The roar that had echoed across Pune kept Chetan awake for most of the night. It came only three more times, each from a different direction, and every time the sound traveled through the darkness it seemed to carry farther than before. He never saw whatever had produced it again, but he didn't need to. The sheer depth of the sound was enough to convince him that the creature moving somewhere beyond the buildings was far larger than anything he had encountered. He spent the remaining hours sitting near the window with the curtains partially closed, listening to the occasional crash of metal, distant screams that ended almost as quickly as they began, and the restless movement of animals in the streets. Around three in the morning, a particularly loud impact shook several windows in the building. Chetan instinctively reached for the crowbar, but nothing followed. Eventually exhaustion overcame caution, and he slept for a few hours.
When he woke, sunlight was already entering through the curtains. The first thing he noticed was the silence. It wasn't the peaceful silence of an ordinary morning. There were no horns, no conversations drifting upward from the street, no vendors calling to customers, and no constant background noise from traffic. Pune had always been alive, even at dawn. Now it felt as if someone had switched the city off. Chetan washed his face, drank some water, and stood in front of the mirror for several seconds. He looked almost the same as he had before the outbreak. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, a few scratches on his arms, and a healing cut along his ribs, but otherwise nothing had changed. Yet he knew better than anyone that appearance could be misleading.
He had killed three mutated creatures in the past two days.
He had seen a human being transform into something monstrous.
He had witnessed awakened abilities.
And yesterday, after killing the enormous mutated animal, he had received another strange message about adaptation.
Chetan opened his notebook and stared at the number he had written down.
Adaptation potential: 1.4%.
The previous day it had been 0.7%.
That meant something.
He didn't know whether the increase came from killing mutated creatures, exposure to their blood, the mutation itself, or some hidden mechanism within his body. He considered trying to touch one of the corpses he had left behind, but immediately dismissed the idea. The body of the mutated cow-like creature was probably already being discovered by other people, and he had no interest in experimenting with potentially infectious biological material inside his apartment.
Instead, he focused on something he could test safely.
Himself.
Chetan placed his palm against his forearm.
Nothing happened.
He concentrated.
Still nothing.
He tried again.
[Quality Enhancement cannot target living organisms.]
The message disappeared.
"So that's one limit."
He wasn't disappointed. In fact, he was relieved. If Golden Touch could enhance living beings, there was no telling what would happen if he accidentally used it on himself. At least now he knew the ability was restricted to objects.
He returned to his table and looked at the items he had collected over the previous two days. The handgun sat beside the knife, while the crowbar leaned against the wall. A portable power bank, several flashlights, batteries, rope, tools, canned food, medicine, and various pieces of equipment filled the table and floor. His apartment was slowly beginning to resemble a survival shelter rather than a home.
He picked up the handgun.
Unlike the crowbar, the weapon made him uncomfortable.
Chetan checked the magazine and examined it carefully. Five rounds remained. He had no idea how many more bullets he could find, and ammunition was not something he could manufacture easily. He briefly wondered whether Golden Touch could enhance ammunition, but decided not to waste any. A better-quality bullet might become more powerful, but he couldn't know whether the improvement would make it unstable.
Instead, he focused on the handgun itself.
[Quality Enhancement activated.]
Golden light spread across his fingers.
The notification appeared.
[Enhancement failed.]
Chetan tried again.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
On the fourth attempt, the golden light became brighter.
[Enhancement successful.]
[Quality increased: D → C.]
He carefully inspected the handgun.
The change wasn't obvious, but the mechanism felt smoother when he checked it. The metal appeared slightly more refined, and the weapon seemed sturdier in his hands.
Chetan placed it back on the table.
His next experiment involved the motorcycle.
He had left it parked in the building's lower parking area after bringing it back the previous day. The battery was weak, but the engine was still functional after his enhancement. He carried a small tool kit downstairs and began checking the machine.
After several minutes, he found several damaged components.
He touched one.
[Quality Enhancement activated.]
[Enhancement successful.]
The component improved.
Another attempt.
Failed.
Another.
Failed.
Chetan worked slowly, enhancing only what appeared damaged or unreliable. By the time he finished, the motorcycle looked almost new. He turned the ignition.
The engine roared immediately.
Chetan smiled.
That was valuable.
A functioning vehicle meant greater mobility, but it also created a new problem.
Fuel.
He had perhaps enough for a limited number of trips.
If petrol stations were still operating, he could collect fuel, but transporting large quantities would be dangerous.
He switched off the motorcycle and returned upstairs.
His mother called shortly afterward.
Chetan answered immediately.
"Ma?"
Her voice came through weakly.
"Where are you?"
"At home."
"You're safe?"
"Yes."
There was a pause.
"Your father wants you to stay where you are."
Chetan closed his eyes.
His father had always been practical. If he was telling Chetan to remain in Pune, he probably understood how dangerous the roads had become.
"How are things there?" Chetan asked.
"Bad."
"Any problems?"
"Animals."
Chetan became silent.
His mother continued, "Not normal animals. Yesterday a buffalo attacked the neighbor's house. It broke through the gate like it was nothing."
Chetan remembered the creature he had fought.
"Stay inside," he said. "Lock everything."
"We are."
"Don't open the door for strangers."
"Your uncle's family came yesterday."
"Are they staying with you?"
"Yes."
Chetan relaxed slightly.
More people meant more mouths to feed, but family was different.
Then his mother asked the question he had been avoiding.
"What happened to the world?"
Chetan looked out the window.
"I don't know."
"Will things return to normal?"
He couldn't bring himself to lie.
"I don't think so."
Silence filled the call.
His mother finally whispered, "Then come home when you can."
"I will."
He ended the call and remained seated for several minutes.
He wanted to go.
Every instinct told him to get on the motorcycle and drive toward his family immediately.
But the journey from Pune to their location would expose him to hundreds of kilometers of unknown roads. Bridges could be blocked. Fuel could be unavailable. Mutated creatures could be anywhere. Armed groups might control highways. He could die before reaching them.
If he wanted to protect his family, he needed to become stronger first.
That realization hurt.
But it was reality.
By late morning, Chetan decided to leave the apartment again.
He wasn't looking for food this time.
He wanted a generator.
If the electricity had already failed in his building, the situation would only worsen. A generator could keep his refrigerator, lights, communication equipment, and potentially other machines functioning. More importantly, if he could enhance one, its usefulness could become enormous.
He rode the motorcycle through quieter streets, keeping his speed moderate. The city looked even more damaged than the previous day. Several buildings had broken windows, and some roads were blocked by abandoned vehicles. A few shops had been completely stripped. On one street, Chetan saw a group of people dragging furniture from an apartment building to create a barricade.
Nobody stopped him.
That was fortunate.
He reached a hardware and electrical market after nearly forty minutes.
The place had been heavily looted.
Most shelves were empty, but Chetan found what he needed in the back of a shop: two portable generators, several fuel containers, extension cables, batteries, and electrical tools.
He loaded the smaller generator onto his motorcycle.
Then he noticed footsteps.
Not his own.
Chetan froze.
The sound came from inside the shop.
Someone was there.
He slowly reached for the crowbar.
"Who's there?"
No response.
Chetan moved toward the rear of the shop.
A metal shelf suddenly toppled over.
He stepped backward.
A young man emerged from behind it holding a large wrench.
"Stay back."
Chetan raised his free hand.
"I'm leaving."
The young man looked at the generator.
"You took that."
"Yes."
"We need it."
Chetan studied him.
"How many of you?"
"Five."
"Where?"
"Nearby."
The answer came too quickly.
Chetan didn't trust him.
"Then take the other one."
The young man's expression changed.
"You don't want it?"
"I only need one."
The man looked at him suspiciously.
"Why?"
"Because I'm not interested in fighting over a generator."
Before either could say more, something crashed through the front of the shop.
Both men turned.
A creature landed among the debris.
It looked like a monkey, but only in the broadest sense.
Its arms were enormous, its fingers had become hooked claws, and its body was covered in dark patches of hardened skin. Its eyes were unnaturally bright.
The young man cursed.
The creature attacked.
Chetan swung the crowbar.
The monkey-like creature caught it.
Chetan's eyes widened.
It was strong.
Far stronger than the mutated dog.
The creature pulled.
Chetan lost his grip.
The young man struck it with the wrench.
The blow barely affected it.
The creature turned toward him.
Chetan grabbed a metal pipe from the floor and attacked its knee.
The creature stumbled.
"Run!" Chetan shouted.
The young man didn't argue.
Both rushed toward the back entrance.
The creature recovered quickly and followed.
They escaped into an alley.
Chetan and the young man ran several dozen meters before stopping.
The creature didn't follow them.
Instead, it remained inside the shop.
The young man leaned against the wall.
"What the hell was that?"
Chetan looked toward the building.
"Another mutation."
"You've fought one before?"
"Yes."
The man stared at him.
"How many?"
Chetan ignored the question.
The man lowered the wrench.
"I'm Arjun."
"Chetan."
"Do you have an ability?"
Chetan hesitated.
"Yes."
Arjun looked relieved.
"Good. Mine is physical enhancement."
He tightened his hand.
For a moment, the muscles in his arm visibly expanded.
"I can temporarily increase my strength."
Chetan nodded.
That explained why the man had been able to strike the creature without immediately being thrown aside.
"What's yours?"
Chetan looked at him.
"I'll tell you later."
Arjun laughed.
"Fair enough."
A strange explosion sounded in the distance.
Both men looked toward the skyline.
A column of smoke rose between two buildings.
Arjun's expression became serious.
"This place is getting worse every hour."
Chetan looked toward the hardware shop.
The generator was still inside.
"I need that."
Arjun stared at him.
"You're going back?"
"Yes."
"You're crazy."
"Probably."
Chetan returned to the shop alone.
The creature was still there.
It had climbed onto a shelf and was feeding on something.
Chetan waited.
The moment it turned away, he grabbed the crowbar from the floor and moved silently behind it.
He struck the back of its knee.
The creature screamed.
Chetan struck again.
The creature fell.
He attacked relentlessly until it stopped moving.
The notification appeared.
[Mutated organism defeated.]
[Mutation energy detected.]
[Adaptation potential increased.]
[Current adaptation potential: 3.1%]
Chetan stared.
Three percent.
His suspicion was becoming stronger.
Killing mutated organisms seemed to be increasing something inside him.
He didn't understand what adaptation meant, but if the process continued, perhaps another change would eventually occur.
He looked at the dead creature.
Then at his own hands.
Maybe this was how humans were going to survive.
Not by remaining human.
But by changing.
Chetan collected the generator and returned to his motorcycle.
He found Arjun waiting outside with his group.
There were four other people.
Two men and two women.
One of the women had a bleeding cut across her forehead.
Arjun looked at the generator.
"You got it."
Chetan nodded.
One of the men immediately asked, "What ability do you have?"
Chetan smiled faintly.
"Something useful."
The man frowned.
"That's not an answer."
"No."
Arjun stepped between them.
"Leave it."
Chetan appreciated that.
Before leaving, Arjun said, "If you're staying in Pune, we may meet again."
"Probably."
Chetan started the motorcycle.
As he rode away, he glanced once at the group.
They weren't enemies.
Not yet.
But the world was changing.
Soon, people would begin choosing sides.
By the time Chetan reached his apartment, his adaptation percentage had risen again.
3.4%.
He sat alone in the dark room, staring at the number.
Something was happening inside his body.
He could feel it now.
Not pain.
Not yet.
It was more like a faint pressure beneath his skin, a strange sensation that seemed to move through his muscles and bones whenever he concentrated on it.
Chetan closed his eyes.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then his heart suddenly pounded.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
A wave of heat spread through his body.
He opened his eyes.
Golden light flickered across his vision.
[Adaptation threshold approaching.]
Chetan's breathing stopped.
Another notification appeared.
[Genetic adaptation has begun.]
[Current adaptation: 4.0%]
[Potential evolutionary trait detected.]
Chetan stared at the words.
For the first time since the apocalypse began, he wasn't looking at something he had acquired.
He was looking at something that was becoming part of him.
And he had no idea what he would become when the process was complete.