Chetan's attention sharpened.
Healing.
That ability could be extremely valuable.
But it could also be dangerous if the man had changed too much.
"Any other problems?"
Vikram looked away.
"What do you mean?"
"Mutations."
Silence.
Chetan watched him carefully.
Finally Vikram said, "One of us has started growing claws."
Rakesh immediately stepped back.
Several residents murmured.
Chetan remained calm.
"Does he still think normally?"
"Yes."
"Does he lose control?"
"No."
"Then keep him outside for now."
Vikram frowned. "What?"
"We can give you food and medicine. You can stay in the parking area for one night. Nobody enters the building until we know whether your injuries or mutations are dangerous."
Vikram stared at him.
"You expect us to sleep outside?"
"Yes."
"You think we're infected."
"I think nobody knows what this mutation does."
The answer silenced him.
Chetan wasn't accusing them.
He was simply refusing to take unnecessary risks.
After several seconds, Vikram nodded.
"Fine."
Rakesh looked surprised.
Chetan opened a small gap and pushed out two water bottles and a packet of biscuits.
"Thank you."
Vikram took them.
Before leaving, he looked at Chetan.
"You have someone here who can heal?"
Chetan said nothing.
Vikram's eyes narrowed.
"You asked about abilities."
"And?"
"You already knew what we could do."
Chetan's expression didn't change.
"I asked because I wanted information."
Vikram stared at him for another moment before turning away.
Chetan watched him walk back toward the others.
Meera whispered, "You think they're telling the truth?"
"Some of it."
"Which part is false?"
"I don't know yet."
They watched the three men disappear around the building.
Rakesh approached.
"You should have let them in."
Chetan looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because they're survivors."
"So are we."
"They could help defend this place."
"They could also take control of it."
Rakesh opened his mouth but stopped.
Chetan continued quietly.
"People don't become trustworthy because they survived."
Rakesh looked toward the gate.
"What if they attack?"
"Then we'll know we made the right decision."
The day passed without incident.
The six strangers stayed outside.
Chetan deliberately avoided watching them constantly. Obsessing over a threat could become its own weakness. Instead, he focused on improving the building.
He reinforced the rear entrance with steel.
He strengthened several locks.
He tested the warning system he had built from bottles, wire, and metal pieces.
Then he began experimenting with the biological material.
The lizard scale became his first proper test.
He touched it.
[Golden Touch activated.]
[Target: Mutated biological material.]
[Quality: B.]
[Enhancement probability calculated.]
[Enhancement successful.]
[Quality increased: B → A.]
Chetan stared.
A.
The golden glow faded.
He picked up the scale.
It had become significantly harder.
He struck it against the edge of a concrete pillar.
Nothing happened.
Again.
Still nothing.
His expression changed.
This was useful.
Very useful.
If mutated creatures continued appearing, their bodies could become the raw materials for better equipment.
He could potentially create armor.
Weapons.
Tools.
Maybe even structures capable of surviving attacks that ordinary steel couldn't withstand.
But there was a limitation.
He didn't know how much biological material he could enhance before his ability became exhausted.
And he had no idea whether higher-ranked material could even be obtained from stronger creatures.
That was something he would have to discover.
At sunset, Chetan noticed movement outside.
Not from Vikram's group.
Something else.
His Predator's Perception immediately became alert.
He stopped walking.
Meera, who was carrying a container of water, noticed.
"What?"
"Quiet."
She froze.
Chetan listened.
A distant scraping sound.
Then another.
Something was moving through the street.
Slowly.
Heavy.
Too heavy for a human.
The residents began noticing it too.
The entire building gradually fell silent.
Then came a low growl.
Chetan's skin tightened.
Another growl followed.
Closer.
He moved toward the window but didn't look directly outside.
Instead, he listened.
Four legs.
Heavy weight.
Breathing irregular.
A faint clicking sound.
Not a dog.
Not a cow.
Something unfamiliar.
Then Vikram shouted from outside.
"GET INSIDE!"
Everyone reacted at once.
The warning came with a violent crash.
Something slammed into a parked car.
Metal screamed.
Chetan's eyes widened.
His perception suddenly exploded with information.
Several heartbeats outside.
Vikram's group.
A rapidly approaching creature.
And something else—
Movement above them.
Chetan looked upward.
His instincts screamed.
"ROOF!"
The creature wasn't approaching from the street.
It was already on the building.
A massive shadow moved across the rooftop.
Then the ceiling above the stairwell shook.
Dust fell.
People screamed.
Chetan grabbed the crowbar.
Meera raised both hands.
Her breathing became controlled.
"Where?"
"Stairwell."
Another impact.
Concrete cracked.
Chetan tightened his grip.
The thing was coming down.
And this time, they had nowhere to run.