The morning sky burned with streaks of red and orange as the world crumbled. Tilus sat motionless, eyes fixed on the television. Buildings crumbled, smoke rose in choking plumes, and news anchors fumbled through their fear, barely holding it together. Each new image made his stomach knot tighter.
He glanced out the window, half-expecting the ground to crack open or the city to split in two. Outside, desperate people scrambled with armfuls of supplies, clinging to anything useful. His hands still shook from the horror of yesterday—the warning had been right.
His attempts to call home had been futile. No one could reach their parents, though the signal within the city remained strangely intact. It had to be the barrier—that translucent shield, barely noticeable unless you looked for it. If it wasn't for the airplane that crashed into it last night, people might still be unaware.
Beyond the barrier, no one knew what was happening. Communication networks had collapsed, leaving survivors in the dark. Most cities were cut off, with no way to leave or receive information. The world outside was a distant mystery, reduced to rumors of countries facing the same chaos. But without any real way to know, no one could be sure.
What was certain, though, was that the infected—inside and outside the barriers—were a constant threat.
Tilus's phone buzzed, snapping him from his thoughts. A message appeared:
"Like I told you, right? Do you believe me now?"
The smirking emoji didn't help ease his irritation.
"Who are you? Why did you help me?" he typed, his fingers trembling.
A long pause followed. Distant explosions rumbled outside, and faint screams echoed, reminding him how close the chaos really was. Tilus didn't expect a response, not from X—this cryptic figure who'd remained silent until now.
The reply came quickly:
"Because I need your help."
His breath caught. Trembling fingers hovered over the screen. What do you need help with?
The message flashed back:
"You'll know soon. Focus on surviving first."
A surge of anger mixed with confusion flooded him. How do I know you're not just manipulating me?
The response was cold, yet oddly reassuring:
"You're free to think whatever you like. Just know that only I can help you survive."
Before he could reply, there was a knock at the door.
"Tilus, we need to talk."
William's calm voice grounded him, dragging Tilus out of his spiraling thoughts. With a tired sigh, he let the phone fall onto the desk and rubbed his face with both hands, fingers tangling in his hair. Just as he reached for the doorknob, the screen lit up again—this time with a new notification. A PDF file. His brows knit together as he tapped it open.
"This is..." he whispered to himself.
Inside the file was a journal—a detailed account of everything unfolding around them: monsters, battles yet to come, cryptic maps, and strategies. It was a nightmare written on paper, and it felt too real. The elegant handwriting was unmistakably not his.
He opened the door just enough to shout,
"William, grab supplies from the kitchen. I'm not coming out for a while."
For three long days, Tilus devoured the journal's contents. His eyes remained glued to the screen while the world outside grew darker. He didn't read every single word, but enough to grasp the gravity of the situation, the looming disasters, and the hidden truths about the monsters and special individuals in this crumbling reality.
By the fourth day, the weight of it all settled like a stone in his chest. Finally, he was ready.
Descending the stairs with a heavy heart and a knot of hesitation in his chest, Tilus stepped into the dining room. To his surprise, all his housemates were gathered at the table. He expected this to an extent, the city's barriers locked everyone in, escape wasn't an option.
"Look who finally decided to join us," Leon teased as Tilus entered.
"Sorry, I got caught up," Tilus mumbled, taking a seat. "What's for dinner?"
Leon's grin widened. "For someone locked away for almost four days, you look surprisingly fine."
Tilus barely touched his food, his mind drifting back to the journal, the cryptic warnings, and the horrors yet to come. His thoughts were interrupted by Leon's voice:
"Tilus, what do you think?"
Tilus blinked, confused. "Huh? About what?"
Leon scoffed, tossing a plastic cap from his drink onto the floor. "The C-virus, man. You really haven't been paying attention? It's day four. There's still a stockpile of those so-called 'Pills of Life,' but what happens when they run out? You think we turn into monsters? Maybe I'll grow a tail, some fur, start barking at the moon." He let out a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Tilus didn't bother responding. The laugh clung to the air like damp smoke—nervous, forced, and too thin to hide the fear underneath.
William finally spoke, his voice firm but low. "We need information. All of it. The barriers around the city say enough—no one's getting out. And no one's coming in. Not anymore."
The room went quiet. Tilus didn't need to look to feel the weight settle over their shoulders.
Ben frowned, arms crossed. "How do you know that? The military's still around, aren't they?"
There was a flicker in William's eyes. Annoyance, maybe. Or fatigue. "They're still patrolling, yeah. But the balance is cracking. It won't take much for this whole thing to collapse."
Tilus glanced at Jasmine just as she leaned forward, her voice softer but still clear. "Food prices are insane now. A single pack of noodles is a hundred thousand đồng. And if you don't take the pills…" She hesitated. "They say it's not just death. It's worse."
She was right. Tilus had seen it up close. The way the infection crept in, first with bloodshot eyes and jittery behavior, then slipping into madness.
Should he tell them? Say what he knew? That the pills only bought time, that the core in the body—the thing the virus built—kept growing regardless? Would they believe him?
The TV behind them blared with the usual chaos: hospitals overflowing, rows of patients wheezing under flickering fluorescent lights. Stadiums turned into wards. Volunteers breaking down on camera. Social media offered no relief—just images of ransacked markets, collapsed buildings, streets that looked like graveyards.
He opened his phone again, scrolling past the latest messages from X. Each one felt more like a countdown. The warnings in the journal were happening, almost word for word.
"We move at dawn," William said, voice slicing through the noise. "We need to find a convenience store before anything else breaks."
Ben snapped his head around. "You serious? We don't even know what's gonna happen after midnight, and you want to go on a grocery run?"
Jasmine tried to smooth things over, voice rising. "Can't we get help from the military? They were handing out food earlier, weren't they?"
"They stopped," William cut in. "A bunch of infected attacked the last truck. Army pulled out. No more rations."
No one spoke after that. Just the buzz of the TV, and the bitter taste Tilus couldn't spit out.
Then Leon sighed, his tone grim. "If we go out there, we could die. People are desperate."
A heavy silence fell until Tilus finally spoke, "Alright, but first let's understand the tool given to us."
He raised his hand for attention. "First things first—you all need to learn how to use the system."
One by one, their expressions shifted as personal screens materialized before them.
[ STATUS WINDOW]
Name: Tilus Chu
Title: None
Level: 1
Status: Normal
Attributes:
Health: 50/50
Mana: 5/5
Magic: 5
Aura: 4
Strength: 5
Vitality: 6
Dexterity: 4
Luck: 4
Coins: 40400
"These stats decide how well you fight, how fast you move, and how much damage you can take. There's no right or wrong way—just pick what works for you."
Leon didn't hesitate. He slammed his stat point into Luck with dramatic flair. "There's no way this is a dead stat. I refuse to believe it."
Ben rolled his shoulders and grinned, already feeding his Strength like it was protein powder. "Can't go wrong with more power," he said, flexing like it was a reflex.
Jasmine tapped Dexterity with a sharp nod. "One hit and I'm out. I need to dodge, not pray."
William, arms crossed and voice calm as always, went with Vitality. "If we're gambling with our lives, I'd rather be hard to kill."
Tilus nodded. "Alright. Now for the shop."
[SHOP]
[Basic Healing Potion]
[Stamina Recovery Pill: 50 Coins]
Random Weapon Chest: 50 Coins
Random Armor Chest 100 Coins
[Pill of Life – 500 Coins]
"There is also a skill shop that we can buy skills, upgrade them but we won't be able to use it yet cause we don't have enough coins" Tilus said
Leon groaned, "We're broke."
Tilus replied, "Yeah, but we won't be for long."
They all exchanged determined glances.
"There're a few ways to earn coins," Tilus explained. "Killing infected—humans or animals—completing sub-stages, like when William and I pulled you out of that mess, and probably a bunch more we haven't figured out yet."
Right now, they were stuck in Stage 0—the system's idea of a tutorial. Only it came with real blood and real consequences.
"We can't just grind levels like some game," he continued. "Stage 0's about survival. Stealth. Hiding. The infected are too strong for a fair fight. But coins? Those aren't capped. Every kill, every successful rescue, nets you some. There's a lot more to it... but for now, just focus on staying alive."
Jasmine asked, "You mean… we need to kill the infected?"
Tilus sighed, "That's the only way we'll get stronger. I know a place that should be safe for now. If we take things slow, we can earn coins, level up, and buy gear."
Ben cracked his knuckles, "Then what are we waiting for?"
Tilus took a deep breath and pulled up another section on his screen.
[ WORLD TRANSFORMATION RATE - WTR]
[Zone: Sector 10]
[Current WTR: 1%]
[Threat Level: Low]
[Infected Activity: Minimal]
William leaned in, reading the text aloud, "What does that mean?"
Tilus tapped the screen, "This number measures how much an area has changed due to the virus, disasters, and... whatever else is coming. The higher the WTR, the more dangerous it gets. It's not just about the infected—zones with a high WTR can spawn even worse things. And if it gets too high..." His voice trailed off.
Jasmine frowned, "What happens if it gets too high?"
Tilus admitted, "Nobody knows for sure, but according to what I found out... at 30%, the infected start mutating into stronger forms. At 50%, expect things worse than just zombies."
Ben clicked his tongue, "And at 100%?"
Tilus looked grim. "...The zone will be alot of change."
A heavy silence fell over the group as the implications sank in. They were, in essence, living on a ticking time bomb.
Leon forced a laugh, breaking the tension, "So, you're saying we're basically on a ticking time bomb?"
Tilus nodded slowly, "Pretty much."