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    The smoke was everywhere now. It had only been an hour since the city''s residents were displaced, only to be teleported back in random, and no battle had even begun yet. And yet, the entire city was already descending into even more chaos.


    This was humanity’s worst nightmare—a Dome appearing right in the heart of a city.


    Cars, suddenly without drivers, became deadly projectiles. Machinery that required human control turned into chaotic hazards. For nearly two decades, humans had tried to outsmart the Game, but the Administrators always found a way to keep them in check.


    Twenty years ago, after the asteroids fell and the Games began, humans had formed groups—entire guilds—consisting of veteran creeps, Heroes, and even ordinary people who had yet to be chosen but wanted to be prepared.


    And all these guilds had one thing in common: they hid weapons near previous Domes, predicting that the next ones would emerge nearby. They stored them in vaults, buried them underground, and scattered them in hidden caches so their members could retrieve them when the time came.


    But when the time did come, the weapons were gone.


    The Administrators did not want creeps to have pre-made arms.


    The guilds adapted, attempting a new approach. Instead of entire weapons, they stored weapon parts, hoping to assemble them inside the Dome. But the Administrators noticed even that. No weapon could be brought in unless it was crafted from materials from the Leaks.


    The irony is, the cars could still work, and many have used them to ram and run down people to death.


    The Administrators were gods, toying with humanity as they pleased.


    And so, Adam now held a dented metal trash can lid, using it as a makeshift shield, while Grace gripped a steel pipe like a club. The two of them followed closely behind the veterans leading their group.


    The massive crowd that had gathered near the Outer Crystal had already begun to thin. Thousands had dispersed, splitting into smaller groups as they made their way toward the Outer Crystal of the enemy team. Staying packed together was a death sentence. If panic broke out—and it would—a stampede could wipe them out before the battle even began.


    And they will panic, history has proven it.


    Grace clung tightly to Adam’s arm, her grip unrelenting as her eyes darted frantically through the chaos, searching for any sign of her daughter. She bit her lip, glancing at the backs of the veterans leading them, before suddenly shouting at the top of her lungs.


    “Sam! Samantha! Where are you!? Follow Mommy’s voice!”


    Her voice cracked, desperation dripping from every word. She didn’t care. She only screamed louder.


    The veterans ahead, however, did not appreciate her outburst.


    “How many times do we have to tell you to stay quiet!?”


    The leader of their team, a veteran who had introduced himself as Harvey, spun around, his finger stabbing in her direction.


    “Shut the hell up! We don’t know if enemy creeps are nearby! Or worse—Heroes!”


    Grace flinched, her shoulders shrinking under the weight of his glare, but her eyes never left the crowd. She wasn’t looking at Harvey. She was still searching.


    “I-I’m sorry,” she muttered, barely glancing at him.


    But Harvey wasn’t done.


    “I don’t care what the IBAA says. We’re not obligated to help any of you,” he sneered, turning his gaze to the rest of the newcomers trailing behind them. “Once the fighting starts, if you get in the way, you better find a different team because everyone here needs to contribute. All that matters is that we win, or we’re all fucking dead.”


    No one argued. No one even looked at him. The newbies had no right to rebuke him, not when they hadn’t survived this before—not when the veterans had already been through this nightmare once or twice.


    They had practiced. They had done the drills. It was mandatory.


    But drills didn’t prepare them for this.


    Their hands shook. Their legs trembled. If the Administrators weren’t forcing them forward under threat of incineration, most of them would have been frozen where they spawned.


    Fear hung thick in the air.


    And Grace could see it in Adam.


    “Are… are you scared?” she asked, her voice still trembling, though she tried her best to sound gentle. Then, she immediately shook her head. “Sorry, that was a stupid question. Of course, you are. Everyone’s afraid of dying. I’m so scared I think I peed a little.”


    Adam turned to her, studying the way her hands trembled and her teeth chattered.


    Then, after a pause, he answered—not stammering, not hesitating.


    “I’m not afraid of dying. I’m scared of the pain.”


    But his thoughts? His thoughts were in complete disarray.


    What are you doing, Adam? Why are you opening up to someone you barely know!? If you’re thinking about the woman in your memory, it’s not her! Think, Adam. Think!


    “I…” Grace closed her eyes for a moment before looking around again, even watching the windows in the abandoned buildings to see if maybe her daughter was looking out there for her. She tried her best to think of unnecessary thoughts, but it was very hard to do so in the situation. The only thing she could really do to calm her mind was to talk to Adam,


    “I think… I think the best way not to be scared about it is not to think about it. So, let’s talk… let’s talk about something else.”


    Grace was on the verge of tears, but she bit her lip and held Adam closer, her grip tightening. His arm nearly sank into her large chest, but she didn’t loosen her embrace at all as her mind was completely elsewhere.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    “Why… didn’t you pick up a weapon instead?” She asked as she looked at Adam’s shield. But after a few moments, she quickly shook her head and told Adam not to answer it,


    “Don’t… answer that. We’re supposed to think of something else. Uhm… uh… what… what do you want to do after this? I think, me, personally… I’d take my daughter on a long vacation. You could come with us if you want to.”


    Adam stayed quiet for a moment, but when he saw Grace’s completely moist eyes looking at him, he quickly looked away and sighed before answering,


    “I… am going back to work.” That was wishful thinking. If he did manage to survive, Dr. Aniston and her people would be looking for him now since they know where to start finding him.


    “That’s… boring. But… since you’re a scavenger, then wouldn’t you return here to… to retrieve the belongings of the dead?”


    “Yes.”


    “And… do you like your job?”


    “Do… I need to?”


    “Well, I guess not. I hate my job.”


    A small chuckle escaped Grace’s lips, but she immediately bit it down, guilt creeping in. She didn’t deserve to smile—not yet, not until she found her daughter.


    Shaking off the thoughts threatening to consume her, she took a deep breath and turned back to Adam, forcing herself to focus.


    "I think scavengers get a bad rep, you know? And I’m not just saying that because I’m talking to you. I think it’s actually... a beautiful job.”


    “A—How so?”


    “Hmm. You’re recovering memories—pieces of people that would otherwise be lost in all the pain and torment. You know what I mean?”


    “No?”


    “How do I put this… Uh… you’re making sure their last moments aren’t left in this place of darkness. You’re retrieving what’s left of them and carrying them away from all the bloodshed and death. Just because they died here doesn’t mean they should be buried here, you know? If that’s not beautiful, then what is?”


    “Huh…” Adam glanced down at his shoes, coated in the dried ashes of a million lives. “...I’ve never thought of it like that.”


    “Right?” Grace tried to keep the conversation going, her steps still in sync with Harvey and the other veterans.


    “But if you could do something else, anything at all… what would you want to be?” she asked.


    Adam narrowed his eyes, genuinely considering it. Seconds passed before he finally answered, “I want to go to school.”


    Grace blinked, a little surprised. But she didn’t gasp or react—just nodded. She thought of something else to say, another topic to shift to, but in the end, she stayed silent, focusing on scanning the crowd. Searching.


    A second.


    A minute.


    Almost an hour.


    Still, not a single glimpse of her daughter. Not a single strand of her hair.


    Worry clawed at her chest, her grip weakening around the steel pipe in her hand. It started slipping from her fingers, but before it could clatter against the ground—before it could betray them with sound—Adam moved forward, gently lifting her hand and securing it back in place.


    She was about to thank him when Harvey suddenly raised his fist.


    All at once, the veterans froze. The other creeps, seeing the signal, followed suit, lifting their fists to relay the message. Like a chain reaction, everyone halted—one after another, caught in a silent ripple of hesitation.


    Confusion spread, thick in the air.


    And then—footsteps.


    Marching.


    Coming from the right.


    Their group was positioned at the farthest edge of the Middle Lane, which meant the chances of someone from their own team approaching were slim. Too slim.


    As that realization settled in, tension coiled in their limbs. Legs braced. Hands tightened around whatever weapons they carried.


    Something was coming.


    And it wasn’t one of theirs.


    This was it.


    All of them had resolved to fight, but it would be foolish to think any of them were truly ready. Even the veterans swallowed hard as memories of their first kills surfaced. But there was no time for hesitation. They had to step up.


    A series of quick nods passed between them. The veterans gestured for the newbies to grip their weapons properly, their hands tightening as they braced for the encounter. Eyes narrowed, straining to see through the shifting veil of smoke.


    And then—shadows emerged from the haze.


    Two groups faced each other. No one moved.


    They stood frozen, staring into each other''s faces, paralyzed by shock, fear, and the weight of the moment.


    The only one to move was Adam—but not by choice. Grace stepped forward, her hand gripping his wrist, pulling him along with slow, trembling steps.


    “Samantha?” she whispered.


    The steel bar in her hand slipped from her fingers, clattering against the ground. The sharp sound shattered the silence, jolting everyone from their stupor.


    All eyes turned to Grace, then followed her gaze.


    A little girl sat on someone’s shoulders.


    Their gazes drifted higher…


    …to the glowing Red Halo hovering above her head.


    They were on the same team.


    Everyone exhaled in unison, their breaths trembling as relief washed over them.


    Samantha nearly collapsed, a raw, primal scream tearing from her throat—a sound so visceral it jolted those still trapped in shock. The man carrying her quickly lifted her off his shoulders and set her on the ground. The moment her feet touched the dirt, she bolted toward her mother.


    Grace did the same, releasing Adam as she rushed forward. She dropped to her knees, wrapping Samantha in a fierce embrace. The two of them sobbed openly, their cries unrestrained.


    The sight brought quiet smiles to the others. Some even let go of the tears they had been holding back, overwhelmed by the relief crashing over them.


    The veterans in Adam’s group began to relax, stepping forward to meet the other group. But the other group didn’t share their ease. They moved with haste, closing the distance between them in a march.


    “Where are your Heroes!?”


    The man who had carried Samantha was the first to speak. His halo burned brighter than everyone else—evidence of his experience in the Game. He was a veteran, just a few stats away from becoming a Hero. And judging by the blood staining his clothes, along with those of his companions, they had already encountered enemy creeps.


    Harvey studied him for a moment before offering a short, clipped account of what had happened in their Lane—their Heroes had been… useless.


    “Damn it. That’s bad luck.” The man pinched the bridge of his nose. “We don’t have time for this. We need to hide and set up an ambush. We already ran into some enemy creeps, but there weren’t many of them… and we found out most of them were heading here. They’re concentrating their advance on the Middle Lane.”


    “Shit!” Harvey gritted his teeth. “And our fucking Heroes didn’t even bother setting up a strategy. Do you have yours with you?”


    “No. They were the ones who sent us here,” the man shook his head. “They engaged in the East Lane to stop the enemy’s Heroes from reinforcing the attack. We’re on our own.” He exhaled sharply. “Name’s Jake, by the way. We—”


    “They… they’re here!”


    Before Jake could finish, bloodcurdling screams ripped through the air.


    Everyone turned toward the noise.


    Through the thinning smoke, silhouettes emerged—marching. Their sheer numbers parted the haze like a wave. And above their heads, a cold, unmistakable glow bathed them in blue light.


    No question.


    The enemy had arrived.


    Harvey spun toward his group. “Everyone—” He started to scream an order, but then his voice paused. His eyes flicked back to the marching figures, widening—stretching so far they nearly bulged from their sockets.


    But it wasn’t their numbers that caught his attention. After all, there were many of them too.


    No. The thing that caught his attention made him almost choke on his own breath.


    “They… have weapons?”


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