# Chapter 7: Plans of choices
The harsh scent of antiseptic tore through the heavy stench of sweat and copper.
Michael winced slightly as a jagged piece of medical tape was pressed firmly against his upper arm. The deep bite wound from the sixth Hound-Fox had finally stopped its bleeding, now packed with sterile gauze from one of the University of Vienna’s wall-mounted first-aid kits. His forearm scratch, a shallow souvenir from the fifth Hound-Fox, had been hastily wiped down and wrapped.
„That’s the best we can do with what’s in the boxes,“ Julian said. He wiped a streak of monster blood from his own forehead with the back of his hand. „There are no magic potions here. I hope we will get some soon. Just standard university first aid kits must do it until then.“
„It’s enough for now,“ Michael replied, not mentioning his thoughts about auto heal through level ups.
He flexed his left hand experimentally. The fingers moved, but a dull throb pulsed through his bicep. The adrenaline crash was fully setting in now, leaving his limbs feeling like lead weights.
The Audimax—the Large Lecture Hall—was a tomb of concrete and wood. Because it was an interior room designed deep within the historic building of the University of Vienna, there were no windows looking out onto the Ringstraße or the inner courtyards. They were completely blind. The only connection to the outside world was the muffled, periodic scratching against the heavy oak doors and the distant, echoing screams bouncing through the stone corridors.
„We can’t stay here,“ Julian murmured, casting a sharp look up at the tiered rows.
The comment immediately drew the attention of several students sitting nearby. Within minutes, a localized debate began to ripple outward through the lower tiers.
„Are you insane?“ a pale, bespectacled student from the third row hissed, clutching his blue holographic screen like a shield. „The doors are barred. Look at what happened to the people who ran out early—they were shredded! We need to wait. The federal government, the police, the army … someone has to be coming.“
„We tried calling them!“ a girl from a few rows higher shouted, her voice trembling as she held up a glowing smartphone. „The signal bars are literally full. The phone lines are active. The internet is working perfectly—I can see the Google landing page, but absolutely no one is answering the emergency lines. No one is posting on social media. There are no news updates. It’s just… blank.“
The crowd murmured in anxious confusion. The full signal bars and working internet only made the silence on the other end feel even more wrong.
„If the phones work but no one answers, we can’t afford to just sit here and guess why,“ Julian shot back, seizing the moment to redirect the panic. „Look at your interface. A System initialized. We cannot assume help is on the way. There are three hundred of us in this room, and if we sit here and wait, we aren’t surviving.“
Michael remained leaning against the splintered desk, his eyes half-closed but his mind hyper-focused. He let Julian handle the talking; the man was naturally good at calming people down.
„We don’t even know what’s out there,“ another voice called out, trembling. „We’re blind.“
„Exactly,“ Michael intervened, his calm, clinical tone cutting through the rising panic. „Which means information is what we need most right now. Right now, we’re not moving at all. But the things outside are likely killing, and growing in numbers. The longer we wait, the further behind we fall.“
Julian nodded in agreement. „We’re not going out looking for a fight. We’re just taking a careful look around. We check the halls close to us, see what the building looks like out there, and look for other survivors who might still be holding out somewhere. Looking around and finding people comes first. Fighting is only if we have to, understood?“
The logic was harsh, but undeniable. The crushing reality of their situation left no room for romantic notions of heroism; it just came down to being practical.
„Everyone,“ Julian roared, his voice bouncing off the high ceiling. „Summon your weapons. Now!“
They listened to him and opened their inventories. One by one, long shafts of ash wood tipped with crude iron blades materialized into tens of hands.
Julian didn’t waste time. He took charge of the crowd and began splitting the three hundred students into groups.
„We need discipline and mobility, not a disorganized mob,“ Julian explained, laying out his plan. „We’re splitting into exactly seven teams. You guys need to work together if you want to survive. Don’t argue over unnecessary things that could cost your lives.“
Six of the teams were assigned to different areas near the main entrances, roughly forty to fifty students each, led by the few people who had managed to stay calm during the first wave.
„Michael,“ Julian said, turning back to him. „You’re the strongest fighter we have. Can you lead a team on your own and head up front?“
Michael didn’t object. He looked at the group forming around him. Two of the students who had stood on the front lines with him during the initial Hound-Fox assault stepped forward, their spears held with noticeably steadier grips than the others. They were the closest thing this room had to veterans. The rest of his small team was filled out by a dozen unranked students—frightened, but quiet enough to follow orders.
„Just look for survivors and other portals, gather information and survive with your team. That would be enough,“ Julian said quietly to Michael, away from the others.
„Got it. They’ll stay alive if they listen,“ Michael replied smoothly.
He took a step away and called up his status window one last time before the threshold. His 5 unassigned attribute points and 1 skill point remained safely hoarded. His Level 2 status was a meager comfort, and his progress sat firmly at 20 out of 50 XP. He needed thirty more points for Level 3. The desire to spend the points was there, a nagging itch to bolster his low 5 Strength and 5 Vitality, but his elite 10 Willpower overruled the impulse. *Not yet,* he reminded himself. *Not until I see what the world looks like outside these four walls. And not before I get my class.*
At the main entrance, the heavy wooden bars were slowly, carefully slid back by the students Julian had posted at the door. A sliver of the darkened, blood-splattered corridor outside became visible, smelling heavily of iron and something distinctly sulfurous.
The first two teams moved out into the wings, their spears leveled in a defensive phalanx to check the area around them.
Michael gripped his iron-tipped spear and gave a brief nod to the two fighters at his flanks, stepped past the threshold of the Audimax, and led his team out into the quiet, predatory shadows of the University of Vienna.