Void Reaper: The Essence Apocalypse

"How the hell did you even get into that mess?" Adam asked.

For a moment, no one replied. Then the blonde-haired woman finally spoke. Her voice was calm, but still tense.

"We have a base... a shelter, really. In the dorms. After everything that happened, maybe a hundred of us are left. Mostly students, a few professors, some staff. We did what we could—barricades, makeshift alarms made from cans and wire."

She paused, as if trying to gather her thoughts.

"We started running out of food," she said quietly. "And medicine. We stayed in the base as long as we could, but eventually, we had to take the risk. Someone suggested forming teams from those willing to fight and go out for supplies. At first, it was manageable. Mostly zombies—nothing we couldn't handle with a bit of teamwork."

Adam listened silently, eyes fixed on her face, trying to read more from her tone than her words.

"We entered the supermarket area," she continued. "And that's when it started. Rats... they appeared out of nowhere, like they were growing from the ground. No noise, no warning. They just started emerging—from cracks, under cars, the sewers. From every direction. We were surrounded before we could react."

"Like they were defending something," said a deep voice. It was the man with the hammer. He was still breathing heavily, but his eyes were alert.

The girl with the sword and shield looked at him and nodded solemnly.

"Exactly. It didn't feel like a random group of brainless monsters. It felt... coordinated."

Adam nodded.

"I felt it too. They didn't attack like mindless beasts. It looked more like... a defensive reaction."

The boy in leather armor raised his head.

"It wasn't normal," he said firmly. "We saw dozens of them fall. And yet... they didn't stop. Not for a second. It was like death didn't matter. Like the only thing that did was stopping us. Or keeping us out—at any cost."

He paused, then added more softly:

"It really felt like they were guarding something. And were willing to die to keep it safe."

The woman nodded.

"And before that?" Adam asked. "Did you see anything strange? Something other than zombies?"

"Someone said they saw a shadow," the girl with the sword and shield replied. "Something with large wings. It flew over the dorms a few days ago, but didn't come close."

A silence fell over them.

"Let's move," the blonde woman finally said. "No point standing here any longer. We need to get back."

"Before we attract another horde with all this noise," added the boy in leather armor, glancing nervously down the empty streets. "I've got barely any mana left. One more long fight and I'll collapse before I can even lift my hand."

The blonde-haired woman nodded at his words and took a few steps toward Adam. She stopped and looked him directly in the eyes.

"Will you join us?" she asked. "Someone like you... if you were willing to stay, your help would make a real difference."

Adam felt their eyes on him—hopeful, but without pressure. There was no suspicion in them. Just hope. As if they saw in him someone who could change things. Someone who could help.

He looked once more at their wounded bodies, their exhausted faces, and their determination to keep moving despite everything. These weren't warriors. They were people who just didn't want to die. And they fought because they had no other choice.

Neither did he. He remembered what had happened just minutes ago—the hundreds of rats, the chaos, and the overwhelming strain of trying to manage everything alone. If not for them, he wouldn't have handled those rats so easily.

If next time brought something worse—stronger monsters—he wouldn't make it on his own. Sure, he had Void Manipulation. He was clever. But that wouldn't be enough without extra eyes, extra hands, and someone to watch his back.

Valeria had reacted to that girl's skill in a way that stuck with him. It was enough for Adam to feel that the girl wasn't ordinary either. If someone like Valeria—an entity who had seen countless worlds—took notice of her... she had to be special.

Considering all that—the day's events, their resolve, unknown talents, and the brutal reality—there was only one answer.

Adam nodded, then smiled slightly.

"I'd be glad to join you," he said calmly.

A short silence followed his words. Then the blonde-haired woman—the one who had fought and sung like nothing else existed—stepped forward.

"Layra," she said. Her voice was quiet but firm. "I lead this group. And... I'm glad you're with us."

Her words were simple, without theatrics, but her eyes said more than a thousand thank-yous. Respect. And gratitude.

"Nira," said the girl with the sword and shield, straightening with military precision.

"Sareth," added the boy in leather armor with a small grin.

"Brann," muttered the man with the hammer, as if even his name carried the same weight as the weapon he held.

Layra glanced at the unconscious boy still resting against the wall.

"That's Kael," she said quietly.

They all looked at Adam. 

Adam cleared his throat.

"Adam," he introduced himself, then tried to smile. "Hope your team has a decent return policy, 'cause I'm not sure I come with a warranty."

A brief silence.

The boy in leather armor smiled weakly.

"Yeah... jokes might not be your strong suit."

A few chuckled. Even Layra looked like she allowed herself a small breath of relief.

"Time to pull out," she said simply. "Let's head back to base."

Brann walked up to the unconscious Kael and, without a word, hoisted him over his shoulder. He sighed deeply, but didn't complain. The rest of the group formed up, and Adam found himself in the middle, feeling—perhaps for the first time since the apocalypse began—less alone.

***

Meanwhile, deep inside the ruined supermarket, in a place barely touched by light, something was stirring.

Hundreds of rats—maybe thousands—moved almost silently between discarded shelves and rusted refrigerators, like part of a greater, living machine. Their claws scratched faintly at the floor, and an eerie tension filled the air—heavy and thick, like the calm before a storm.

At the center, perched on a raised platform made from overturned baskets and plastic crates, sat a creature that barely resembled a rat.

The monster didn't move. Its jaw opened and closed rhythmically, like something growling just below hearing.

The rats gathered at its feet, forming a tight circle. Their heads bowed, bodies still. As if they were waiting for a command.