Some minutes later, Merek stepped into a underground parking lot. The air was stale, thick with dust and silence, and the overhead lights flickered dimly, casting long shadows across rows of abandoned vehicles.
Sedans and motorbikes stood eerily still, like forgotten relics of a world that no longer existed.
When the apocalypse hit, most people must have fled in panic, leaving behind the very machines that once defined their lives. The ones who remained calm—who didn't rush for escape—might have had a fighting chance.
Merek was among the lucky few.
On the day everything fell apart, he'd been indoors with his brother, burning up with a fever.
Thanks to his brother's job-related perks—whatever strange immunities came with it—the fever passed quickly. It allowed him to care for both of them, resuming his duties as the elder brother.
That window of calm might've saved their lives… at least until the Howling Moon Gang took his brother.
As they moved further into the lot, Felicity walked a few paces ahead of Merek and Tevin. At one point, she turned slightly, casting a sideways glance over her shoulder—not at Merek, but at the three armored figures trailing beside him. Her gaze lingered on the gray-armored wraith at his left flank.
The aura it radiated was wrong—an unsettling presence that made the air feel heavier.
It wasn't just intimidation. It was something deeper, like staring at a ghost born of iron and war, a being that defied logic and existence. Even with her experience, even with the monsters she'd faced since the fall of the world, Felicity had never encountered something that made her instincts scream like this one did.
The armor was unmistakably that of a woman—its shape, while deadly, retained a sculpted grace.
She wore a tattered cloak that whispered against the floor, and atop her helm, a blood-red plume shimmered faintly under the flickering lights, a stark contrast to the matte steel and scuffed battle-wear of the suit.
In one hand, she carried a sword that looked more ceremonial than practical, though Felicity didn't doubt for a second that it had drawn blood. Many times.
She didn't know how armor like that came to exist. It was artistry born in violence—a piece so rare and imposing, museums would've gone to war over it before the apocalypse.
Merek watched Felicity in turn. He couldn't help it. She was striking, not just in appearance but in presence.
Her platinum-blonde hair caught the weak lighting in a way that made her seem slightly unreal, like something airbrushed onto a faded movie poster. And her body—fit, balanced, almost statuesque—spoke of hard training, not just natural curves. He wondered, idly, if she'd been a gym enthusiast before all this.
The kind of form she carried wasn't common even back in the days when such things mattered.
Strapped to her belt were two curved short swords, clean and deadly. Likely pulled from item orbs, but they looked worn enough to have seen real use. Just like her.
"Where are they?" Tevin asked, his voice echoing faintly off the concrete walls. Just then, the soft clink of footsteps echoed from deeper within the underground lot. Everyone turned.
Emerging from the shadows came a gray-haired man with a full beard, gripping a car door like a makeshift shield in one hand and wielding a massive hammer in the other. The weapon bore a striking resemblance to a warhammer. The right sleeve of his once-white shirt had been torn off, revealing a muscular arm corded with veins and strength hard-earned through survival.
"Tevin… is that you?" the man said, his voice soft yet charged with emotion—relief, disbelief, and concern all layered into one. His eyes then darted toward Felicity, visibly relaxing the moment he saw her alive and unharmed.
As if on cue, dozens of figures emerged cautiously from behind vehicles and pillars, stepping out from their makeshift hiding places. About twenty-five looked to be students from the Star university, while four carried themselves with the weary posture of fellow professors.
"Professor David!" Tevin gasped, his voice cracking. A rare smile broke across his face, one of profound relief. Merek, watching him from the side, was struck by how deeply that smile reached—he had never seen that look on Tevin before.
Not even when Tevin was with his late father, whose death he had witnessed firsthand. But Merek understood. This wasn't just any reunion. This was a lifeline.
Professor David's eyes shifted to Merek—the last one to step fully into the light, flanked by three armored beings that moved like statues carved from steel.
The man's eyes narrowed slightly as recognition began to bloom. That frame. That presence.
And then the memory clicked.
A name appeared in David's mind. A former student. One who had lost his parents young, who'd always sat near the back but never slacked in determination. He'd graduated a year ago—average in grades, but exceptional in grit.
Working part-time jobs to support a younger brother, sacrificing sleep, food, and comfort just to stay afloat. David had always admired that quiet perseverance.
Now, standing before him, the student who was so close looked so far away.
"You've gotten much older since we last met," Merek said, breaking the silence with his calm, distant voice.
Felicity, who had been leaning against a car nearby, lifted her head. Surprise flashed in her eyes.
"M-Merek. You…!" David exhaled sharply, a bittersweet chuckle escaping his lips. "You're alive."
Merek stepped forward, his boots echoing across the concrete.
"Who's that?" a voice asked.
It belonged to Nero, a tall figure who stood out even among the crowd. Even wearing glasses, his sharp features and effortless charm made him a campus celebrity in a university with millions of students. His dark eyes locked onto Merek with subtle caution.
Felicity glanced at Nero, then shook her head slightly. "No idea," she murmured. "But he's not weak."
"He feels… off. I don't want someone like that moving with us," said a young woman—likely a freshman. Her voice trembled as her eyes locked onto the undead knights in the vulture armor behind Merek.
"Can't any of you feel it?" Nero added, arms crossed, brows furrowed. "Staring at him is like staring down a Type One zombie."
"I know Merek," Professor David cut in firmly. "He won't harm you. Not unless someone threatens his brother."
"Tch." A male student scoffed, pointing an accusatory finger. "Plenty of people have done worse this past week. People we trusted. He must've killed dozens to radiate that kind of bloodthirst."
"Guys, he's not like that," Tevin said, stepping in between them.
"And how would you know?" Fred barked—broad, blonde, and holding a blood-stained bat. His scowl twisted with anger and fear. "Do you know what we went through to get out of the university?! You want us to risk all that now—with a damn wolf in our midst?"
The air grew tense.
Then, without a word, Merek reached for his waist and pulled out his revolver. Calmly, he opened the cylinder and examined it.
A small smile touched his lips. "Ah. The bullets are back."