Ethan's blade descended from the sky like a blazing meteor, its arc cutting through the air with an almost unearthly grace.
In the instant it met flesh, the steel sang, tearing sinew and bone as though they were paper, offering no resistance to its merciless edge.
Green droplets sprayed outward in a tremulous mist, each a testament to the sword's terrible precision.
Before the writhing mass of monstrous worms could converge upon him, Ethan lifted a single finger skywards and, with a fluid twist of his wrist, slashed at empty space in their direction.
A resonant hiss filled the streets as a diagonal gust of wind materialized from nowhere, a shimmering arc of cyclonic force that cleaved each creature in two.
Their segmented bodies split apart with sickening crunches, and swirling motes of ichor drifted into the air like dark pollen.
The wind slash continued its inexorable path until it collided with a nearby building, sending a thunderous boom echoing down the deserted street.
Shards of wood and concrete exploded outward, raining debris onto the cracked pavement below.
Ethan allowed himself a slow, smile as he surveyed the ruinous tableau.
He had long fantasized about this moment, not merely the victory, but the intoxication of power itself, the raw exhilaration of absolute dominance over life and death.
Who among them had not daydreamed, in the silent hours before sleep, of such omnipotent release?
Because Logan had expended nearly all his mana marking countless objects, Ethan observed something curious.
Even when their mana reserves dropped to zero from exhaustion, neither physical nor mental fatigue followed, no heavy panting, no pallor of weakness.
Logan had unwittingly become Ethan's lab rat for this answer.
From his observations, Ethan concluded that none of them possessed the ability to actively sense mana.
They could feel the surge of energy coursing through their bodies whenever they gained stats, but the mana itself, both within and around them, remained imperceptible to direct detection.
Ethan and Logan stood atop the cavernous expanse of worm carapaces, grinning like lunatics at the blinking system notification that hovered before them.
To any unsuspecting observer, they might have appeared as deranged villains, two boys who laughed amidst ruin as though witnessing the dawn of a new world.
Logan's gaze shifted from the system interface to Ethan as he spoke.
"Bro, you could've left those monsters to me"
Without hesitation, Ethan sprang off the carcass of a monstrous worm and replied.
"Says the one who was running away. Your tutorial phase is over. Don't expect me to leave any monster for you to kill, I'm not your babysitter"
Logan merely shook his head with a resigned sigh.
He had enjoyed Ethan's hands-off approach, the freedom to farm points without interference.
But he knew that time had come to an end.
"Also, learn to fight without relying on your Bomber ability. You don't plan on running away the moment you can't blow your opponent to bits, do you?"
Ethan said as he closed the distance to Logan.
"Yeah, I know that. But you're the abnormal one, no one else charges headfirst into danger"
Logan replied, a wry smile tugging at his lips as they resumed their sprint toward the security outpost.
Every obstacle in their path bore the marks of swift sword strikes and precise dagger slashes.
Under Ethan's guidance, Logan's proficiency in close combat grew steadily sharper, his skills honed with each passing moment.
"Seriously? Are you the son of a martial artist or something? How else do you explain such combat talent when you've never even fought a day in your life? This feels like cheating"
Logan complained, his eyes fixed on Ethan as he moved with effortless grace.
He couldn't fathom it.
Ethan had never fought anyone or even engaged in conversation much.
So how was he suddenly this skilled in combat?
"Maybe my parents, who left me at the orphanage, owned a dojo or something"
Ethan replied with a dry, sarcastic smirk as they stepped inside the security building housing the university's bus keys.
The university owned more than ten buses, but they couldn't possibly take them all.
"We'll take only three sets of keys"
Ethan explained.
"Since you can't drive, I'll have to shuttle these buses one by one back to the auditorium"
Logan nodded in agreement, acknowledging the practicality of the plan.
Without hesitation, Ethan set to work.
Ethan began driving the first bus toward the auditorium but frequently halted along the route to load it with whatever supplies they could scavenge.
Upon arrival, he enlisted a lecturer, someone who could drive, to take the wheel of the second bus while he himself took charge of the third.
Together, Ethan and Logan escorted the lecturer back to the security outpost for a second run.
On their return journey, the two buses carried fewer resources than the first; after all, the initial bus had been packed to capacity with every valuable item they could find.
Though Ethan had declared saving others futile, he still offered refuge to every survivor they encountered, allowing them aboard the bus.
Logan perched atop the bus roof, vigilant, scanning the horizon for any approaching threats.
And so the hours passed quietly.
Each leader pursued their own mission, collecting points and stats along the way.
A variety of medical supplies were secured, analgesics, multivitamins, antibiotics, antimalarials, bolstering their chances of survival.
Clothing of all sizes was gathered as well, providing the weary with fresh garments to change into after bathing in the modest restroom facilities the university had installed inside the auditorium.
The freshly pulled clothes were then carefully washed and hung to dry, reserved for another day.
The students and lecturers were gathered, and food was distributed among them.
Yet no one ate to their full satisfaction, mindful that another day, and the challenges it would bring, still lay ahead.
As the crimson sun dipped below the horizon, the second day of the apocalypse settled over the campus like a slow, merciless tide.
In the auditorium, survivors clustered in small groups, murmuring in low tones about loved ones lost and dreams deferred.
With electronic gadgets dead, conversation was the only currency left to pass the time.
Darkness crept inward, blotting out the world.
One by one, lights were turned off as if in fear of drawing predators from the depths of night.
In that enveloping gloom, the living became one with the shadows, each heartbeat reverberating in the hush.
At last, fatigue claimed the weary.
Some drifted into sleep, haunted by memories of home and the faces they yearned to see again.
Others, like Ethan and Logan, surrendered to dreamless rest though their minds still conjured visions of slaying dragons, of standing atop scales and fire with their swords held high.
After all, in a reality torn asunder, why shouldn't a dragon rise from the ashes?
In dreams, as in war, anything was possible.