Night was falling fast. Within moments, darkness would descend completely, swallowing the land in its cold, endless embrace.
Among the crowd gathered at the watchpost, Leo Carter stood on his toes like most others, straining to see beyond the horizon.
In the wilderness far beyond the safety of the settlement, the howls of savage beasts echoed now and then—deep, guttural, and far too close for comfort.
If the hunting party didn't return before nightfall, they would be left in the dark… and in this world, darkness meant death.
Suddenly, Leo felt a tight grip on his arm. He looked down to see his mother, her face pale, clutching him with trembling fingers. Her eyes were filled with helplessness.
"Mom," he said gently, "don't worry. Dad and the others will be back soon. Any minute now."
She nodded faintly, then turned her gaze toward the horizon once again, desperate and hopeful.
Leo glanced around. The anxious faces of over a hundred people were lit only by the fading light—uneasy, worried, fearful.
He sighed inwardly.
He had no idea how it had happened. One moment he was dozing off on the subway, the next… he was here.
Today marked the second day since he had awakened in this strange world.
A world that, on the surface, resembled his own—but ten years ago, everything had changed. The skies shifted, and spiritual energy returned. Beasts, birds, even trees and plants mutated—growing larger, more aggressive, and thirsting for blood.
A small portion of humanity awakened mysterious powers—Awakened, they were called. These individuals could bend lightning, control wind and fire, and at the highest levels, unleash attacks powerful enough to flatten entire cities.
But Awakened were rare. Most people, like those here in the fortress, could only band together in small settlements and survive on the edges.
It was said that in distant megacities, protected by powerful Awakened, there was still electricity, internet, clean water, even normal work hours and subway commutes—just like the world before the catastrophe.
But resources were limited. Entry to those cities was a privilege granted to a few. For the rest, survival meant building barricades, hunting for scraps, and praying the beasts didn't find you first.
Forget electricity—even basic survival was a daily gamble. Food, medicine, supplies—everything was scarce. Every day was lived on the razor's edge.
The original owner of this body had died chasing food—eating some unknown fruit in the wild out of desperation. After three days of burning fever, he died… and Leo took his place.
"Don't tell me something really did go wrong," Leo muttered, clenching his fists.
Just then, from the wooden watchtower nearly ten meters tall, a voice cried out:
"They're coming back! I see them! They're here!"
"Really?!"
"Where?! I don't see anything!"
"Hey, they've got the high ground. We'll see them soon enough!"
"Thank God… they made it back."
The entire crowd stirred. All eyes turned to the distant hills where tiny black dots had begun to appear—slowly growing larger with every second. The tension broke into relief. Smiles returned to their faces.
But those smiles didn't last long.
As the group drew near, faces turned pale again.
About a dozen people returned, armed with spears and bows, clothes torn and stained. A few limped or were helped along. One man carried someone on his back. Even those who could still walk had injuries, blood soaking into their worn clothes.
There were no carcasses. No prey.
And someone sharp-eyed noticed—there were fewer of them than before.
The hunting team stopped just before the drawbridge. At the front stood a square-jawed man, cold-faced and serious. Deep claw marks bled down his right arm, and yet his expression wasn't pain—it was guilt.
Time seemed to freeze.
He licked his cracked lips and spoke lowly, "We're sorry. We were ambushed by two mid-tier beasts. We lost the prey we caught, and… Pillar, Hawk, and Kyle… they didn't make it."
He hadn't even finished the sentence when several people in the crowd collapsed, fainting where they stood.
Panic rippled through the group. Others rushed to carry the fallen home.
The remaining hunters lowered their heads, unable to meet the eyes of the elderly and children.
Leo trembled.
Three dead.
The worst loss this settlement had seen since its founding.
The man at the front—Grant Carter, was Leo's father. He was the one who had led the survivors and built this stronghold from nothing.
The murmurs began—choked sobs, quiet curses, whispered condolences.
The hunting party entered. The drawbridge was pulled up. The fortress—wrapped in three-meter-high wooden walls—offered a rare sense of safety, but the atmosphere was deathly silent.
Wives and children of the wounded wept softly, torn between grief and gratitude. Their loved ones had returned alive. Others… had not.
The uninjured escorted their families home. Darkness fell. The camp became a sea of shadows, lit only by the faint moonlight.
"Grant, your arm..." said a woman softly.
She grasped her husband's injured limb as tears streamed down her face.
Leo approached them, still slightly unaccustomed to the role he now played.
"I'm fine," Grant said, shaking his head. "It's my fault. If I had just spotted those beasts earlier… Pillar, Hawk, Kyle—they might've survived…"
A large hand clapped his shoulder.
A bald man stepped forward—Briggs Mason, one of the veterans.
"This isn't your fault, Grant," he said. "Blame this damned world. If we keep surviving long enough… this day comes for all of us."
He gave Leo a lopsided grin, then walked off with his family.
"Come on, Dad," Leo said. "We should get home. Nate's still waiting."
Grant blinked, then nodded slowly.
Silence blanketed the fortress. From nearby cabins, weak firelight flickered. Occasionally, the wood popped, or a hushed voice slipped through the walls.
"Mom… I'm hungry. Can I have a little more?"
"Sleep, baby. If you sleep, the hunger will go away."
"But I really am hungry…"
"Shh… if you eat now, there'll be nothing left tomorrow."
The voice faded.
Grant's face twisted with guilt.
Leo's eyes lingered on the shadows, then shifted to his father. In the memories left behind by the body's original owner, Grant had always been a quiet man—but upright, and kind.
Every time they returned with prey, he'd split it evenly among the camp—especially for the elderly and children. Because of that, his own family often went hungry. Some even blamed him for being "too soft."
Lately, luck hadn't been on their side. No good hunts. No food. Everyone was starving.
And winter was coming.
If things didn't change… cannibalism wouldn't just be a rumor. It would be real.