Chapter 6: People

  Raven kept his head low, his grip tight on the handles of the wheelbarrow as he navigated the cracked pavement. The suburbs had been eerily quiet, the houses standing like empty husks, abandoned or worse. He had managed to slip through the outer edges of the city without trouble, but now, as he neared the more densely packed streets, the world was growing louder, sounds that had earlier been distant and less immediate getting closer with every step.

  More movement. More bodies. More danger.

  As Raven saw more and more destruction and chaos, doubt crept in. What if he was making a mistake? That woman had warned him that monsters were being drawn toward the hospital—what if it had already been wiped out? What if he was dragging Darryl into even greater danger?

  He clenched his jaw, forcing the thought away. No. He didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t get help, Darryl would die. That was a certainty.

  Moving on, he stuck to the alleys where he could, keeping out of sight as much as possible. Every time he peered around a corner, he found signs of life—or death. The city hadn’t collapsed yet, but it was starting to break. Shattered glass crunched underfoot, discarded belongings littered the sidewalks, and vehicles sat motionless, their owners long gone or worse.

  He was moving fast, but it didn’t feel fast enough. Every groan from Darryl, every laboured breath, sent another spike of anxiety down his spine. Raven had never been a stranger to stress, but this was different. He was running out of time, and the only chance of saving Darryl lay at the hospital. No matter what it took, he had to get there.

  A chittering noise made him freeze mid-step. His heart jumped, every instinct screaming for him to duck or run. His fingers tensed around the wheelbarrow’s handles as he scanned the road ahead. A lone goblin stood in the middle of the street, clutching a rusted kitchen knife in its clawed hand. Its beady yellow eyes locked onto Raven, its lips peeling back in a hungry snarl.

  Raven exhaled sharply, drew an arrow, and loosed it in one fluid motion. The goblin barely had time to react before the shaft buried itself in its eye socket. It crumpled to the ground with a wet thud.

  Raven felt that strange tingling sensation on his skin again, like static that flows through more than just the skin, ignoring it he continued on.

  He moved quickly, retrieving the arrow and checking the surrounding area. That hadn’t been loud enough to draw attention, but he couldn’t afford to be reckless. His heart pounded as he forced himself forward, pushing the wheelbarrow into another side street.

  The deeper he went into the city, the worse it got. He started seeing people now—ragged groups moving together, some armed with scavenged weapons, others looking lost. Some ran, others lingered, their eyes scanning for opportunities. The tension in the air was palpable. It wasn’t just the monsters they were afraid of. It was each other.

  He pressed on, keeping to the shadows, avoiding open spaces. He had to get to the hospital. No matter what. And if anyone got in his way? Well… he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

  Raven was only a few kilometres from the hospital when he heard it—the unmistakable sounds of a struggle. Metal clashing, pained grunts, and high-pitched snarls. He pressed himself against the side of a building, craning his neck to listen. The fighting was coming from up ahead, just around the next corner.

  His first instinct was to find another way around. He didn’t have time for distractions. Darryl was getting worse by the minute, and every second wasted was a second, he didn’t have. But as he considered backtracking or cutting through a side street, something caught his eye.

  A glimpse of movement.

  Peering cautiously around the corner, he saw a group of people—maybe eight or nine—locked in a desperate fight with a dozen goblins. They were armed with whatever they could find—pipes, knives, even a baseball bat or two. But they were struggling. A few bodies already littered the ground, some human, some goblin. And at the centre of it all, standing with her back to a battered sedan, was someone Raven never expected to see again.

  Sky.

  His ex-girlfriend. The sight of her sent a jolt through him, but the chaos around him didn’t allow him time to dwell on it. What the hell was she doing here? What were the odds? Questions piled up in his head, but instinct took over before emotion could

  Raven's breath hitched. He felt a strange, uncomfortable pull in his chest. Of all the people he could have run into, why did it have to be her?

  She hadn’t changed much—still had that fierce, determined look in her eyes as she swung wildly at a goblin trying to gut her. She was still fast, still strong. But she was losing. They all were. The goblins had the numbers, and if something didn’t change, they’d be overrun in minutes.

  “Fuck,” Raven muttered under his breath.

  He didn’t have time for this. He shouldn’t have time for this. But no matter how much he tried to shove the thought aside; he couldn’t just walk away.

  With a deep breath, he knocked an arrow, took aim, and let it fly.

  The arrow struck a goblin in the side of the head, dropping it instantly. The effect was immediate. The goblins turned toward the sudden threat, their formation breaking. The humans, realizing they had an opening, seized the opportunity, pressing forward with renewed vigour.

  Raven loosed another arrow, then another, taking down two more goblins before they could even register what was happening. His arms burned from exhaustion, but he pushed through it, forcing himself to focus.

  One of the men—a burly guy with a metal pipe—let out a battle cry and smashed a goblin’s skull in. The rest of the group followed suit, rallying together as they tore through the remaining creatures. Within moments, the last goblin fell, its body twitching on the bloodstained pavement.

  The fight was over—but Raven’s attention shifted immediately. Sky and Brad were already moving, and he knew the conversation that followed would be anything but simple.

  Raven let out a slow breath, lowering his bow. His hands were trembling. Whether from adrenaline or fatigue, he wasn’t sure. He knew one thing for certain, though—this reunion was going to be awkward as hell.

  And he still had a dying man to save.

  As the group took a moment to recover, Sky approached him, her expression a mix of relief and disbelief. Before she could speak, another figure stepped forward—a tall, broad-shouldered man with an air of arrogance about him. Raven recognized the type immediately. The self-appointed leader.

  “I’m Brad,” the man said, sizing Raven up. “And who the hell are you?”

  “Not interested,” Raven muttered, still catching his breath.

  Brad scoffed. “You saved our asses back there. Least you could do is introduce yourself.”

  Sky cut in before Raven could snap back. “Raven, this is Brad. He’s been keeping everyone together since this whole mess started.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Raven didn’t miss the way Brad smirked at that, puffing himself up. He already didn’t like him.

  Brad crossed his arms. “You look like you know what you’re doing. Why don’t you stick with us?”

  Raven shook his head. “I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”

  “The hospital?” Brad guessed. “We were thinking of heading there too. Word is, the cops set up a checkpoint. Might be safe.”

  Raven hesitated. He still didn’t trust Brad, but going with the group might be the fastest way to get Darryl help.

  Sky looked at him, eyes pleading. “Come with us, Raven.”

  After a long moment, he sighed. “Fine. But we go straight to the hospital.”

  "Yeah that’s the plan," Brad replied before gathering up the group.

  As they moved out, Brad walked beside him. “You’ve got skills,” he said.

  Raven glanced at him, wary. Praise meant leverage in groups like this—and Brad didn’t seem like the type to hand it out without motive. “Tell me, have you found any trait stones yet?”

  Raven’s eyes narrowed. “Trait stones?”

  Brad grinned. “Yeah. Like, stones with little symbols on them. Some of us have picked them up, and when used they fill a slot in the grimoire. I got one for spears.” He hefted a sharpened rebar pole. “Sky got one for blunt weapons.”

  Raven’s grip tightened on his bow. He thought of the stone he had found. He chose not to mention it or the fact that he had started with a part of his grimoire filled. He didn’t trust Brad. Not even a little.

  Raven’s curiosity about the stones was piqued, but he kept his expression neutral. "So, what do these stones actually do?"

  Brad, ever eager to play the expert, smirked. "You use them, and they fill a slot in your grimoire. Simple as that. But more than that, they unlock a skill—something tied to whatever weapon the stone represents." He twirled the length of rebar in his hand, grinning. "For me, it was this. When I choose I can pierce through anything. The more I use it, though, the more it drains me. Like a stamina thing, y’know?"

  "Anything?" Raven asked sceptically, "Well so far I've only used it on those guys but it goes straight through the little green bastards"

  Raven’s mind drifted to the stone. A faint chill ran down his spine at the thought of using it—what if it changed him too, tucked away in his pocket. A dagger etched into its surface, practically calling out to him. If what Brad said was true, then using it would unlock something. A skill. But then why did his grimoire already have something? His shield crest, incomplete and mysterious, hadn’t given him a skill outright. Not yet.

  "And everyone gets a skill when they use one?" he pressed.

  Brad nodded. "Yeah, everyone so far. The blunt weapon guys—like Sky—got a power hit skill. Makes their swings pack a serious punch. But if you spam it too much, you’re dead on your feet.

  That unease in Raven’s gut didn’t go away. Why didn’t he have something like that yet? What did the symbol in his grimoire mean? And why did he feel using the dagger stone might not be a good idea?

  He kept his thoughts to himself, nodding absently as Brad continued talking. He’d figure this out on his own terms.

  As the group continued toward the hospital, Raven kept to the edges, eyes scanning their surroundings. It didn’t take long for them to encounter more monsters, small groups of goblins and lizards wandering the streets, scavenging through abandoned vehicles and buildings. The fights were quick but revealing.

  Raven had assumed most of these people were just lucky survivors, but now, watching them fight, he saw that some of them were adapting quickly. The ones who had used trait stones fought differently—Sky’s swings had a weight to them that shouldn’t have been possible with just a metal pipe. Each time she struck, the goblin she hit crumpled as if she were wielding a sledgehammer rather than a scavenged weapon. Others displayed similar advantages—faster reaction times, harder hits, greater precision.

  They made quick work of the first two encounters, but on the third, Raven noticed something different.

  A group of goblins stood in the middle of a wide intersection. There were about a dozen, but what stood out was the one in the centre—a little bigger than the rest, wearing mismatched scraps of fur and wielding a curved blade that, while rusty, looked like it had once belonged to a proper weapon rather than a piece of scrap metal.

  Raven crouched behind the shell of a burned-out car, watching.

  The bigger goblin barked something in its guttural tongue, and the others shifted formation—half raising crude clubs and daggers, the other half readying slings.

  Raven frowned. “They’re forming ranks.”

  Sky, crouched beside him, tightened her grip on her pipe. “We haven't seen them do that before?”

  Brad grunted. “Looks like they’ve got a leader.”

  Raven watched as the bigger goblin snarled something and gestured toward their group. The slingers moved first, spreading out along the sides of the street while the melee fighters advanced cautiously.

  “They’re trying to flank us,” Raven muttered. He hadn’t seen that kind of behaviour before. The other goblins they had encountered just charged in blindly, but these ones were different.

  Brad smirked, shifting his grip on his makeshift spear. “Guess we better handle this before they get any ideas.”

  A stone whizzed past Raven’s head.

  “Shit! We're under fire!” Sky shouted.

  And just like that, chaos erupted as the fighting began.

  Raven was quick to pull his bow from his shoulder, instinct taking over as he dropped back and away from the group. He moved with precision, taking cover behind the rusted frame of an abandoned sedan. His breath came in short bursts, his muscles tensed from exhaustion, but he forced himself to steady his aim.

  He loosed an arrow.

  One of the slingers shrieked as the arrow buried itself in its chest, its hands fumbling as it dropped its sling. Raven ducked as a rock flew past where his head had been a moment before, slamming into the car behind him with enough force to leave a dent. He grit his teeth—these bastards are getting better.

  Raven noticed the bigger goblin didn’t rush forward like the others. Instead, it scanned the battlefield, its beady eyes narrowing as it calculated its next move. The moment it noticed Raven taking out the slingers, it snarled an order, and suddenly, the remaining goblins shifted, positioning themselves in a loose formation

  The rest of the group held their ground against the melee goblins, their makeshift weapons clashing against crude rusted blades. Sky swung her pipe with terrifying force, caving in the skull of one goblin, sending it crumpling to the pavement. Another rushed in, only to be impaled through the gut by Brad’s sharpened rebar. The man grinned, twisting the weapon before yanking it free.

  For a brief moment, Raven thought they had control.

  Then a sickening crack rang out. The sound cut through the chaos like a gunshot, freezing Raven mid-draw. He turned toward the noise just in time to see one of the men stumble back, a spray of blood trailing from his head.

  One of the men—a younger guy wielding a crowbar—staggered backwards, blood ran freely from the side of his head. He dropped instantly, his body limp, the goblin he had been fighting wasted no time plunging its dagger into his chest. The man gasped, a strangled noise leaving his lips as his body convulsed once, then went still.

  Raven didn’t think. He just acted.

  His fingers flew over his quiver, nocking an arrow and releasing it in one swift motion. The goblin that had landed the killing blow let out a high-pitched shriek as Raven’s arrow found its throat, pinning it to the alley wall behind it.

  The group was shocked. Their comrade had fallen so suddenly, so brutally, it stunned them into silence, so easily, as they stood there stunned, Raven turned his attention to the slingers. He picked them off one by one, each arrow flying true. He had just drawn back another shot when a deep growl cut through the sounds of battle.

  The bigger goblin moved with violent speed, its posture low and predatory.

  It surged forward, its eyes burning with something different—determination, rage, purpose. It was fast. Faster than it should have been. It let out a guttural roar, and in the span of a breath, it was upon one of the men, charging into him shoulder first.

  The man barely had time to react before the impact sent him hurtling through the air. He crashed into a parked vehicle with a sickening crunch, his body folding upon impact.

  “What the fuck was that?” Sky gasped.

  “A skill,” Brad muttered. His expression hardened as he gripped his weapon tighter. “It’s got one too.”

  Raven pulled an arrow, but before he could take a shot, Brad was already moving. He lunged forward, meeting the goblin head-on, their weapons clashing with a resounding clang. Brad fought with brute force, each thrust of his makeshift spear aimed to kill. But the goblin was fast, weaving through the attacks with terrifying precision.

  Brad was struggling—his movements slower, his stance more defensive now as he manouvered to keep the goblin at bay.

  Raven’s eyes darted between the two, searching for an opening. He needed to help.

  Then he saw it.

  The goblin shifted slightly, its stance overextended just enough for Raven to take the shot. Without hesitation, he let his arrow fly.

  The arrow struck true, embedding itself in the goblin’s shoulder. It let out a guttural snarl, momentarily distracted by the sudden pain. Brad wasted no time.

  His grip tightened around his weapon as he activated his skill. He lunged forward, driving his rebar spear clean through the goblin’s makeshift armour and out the back of its torso as if it was nothing more than paper.

  The creature’s eyes widened in shock, its body shuddering before it finally went limp.

  For a moment, everything was still.

  Then, as if breaking free from a trance, the remaining goblins turned and fled, their morale shattered.

  The battle was over. But the weight of it settled heavy in the air. Raven glanced at the man who had fallen, jaw tight. He hadn’t even known his name—and somehow, that made it worse.

  Raven exhaled, lowering his bow. His arms ached, his exhaustion creeping back in. He looked around at the bodies littering the ground, human and goblin alike.

  The world had changed. But it wasn’t just louder, bloodier, or stranger—it was evolving. And that terrified him.

  And if this was just the beginning, he wasn’t sure they’d survive the middle.