《System Survivor》 1. No Heroes Here [System Notification: Survival Protocol Online] Status: Name: Health: Stamina: Ash Reserve: Skills: [System Notification: Ash Manipulation Engaged] - Ash Dagger (Improvised Weapon) - You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. [System Notification: Enemy Defeated] EXP +5 Ash Reserve: 2. No Time Like Today Wren walked into Emerson''s perimeter with a stiff gait. His legs felt heavy from hours of scouting in the dead zones. He brought back a handful of meal pouches¡ªnothing special. Better than nothing. Several townsfolk stood by a rusted sheet-metal barricade, eyes hollow, hoping he had more. Most were disappointed to see only a small bag slung over his shoulder. He moved past them, offering a nod. He wasn''t good with words, and no speech would conjure extra food. He stepped around piles of broken car frames that formed the outer fence. The settlement''s so-called gate was just a gap wide enough for one person to squeeze through at a time. Beyond that, the place wasn''t much safer than the roads. But at least walls kept out some of the stray beasts. Fernandez waited near a makeshift guard post. He wore battered leathers and gripped a secondhand shotgun. Five shells. That was all the settlement had for a weapon like that. If bigger trouble came, they''d have to rely on Wren''s ash summons or improvised traps. "You look half-dead," Fernandez said. Wren shrugged. "Ran into one of those chitin crawlers. Otherwise quiet. Found a few ration packs." He held up the dingy plastic bag. "Not fresh, but we''ll manage." Fernandez glanced at them, relief flickering in his eyes. "Better than the air biscuits we''ve been chewing. Toss them to Argus. He''ll figure out distribution." Wren headed deeper in, past scraps of old tents and plywood huts. At the center of Emerson stood a building made of stacked shipping containers. Argus used it as a storehouse and planning spot. Wren found the old man hunched over a fold-out table covered in scavenged paper¡ªmaps, tallies of supplies, and crude sketches of the surrounding ruins. Argus looked up. He had short, gray hair and a face cut with lines of stress. "Back in one piece, I see," he said, voice low. "Anything worth reporting?" Wren put the meal pouches on the table. "Nothing major. Saw a scavenger in the city. Didn''t talk. Ran across a crawler. Killed it. No sign of larger beasts in that sector." Argus sifted through the meager rations, grimacing at the torn packaging. He scratched some notes on a ledger. "We''ll do a ration day tomorrow. Thanks." Then his eyes flicked to Wren''s bandaged forearm. "You get hurt?" Wren glanced down. A bruise and a cut from the crawler''s thrash. Nothing urgent. "I''m fine." Argus nodded once, then went back to writing. That was all the conversation they''d have. Wren turned to leave, but a soft chime echoed in his mind: [System Notification: Settlement Delivery Complete] EXP Gained: +1 Total EXP: 6/25 (Next Skill Upgrade) He repressed a faint smile. Even small deliveries counted for something in the System''s eyes. That would inch him closer to leveling up his ash manipulation or unlocking a new trick. He stepped outside. The midday ash storm drifted in. Gray flakes swirled, coating everything in a dull film. Folks scurried to cover open crates or press tarps down on roofs. Wren walked toward the settlement''s western fence line, where a few watchers kept an eye on the horizon. "Wren," a soft voice called. He turned to see Naia, a younger woman wearing a worn jacket too big for her. She held a battered pistol at her hip, no bullets. It was mostly for show. "We need you on watch for a few hours. Shouldn''t be too quiet with that storm." He nodded and took position on a crude platform of pallets lashed together. From this vantage, he saw miles of collapsed ruins. Wind scattered dust across crumbled roads. A few toppled lamp posts and rusted cars were the only signs this had once been a normal city. Time Passed: 1 Hour. He ran a mental check of his own condition: [Wren - Status] Health: 32/50 Stamina: 25/40 Ash Reserve: 55% (Regenerating) Skill: Ash Manipulation (Basic) - LV 1 Next Level: 19 EXP Required He considered using the watch shift to refine his ash shaping. If he sat idle, that was time wasted. Might as well practice. Carefully, he summoned a small swirl of dust around his hand, forming a short dagger. It was stable enough for basic self-defense, but nothing fancy. He pictured adding an edge or a point. The System recognized incremental improvements. If he shaped the ash into better forms, he''d get small skill boosts. He took a breath, focusing on compressing the blade. The ash flickered, almost slipping away, but he clenched his fist and tightened its structure. [System Notification: Ash Blade (Improved) Formed] Minor Skill Proficiency +1% He banished the blade and did it again, forging an identical shape, repeating the process until the motions felt smooth. Then he tried forming a small curved shield¡ªthin as a sheet of metal. The winds battered it, but it held for a moment. He had no illusions about it stopping a strong creature, but he needed practice. After another hour, his arms ached from holding stances. The settlement remained quiet. Then, in the distance, faint screeches cut through the haze. He narrowed his gaze. Some beasts? Or just metal scraping in the wind? He hopped down to warn the others. If it was nothing, they''d lose a bit of time. If it was a threat, they''d be glad to prepare. So he headed for the perimeter, telling Naia they might need to brace. She looked uneasy but nodded. Fernandez climbed onto a vantage point with his shotgun. "Which direction?" he asked Wren. "North. Keep watch near those buckled highways." They settled in. The wind howled, drowning out subtle noises. Minutes later, the screeching returned, louder. Through billowing dust, Wren spotted dark shapes moving near a collapsed section of elevated freeway. They had the silhouette of large rodents or small dogs, scuttling in a pack. Not as tall as the crawler, but there were maybe five or six. They scrambled over broken concrete, sniffing the air. Wren motioned for quiet. The watchers crouched behind rusted car hulks. If these beasts were scavengers, they might pass by. If they sniffed out humans, they''d charge. Wren gripped the handle of his machete. He had two crossbow bolts left, and maybe a half tank of ash reserves. Enough for a fight, but not a prolonged one. One beast''s head snapped up, pointed in their direction. Then it let out a high-pitched screech. The pack turned as one, bounding toward the settlement. Wren cursed under his breath. He stepped forward, forming an ash dagger in his off-hand. "Fernandez, cover me," he said. Fernandez''s shotgun had a short range, but a blast or two could help. The pack crossed the final stretch in seconds. The first beast lunged, mouth wide with rows of needle teeth. Wren slashed down with the machete, severing its head in one stroke. Another jumped from the side. He parried with the ash dagger. It broke on impact, but it diverted the beast''s leap. Fernandez fired. The shotgun''s roar shook the air. The slug tore a chunk out of the creature''s flank. Two more circled wide, trying to flank. Wren planted a foot, raised a swirl of ash from the ground, and shaped a quick barrier. The beasts collided with the dust wall, giving him a second to reposition. He stabbed one in the neck, a clean thrust that ended it. Another lunged from behind, teeth snapping on his coat. Pain flared as it bit into his shoulder. He grit his teeth, drove the machete back in a reverse stab, and felt the blade sink into flesh. The beast released him, flailing. A final creature remained, stumbling from a bleeding wound. Wren flung a handful of ash shards at it, not elegant but enough to shred its face. It collapsed in a twitching heap. [System Notification: Pack Eliminated] Enemies Defeated: 5 Total EXP Gained: +10 Skill Proficiency +2% Ash Reserve: 40% He sank to his knees, breathing hard. Blood trickled from the bite on his shoulder. Fernandez lowered the shotgun. One spent shell rolled by his feet. They had four shells left. That was it for the day. Naia and another survivor rushed over with bandages. They stripped Wren''s jacket back, exposing the wound. No venom, just torn skin. Hurt like hell, though. They patched it up, using cheap disinfectant from a battered tin. He slumped against a piece of rubble, letting them dress the injury. The adrenaline wore off, leaving him drained. He checked the System. Still short of leveling up, but progress was progress. By evening, the storm had calmed. People gathered around a few scrap-metal fire pits. They roasted random edible roots, plus the bits of salvage Wren found earlier. Not pleasant, but it kept them alive. The question was, for how long? Wren sat on a broken concrete slab, arms resting on his knees. He sipped a canteen of water that tasted like rust. Argus approached, a concerned look on his face. "We can''t keep living on scraps," the older man said. "The beasts are getting bolder. Supplies run low. Sooner or later, we''ll starve or get overwhelmed."A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Wren watched the flicker of the nearest fire pit. He had no words to argue. Argus was right. They had no farmland, no stable water source. The city was a graveyard of half-useful junk. He needed a plan. "What if we push east?" Wren asked. "Some talk about an old fortress near the river. Might have safer ground or leftover hydroponics." Argus frowned. "That''s a hike, and the roads are bad. But maybe it''s our only shot." Wren didn''t commit further. He stood and paced, ignoring the ache in his shoulder. If they tried a migration, they''d risk losing half the people on the road. But staying put felt like a slow death. Night came. Watch shifts rotated. Wren spent a few hours lying on a torn blanket in an improvised shack, rest never coming easy. An hour before dawn, he gave up on sleep. He rose and walked the perimeter, checking the battered fences. The settlement dozed fitfully, except for a few watchers perched with tired eyes. He settled at a vantage point that overlooked the ruined city. It was quiet, but not peaceful. The quiet in this world usually meant something nasty lurked, waiting for the right moment. He rested a hand on his coat pocket, feeling the stub of a pencil and a small notebook. He''d used it to keep notes about monster types, building layouts, anything that might help him or others survive. He scribbled a quick line about the small beasts that attacked earlier: "Rat-lings, 4-5 in a pack. Light armor, fast. Bites can be serious if untreated." The hush pressed in around him. Wind rattled scrap metal. He realized his hand trembled, so he stilled it. Another System prompt nudged him: [System Notification: Restless Condition Detected] Fatigue +1 Recommend Rest or Basic Recovery He blew out a breath. The System was right, he was running on fumes. But none of that changed the fact that they might get attacked at any moment. He hopped down off the vantage point. If he was going to be up, he might as well do something useful. Maybe scour the perimeter for a place to rig a new trap. The cost of building an ash-based snare wasn''t small, but it could save ammo in the next fight. He found a spot near the settlement''s east side, where some rebar jutted out from a half-buried building foundation. Good anchor points. He gathered bits of wire, broken mesh, and set about weaving them together. He formed a film of ash to tighten the pieces, hoping it would last at least a few days. He pictured a beast stepping through, pulling the wire taut, and hooking its limbs. A workable trap for small or mid-sized threats. If something massive came, well, they''d have bigger problems. It took an hour to finish. His palms were raw from pulling wire. By the end, he felt a bit of personal satisfaction. He stepped back, rubbing his shoulder. The bandage needed changing. He''d handle it soon. [System Notification: Improvised Trap Constructed] Ash Manipulation +1% Trap Tier: Basic He dragged himself back inside the walls. Dawn light crept over the horizon, illuminating the battered structures. People stirred, yawning or rubbing their eyes as they prepared for another day of scraping by. Emerson was no paradise, but it was home for now. Naia spotted him from across the yard, carrying a bucket of muddy water. "You''re up early," she said, setting it down. "Didn''t sleep much." He shrugged, looking around at the bleak settlement. "We can''t keep this up." She nodded. "Heard Argus wants to send a small party to scout that fortress you mentioned. You on board?" Wren hesitated. The risk was high. But if they found a real vantage or new resources, it''d change everything. "Yeah," he said at last. "I''ll go." Naia''s lips thinned into a faint smile. "You''re the best chance we have." He looked away, uneasy with that kind of praise. "We''ll see." By midmorning, Argus gathered a small group near the gate: Wren, Naia, Fernandez, and two others from the settlement. The plan was straightforward. They''d head east, keep a low profile, and see if the rumored fortress was more than a myth. Then they''d return with intel. If it looked viable, Emerson might consider a mass relocation, though that was a tall order. Wren shouldered his machete, crossbow, and a small kit of supplies. He had maybe two days'' worth of rations. The others carried similar loads. Argus gave them a curt nod, his expression grim. "Don''t take unnecessary risks. If it looks like a death trap, come home." Without ceremony, the five slipped through the gate. Past the improvised wall, the city''s rubble greeted them with silent menace. The sky was dull. Fine ash drifted in lazy spirals. They moved in a tight formation, scanning every angle. The place smelled like mold, rust, and old rot. Time Passed: 2 Hours. They made slow progress, weaving around collapsed highways and burned-out vehicles. They stopped once to check a half-standing pharmacy. It was looted long ago. Some thick dust had formed lumps that might once have been pill bottles, but moisture fused everything into worthless gunk. While the group poked around, Wren kept watch outside. He formed an ash dagger in his hand repeatedly, practicing. Each time felt a little smoother, the blade a bit sturdier. [System Notification: Ash Dagger Practice - Minor Progress] Skill Proficiency +2% Ash Reserve: 70% They continued east, following a cracked road. As they edged past a leaning radio tower, a faint roar echoed in the distance. Everyone froze. Wren motioned them behind a rusted bus for cover. The roar sounded again, a guttural note that reverberated in the ash-laden air. "Any idea what that is?" Naia whispered, knuckles white around her spear. "Could be a big crawler," Fernandez said quietly. "Or something else." Wren closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the System. He tried to see if the interface gave any hint of local threats, but that wasn''t how it worked. He only had personal stats, not a full map. He cursed under his breath and motioned them to keep low. They inched forward, hugging walls and debris. The roaring continued off and on. Eventually, they reached a vantage where the road opened into a wide crater, possibly from a bomb or a sinkhole. At the far side stood a monstrous shape, stomping through twisted beams. It looked part reptile, part insect, with ridges of bony plating across its back. Its head was low to the ground, sniffing or scraping at something. Easily the size of a small truck. Naia''s face went pale. "We can''t fight that." Wren agreed. They ducked back. "We go around. Keep quiet." Unfortunately, the crater blocked easy passage. They had to decide: attempt a big detour or risk sneaking near the beast. Time was short, and they had limited water. The group had a hushed debate, but no one wanted to starve on a winding detour. They''d try to slip by. It was a tense half-hour. They moved slowly, climbing through side alleys and behind rubble mounds. Wren forced his breath to stay steady. If that thing caught their scent, they''d be done. Even with his machete, crossbow, and ash shaping, a direct fight seemed suicidal. The beast roared once more, but it never turned their way. They eventually cleared the crater zone without incident. Everyone silently exhaled relief. They pressed on, a bit faster now. Danger lurked in every block, but they had to see if the fortress existed. Time Passed: 4 Hours. They reached an overgrown area of collapsed skyscrapers. Trees sprouted through cracked asphalt, warped by the ash. Spiky branches rattled in the wind. It gave them some cover from roving creatures. The group paused by an old fountain littered with rubble, deciding to rest a bit. They rationed water sips and shared a single can of something that tasted like beans. Wren chewed in silence. He inspected a minor wound on his forearm from the morning scuffle. The bandage was soaked in sweat. He changed it using a scrap of cloth. A few system notifications flickered: [System Notification: Minor Injury Detected] Health -2 Current Health: 30/50 He tried to shape a small ash patch, a trick he''d used once to seal a cut. It might reduce bleeding, though it wasn''t as good as real medical supplies. The gray dust formed a thin layer over the wound. It stung, but the bleeding slowed. They set off again, weaving toward a broken highway ramp that might lead them closer to the rumored fortress location. Another hour passed. No big threats so far, aside from that large beast. But the day was wearing on. Finally, at the crest of the ramp, they got a vantage over the eastern side of the city. Through the swirling ash clouds, they saw a structure on a hill¡ªan actual building with partial walls intact, possibly fenced. It stood near a dried-out riverbed. Could that be the fortress? Naia''s eyes lit up. "That''s real? I see what might be walls around it." Fernandez adjusted his battered binoculars. "Yeah... looks like a compound. Hard to tell if anyone''s there." They decided to get a bit closer for a better look. The approach wasn''t easy; a field of jagged rubble stretched between them and the compound. The group picked their way carefully. After half an hour, they neared a vantage behind some fallen columns. From there, they saw it more clearly: a perimeter of metal sheets, watchtowers made from scaffolding, and perhaps a main gate. The place looked battered, but it was definitely some kind of fortress or settlement attempt. No signs of people moving along the walls. Could be abandoned. Could be crawling with monsters. Or maybe survivors inside. Wren felt a flicker of hope. If they could confirm the place was safe, or salvageable, Emerson might have a future. They gathered in a huddle. Fernandez wanted to check it out right away. Naia argued it might be a trap or monster nest. The others stayed silent, uncertain. Wren weighed the options. They had limited supplies, and exploring that fortress could take time. But turning back empty-handed was pointless. He stood. "We came this far. Let''s at least see if it''s occupied. Keep quiet, stay together. If it looks bad, we leave." Everyone nodded. They advanced in a tight formation across the last stretch. The fortress walls rose ten or fifteen feet high, lined with scraps of angled metal. The gate was a thick steel slab welded together from old doors. Overgrowth covered some parts. No fresh footprints or tracks outside. Wren checked a gap in the fencing. The inside yard looked empty, scattered with rubble. No rotting bodies or sign of a big nest. He motioned them forward. With careful force, they pried a smaller side panel open enough to slip through. Inside, the yard had a few rusted crates, metal drums, and a dilapidated shed. They spread out, weapons ready. An eerie silence loomed. The place felt deserted for a long time. Naia found a broken generator near the shed, worthless without fuel or repairs. Fernandez checked the shed: mostly empty, just some moldy tarps. Another crewmate found old bullet casings near a cracked watchtower. Some fight happened here once. Wren approached the main building. The door was ajar. Inside was dim light, dust motes floating in stale air. He smelled old rot and something acrid. He advanced slowly. The corridor led to a central hallway. Every step echoed. Then, a noise from deeper inside: a soft rasp, like claws scraping on concrete. Wren froze, signaling the group to hush. They readied their weapons. The corridor branched into a wide room that might have been a mess hall. Tables were overturned. A few beams of sunlight cut through holes in the ceiling. A shape moved behind one of the tables. Wren raised his machete, heart pounding. He crept forward, motioning the others to fan out. Closer, he saw the shape more clearly¡ªsome beast? Or a human? He circled a table, machete up. A ragged figure in stained clothing lay on the floor, trembling. It was a man, scrawny, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes sunken. He clutched a small pipe, pointing it shakily at Wren. "I''m not here to kill you," Wren said, voice low. The man coughed, voice cracking. "Been alone¡­ Everyone else gone. You''ll kill me for what''s left, right?" Wren shook his head. "We''re from another settlement. We came looking for supplies or a safer place." The man''s pipe dropped. He sagged, tears tracking through the dust on his face. "No supplies left. We tried to hold this fortress. Monsters tore through. A few of us escaped. I stayed. Stupid. Hoping they''d come back." Wren signaled the group it was safe. Naia approached with a canteen, offering the man a small sip of water. He drank greedily. He introduced himself as Derek. He''d been part of a band that reclaimed this old outpost, but two months ago, a swarm of mutated creatures overwhelmed their defenses. Survivors fled. He stayed behind, half-dead, living on scraps. He had no illusions about the place. "Walls look tough, but they got no strength if there''s no one to man them," he said in a shaky voice. Wren scanned the room, noticing bullet holes on the walls, black scorch marks. The fight must''ve been brutal. "We thought we could bring our people here, have a better fortress." Derek snorted, though it came out as a wheeze. "Better? Maybe if you reinforce everything, get more gear. The place might stand. But it''s not some magical solution. There''s not even a well. We pulled water from the river until it dried up. Or got tainted." Wren felt the seeds of disappointment, but he also saw potential. The walls were stronger than Emerson''s. The building had multiple floors, a watchtower for vantage. If they could fix it up, expand, maybe scavenge a generator¡­ it could become a real stronghold. One step at a time, though. They''d need serious manpower and supplies. Right now, they were barely surviving as is. They brought Derek outside, gave him what little food they could spare. He seemed too weak to walk far. "Not sure I can make it all the way back to your settlement," he warned, voice hollow. Wren considered. Leaving him here felt wrong. But dragging him along might slow them. Then again, if they let him starve, that was on their conscience. He sighed. "We''ll try to get you home with us. If you can move slow, we''ll manage. No one''s got it easy, but I''m not leaving you to die." Derek gave a faint nod, too exhausted to argue. The group took a final look around the fortress, noting the collapsed sections, the leftover fences. They grabbed a few broken tools. Then they headed out, one more mouth to feed, but maybe an ally with knowledge of this place. The return journey took a day and a half, mostly because Derek needed rests. They avoided the big crater monster, took a longer route around. The group used up their water. By the time Emerson''s walls came into view, everyone was parched and sore. But they had news: a fortress not too far away that might be reclaimed with enough effort. A big risk, but a potential step up from constant monster attacks in the open. They squeezed through Emerson''s gate near dusk. People stared at the half-starved newcomer. Argus listened to the quick report, eyes narrowed. "A real fortress, huh? Or a graveyard waiting to happen?" Wren shrugged. "Both." Still, it was something. Argus would mull it over. The folks who tried to hold it before obviously lost. But the group had no illusions: If they did nothing, Emerson would fade. This outpost was never designed for a permanent hold. Wren dropped into a seat near the storehouse, ignoring the pain in his shoulders and back. He checked the System: [System Notification: Expedition Complete - Key Intel Acquired] EXP +5 Total: 24/25 to Next Skill He was one point shy of leveling. That almost made him laugh. Surviving monstrous encounters, forging a path to an abandoned fortress, escorting a starving man back¡­ it all came down to a trickle of experience. Still, every bit mattered. One more small success, and he''d push Ash Manipulation to the next stage. He rubbed his eyes. Sleep called, but there was too much to do: injuries to treat, ration distribution, talk of maybe relocating. The nights felt shorter and less restful every day. But that was life, and no one could do it for him. 3. Skittering Wren stood behind a makeshift barrier of corrugated metal. A chilling dawn breeze swept through Emerson, tugging at the ragged tarps that served as roofs for half the settlement. People coughed and shuffled around in threadbare coats, trying to get a small fire going. Thick ash coated the ground as usual, turning every step into a dull crunch. He felt the strain from the recent expedition. His limbs ached. A bandage was wrapped tight around one bicep. The trek east to that run-down fortress had proved it existed, but it also showed just how unprepared they were to occupy it. They had limited food, minimal gear, and no illusions about how dangerous the roads could be. He turned as Fernandez approached from behind a rusted car hull. "We need you at the center again," Fernandez said, voice low. "Argus wants a plan." Wren nodded. He followed the man past the battered courtyard, where a few children tried to scrape dust off a piece of broken plexiglass. The settlement was silent except for the soft clinks of metal and hushed voices. They had lost the energy for chatter. They reached a re-purposed shipping container that formed Argus''s command post. Naia was already inside, crouched beside Derek¡ªthe malnourished survivor they''d rescued from the fortress. Derek still looked pale but had at least gotten a meal and some rest. He sat, hugging his knees, while Naia offered him a canteen. Argus stood at a small table with stacked papers. A single dim flashlight illuminated his notes. He looked up when Wren and Fernandez entered, lines of worry evident on his face. "We can''t stay in this loop," Argus said, voice flat. "We scavenge scraps, fix a few fences, and each time something bigger shows up. We lose a person every few weeks. Sooner or later, we''ll be down to nothing." Wren stayed silent. He knew the truth of that. The city was crawling with beasts that seemed to grow more numerous by the day. Emerson was a fragile outpost. Its patched walls wouldn''t stop a serious incursion. Naia spoke gently. "Maybe the fortress is our best option, even if it''s in bad shape." Argus shook his head, rubbing his temples. "Derek said the place was overrun once before. It needs real defenses. We don''t have enough people or supplies for that." Derek cleared his throat. "You''d need metal plating, fuel for a generator if you want better lighting, and more ammo. We tried to hold out with our little group, but the monsters were too many." "We had some solar batteries, but they died. The water was the biggest issue. The river dried up, or got contaminated by who knows what. We just¡­ we couldn''t do it." Fernandez muttered a curse under his breath. "So we either stay here and starve or head there and risk the same end. Great." Wren folded his arms, scanning the gloom. "We can''t do this alone. We might need to find allies, or a stash of better equipment." Argus nodded. "That''s the issue. Who do we trust out there? Half the scavengers we meet would rather rob us than team up." A silence followed. Wren''s mind wandered to the System, the ash-based powers he was slowly honing. If he could level up enough, maybe he could do more. Summon bigger constructs, fortify walls. But that took time, and each fight drained him. He pulled up his status in his mind: [System Notification: Status Check - Wren] Health: 35/50 Stamina: 28/40 Ash Reserve: 60% Skill: Ash Manipulation (Basic) - LV 1 (24/25 EXP) Next Level: +1 EXP needed One measly point short of leveling. He repressed a sardonic smile. Argus tapped a makeshift map. "Look here," the old man said, pointing to a rough sketch of the city. "We have three zones we haven''t explored well. Possibly some warehouses we bypassed, or a water tower that might hold something. If we can find resources or better weapons, we stand a chance." He moved his finger to a mark labeled "Railyard." "This area might have metal sheets or leftover rail spikes we can use for reinforcing. But it''s a known monster hotspot." Wren studied the map. The railyard was maybe a day''s trek west, deeper into a zone often rumored to house large bug-like creatures. "Could be worth it," he said at last. "Metal''s valuable. We can''t defend anything with these flimsy scraps." Naia nodded. "You''d lead the team?" He sighed. "I guess. We need more supplies for a real plan, no matter what it is." Argus set his jaw. "Alright. Gather a small group again. We can''t spare too many people. But if you can bring back a load of metal or anything useful, it might buy us time¡ªwhether we reinforce Emerson for a while or strengthen that fortress. Either way, we need raw materials." They formed a party of four: Wren, Naia, Fernandez, and a man named Puck, who was good at rigging contraptions. They prepped with what little gear Emerson had. Wren took a half-dozen crossbow bolts¡ªscavenged from various corners of the settlement¡ªand his battered machete. Fernandez had his shotgun with four shells left. Naia carried a spear and an old sidearm with two bullets. Puck wore a tool belt. Not much, but it was all they had. They set out in the midmorning gloom. The road west was cracked and full of fallen debris. They kept close to walls, scanning each intersection. The city''s silence felt suffocating at times. Occasional gusts kicked up ash clouds, forcing them to shield their eyes. Wren took point, forming a small ash dagger in his left hand off and on, practicing to keep his skill sharp.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! He wanted that last experience point, but obviously he needed an actual success¡ªlike defeating a beast or completing a System-recognized task. Just forging a dagger repeatedly might not do it. An hour in, they encountered a cluster of small, rodent-like creatures rummaging through a toppled trash bin. The group froze. Wren signaled them to back away quietly. Those rodents were skittish, but if they sensed threat, they''d swarm. The party snuck around an alternate street, forging a path over a collapsed scaffolding. They pressed on. Broken signage and leaning storefronts lined the street. They spotted a sign reading "Telecom Exchange" half-buried in rubble. Fernandez suggested checking inside for electronics or salvage, but Wren shook his head. "We can''t carry a lot. Focus on metal or anything obviously helpful. Let''s not risk side hunts." They turned down a side alley. Halfway through, they heard a moan from around a corner. Everyone tensed. Puck readied a length of pipe. Wren formed the ash dagger. Carefully, they peeked around: a wounded scavenger lay slumped against a wall, one leg twisted. Blood soaked the ground. He looked near death. A battered rifle lay at his side. Naia approached slowly. "He''s alive," she whispered, kneeling. The man coughed, eyes half-lidded. He mumbled something about "ambushed¡­ spider creatures¡­" Wren scanned the area but saw no immediate threat. The man''s injuries were severe. Wren exhaled. They had limited medical supplies. Helping him could slow them down, but leaving him to die felt wrong. He motioned Puck to patch him up if possible. Puck tried bandaging the gaping wound on the man''s leg, but it was beyond basic first aid. The man groaned, delirious. Wren studied the rifle. It had no ammo. Probably worthless right now. "What''s your name?" he asked the scavenger quietly. "R-Ryan," the man croaked. Fernandez muttered, "We can''t fix him here." Wren''s gut twisted. They had a choice: either carry Ryan back to Emerson or push on and let him die. He hated it, but the settlement needed those metal supplies. And there was no guarantee Ryan would make it anyway. Argus would want them to finish the mission. Still, Wren couldn''t just walk away. After a moment, Wren decided. "Naia, you and Puck stay with him for ten minutes. See if he''s stable enough to move. If not, we can''t help." It was cruel, but that was the reality. They kept watch while Naia tried to make Ryan drink water. The man''s breathing grew weaker. Before the time was up, he stopped breathing altogether. Naia closed his eyes. Wren let out a slow breath. Another casualty in this ruined world. They salvaged what little they could: the rifle''s strap, a half-empty canteen, a piece of cloth that might be useful for bandages. Then they moved on, leaving Ryan''s body to the ash. The group pressed deeper, following a battered street sign that hinted at the railyard ahead. Wren noticed the cityscape shifting¡ªlarger open lots, scattered rails twisted out of shape. The stench of old oil clung to the air. They paused at an entrance blocked by a massive metal gate that had fallen sideways. "This must be it," Fernandez said, prodding the gate with his shotgun barrel. "We crawl over?" Puck found a gap underneath where the metal was bent. It was wide enough to slide through if they removed their packs. They took turns, each slipping under with caution. Inside, the railyard sprawled: broken freight cars on rusted tracks, debris from collapsed sheds and warehouses. Loose sheets of metal glinted among the rubble. Naia kept her spear ready. The place felt eerie. There were tall shipping containers stacked haphazardly, some leaning precariously. Wren signaled silence. They spread out, scanning for any sign of movement. Fernandez pointed to a cluster of freight cars. "We can search those for metal scraps or tools. Might be something useful." They crept closer. The ground here was covered in a layer of soot. Each step left footprints. Wren spotted large, clawed impressions that didn''t match a human foot. Possibly the spider-like creatures Ryan had mentioned. He kept his weapon up. They reached the freight cars. The sides were torn open, possibly by some monstrous claws. Inside one, they found corroded crates. Puck checked a few, discovering a bundle of old steel rods and brackets. Good salvage. They loaded up some rods into a makeshift sling. It was heavy but valuable. Wren felt a spark of hope. This was exactly what Emerson needed: tough metal for reinforcing walls or forging better spears. Half an hour passed, rummaging quietly. They gathered a pile of metal scraps near the exit. Enough for a decently sized load, though not enough to fix all of Emerson''s problems. Then a faint clicking noise echoed from behind the stacked containers. Everyone tensed. Wren motioned them into defensive positions. He formed his ash dagger, focusing on compressing it more than usual. He wanted it strong enough not to break after one strike. The System flickered: [System Notification: Ash Dagger (Reinforced) Created] Minor Skill Proficiency Gained Ash Manipulation (Basic) - LV 1 => LV 2 Upgraded: +1 Summon Slot He felt a subtle rush of energy. He had leveled his skill. That meant his ash constructs might hold together better, and he might be able to summon something extra. Not a moment too soon. Fernandez pointed: a spindly shape emerged from behind a shipping container. It stood on six legs, each as thick as a human arm. Its abdomen rose high, and two large pincers clicked at the front. A mutated spider-like creature. Possibly the same type that had attacked Ryan. It spotted them, letting out a chattering hiss. Two more of similar shape crawled along the container walls, each about man-sized. This was going to be rough. Wren''s heart pounded. He nodded to Fernandez, who fired the shotgun at the closest spider. The blast tore chunks from its exoskeleton, but didn''t kill it. The spider shrieked, lunging. Wren dashed forward, slashing with the reinforced ash dagger. The blade bit into the creature''s body, but thick chitin resisted. He twisted, forcing it deeper. The spider flailed, spitting a clump of sticky web at him. He dodged aside. Naia and Puck engaged the second spider. Puck swung a metal rod, striking a leg. Naia thrust her spear into its side. The spider reeled, but whipped a leg around, knocking Puck off balance. He landed hard, cursing. The spider advanced on him, mandibles clacking. Wren whipped around, seeing Puck in danger. He flung an ash shard at the spider''s face. It embedded in the creature''s eye cluster, causing it to recoil. That gave Puck a moment to scramble back. Naia lunged again, spear tip finding a gap in the exoskeleton. The spider thrashed, green ichor splattering. Fernandez pumped the shotgun to load another shell, carefully aiming at the third spider that scuttled overhead. He fired. The shot clipped its abdomen, but it spat a web at him, tangling the shotgun barrel. Fernandez stumbled, trying to peel off the sticky fibers. The first spider was still thrashing against Wren''s dagger. He grit his teeth, pressing his free hand to the spider''s flank. He called on the System to shape more ash around his palm, trying to create a quick spike that might pierce deeper. It formed a short, conical spike and stabbed in. The spider convulsed, legs twitching. Then it collapsed in a wet heap. [System Notification: Spider Beast Defeated] EXP +8 Ash Reserve: 50% Wren tore his dagger free, spinning to see the second spider pinned by Naia''s spear. She had it jammed under a broken piece of crate for leverage. The spider hissed, raking the ground. Puck slammed a rod down on its head repeatedly until it stopped moving. [System Notification: Spider Beast Defeated] EXP +8 The third spider dropped from above, landing near Fernandez. He was still wrestling with webbing on his gun. Wren sprinted over, ash dagger at the ready, ignoring the burn in his legs. The spider lunged. Fernandez dove aside, dropping the gun. Wren slashed low, catching the creature''s underbelly. It shrieked, rearing back. He followed with another stab, driving the blade up to the hilt. Exoskeleton cracked. The spider gave a choked rasp and fell limp. [System Notification: Spider Beast Defeated] EXP +8 Ash Manipulation (Basic) - LV 2 (3/50 EXP) Panting, the group checked for more threats. Silence, aside from their ragged breaths. Three dead spiders, no sign of others. Puck clutched a bruised shoulder, Naia''s spear tip had cracked, and Fernandez''s shotgun was gummed up with webbing. Still, they were alive. Wren''s arm ached from the deep slash that first spider had deflected. But no new serious injuries. They regrouped, stepping away from the carcasses. "We should bail," Fernandez said flatly, trying to wipe sticky webbing off the shotgun. "We got some metal, that''s enough." Wren agreed. No sense pushing their luck. They collected the rods they had salvaged, bundling them for transport. The load weighed them down, but they needed every piece. They hurried back to the gate, scanning for signs of more spiders. None appeared. Squeezing under the gate was harder with the extra weight, but they managed. Outside, they retraced their path, staying alert. 4. Party Two hours later, They skirted a collapsed building, rummaging quickly for anything else to pad their haul. Found a handful of nails, some chipped crowbars. Not prime, but workable. Each item might help Emerson last a bit longer. A sudden wail echoed from the next street. They froze. It was a human voice, high-pitched, maybe a child. "We gotta check," Naia said. Fernandez groaned but nodded. They moved toward the sound, creeping through a gap in a half-fallen wall. The scream cut off abruptly. They emerged into a small courtyard, littered with broken furniture. Two small figures stood near the center, one limp in the arms of the other. As Wren approached, he saw it was a young teen holding a younger sibling, maybe. The teen stared wide-eyed, face streaked with tears. The younger child lay unmoving, blood on their shirt. A large reptilian beast with two curved horns prowled at the far edge, watching the siblings. It hissed, drooling thick saliva. The teen spotted Wren''s group, mouth opening in silent plea. Wren didn''t hesitate. He passed his salvage bundle to Puck. Then he advanced with the ash dagger. The creature hissed again, snapping at the teen, who tried to shield the smaller child. Naia circled left with her damaged spear. Fernandez set his webbed shotgun aside, drawing a short hatchet. Puck remained behind, weighed down. The beast lunged. The teen screamed, hugging the child''s body. Wren dashed forward, aiming a slash at the beast''s flank. It twisted, swiping him with a scaled tail. He staggered, regaining balance. Naia thrust her spear from the side, hitting a scaly plate. The tip snapped off, leaving her with a blunt pole. The beast roared, jaws snapping inches from her. Fernandez swung the hatchet at the beast''s hind leg. The blade bit in, making it snarl. Wren circled behind, forming a second piece of ash¡ªlike a spike¡ªto drive into a gap near its rib area. He forced the spike in, but the creature jerked, sending him sprawling. The beast pinned Fernandez with a clawed foot, leaning in to bite. Wren pushed off the ground, blood pounding in his ears. He yanked the spike out, then stabbed again and again at the creature''s side. Each thrust jarred his arm. Finally, the scaly hide gave way, and thick blood poured from the wound. The creature howled, releasing Fernandez. Naia tried to jab the broken pole at the beast''s eye. It jerked away, turning on her with a hiss. Wren seized the moment to bury his ash spike deeper. With a final wrench, the monster collapsed in a twitching heap. [System Notification: Horned Lizard Beast Defeated] EXP +12 Ash Manipulation (Basic) - LV 2 (15/50 EXP) Wren gasped for breath. The teen stared, still clutching the smaller child. Blood trickled from the younger one''s mouth. Naia knelt to check for a pulse. She shook her head. The child was gone. The teen made a choked sob, tears streaming. Wren felt a hollow ache in his chest. They were too late for the younger kid. The teen just rocked back and forth, muttering. No one spoke for a few seconds. Fernandez had claw marks across his chest. He grimaced, pressing a rag to stanch bleeding. Naia gently tried to pull the teen away from the body, but the teen resisted, crying out.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Wren watched, unsure. He was no counselor. He only knew how to survive. Eventually, the teen let them check the wound on their arm. It was shallow. They forced some water into the teen''s trembling hands. The teen stared at the child''s lifeless form, eyes vacant. Wren got the sense that no words would fix this. This was one more tragedy in a world that served them daily horrors. "Do you have anywhere to go?" Naia asked softly. The teen shook their head, tears fresh. Wren closed his eyes. Another lost soul. Could they take the teen back to Emerson? The place was short on food, but leaving the teen alone here was a death sentence. He looked at Fernandez. The man gave a faint nod. "We can bring them. Might not be comfortable, but it''s better than leaving them." So they carefully pried the teen away from the child''s body, explaining there was nothing they could do. The teen hardly responded, just stared in shock. Naia guided them gently. The younger child''s corpse lay crumpled. No time for a proper burial out here. Wren set a broken piece of wood over the child''s face, a tiny gesture of respect. The group trudged back, weighed down not just by metal scraps but by sorrow. The teen walked in a daze, led by Naia. No one spoke for a while. Each street felt endless. At one point, they heard scuttling in the distance, but the creatures didn''t approach. Maybe the presence of so many fresh kills had them cautious. It was nearly dark when Emerson''s barricades came into sight. Exhaustion clung to everyone. They slipped through the gate, greeted by a few concerned faces. Argus stepped over to see what they''d brought back. Then his gaze fell on the teen, who stared at the ground, shaking. Puck set down the metal rods. "We found these in the railyard," he said. "Had to fight spiders. Then a horned lizard got in our way." Argus nodded, counting rods. "We can definitely use these. Looks like a decent haul." He paused, looking at the teen. "And them?" Wren explained quietly. Argus grimaced, then signaled for someone to get the teen some water and a place to rest. Emerson wasn''t a haven, but it was better than dying out in the ruins. Wren slumped against a half-toppled section of brick wall. He felt a swirl of emotions¡ªanger, sadness, a tinge of relief that they''d survived. The System pinged: [System Notification: Expedition Return - Salvage Delivered] EXP: +3 Ash Manipulation (Basic) - LV 2 (18/50 EXP) He stared at the numbers, feeling numb. Another day, more violence, minimal gains. He saw that he still needed 32 more points to advance the skill further. That might unlock better constructs or an ability to summon something beyond improvised blades. But how many fights would that require? Argus approached, setting a hand on Wren''s shoulder. "Good work. I know it''s tough out there, but you brought back something. We''ll figure out how to use that metal. Maybe reinforce corners or build shields." Wren nodded. "We can try forging spikes for the fortress gates, if we move. Or fix the catwalk here." Argus sighed. "We need a decision soon. This place can''t hold out forever. But that fortress is a gamble. Derek''s resting. He says the water situation was a disaster. We can''t haul all these people across the city if we have no stable supply." Wren rubbed his tired eyes. "We might explore for a well or stash a water system. Maybe we can rig a purifier if we find parts." Argus gave a faint grunt of agreement. "We''ll talk in the morning. For now, get some rest." Wren watched him go, then turned to see Naia comforting the teen from earlier. The kid just stared blankly. Life in the ash. He realized how easily that could have been him a few years ago, losing everything in a single monster attack. That anger inside him churned. They deserved a better future than scrounging day by day. He forced himself to walk to a corner near the storehouse, where he had a pile of tattered blankets. It wasn''t much, but it served as a sleeping spot. Before lying down, he formed one last small ash dagger, letting it vanish. Each repeated attempt might refine his skill. He had to keep pushing. [System Notification: Minor Ash Practice] Ash Manipulation (Basic) - +1% (19/50) He collapsed onto the blankets, shoulders and legs throbbing. His mind churned with images: the teen sobbing over a dead sibling, the spider beasts flailing as they died, that fortress with empty walls. He closed his eyes, fatigue dragging him down. Another day survived, but the same question remained: How long could they last? He needed to plan. They had to pick a path soon, whether relocating to the fortress, forging alliances, or finding a water source that let them stand firm. The city was teeming with threats. Next time they might not make it back. But right now, he could barely keep his eyes open. He dozed, half-dreaming of forging a massive ash barrier across the entire settlement, blocking out monsters. If only he had that level of power. For now, though, he was just Wren¡ªscraping by with a machete, a crossbow, and a half-trained skill. 5. Uneasy Alliance Wren woke to a dull ache in his side. A few people dragged themselves around, starting small fires, checking shaky barricades. The usual routine. He rose, rolling his shoulder to loosen stiff muscles. Memories of that last expedition lingered: the spider beasts in the railyard, the wounded scavenger they couldn''t save, the teen who''d lost a sibling. This world spared no one, and Wren felt on borrowed time. He glanced across the yard and spotted the teen, blank-faced, sitting alone near a broken water barrel. No words came to Wren''s mind, so he just looked away. A hoarse shout caught his attention. Fernandez waved him over to the gate. Wren trudged across the uneven dirt, ignoring the gnaw of hunger in his belly. He passed a battered tarp that served as the communal cooking area. Already, a half-dozen survivors lined up with tin cups, hoping for boiled scraps of edible roots. He had no appetite right now. At the gate, Fernandez stood on a metal sheet hammered into a watch platform. "Something''s moving out there," the man said. "Could be scavengers. I see four figures, maybe five." Wren peered through a pair of old binoculars. Sure enough, a small group approached from the south, picking their way around wrecked cars. They weren''t making a secret of it, so probably not an ambush. Could be travelers or another settlement''s scouts. Sometimes, people came to trade or scavenge. Sometimes, they came to steal. Argus arrived, short of breath from hurrying. He grimaced at the figures in the distance. "We''ll see if they''re friendly," he muttered. "But keep your guard up." Wren gave a curt nod. His crossbow was slung across his back, only a few bolts left. He had his machete at his side, and the ability to shape ash. It wouldn''t be the first time he had to threaten travelers away if they turned hostile. Time Passed: A Few Minutes The strangers neared, halting about twenty paces from Wren''s improvised gate. One man raised both hands, open palms. A woman next to him held a crude spear. Another carried a backpack, and there were two more behind them, each armed with short blades. Argus stepped forward, flanked by Wren and Fernandez. "State your business," Argus called. The lead man cleared his throat. "We''re from a settlement west of here. Name''s Bronte." He had a lean face, a scar across his nose. "We heard rumors of a group in this area. Seems we found you." Argus made no move to open the gate. "You want to trade? Or are you just passing by?" Bronte shrugged. "Could be trade, could be we share information. We''re in a fix. Our water source got contaminated. We need a lead on fresh supplies." Argus glanced at Wren. "We don''t have much water to spare. We''re barely scraping by ourselves," Argus said flatly. Bronte frowned but didn''t push. "I get it. We''re all desperate." He hesitated, then reached into a small pouch. He held up a piece of battered metal¡ªlooked like some type of old device. "We found this in an abandoned outpost. Some pre-Fall tech. Don''t know if it still works, but maybe it''s valuable. If you have any spare water or food, we could trade. Or we could talk about joining forces." Argus studied the device from afar. Hard to see details, but maybe it was a battery pack or a portable sensor. Wren suspected it might be worthless junk. But ignoring them could mean missing an opportunity. After a pause, Argus sighed. "I can''t let five armed strangers in freely. But if you disarm, we can share a small meal and see if we have common ground." Bronte looked back at his group. Some exchanged uneasy glances. Eventually, he nodded. They placed their weapons on the ground¡ªspear, knives, a makeshift axe. The group stepped back, letting Argus''s folks pick them up. Argus motioned for Wren to keep watch. Wren slid open the gate just enough for them to enter one by one. They were patted down quickly for hidden weapons. Then the gate clanged shut. Inside, people eyed the newcomers warily. Naia brought out a small pot of thin stew, handing each a tin cup''s worth. Bronte and his companions drank hungrily, though the meal was barely enough to stave off hunger. Argus and Wren stood nearby, weapons not drawn but ready. Bronte cleared his throat. "This used to be a bigger settlement, right? Hard to hold onto a place this size." Argus shrugged. "We do what we can. Your place is west?" Bronte nodded. "Not exactly a place. More like a compound with corrugated walls. We had farmland until the soil turned toxic. Then we relied on a shallow well. But something seeped in from below, maybe chemicals or monster byproduct. Now it''s undrinkable." Fernandez mumbled a curse. "Same story everywhere. Water''s always the problem." Bronte took a breath. "We can''t keep living like that. We thought about moving. But the roads are full of predators. If we had more people, more resources, we could relocate. Or find a permanent fix. So we''re looking for alliances. Trade, or maybe merging settlements."A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Argus folded his arms, considering. Wren studied Bronte''s face, looking for any sign of a con or threat. The man seemed sincere enough, though desperation can drive people to do reckless things. Argus spoke quietly, "We''ve got a possible location east¡ªa fortress. But it''s half-ruined, no guaranteed water, and it''s been overrun in the past." Bronte perked up. "A fortress? That''s interesting." He glanced at his group. "We were hoping to find a place with intact walls. If we pool forces, we could hold it." Wren interjected softly. "Walls alone don''t fix the water issue. We''d need to scout for a purifier or a well deep enough not to be contaminated." He thought about the city''s rotting infrastructure. "We might need to scavenge old water treatment gear. If any still exists." Bronte grimaced. "We tried picking a wastewater plant near the coast. Infested with giant leech-creatures. Lost two people. We retreated." Argus rubbed his temples. "It''s always something." They stood in an uneasy circle, each settlement''s woes laid out. The onlookers from Wren''s group hovered, not sure whether to trust these strangers. Derek, the man rescued from the fortress, hobbled over, casting them a curious look. "So," Argus said at last, "maybe we see if we can cooperate on checking that fortress for a deeper water table, or find old equipment. But that''s a major operation. We don''t have the ammo or supplies for a big push." Bronte offered a half-smile. "We''d be willing to contribute some manpower if we gather ours. You have a lead on a location. We have a few leftover guns and some skill with building. Might be enough to set something up. Beats letting monster packs pick us off one by one." Argus looked to Wren. "What''s your take?" Wren recognized the risk. If Bronte''s people turned hostile, or if it was a trap, that might end their settlement. But staying put was slow death. "No guarantee we can trust them," Wren said. "But it''s a shot we might have to take." Bronte nodded. "Likewise. We could stab each other in the back, or we can try something. If we don''t do anything, we all die separate. At least if we work together, we might stand a chance." Argus inhaled slowly. "Alright. Let''s talk details." The discussion stretched for hours. They hammered out a tentative plan: a scouting expedition to the fortress, bigger than Wren''s last attempt. Maybe a dozen from their settlement, a dozen from Bronte''s side if he could gather them. They''d bring as much gear as possible, try to clear the fortress of any lurking threats, and see if water solutions existed. If it worked, they''d shift focus to relocating or fortifying that place. If it failed, well, it was just another lost cause. Eventually, Bronte''s group left to go rally their settlement. Argus gave them a small water flask in goodwill, which they treasured. They also returned Bronte''s spear and minimal weapons. No sense angering them. Once they were gone, Wren''s fellow residents argued among themselves. Some said it was insane to trust strangers, others said it was the only path forward. Argus tried to stay neutral, but it was clear he favored the chance to build something better than these scrap walls. Wren kept quiet. He was the best scavenger and fighter they had, but not a leader. This plan might be the only way to avoid rotting in these ruins. He left the debate to gather his thoughts. He walked around the settlement''s perimeter, checking weak spots in the fences. He tried shaping a few ash reinforcements, pressing dust into the cracks. [Ash Reinforcement Created] Ash Manipulation (Basic) - LV 2 (19 => 21/50 EXP) He needed more if he was going to craft bigger defenses or stronger summons. Maybe with a higher skill level, he could do more advanced constructs. Summon a real creature instead of improvised spikes. Then he remembered the mention of "+1 Summon Slot" from leveling to 2. He hadn''t tried forging a real summon beyond small blades or barriers. He found a quiet spot near a collapsed van. Carefully, he focused on the ash in the air. He visualized pulling it together into a shape that could move on its own. A hawk, maybe. Something to scout. The idea felt vague in his mind, so he concentrated harder, forging an internal image of a bird formed from swirling dust. [Attempting Summon: Ash Hawk] Ash Reserve: 60% ¡ú Summon Allocation: 10% Success Chance: ??? He pushed more will into it. Slowly, a swirl of gray dust hovered in front of him, condensing into a small hawk shape. For a moment, it flickered, almost collapsing. Then it stabilized. The hawk fluttered once, perched on the edge of the van. Its eyes glowed faintly with ash light. Wren let out a breath, mind reeling at the new experience. So this was a "true" summon, not just a single-use weapon. The hawk cocked its head, responding to his unspoken commands. He mentally nudged it upward. It flapped, swirling dust behind it, and rose a few feet. [Summon Ash Hawk (Lv 1) Created] Upkeep: -1% Ash Reserve per hour Functions: Aerial Scouting, Minor Combat His heart thumped. This was a real advantage. He tested it, guiding the hawk to circle the settlement. Through faint mental feedback, he sensed what it saw: the perimeter, people milling about, the dusty roads beyond. Not full vision, but enough of a link to gather intelligence. He dismissed it after a few minutes to save on ash. The hawk dissolved, drifting away in a soft swirl. He checked his status: [Ash Manipulation (Basic) - 22/50 EXP] Ash Reserve: 49% Active Summons: 0 New Summon Learned: Ash Hawk He felt a shaky thrill. If he could refine this, maybe he could eventually summon something bigger to help in fights. That might shift the odds for their settlement or the fortress plan. But for now, he was half-spent from just a simple hawk. He needed rest to replenish mental stamina. He headed back to the storehouse area. People were finishing up the day''s chores, distributing watery soup. He took a bowl, forced it down. It tasted like sour beans. He visited Argus in the shipping-container office. The old man was checking supplies. "We have enough canned goods for maybe a week if we ration," Argus said. "Ammo is practically gone. We''ll have to rely on your ash powers, or melee." Wren gave a tired nod. "I summoned a small ash hawk today. A real one, not just a dagger. It worked, but it drained me." Argus raised an eyebrow. "That''s new. Good. We''ll need every advantage we can get. If we''re heading to that fortress with Bronte''s people, do you think we can hold off big creatures?" Wren shrugged. "Maybe if we''re careful. Or if we find a real water source. If we can''t, no point holding anything. Thirst kills faster than monsters." Argus sighed. "Right. We''ll set out once Bronte returns. He said a week or so to gather his crew. Meanwhile, I guess we shore up our defenses the best we can, pack up for a possible move. Or for one final stand." He thanked Wren and dismissed him. Wren stepped out, footsteps dragging on the ashen ground. The teen they''d rescued after that sibling''s death was leaning against a scrap wall, expression hollow. Wren considered talking to them, but no words came. Instead, he just gave a small nod in passing. The teen didn''t respond. Night fell. The settlement settled into a tense hush. Wren tried to sleep near a small fire, a crude blanket pulled over him. His mind churned with the fortress plan. If it failed, that might be the end of everything. If it worked, they''d still face an uphill battle. He dozed off, and dreamt of spider beasts and other fallen things. 6. The Breaking Point He woke before dawn to the clang of metal. Something hammered the southern barricade. People scrambled awake, grabbing weapons. Wren bolted upright, adrenaline spiking. "Monsters?" he muttered, pulling on his coat. He rushed to the commotion, pushing aside a terrified scavenger who toted a broken crossbow. At the barricade, Naia was peering over, spear in hand. She looked back at Wren, fear in her eyes. "Some... huge insect." Wren climbed onto a vantage point. In the faint light, he saw a squat, broad insect-like creature ramming the metal sheets. Its body was covered in thick plates, and a set of scythe-like forelimbs sliced at the barrier. Each slam dented the makeshift wall. It was alone, for now. Fernandez arrived with his half-webbed shotgun. "This is bad," he hissed. "We can''t afford that thing bashing a hole." Wren considered summoning the hawk, but that might not help much. The hawk wasn''t built for heavy combat. He''d have to rely on direct ash shaping or the group''s limited ammo. Fernandez had maybe two shells left. Argus ran up, shouting orders. People tried to bracing the barricade from the inside, pressing old beams against it. The creature slammed again, a deafening clang echoing. The barrier rattled, a large crack forming. Wren leapt down, deciding to go outside and confront it. Risky, but letting it tear down the wall threatened everyone. He signaled Naia and a few others to cover him. They opened a side gap, enough for him to slip through. He stepped into the gloom, machete in one hand, forming an ash spike in the other. The creature noticed him. It turned with a hiss, forelimbs raised. Wren advanced cautiously, trying to keep his distance from those scythe arms. The monster lunged, swinging a forelimb. Wren rolled aside, hearing the metal slice through air. He lashed out with the ash spike, catching a joint near the limb. The chitin cracked, but not deeply. The beast roared, slamming a leg down. Wren scrambled back. He shaped a quick ash wall in front of him. The scythe limbs hacked at it, sending dust flying. He glimpsed an opening and thrust his machete at the beast''s underside. It glanced off thick plating, barely scratching. On the barricade, Naia hurled a makeshift spear. It clanged harmlessly off the monster''s side. Fernandez aimed the shotgun from above, but the angle was poor. He fired anyway. The slug tore a small hole in the creature''s shell, green fluid seeping out. The monster screeched, whirling toward Fernandez''s vantage. That gave Wren a second to strike again. He shaped a more refined ash blade, focusing on compressing it to a near-metal density. The System chimed in his mind: [System Notification: Ash Blade (Advanced) Created] Ash Manipulation (Basic) - LV 2 (22 => 25/50 EXP) He slashed at the beast''s wounded side, driving the advanced blade in deeper. It roared, slashing a forelimb across Wren''s chest. Pain exploded. He nearly dropped the blade. Blood stained his coat. Summoning the last of his strength, he twisted the blade, ripping through chitin. The beast collapsed with a wet thud, spasming. [System Notification: Insect Ravager Defeated] EXP +12 Ash Manipulation (Basic) - LV 2 (37/50 EXP) Wren reeled backward, nearly losing consciousness from the agony. Naia and two others sprinted out, dragging him away from the monster''s thrashing legs. He gasped for air, vision blurry. The chest wound felt deep. They pulled him inside Emerson, sealing the gap. Another caretaker knelt beside him, pressing a rag to the gash. "Hold on," Naia murmured, voice tight. He clenched his teeth against the burning pain. Another notification flickered: [System Warning: Critical Injury Detected] Health: 12/50 Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.Recommend Immediate Medical Attention They had no real medics, just a few folks who''d picked up basics from old pamphlets. The caretaker poured some antiseptic¡ªprobably half expired¡ªonto the wound. Wren bit back a scream. She wrapped him in strips of cloth. Blood oozed through, but the pressure slowed it. He forced his breathing to steady. The monster was dead. The wall held. But each day some new horror tried to break them. This world was relentless. He felt Argus''s presence looming. The old man''s voice was grim. "We can''t keep doing this. You''re barely standing, Wren. We have to move or upgrade our defenses fast." Wren nodded weakly. He''d known that was the reality. If they stayed, more creatures would come. If they moved, they faced the unknown. But at least at the fortress, they might have a chance to build something stronger, especially if Bronte''s group pitched in. "Alright," Argus said quietly to the onlookers. "We start prepping. Get everything we can. Food, salvage, gather it in the next few days." "When Bronte''s crew arrives, we head to the fortress. If we fail¡­ then it ends anyway." Murmurs swept through the gathered survivors. Some looked terrified, others resigned. Wren closed his eyes, letting the caretaker finish bandaging him. The torn flesh burned, but at least he was alive. Time Passed: Several Days Wren spent two of those days mostly resting, letting his wound scab over. He tested small bits of ash shaping to maintain skill. The system fed him incremental progress: [System Notification: Minor Ash Practices] Ash Manipulation (Basic) - LV 2 (37 => 45/50 EXP) He was close to leveling the skill again. Maybe that next step would unlock sturdier constructs or a better summon. He needed all the help he could get. Meanwhile, the settlement bustled with subdued energy. People gathered scrap metal, old tarps, and meager food. A few tried patching the wall with the rods Wren''s team had brought back. Derek, the man from the fortress, gave them some advice on how to weld or bolt plates in place, though the result was still rough. Naia found a single donkey rummaging near an abandoned barn outside the walls. She coaxed it inside, hoping to use it for carrying supplies. The poor creature was scrawny, but it beat lugging everything by hand. On the second night, watchers spotted torches approaching. Bronte''s group had returned¡ªabout ten men and women carrying packs and weapons. The gate opened to let them in. Tension rippled through Emerson, but Argus greeted them stiffly. They''d made the trek, so presumably they wanted to push forward with the plan. Bronte''s folks set up in a corner of the yard, each keeping weapons close. Argus laid out the plan: "In two days, we march east to the fortress. We bring as much as we can handle. We clear out any creatures." "Then we try to hold it. If water''s truly nonexistent, we''ll figure out a workaround or die trying." No one argued. It was a gamble, but everything was. Wren used that final day to prep. His chest wound was healing, though it pained him. He tested the Ash Hawk summon again, refining the summoning process until the hawk formed more smoothly: [System Notification: Summon Ash Hawk Enhanced] Scout Range Extended Ash Manipulation (Basic) - LV 2 (45 => 48/50 EXP) He also coaxed some lumps of ash into larger shapes, half-hoping to create a lion-like form for heavier combat. But the attempts fizzled. He lacked the skill. For now, he had the hawk and simpler constructs. Naia sharpened her spear, fitting a new tip hammered from scrap steel. Fernandez managed to clean some webbing from the shotgun''s barrel. Puck rigged a cart that the donkey could pull. Others packed meager supplies¡ªdried beans, stale crackers, a couple jugs of water. Argus double-checked everything, face lined with tension. The next dawn, the entire settlement gathered. Some would stay behind, too weak or unwilling to risk the fortress journey. But most, about twenty adults plus a few teens, decided to try. Bronte''s group had roughly ten. Total of thirty souls. They lined up with backpacks, improvised weapons, the donkey cart loaded with random salvage. Wren stood near the front, crossbow at the ready, coat patched with fresh bandages underneath. Argus gave a nod to the watchers who''d remain to guard Emerson in case they had to retreat. That was the fallback plan if the fortress turned out to be impossible. Then, with little ceremony, the group headed east. They moved in a loose formation, watchers on each flank. The donkey trotted in the middle, pulling the cart that rattled over debris. Dust rose at each step, swirling around them. The city''s quiet corners lurked with danger, but they had a bigger group now. That might deter smaller monsters. Or it might draw bigger predators. Time Passed: 4 Hours The trek was grueling. The donkey needed frequent stops. People took turns hauling the cart through broken pavement. They skirted areas known for crawlers or spider nests. At midday, they reached a wide intersection near a collapsed overpass. A screech echoed overhead, but it turned out to be a flock of small bird-things that flew away once they saw the group''s size. By evening, the fortress''s silhouette appeared in the distance, just as Wren remembered. High walls, battered towers, no sign of occupant activity. The presence of so many people caused uneasy murmurs. Everyone knew it might be crawling with mutated beasts. They decided to make camp behind some rubble about half a mile from the fortress, approaching in daylight. They took shifts on watch. Wren found a spot to lie down, his breath ragged from the day''s strain. That night, he tried summoning the hawk for watch duties. The mental link let him sense any movement around the perimeter. It drained a bit of ash, but it felt worth it. The system recognized his repeated attempts: [System Notification: Summon Ash Hawk (Practice)] Ash Manipulation (Basic) - LV 2 (48 => 50/50 EXP) Level Up! Ash Manipulation (Basic) => (Intermediate) New Summon Potential Unlocked A surge of clarity rushed through him. He clenched his fist, feeling new possibilities open. Maybe that heavier beast form was now in reach. But he needed rest. The fortress assault waited at dawn. He dozed in short bursts, half-lucid. The hawk soared overhead, relaying the faint sense of open terrain. No major threats approached, or so it seemed. He managed a few hours of uneasy sleep. Morning light found them anxious. People ate small rations, then advanced on the fortress. Naia, Wren, and Bronte led the way, approaching the main gate. It was still jammed shut from their last visit. The walls loomed tall, but with holes in places. They heard no immediate roars or screeches, but that didn''t guarantee safety. They split into two teams: one would pry open the gate while another circled around for a vantage. Wren, Naia, and a few others hoisted crowbars, working on the rusted hinges. After some loud metallic groans, the gate shifted. A scraping sound came from inside. Everyone froze. The gate moved a few inches, revealing a dim courtyard. Then a snarling shape lunged at the gap¡ªa four-legged beast with thick scales, drooling acid. People shouted. Wren jumped back, forming an ash blade in an instant. But now, with his skill advanced to Intermediate, the blade felt sturdier, more refined. He braced for the fight. 7. No Going Back Wren leaned his shoulder into the gate. The corroded metal creaked. A faint dawn glow illuminated shattered concrete and twisted beams all around him. Argus, Bronte, Naia, and about two dozen others stood ready, weapons or tools in hand. Some gripped crowbars. Others carried scavenged spears. One or two had rifles with only a handful of bullets. This was it, the moment they would reclaim the fortress or fail trying. Naia wedged a steel bar under the gate¡¯s hinge. Sweat trickled down her brow. ¡°Ready?¡± she muttered. Wren nodded, pressing harder. The barrier groaned, inching open. A stale smell rolled out: damp, rotting decay from the courtyard within. Everyone tensed. They¡¯d heard a creature inside. The day before, they¡¯d started prying this open, but it only budged enough to reveal a scaly beast lunging at them. They¡¯d closed it fast. Now, with more people, they hoped to drive it out or kill it quickly. Bronte gripped a bow, arrow nocked, scanning for movement. A shriek cut through the morning quiet. A reptilian shape slammed into the partially open gate from inside, forcing the gap wider. Several people stumbled back, nearly losing their grip. Wren stepped into the breach with a newly formed ash blade in his left hand, a product of his skill leveling up to Intermediate. He braced his feet on the cracked asphalt. The creature lunged. Its hide was a patchwork of scales, fangs glistening with some foul liquid. Two short horns curved from its brow. Wren darted forward, driving the ash blade toward its flank. Sparks flew where the dust-hardened edge met thick scales. The beast snarled, tail thrashing. It wasn¡¯t a small monster. Its bulk nearly filled the gateway. Naia jammed her spear in from the side, aiming for a gap near the neck. She struck flesh, but the creature twisted, smashing the wooden shaft. She stumbled, swearing. Bronte let loose an arrow from behind the group. It struck the creature¡¯s shoulder, but didn¡¯t sink deep. ¡°I need an opening!¡± Fernandez shouted, holding his shotgun at the ready. But with everyone bunched in front of him, a shot could hit allies. Wren got the message. He sidestepped, trying to herd the monster away from the group. The beast lunged at him, jaws snapping. He jumped back, raising a small ash barrier. Claws raked across it, fracturing the dusty shield in a shower of gray motes. Teeth snapped inches from Wren¡¯s face. He lashed out with the ash blade, carving into the monster¡¯s cheek. It roared, rearing up. Fernandez seized the moment, stepping sideways. He pressed the shotgun barrel under the creature¡¯s scaled chest and fired. A deafening boom echoed off the metal walls. The beast jerked violently, greenish blood spraying. Its front legs buckled. Naia rushed in with a broken spear tip, ramming it into the side of the monster¡¯s neck. Another hideous shriek. Wren swung the ash blade in a wide arc, aiming to finish it. The edge bit into vertebra. The beast collapsed, thrashing for a moment before going still.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Silence fell, broken only by ragged breathing. The group stared at the carcass, relief mixing with the stench of gore. Fernandez exhaled, pumping the shotgun to clear the spent shell. Three shells left in total. That was it. Wren panted, stepping back from the bloody mess. The System pinged. [System Notification: Scaled Devourer Defeated] EXP +10 Ash Manipulation (Intermediate) - 2/150 EXP Current Ash Reserve: 70% He swallowed, ignoring the faint dizziness that threatened to toppled him. One monster down. Who knew how many more lurked inside? Argus and Bronte signaled people forward. They pried the gate open enough to enter the courtyard. The morning light revealed battered walls, piles of rubble, and half-collapsed watchtowers on either corner. No immediate sign of more creatures. But the fortress¡¯s interior was large, with multiple halls and corners. ¡°All right,¡± Argus muttered. ¡°We break into teams. Clear each section. Watch for hidden monsters or old traps. Don¡¯t split up too far.¡± He pointed to Wren, Naia, and a few fighters from Bronte¡¯s side. ¡°You handle the main building. We¡¯ll check the perimeter.¡± Wren nodded. His chest still ached from old wounds, but he forced the pain aside. They had a job to do, make sure the fortress was salvageable as a new home base. Wren¡¯s team of six advanced across cracked concrete. Broken crates and corroded metal drums littered the area. Weeds sprouted through the wreckage. A dull stench lingered, hinting at more dead things or old rot. Naia stepped over a twisted fence post. ¡°Stay sharp,¡± Wren warned. He formed a second ash blade for his off-hand, though shaping two constructs at once cost more focus. He scanned the corners with slow sweeps of his gaze. They came upon a smaller outbuilding near the southern wall, a shed half-buried in debris. The door hung ajar. Naia nudged it open with a bent pipe. Darkness inside. She poked her head in, found only empty shelves and a rusted water drum with holes. Fernandez nudged some splintered wood. ¡°No sign of anything alive.¡± Another man from Bronte¡¯s group, Kal, rummaged through a pile of old tools. Mostly broken. He pocketed a small metal clamp, muttering, ¡°Might be fixable.¡± They moved on, passing a collapsed watchtower that offered a vantage point if repaired. The ladder was warped, steps missing. They¡¯d fix it later if the fortress was viable. For now, no one dared climb in its current state. A flicker of movement near a stack of crates caught Wren¡¯s eye. He raised a hand, signaling everyone to freeze. He stepped closer, forming a tiny swirl of ash in his palm to ready a projectile. He peered behind the crates, half expecting another scaly beast. Instead, a pair of skinny mutated rodents scurried away, squeaking. They vanished into a crack in the ground. Harmless, or at least not an immediate threat. After twenty minutes had passed, they met back up near the fortress entrance that led into the main building. It was a heavy door, propped halfway open. Argus¡¯s group came from the perimeter, nodding that the walls had some breaches but no major threats so far. The bigger question was what was inside.