The world around Ethan felt like a blur. He’d seen it all before, but now, it all felt distant, as if it were someone else’s life he was walking through. Every step he took felt heavier than the last, like the weight of the world had slowly built up on his shoulders since the moment he’d entered this nightmare. His parents were gone. His home was nothing but rubble and memories. There was nothing left for him here, nothing but the silence.

  But he couldn’t stop. Not yet. He had to keep moving.

  Ethan found a quiet corner in an old ruined building, one that had once been some kind of store. Its shelves were half-fallen, the floor cracked and covered in debris. But it was secluded, a temporary escape from the chaos of the outside world. He sank down against one of the walls, arms resting on his knees as he stared blankly at the floor.

  The exhaustion was starting to catch up with him. His body, though stronger from all the battles and level-ups, ached from the constant strain. His thoughts, however, were even heavier. It wasn’t just physical pain anymore—it was the raw, gnawing sorrow in his chest, a pain he couldn’t outrun, no matter how many miles he put between himself and his parents’ deaths.

  He pulled up his status screen.

  [Ethan Walker]

  Age: 22

  Level: 12

  Strength: 21

  Dexterity: 21

  Vitality: 21

  Wisdom: 17

  Intelligence: 17

  Stat Points: 12

  Skills:

  Perfect Replication [Lvl. Max]

  Skill Points: 0

  There were many monsters he had encountered on his way here, and each one had been dealt with swiftly. His growing strength and precision made the battles feel almost effortless now.

  The axe at his waist had become his go-to weapon. He had learned the hard way not to rely on his gun anymore. The loud sound of gunfire only attracted more monsters.

  He remembered the time he almost got surrounded after firing his gun. The monsters came from all sides, and he barely escaped by cutting through a few and running into the shadows. The gun was powerful, but the risk was too high.

  Now, he preferred the axe. It was quieter and just as deadly. Each swing felt natural, and he didn’t have to worry about the noise giving away his position. Only using the gun, when need more firepower and stronger monsters.

  Ethan closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. He could still see their faces, clear as day. His mother’s warm smile, her laugh echoing through the house when she caught him sneaking extra cookies from the jar. His father, always so calm, so steady, holding his hand when things felt uncertain. The memories felt like a cruel joke now. They were gone.

  He could have saved them. That was the thought that clawed at him every second. He should have been there. But he wasn’t. And now, all he had was emptiness. The world had taken them from him, and all he could do was keep moving, keep surviving.

  A low sigh escaped him as he shifted his gaze to the cracked window, through which the last rays of the sun were beginning to dip below the horizon. The night would come soon, and with it, more monsters, more danger, more uncertainty.

  But what was the point anymore? His parents were gone. What was left for him to fight for? He didn’t have a purpose, not beyond surviving. Maybe survival was all there was now. Maybe that was all anyone could do in this broken world.

  His fingers brushed the edge of his jacket, feeling the familiar weight of his gun and axe against his side, the reminder that he could protect himself now. But for what? For who?

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a rustling sound from outside. Ethan’s hand instinctively gripped the handle of his gun as he straightened up, eyes narrowing at the door. His heart raced for a moment, but the sound was soft, almost too soft to be a monster.

  Cautiously, he rose to his feet, moving quietly toward the door. He didn’t expect trouble, not this close to nightfall, but this world was unpredictable, and he couldn’t afford to take chances.

  As he stepped into the hallway, he paused. The door to the building had creaked earlier, but the sound had stopped. Was he hearing things?

  Before he could process it, the sound came again—footsteps, just outside. Ethan’s body tensed. He wasn’t alone.

  Ethan stepped out cautiously, and as he crept around a corner, his eyes landed on a small group of survivors huddled together around a makeshift campfire.

  They hadn’t noticed him at first. But then, one of them—a woman—looked up. Her sharp, intelligent eyes immediately met his, and she froze for a moment, assessing the situation. She had long, dark hair that fell loosely around her shoulders, and her face was a striking combination of strength and beauty. Her lips were set in a firm line, her gaze steady.

  She was carrying a rifle slung across her back, but it was clear she wasn’t afraid to fight if necessary.

  With a slight raise of her eyebrow, she signaled for the others to remain quiet. Ethan’s gaze flicked over the group: three people, all armed, all looking tired and worn, but none of them seemed eager to make a move. Still, their wariness was palpable.

  The woman stepped forward, her movements slow and deliberate. The firelight caught her features, illuminating the sharpness of her jawline and the determination in her expression. She spoke, her voice steady but with an edge of caution. “Who are you?”

  Ethan didn’t lower his gun. Trust wasn’t something he could afford “Same like you,” he said, his voice low. “Just spending the night here.”

  She studied him for a moment, her gaze unflinching, before giving a slight nod. “We don’t want trouble. We’ve had enough of that already.”

  “You’re alone?” she asked, her voice steady, though there was a trace of concern hiding in the way she spoke.

  “Yeah,” Ethan replied, his gaze flicking to the others in the room. Three others—two men and another woman—sat quietly, watching him from a distance. They were all armed, though their expressions were weary, as if they’d seen more than enough of the hell the world had become.

  “Not the safest way to travel,” the woman said, lowering her rifle slightly. “But I guess we all have our reasons.”

  Ethan didn’t respond immediately. He decided to mind his own business. He wasn’t in the mood to get involved. Trust had become a scarce commodity, and he wasn’t sure he could afford it.

  “Hey, hold up.”

  Ethan paused but didn’t turn around. He wasn’t in the mood for more conversation, but the tone in her voice made him stop.

  The woman stepped forward again, her voice softer now. “I know it’s hard to trust people right now, but you don’t have to be alone.” She gave a small, almost reluctant smile. “You’re welcome to stay with us, if you want. There’s no reason to be out there on your own.”

  Ethan’s grip tightened around the edge of his jacket. The invitation was tempting, but the thought of staying with others felt... unsettling. He wasn’t sure he could let down his guard, not yet.

  He didn’t respond right away, his gaze flicking between the strangers, who were watching him quietly. They seemed genuine enough. Ethan hesitated.

  She gave him a moment before adding, “We’ve all lost something. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But we could use the company, and it’ll be safer than staying out there.”

  Ethan remained silent, his eyes flicking to each of them. The other three were waiting quietly, watching him. They didn’t seem threatening, but how could he know for sure? Still, the idea of having a bit of security, even for one night, tugged at him.

  Finally, he sighed, reluctant but practical. “Alright. I’ll stay. Just for the night.”

  There was a brief pause, and then the woman nodded, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Thanks. You’ll be alright here,” she said softly.”Name’s Mia.”

  Ethan walked back toward them, but as he did, the man with short, messy hair spoke up. “We never introduced ourselves,” he said with a slight grin, clearly trying to break the tension. “I’m Alex.”

  The tall man beside him gave a quiet nod, his arms crossed. “Cameron.”

  The second woman, dark-haired and with a wary look in her eyes, offered a slight smile. “Ava,” she said.

  Ethan glanced between them. “Ethan.”

  The group seemed to settle into an unspoken understanding. They had all lost something, but for now, at least, they were here together. No promises, no expectations—just survival.