The screech of tearing metal echoed through the ventilation shafts, vibrating in Rafael’s teeth. He curled tighter into the dark, cramped confines of the school locker, his knuckles white as he gripped the rusted shelf above his head. Outside, the world was ending in screams and the wet, rhythmic thud of inhuman claws striking linoleum."System, please," Rafael whispered, his voice trembling as he stared at the darkness. "Anything. Just give me something to fight with. A blade, a shield, even a shitty club. Just… anything."The air in the locker shivered. A translucent blue interface flickered into existence before his eyes, bathing his terrified face in a cold, electric glow.[ System Awakening Initiated… ][ Class Assignment: Cook ]Rafael stared at the words, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. "Cook? Are you kidding me? Everyone else is getting 'Soldier,' 'Mage,' or 'Brawler.' I’m stuck with… a kitchen duty?"[ Class: Cook (Unique) ][ Ability: Culinary Enhan

The shadows in the corridor seemed to writhe, stretching like ink spilled across a canvas. The guttural snarl vibrated in Rafael’s chest, a low-frequency hum that turned his stomach into a knot of ice."Stay close, kid," Kirill breathed, his voice steady despite the adrenaline-soaked air. "And for God’s sake, don’t trip over your own feet.""I’m trying," Rafael wheezed, his knuckles turning white as he clutched the rusted shears. "It’s kind of hard when my heart is trying to crawl up my throat.""Heart's fine where it is," Kirill replied, his eyes locked on the darkness. "Just keep your eyes on the loot. When I drop them, you get in, you harvest, you get out. Don't play hero.""Hero? I’m the guy who gets a panic attack at the sight of a cockroach," Rafael muttered, stepping forward as Kirill shifted his weight. "I’m staying right behind you.""Good. Here they come."A screech tore through the air, followed by a blur of grey, matted fur. It was a pack of Dire Rats—scuttling, mutated ho

The cafeteria doors groaned on rusted hinges as they pushed inside, the air within smelling of stale grease and long-dried despair. They didn't stop for food. They didn't stop to scavenge the overturned tables. Kirill, moving with the gait of a man who had pushed his body past its absolute limit, led the way through the back service entrance, bypassing the main floor to reach the small, reinforced storage closet he’d been using as a makeshift bunker.Once the door was locked and bolted, the silence felt heavy, pressing against their eardrums. Rafael slumped against a stack of crates, his hands trembling as he pulled the Essence Siphon from his bag. It was still glowing, a rhythmic, pulsing light that seemed to dim and brighten in time with his own heartbeat."So," Kirill said, his chest heaving as he dropped his blade to the floor with a metallic clatter. "That’s the prize. You have any idea what it actually does, or are we just staring at it like it’s a Christmas light?"Rafael wiped

The storage closet was silent, save for the rhythmic metallic scraping of Rafael sharpening his shears against a piece of scavenged rebar. The "buff zone" he had created was still holding, the air feeling thick and charged with a low-frequency hum that made the hair on his arms stand up.Kirill sat across from him, staring at an empty, crinkled wrapper that had once held a high-grade energy bar. He crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the pile of useless trash."That's the last of the good stuff, isn't it?" Kirill asked, his voice rough.Rafael sighed, setting his shears down. "Yeah. Everything else in the bag is just base-level junk. It’s not going to keep you running at peak efficiency for long."Kirill looked up, his jaw set in a hard line. "I can feel the lag setting in already. My stamina's not refilling as fast as it was an hour ago. If we don't get fresh, high-density ingredients, we're going to be sitting ducks when that collective comes back.""I know," Rafael replied,

The flare gun in Elena’s hand didn't waver, but her eyes flickered toward the massive, cooling corpse of the behemoth in the hallway. She looked back at them, her expression unreadable."You two are either suicidal or you have the luck of the devil," Elena said, her voice cutting through the hum of the communications equipment. "That thing has been hunting in the sub-basement for three days. It wiped out an entire extraction team yesterday."Kirill exhaled, his frame finally sagging as the adrenaline began to bleed away. He didn't lower his sword, but he pointed it toward the floor. "We aren't suicidal. We’re just hungry. And we’re tired of running."Elena finally lowered the flare gun, though she kept it gripped tight. She took a half-step back, revealing the cluttered desk behind her. "I’m Elena. I’ve been monitoring the comms since the blackout started. You’re the 'Chef' and the 'Blade,' aren't you? The ones the Collective is hunting?"Rafael wiped a streak of oily sweat from his f