Valeria hovered motionless in the vacuum, at the very spot where Earth should have been. Her eyes were slightly narrowed, lips pressed together. The silence surrounding her felt too full—like space itself was hiding something.
"That's impossible…" she whispered, trying to comprehend what she was seeing.
Or rather—what she wasn't seeing.
She floated forward a few paces, rising slightly. Her eyes glowed red as they scanned the void.
Then suddenly, Earth reappeared. As if slipping out from behind an illusion. As if it had only allowed itself to be seen once Valeria got close enough.
"A barrier…" she said slowly, almost in disbelief. "Someone… or something… cloaked the entire planet."
She circled it in silence. Every few seconds she would stop, raising her hand as if to feel the texture of something invisible. Her gaze wandered along unseen lines, sometimes her brow furrowed, other times she peered through her fingers, as if perceiving something no mortal could see. She drifted closer and farther, analyzing the symmetry of space, reading the way light refracted at the edge of the barrier. Every motion she made was silent and precise—like a dance with something only she could sense.
And then she felt it.
A subtle pulsing. A delicate, rhythmic wave of energy, imperceptible to human senses but to her—it was as clear as the heartbeat of the planet. It was the Echo of Activation: the signal that the Essence Record had just embedded itself into this world, like a seed planted in freshly turned soil. Raw, primal energy—chaotic, unstable, but pure. This pulse only occurred once: during the moment of a system's initiation. And right now… she felt it here.
She shivered.
"The Essence Record… has only just arrived here…"
She fell silent for a long moment. Something rare flickered in her eyes—true surprise. Or maybe… awe?
"I thought there were no places like this left."
She glanced back at the surface of the planet.
"That explains why he was so weak…" she murmured, thinking of Adam.
"I thought he was just clumsy. But he… they… they're all just beginning."
A faint smile touched her lips—this time without irony.
"If that's true… then this is where the Firstborn will rise."
She floated in silence, staring at the unnervingly calm sphere of the planet. Her thoughts spiraled, refusing to settle.
"What a strange place…" she muttered. "Not only has the Essence Record just anchored itself here… someone also cloaked the entire planet from the outside world. Like it was meant to remain a secret for a while longer."
This wasn't coincidence.
Valeria still floated without motion, but her thoughts crystallized into a single conclusion. A planet just beginning its Essence cycle, hidden from all... It was an opportunity.
"If this barrier works so well… maybe… maybe this is where I can finally disappear," she whispered. "Even if only for a while."
She looked at her hands and slowly turned them palm-up. Her skin was flawless, porcelain-like, faintly shimmering under distant starlight. No scars. No marks of burns or cuts. Her fingers curled slightly, testing their motion—they worked perfectly. But her gaze held no admiration. She knew this was just a facade—a rebuilt shell, not a reflection of what lay within.
"The body healed..." she muttered. "That pill... the last one I had. After I took it, the pain vanished instantly. My muscles regained strength, wounds closed as if they'd never been there. Even the internal bleeding stopped in seconds. But despite the perfect exterior... something still hurts, deep inside—in the soul itself."
She closed her eyes briefly.
"That will take years." Healing the soul wasn't a matter of magic, technology, or medicine—it required time and silence, untouched by chaos. And this planet... might actually offer that.
Her eyes landed on the ring on her finger—tiny, with a black gem set in silver, etched with faint runes only she could read. She stared at it in silence for a moment, and then… something inside her cracked.
A soft, sweet laugh escaped her lips. At first gentle, almost melodic—but with each second it grew louder, fuller, until it became something resembling a victorious, hysterical laugh. There was something wild in it, triumphant—something both terrifying and mesmerizing.
"In the end… it was worth it," she whispered through laughter. "Those old bastards are probably scouring the cosmos trying to find me."
Valeria turned away from the stars and looked back at Earth.
"Since I've landed here… and this planet is so effectively severed from the rest of the universe—I can stay for a while," she whispered, her gaze drifting along the horizon. "Until I've truly recovered."
Her eyes shimmered with a mischievous spark.
"Besides… I met an interesting little creature here," she added softly. "I doubt he'll mind if someone as beautiful as me keeps him company. I'm guessing he'll be thrilled."
A quiet, enchanting giggle escaped her lips and faded into the vacuum like the echo of a distant melody. She spread her black wings, which glowed faintly with pale light, and with one powerful flap, sliced the silence of space. Moments later, her form began to dissolve, and with a final beat of her wings, she vanished from where she hovered.
***
Adam leaned against the frame of a ruined door, staring into the interior of a grocery store. It was dark inside, but clear enough to see two figures. They moved slowly—but with something he hadn't seen before in zombies.
"I don't like this..." he whispered.
He focused on the figures—and then, to his surprise, translucent blue tags appeared above their heads:
[Zombie (LVL 6)] [Zombie (LVL 5)]
Adam froze. He hadn't expected the Essence Record to identify enemies—that was new. But now it all made sense. These weren't normal zombies.
"That explains it..." he murmured. "Something about them... not just how they move. It's something else. An aura? Confidence? Who knows. It's hard to explain... but they're different. You can feel it."
He stared at the numbers floating over their heads, heart beating faster. It was only his second day—and already he was facing level five and six zombies.
"If they're this strong already..." he whispered. "It means I don't have time. I need to grow faster. Way faster."
Because if he was already encountering creatures stronger than him on just the second day, what would a week look like? A month? If he didn't stay ahead of the curve this new world demanded... he'd fall behind. And then death would be inevitable.
He studied them carefully. He knew—without a plan, without an edge—attacking them would be suicide.
He moved in, crouching behind a fallen fridge. He slipped off his backpack and set it aside—he knew it would only get in the way. In his hand, he gripped his weapon—a steel pipe, slightly bent at the end.
He scanned the area, looking for anything he could use. At the far end of the aisle, he spotted soda cans and a few glass bottles. Quietly, he grabbed one, crept closer, and hurled it toward the opposite side of the store. The bottle shattered against a concrete wall with a sharp crash.
The sound echoed through the store. Both zombies reacted—the larger one started moving toward the noise, dragging its feet. The smaller one hesitated, as if still processing.
Adam held his breath. Waited. And finally—the smaller zombie followed, though a few seconds behind.
This was his chance.
He moved between the shelves like a shadow. Approached the aisle the smaller zombie had passed through. His steps were careful, nearly silent. The zombie moved slowly ahead, unaware of the danger.
Adam gripped the pipe with both hands. He moved in, step by step. The zombie still hadn't noticed him, fixated on the noise in the distance. One more step. The floor creaked faintly beneath him. Adam held his breath. He was right behind it—within striking distance.
He swung and smashed the back of its skull. A dull crack. The zombie staggered but didn't fall. It turned, surprised. Adam pivoted and struck again—this time at the temple. Crack. The creature stumbled, fell to its knees. A third strike—from above, with full force—smashed its skull against the floor.
No time to breathe.
Adam dashed to the shelf he had noted earlier. He shoved it with his shoulder—the metal groaned, blocking the path between the aisles.
And just a second later, he heard the low growl and the impact. The stronger zombie slammed into the obstruction. Adam knew it would only delay it.
He tightened his grip on the pipe, ready to face the second opponent.