The room was quiet, save for the occasional creaks of the crumbling building and the faint crackling of the fire. Ethan sat against the cold wall, his posture tense, while the rest of the group was scattered around the room, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Mia, sitting a few feet away near the wreckage of an old chair, broke the silence first. Her voice was soft but insistent, cutting through the stillness.

  "So... what's your story, Ethan?" she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She didn't seem impatient, but her question was genuine. She was looking for some kind of connection, something beyond the endless fight for survival.

  Ethan hesitated, his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. He wasn't in the mood to share, not when the pain of the past was still so raw. His life, his memories—they felt too personal, too much to expose to strangers. But the silence between them grew, heavy and uncomfortable.

  He sighed, trying to push the weight of his past aside. "Just trying to survive," he muttered, shrugging slightly. "Same as everyone else."

  Mia gave a small nod, not pushing him further. She seemed to understand that some things couldn't be shared, at least not yet. Her expression softened, but her eyes remained curious, as if she was trying to read more from him than he was willing to give.

  The silence threatened to settle again, but Alex broke it. Tall, with dark hair, he shifted in his seat, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. "I was working at a bar," he said, rubbing his chin. "God, you wouldn't believe the crap people complained about. 'My drink's too cold,' 'The music's too loud.'" He let out a humorless laugh. "I'd give anything to hear someone bitch about their martini being shaken not stirred... you know? At least then, I'd still feel like I had a normal life."

  Ethan glanced over at him but didn't say anything. The world had shifted so violently, everything that had once felt important now seemed trivial.

  After a moment of contemplation, Cameron, the stocky man with the short beard, cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him. "Before all this?" He paused, his voice dropping. "I ran a police precinct. Not that it matters now. When the outbreak hit... hell, no one knew what to do. People just... they panicked." He exhaled heavily, rubbing his palms together. "Had to make some choices I never thought I'd have to make. Things I try not to think about anymore."

  The room fell into a tense silence after that. Each of them had a past, a life that felt like it belonged to someone else now.

  Mia looked around at their somber faces before turning her gaze toward Ethan again, her expression calm but persistent. "What about you, Ethan? Before everything went to hell?"

  He was about to brush her off again, but something in Mia's tone made him hesitate. She wasn't asking out of idle curiosity—she was searching for something. But it was hard to ignore the weight of her question. He let out a quiet breath, his fingers brushing absently over his jacket.

  "Delivery guy," he said flatly. "Dropping off packages, running errands... Nothing special." He shrugged again. "It paid the bills."

  Mia didn't push for more. Instead, she nodded slowly, understanding that sometimes, people didn't want to talk about the past. It was a heavy burden for everyone.

  The crackling fire filled the silence until Ava, who had been hugging her knees by the wall, spoke up. "I taught high school," she said, her eyes fixed on some distant point. "English lit." Her voice softened. "It wasn't glamorous, but... those kids. They made it worth it, you know?"

  She paused, glancing at each of them in turn. "When everything fell apart, I couldn't—" Her voice caught for a moment. "I couldn't protect them. Couldn't protect anyone. That's when I figured out the world wasn't going to give us time to mourn. It just kept going, with or without us."

  There was a quiet, sad understanding in her words. It was clear that Ava had carried the weight of that loss for a long time.

  The group absorbed her words, and then Mia, who had been listening intently, hugged her knees to her chest. "I was a nurse," she said softly. "ER. Thought I'd seen it all—car wrecks, gunshots, you name it." She shook her head slowly. "But when everything started going wrong... there was just nobody left to save. Like we were all drowning and I..." She swallowed hard. "After a while, I just started walking. Didn't know what else to do."

  Her words were heavy, but she didn't seem to want sympathy. She had accepted that part of herself.

  The silence stretched for a moment, the weight of their pasts hanging between them. Ethan felt the tension in the air but couldn't bring himself to break it. It wasn't just the pain of losing his family—it was the weight of a world that had taken everything from them, leaving only fragments behind.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  For a moment, the firelight flickered, casting a warm glow that softened the edges of their harsh reality. They weren't alone anymore, and while that didn't erase the emptiness they each carried, it was a small comfort.

  Ethan shifted, his hand unconsciously resting on the handle of his axe. Everyone's eyes drifted to him as he spoke. "Guess we're all just trying to survive," he said quietly, his words almost lost in the stillness of the room.

  Ethan watched as the others began to fiddle with the air around them, their eyes tracking invisible screens. He could hear the soft hum of their movements as each of them interacted with something that only they could see.

  The gesture was familiar—one that he’d had done almost countless times since the world had changed, as though it was now second nature. They were all pulling up their status screens.

  Ah, it clicked. Of course. Everyone had one now.

  For a brief moment, Ethan thought about pulling up his own, but the last thing he needed was to draw attention to his ability. Instead, he just observed the others.

  Mia was the first to break the silence, her voice still holding a hint of disbelief. "I still can’t wrap my head around it, you know?" she said, staring at the translucent screen hovering in front of her, her fingers swiping to scroll through something. "It’s like... magic, but not magic. It’s like the world just... changed overnight, and now we’ve got these things just... floating around us. How do we even make sense of that?"

  Alex snorted, glancing over at her screen and shaking his head. "Yeah, I thought I was losing my mind the first time I saw mine. Thought I was having some weird dream or something. Then I realized... oh, wait, this is real. This is the new world now."

  Cameron was quieter, just tapping away on his screen with a calm efficiency that made it clear he’d been using it for a while. His voice was low, thoughtful. "I’ve gotten used to it. But... I don’t know. It’s hard to trust something that just appeared out of nowhere. You can see it, but you don’t fully understand it.”

  Ethan leaned back against the wall, his eyes gliding over them as they continued to interact with their screens. He felt a pang of cynicism stir in him, something akin to frustration. "Yeah, well," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, “but right now I believe it's the only thing we can trust."

  Mia nodded, still swiping through her own screen. "True,still it’s like we're all just trying to figure out the rules as we go along. It’s too much, honestly. I mean, how can we even believe this is real? One minute, we're living normal lives, and the next... monsters, dungeons, and all this weird mana stuff... and now, we’re given these screens that are telling us what we’re capable of. It’s like... a new reality."

  Alex shot her a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, at least it’s not a bad reality. I mean, you get stronger the more you kill monsters, right? That's pretty cool, dangerous but still cool." he added with a wink, though his tone suggested he was still getting used to his newfound abilities.

  The sound of a metal pot clanging against a makeshift stove snapped him back to the present. Mia stood up and started preparing their rationed meal. The mood shifted, and the conversations slowly transitioned to quieter murmurs, the awkwardness of the situation easing just a bit. They were hungry. The food was sparse, but it was all they had, and it had to last.

  "How much longer do you think we can stretch this out?" Cameron asked, eyeing the small portions as Mia divided them carefully. His tone was pragmatic, the same one that had come out when he talked about the status screens. A reminder that, no matter what happened, survival was the priority.

  Mia sighed as she placed the last portion into a bowl, glancing up at him. "I don’t know. We’ve got a couple of days left, maybe, if we’re careful. We’ll have to figure something out after that."

  Alex gave a low whistle as he leaned forward, eyeing the food. "This feels... wrong," he said, his voice a mix of disbelief and unease. "We’re living like scavengers now. Can’t even remember the last time I had a real meal."

  Ethan didn’t comment, with his ability he never had this problem, he could summon a meal if want to.

  Mia glanced at Ethan, offering him the last portion of food with a raised brow. "You sure you don’t want any?" she asked, though her voice held a slight note of concern. "We’ve got to stick together, especially now. One person can’t survive alone. You need food."

  Ethan just shook his head, his expression unreadable. "I’m good. I’ve already eaten." He didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t need to. That wasn’t something he was about to share with them. Not yet, anyway.

  Mia gave him a nod, though the look in her eyes was a little sharper now. She probably wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t push further. She returned to her seat and continued to divide the meal, keeping it as balanced as possible.

  The group fell into a quiet rhythm, each of them eating their meager portions, the conversation fading into a comfortable silence. The fire crackled, the scent of rationed food mixing with the earthy smell of the air.

  Ethan couldn’t help but notice how odd it all felt. It was like they were all pretending things weren’t as bad as they were. Pretending that eating scraps in the middle of a broken city was just a temporary setback.

  But Ethan knew better. This wasn’t temporary. This was their new reality. And for better or worse, they were all going to have to make it work.

  Eventually, the food was finished, and the group began to settle down for the night. The weight of their circumstances was undeniable, but for a moment, the quiet felt almost peaceful.