Doomsday Gluttony: I Level Up by Eating

Chapter 7

Ryatt’s POV

The red interface pulsed in the dim light of the loading dock, the jagged edges of the warning screen casting a bloody glow over my hands.

"System," I whispered, my voice raspy. "Identify the exact coordinates of the Zone Boss. Give me a map overlay."

A new window snapped into existence, replacing the warning. A wireframe map of the district flickered to life, showing a pulsing white dot in the center of the grid. 

"Target located," I murmured, tracking the icon. My heart skipped a beat as the scale of the map became clear. "Wait. Zoom in. Show me the building name."

The red lines sharpened, revealing the familiar layout of the city's medical plaza. The white dot was anchored directly on the roof of the tallest spire.

"St. Jude’s," I said, a hollow laugh escaping my throat. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

It was the hospital. The same sterile, white-tiled purgatory where I’d spent the last three years of my life waiting for my lungs to fail. I’d been lying on a deathbed in Room 402 when the sky turned red and the system awoke me. Now, the world had collapsed, and the epicenter of this new nightmare was the very place I’d expected to die.

"It’s a homecoming, then," I muttered, slamming a fresh magazine into my rifle. 

I didn't waste another second. I navigated through the rubble-strewn alleys, my legs feeling lighter and stronger with every step as the healing factor finished knitting my ribs. The closer I got to the hospital, the more the air changed—it felt heavy, saturated with a metallic tang that made the back of my throat itch.

As I rounded the final corner onto the main plaza, I skidded to a halt, pressing my back against the rusted shell of an overturned ambulance. I expected to see the beast perched on the entrance. I didn't expect to hear voices.

"Hold the perimeter!" a familiar, booming voice roared. "Kim, get that barrier up now! We aren't letting this thing slip away!"

I peered through the cracked window of the ambulance. My stomach tightened. 

Captain Easton Ackerman stood in the center of the plaza, his broad shoulders squared, his hands glowing with that same dull bronze light I’d seen earlier. Around him, the remnants of his Awakeners were scrambling into a semi-circle, their faces tight with a mix of adrenaline and pure terror.

"Damn it," I hissed to myself. "He beat me here."

I scanned the area, spotting a dense pile of construction debris near the hospital’s loading ramp. I moved low and fast, slipping into the shadows of the wreckage. I found a small gap between two concrete slabs where I could watch the entire plaza without being seen. 

Stay quiet, I told myself, my pulse thudding in my ears. Don't let Easton know you're back. Not until you know what that thing is.

"Captain, the vibration readings are spiking!" one of the men shouted, holding a device that looked like a modified smartphone. "It's coming from the upper floors!"

Easton didn't flinch. "I see it. Everyone, focus fire on the wings the moment it lands. Don't let it take flight again. Do you hear me?"

"We hear you, Easton!" the woman with the broken wrist—now crudely splinted—yelled back. She held a jagged piece of rebar that hummed with blue energy.

"Come on out, you bastard!" Easton challenged, his voice echoing off the hospital’s glass facade. "We’re the ones in charge of this city now! Show yourself!"

As if answering his call, the glass on the fourteenth floor exploded outward. 

A massive shape tore through the air, silhouetted against the dark sky. It wasn't a bird. It was a hunk of living, mutated stone. The creature—a gargoyle of impossible proportions—landed in the center of the plaza with a force that shattered the pavement. It stood nearly ten feet tall, its skin a mottled, grayish-black granite, its wings tipped with talons that looked like obsidian knives.

"Holy shit," I whispered, my grip tightening on my rifle. It was far worse than the system's description. The sheer presence of the thing felt like a weight on my chest.

"Engage!" Easton screamed. "Now! Give it everything!"

The Awakeners surged forward. Easton led the charge, his fists trailing bronze light as he slammed a punch into the creature's chest. The impact sounded like a sledgehammer hitting a mountain.

"Is that all you've got?" Easton roared as the gargoyle recoiled.

The creature didn't roar back; it hissed, a sound like grinding rocks. With a speed that defied its size, it swept a wing across the line of Awakeners. 

"Watch out!" a man yelled, but he was too slow. The wing caught him in the midsection, launching him thirty feet across the plaza like a ragdoll. He hit a brick wall and didn't move.

"Scatter! Move, move!" Easton commanded, diving to the side as the gargoyle’s claws furrowed the ground where he’d been standing.

From my hiding place, I watched with cold fascination. I noted the way the gargoyle moved—it didn't just crawl; it seemed to glide, its weight shifting with a predatory grace. It was leagues above the minor beasts I’d fought. 

"Keep hitting it!" Easton shouted, his face turning red with effort. "It’s just a bigger target! Don't lose your nerve!"

"It’s too fast, Captain!" the woman with the rebar screamed. She lunged, trying to drive the energized metal into the creature's leg, but the gargoyle caught the rebar in its teeth and snapped it like a toothpick.

The formation was falling apart. The Awakeners were being picked off, forced into desperate, individual struggles for survival. One man, a younger guy I recognized from the pharmacy, tripped over a piece of rubble. The gargoyle was on him in a heartbeat.

"Help! Get it off me!" he shrieked, his voice reaching a pitch that made my skin crawl.

"Hold your ground!" Easton ordered, but he was pinned down by the gargoyle's tail, forced to defend himself.

The gargoyle raised a massive, clawed hand and slammed it down. There was a sickening crunch of bone and metal. The screaming stopped instantly. 

The silence that followed was even worse. The creature stepped back, leaving the twisted, broken corpse in the dust. 

The remaining Awakeners froze. They stared at their fallen comrade, the reality of the situation finally sinking in.

"Mark... oh god, Mark is dead," one of them whimpered, his hands shaking so hard he dropped his weapon.

"Pick it up!" Easton snarled, though even his voice had a slight tremor now. "We can still take it! We just need to focus!"

"Focus on what, Easton?" a woman yelled, backing away. "Look at him! He’s gone! We’re all going to die if we stay here!"

"I said stand fast!" Easton roared, but the authority was leaching out of him.

Fear was spreading through the group like a virus. I could see it in their eyes—the realization that they weren't the hunters anymore. They were the prey.

"We should go," the man with the sensor device whispered. "Captain, we need to regroup. We can't do this."

Easton looked from the corpse to his trembling team, his jaw tight. He looked shaken, his confidence finally cracking under the weight of the carnage.

I stayed low in my corner of the ruins, watching the panic rise in their voices. The Zone Boss stood over the body of the fallen Awakener, its glowing red eyes scanning the survivors as they began to step back, their resolve shattered. They were actually considering abandoning the fight.