The tension in the cramped air of the computer lab was thick enough to cut with a blade. The metallic stench of dried blood mingled with the lingering smell of dust and ozone. In the corner, atop a cleared counter, Pierre's breathing was a shallow, ragged rasp.
Ângela took a step forward. The Carcará bone helm adjusted to her face's anatomy with gruesome precision; the predator's hollow eye sockets reflected the dim light of the room, stripping her figure of any remaining humanity. She stared at Allisson and fired without a shred of emotional filter:
"I am a doctor, not a babysitter, Allisson. Pierre is in a metabolic coma from depletion. If he doesn't get nutrient-rich food, he dies. If we stay locked in here out of fear of the cafeteria, we starve to death in two days. What is your grand strategy? Sit around waiting? Hunt one of those abominations in the hallway to eat rotten flesh? Or go looting backpacks searching for a forgotten protein bar?"
Allisson slammed the shaft of his improvised spear against the concrete floor. The joints in his regenerated arms popped, a dull ache burning beneath the skin freshly stitched together by [Metabolic Stimulation].
"Going to the cafeteria is suicide!" Allisson countered, his voice sharp with rational dread, though kept low so as not to echo down the hallway. "We were almost wiped out by a Level 6 Carcará. What do you think will happen if we run into two or three Level 8 or 10 horrors?"
In flashes of agonizing clarity, Allisson's mind projected the image he had witnessed through the glass of the previous block: a colossal Mutant Mantis, its olive-green carapace gleaming like razor blades. The creature had sliced through three students who possessed powerful active skills. It hadn't been a battle; it was a one-sided slaughter that lasted seconds. Their bodies had been cleaved in two before any Skill or barrier could even be activated.
Allisson took a step forward, shielding the group with his own body:
"I am not going to lead my students straight to their deaths."
Ângela didn't back down a single millimeter. Her voice echoed, amplified and muffled behind the Carcará bone structure, with glacial coldness:
"We were teachers yesterday, Allisson. Today we are walking carcasses of XP trying not to become the next predator's meal. You started this apocalypse focused purely on survival. When did you forget that and decide to play hero with other people's lives?"
The impact of her words hit Allisson like a physical blow to the stomach. Under the cold, analytical influence of [Until the End], the critique was stripped of ego or pride: Ângela was absolutely right.
The memory of the first hours of Year Zero surfaced in Allisson’s consciousness. He remembered the ice-cold calculations he had made as he watched the world crumble: strict obedience to the laws of physics and biology, the dogged search for shelter, the precise rationing of supplies, and the unbending rule of never exposing himself to unnecessary risk. Somewhere along that trail of blood, the weight of command and the urgency of keeping everyone alive had led him to try to embrace the world. A moral protocol failure that this new reality did not forgive.
Allisson swallowed hard, cold sweat trailing down his jawline. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, raspy, and stripped of any pretense:
"You're right... I was wrong. The objective was always pure survival. At some point, I started thinking I could save everyone, and that is a childish delusion. I'm not a god. I can barely save myself—my arm was mangled, and I’d be dead if you hadn't stepped in. If I don't even know if I'll survive the next minute, I can't promise anyone their life."
Allisson turned to the others, resting his spear vertically and placing the stalemate plainly on the table:
"So here is the choice: either we advance to the cafeteria on a high-risk mission to gather food and try to save Pierre, or we leave the boy here and chart an immediate escape route out of the school."
At the word "leave," Abner immediately stepped forward. With Paulo's ears still leaking a thin stream of clear fluid and blood from the Carcará's acoustic trauma, Abner used precise gestures and rapid lip-reading to translate the argument to his friend.
Paulo read Abner's lips, his eyes instantly flaring with indignation. He took a step forward, his fists clenched:
"That's absurd! I'm not leaving my friend here to die!"
Jade stepped closer to the group, her face lined with moral anguish, yet unyielding:
"This isn't right, Allisson. It is our duty to help our students and our neighbors, just as it says in the Bible. We can't just discard a life because things got hard."
Allisson looked at Jade with a hardened gaze, devoid of idealism:
"Understand one thing: the old world is over. This choice isn't a walk in the park. Someone in this group will probably die in that cafeteria."
"I'm going," Abner stated, staring at Allisson without flinching.
"I'm going too," Jade reinforced. "It's my duty."
Abner took another step, pointing toward the unconscious body on the floor:
"Pierre did his part saving our lives with his skill. If it weren't for the emergency spatial jump he pulled off at the door of the teachers' lounge, all of us would have been killed by those monsters. He didn't hesitate for us."
Allisson observed the determination stamped across the faces of Abner, Jade, and Paulo. The group's decision was made, sealed not by naivety, but by a debt of blood and loyalty that the new world had not yet managed to erase.
Allisson nodded slowly, tightening his grip on the shaft of his spear until his knuckles turned pale. The recent shock still echoed in his chest, stripping away any lingering heroic illusions and bringing back the pragmatic coldness of those first few days. The gaze he cast over everyone in the room no longer sought approval or consensus; it was the look of someone calculating risks and acceptable losses.
"The majority has decided, so we go to the cafeteria," he began, his voice steady and measured, devoid of emotion. "But let's get one thing clear before we step through that door: the absolute priority here is survival."
He paused deliberately, maintaining eye contact.
"If our plan fails or the corridor gets cut off, the priority reverts to pure survival," Allisson declared, his firm voice cutting through the heavy silence of the room. "There can be no hesitation or doubt once we're out there. If the situation gets out of control, I will focus on pulling out whoever is left standing and ensuring the group survives."
He paused, looking at each person present before concluding:
"It is a high-risk mission. If you are willing to accept these conditions, check your gear now. We move in 15 minutes."