Fin hit the avenue at sixty kilometers per hour while the fresh stamina poured through his lungs.
[ Stamina: 61/100 ]
’Sixty-one points... sixty-one points buys a whole marathon,’ he thought, leaping clean over a burning trash container.
The streetlights flickered overhead, casting yellow patches across the cracked asphalt.
Two skittering monsters burst from the shattered front window of a laundromat to his left.
He didn’t slow his stride, planting his left foot and swinging his forearm in a flat arc.
The blow caught the first creature beneath its chin, snapping its neck with a sharp crack.
"Kkrrr!" The second beast shrieked, clawing desperately at his pant leg as he tore past.
He dragged it four paces, stomping his heel down onto its skull until the thrashing stopped.
[ Monster killed: skitterer (f-rank) ]
[ Monster killed: skitterer (f-rank) ]
[ Kill count: 26/10 ]
[ Stamina: 52/100 ]
A straggler lay dead beside the tram line, its ribs crushed beneath a fallen billboard.
He swiped his palm across the creature’s chest without stopping his sprint, letting the hunger drink.
[ Absorbed: endurance +3 ]
[ Stamina: 52/100 → 74/100 ]
"The system asked for ten kills," he muttered under his breath, grinning into the wind. "I delivered twenty-six... I’m basically a philanthropist."
The road narrowed as he crossed into the lower residential blocks, the buildings growing darker and closer together.
An electrical transformer exploded on a utility pole to his right, showering the sidewalk in white sparks.
He ducked his head, cutting through the smoke without losing a single fraction of his speed.
He turned onto Halden Street, his sneakers skidding across patches of grit.
A crushed shape sat near the bus stop curb, half-buried under a pile of rubble.
He slowed his pace for half a second, his heart seizing in his throat.
It was a small blue backpack with a frayed shoulder strap, the zipper holding a cartoon monster keychain.
For three years, Jolly refused every replacement, patching the bag with dental floss instead.
’Keep moving,’ he ordered himself, forcing his eyes forward toward the school gates. ’Stopping for the bag means she’s already gone... keep your damn feet moving.’
The parkour tricks vanished from his stride, replaced by pure linear velocity.
He tore across an empty intersection, ducking beneath a dangling power line that sparked against the gutter.
Two Association hunters stood near the outer perimeter barricade, their yellow vests bright against the haze.
He threaded the narrow gap between their shoulders before either man could raise a hand.
"Hey, civilian, halt!" A voice yelled behind him, the command dying instantly in the distance.
He didn’t look back, vaulting the high fence of the school courtyard with a single leap.
The playground sat empty under the dark sky, scattered with abandoned lunchboxes and torn notebooks.
A second gate fissure opened above the gymnasium roof, spilling green smoke across the soccer field.
He ignored the smoke, his eyes locking onto the third-floor windows of the main academic wing.
The lights in classroom 3B remained dark, but a faint silhouette moved behind the curtains.
He assessed the facade in a fraction of a second, mapping every window ledge, drainpipe, and air conditioner unit.
His sneakers gripped the tarmac as he calculated the launch path from the bike rack below.
’Third floor, nine meters up,’ he calculated, his pulse pounding in his ears like war drums. ’I have the strength now. I have to make this landing.’
He gathered his momentum across twenty meters of pavement, his thighs coiling with raw kinetic power.
He sprinted at maximum speed toward the bike rack, his sneakers digging into the ground, ready to launch his whole weight skyward.
He stomped onto the tubular frame, the metal groaning under his full momentum as he hurled himself upward toward the third-story sill.
The wall raced beneath him as he turned his right shoulder toward the window, bracing for the impact.
Inside the classroom, Jolly sat beneath a row of shelves, counting softly under her breath.
"Twelve kids," she whispered, her fingernails digging into the fabric of her knees. "Two exits... one teacher bleeding on the floor."
Numbers always behaved when the rest of the world fell apart, offering clean borders in the dark.
Mr. Sefu leaned against the base of the chalkboard, a torn shirt pressed against his side.
He slid in and out of consciousness, his lips moving without making any audible sound.
"Jolly..." Mr. Sefu murmured faintly, trying to lift his head from the floor. "Keep the door blocked... don’t let anyone open it..."
"I know, Mr. Sefu," she replied softly, adjusting the coat draped over his trembling shoulders. "Rest now... response teams will arrive soon."
The small children around her huddled together, shivering in the draft blowing through the broken transom.
"Stay down, everyone," she instructed in a soft whisper, glancing toward the first-years behind the podium. "Nobody makes a sound... nobody stands up."
Beside her sneaker lay the assignment sheet from fifth period, titled ’Draw Your Favorite Hero.’
That afternoon, she drew her brother holding a sword against a monster.
The green crayon smudged beneath her sneaker when she shifted toward her teacher.
Her brother packed boxes for a living, but television heroes always carried swords.
’He’s probably still at the food plant,’ she thought, adjusting her glasses with a trembling finger. ’Packing protein boxes... complaining about his sore wrists...’
A violent crash shuddered through the hallway outside, shaking plaster dust from the ceiling tiles.
The first tremor cracked the frame, leaving the classroom door unable to latch.
A stack of three student desks leaned against the panels, trembling with every blow from the corridor.
A first-year boy near the back row began to panic, his shoes squeaking against the floor.
"Shh," she warned across the aisle, holding two fingers in the air. "Count the desks... count the windows..."
The door splintered with a splintering crack, the top desk tumbling over into the aisle.
An orc squeezed through the broken frame, tusks dripping dark foam onto the floor.
The panicking first-year jumped up with a loud shriek, bolting straight toward the open doorway.
"No, get down!" She screamed, throwing herself across the floor to intercept him.
She grabbed the boy by his collar, hurling his small body behind the bookshelf.
The movement left her standing in the center aisle, trapped in the monster’s direct line of sight.
"Graaaar!" The orc bellowed, its yellow eyes locking onto her small frame instantly.
The creature closed the distance in two strides, its thick green fingers clamping around her upper arm.
The grip lifted her clean off her sneakers, her feet dangling in the air.
"Aahh!" She cried out, pain shooting through her shoulder as the monster squeezed.
The other children began screaming her name from beneath their desks, crying in helpless terror.
She stared at the monster’s tusks, tears finally cutting through the dust on her cheeks.
There was nobody left to be brave for, her small store of numbers suddenly running empty.
The monster raised its rusted cleaver with a cruel grin, preparing to swing the blade downward.
’Big brother would know the count,’ she thought, closing her eyes as the blade caught the moonlight.
"BIG BROTHER!" She screamed with every ounce of air remaining in her chest.