Unveiled Truths [1]

The andrenaline began to wane and as it did, the gravity of my situation began to fully sink in. Every direction I looked, devastation met my eyes.

The city I once knew was nowhere to be found.

I was never particularly attached to this city and the people, but it still pains me to see it like this. 

Every soul, every memory, wiped out in an instant.

Except... why was I still here?

The raw confidence I felt when battling that boar started to waver. Was it just luck? Or was there some reason I was still standing amidst this destruction?

Out of nowhere, my earlier resolve to rise above all and decode the secrets of this world felt like it had evaporated.

For some reason I felt empty. As I had lost something precious to me. 

I felt this eerie emptiness, like a part of me was missing. Everything before the apocalypse felt like a foggy dream. As if my past had been erased, and I had started existing only from the moment chaos struck.

My name... I had to remember my name. The cornerstone of my identity.

The realization was slow and chilling. Could it be? I touched a piece of broken wall, hoping it would jog some memory, any memory reminding me of who I was. Desperation built up, weighing heavy on my chest. A basic fact, so core to my being, was now elusive.

I had forgotten who I was.

However I didn't have the luxury to freely sort my thoughs, as night was drawing near.

As the realization hit me, a feeling of unease settled in. The fading light made it clear that I'd been wandering without purpose for hours. I'd left behind the ruins of Düsseldorf and now stood amidst what used to be Neuss. How could the landmarks of these places still resonate within me, yet my own identity remained a shadowy blur? Why could I map out streets, but not piece together the essence of who I am? A thought struck my mind.

The weight of the system's healing, and whatever price I had to pay, had never truly settled in my thoughts. I'd been too focused on the immediate relief it offered, without sparing a moment for the aftermaths of this seemingly omnipotent healing. 

With that unsettling thought lingering, I decided to rest for the night. Searching through the aftermath of the Armageddon, I found remnants of what once were beds. Pulling them together, I made a improvised resting place. With the crumbling remnants of a building overhead, I lay down, trying to find comfort for once since a bit of time.

That was until I heard an explosion nearby. 

Every fiber in my being screamed at me to run, to distance myself as quickly as possible from its origin.

But I held my ground. Whether I was heading towards my own doom or not, I needed to see for myself what had caused that fiery eruption.

Because, on the slim chance it was another survivor behind that explosion, it could bring me one step closer to unraveling the mystery of this apocalypse.

I sprinted relentlessly, pushing past the fatigue, ignoring my weak body's screams for rest.

My feet pounded against the cracked streets, each stride leaving a small plume of dust in its wake. The cityscape, once familiar, now lay in ruins, with remnants of its former glory peeking out here and there. Every so often, I'd come across a familiar landmark, now distorted beyond recognition. But there was no time to mourn the loss of the city's history, for the explosion's afterglow beckoned me, casting an eerie red hue against the night sky.

My lungs burned and my heart raced, yet I pressed on, drawn towards the source of the explosion with a mix of trepidation and curiosity.

As I neared the explosion's origin, the air grew noticeably warmer, and the stench of burning and decay intensified. From a distance, I saw a flickering light, like a beacon in the all-encompassing darkness.

Drawing closer, I could make out the silhouette of what seemed like a massive creature amidst the fiery glow. Its form was like nothing I'd ever seen — a twisted, grotesque amalgamation of parts that shouldn't belong together.

It towered over me, easily thrice my height. Its mottled, grayish-brown skin seemed like a patchwork of rot and decay. Long, spindly arms ended in razor-sharp talons, and its back was hunched, giving it a menacing posture. But the most terrifying feature was its face – or lack thereof. Instead of eyes, nose, or mouth, there was just a gaping maw filled with rows upon rows of jagged teeth. From within the darkness of that void, I felt its attention lock onto me. A deep, guttural growl confirmed my fears.

My heart raced. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. They felt like they were rooted to the spot. The creature began to lumber towards me, each step shaking the ground beneath.

Time seemed to slow. Every second felt like an eternity. Just as the beast was nearly upon me, a swift silhouette darted into view. A metallic gleam sliced through the air, followed by a resounding thud. The creature's head was severed from its body, rolling to the side, and the massive frame crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Standing between me and the fallen beast was a figure wielding a sword that glimmered even in the dim light. The swordsman, donned in worn-out armor, gave a quick glance in my direction, his eyes sharp and assessing. He then turned to face the now headless creature, ensuring that it was truly dead.

Silence enveloped the scene, punctuated only by my ragged breathing and the distant crackling of the fire. I was alive. 

The swordsman sheathed his blade, its metallic slide echoing slightly in the desolation. Without acknowledging me, he began to walk away.

"Wait!" I snapped, trying to get up, "What the hell was that creature?"

He paused, turning his head slightly. "You don't even know what you're up against? How pathetic."

Annoyed, I replied, "It's not like I've had a manual to guide me."

Without another word, the swordsman approached, his gaze cold and piercing. Suddenly, he reached out and pressed a hand against my forehead. It felt like electricity coursing through me. His eyes shimmered, and for a moment, it felt as if he was peeling back layers of my very soul.

His eyes widened in surprise, an emotion I hadn't expected to see on his stern face. He took a step back, looking genuinely taken aback. "Impossible…"

What is?" I demanded.

"You... you have no talent," he said, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"What do you mean?" I replied, confused and slightly alarmed.

"All survivors have been granted talents, skills by this messed-up system to face this apocalypse. But you," he scoffed, "you have nothing. No talent, no skills. Futhermore, I've never seen attributes as pitiful as yours. All at one. You haven't changed one bit since waking up in this apocalypse. It's a miracle that you are even alife right now."

Fury coursed through me, "So, you're saying I'm useless?"

he swordsman's eyes narrowed as he looked at me, his disdain evident. "Didn't I just spell it out for you? Yes, you're useless."

Ignoring the pain, I pushed myself up. "I've managed to stay alive so far."

He snorted, "By pure luck. Won't last long."

Defiance welled up inside me. "Then show me. You're clearly well-versed in this nightmare. Teach me."

He shot me a look of pure incredulity, then a mocking laugh escaped his lips. "Why waste my time on dead weight?"

"Because maybe, just maybe, I have something worth fighting for," I retorted, my voice dripping with frustration.

He sized me up, his gaze cold and evaluating. After a moment that felt like eternity, he responded, "Determination won't save you here."

"I'll take my chances," I fired back.

The swordsman paused, contemplating something. Without looking back, he uttered a single command, "Open your stats."

I blinked, unsure of what he was referring to. But as if on instinct, a virtual panel appeared in front of me. Numbers. Attributes. All sitting at a measly '1'.

He scoffed from where he stood, "It's pitiful. Have you truly not seen this before?"

I stared at the panel, a mixture of disbelief and resentment building. "How does this even work?"

"Every survivor has this. The more you fight, survive, the more points you earn. It's the system's way of turning our nightmare into a twisted game. Strength, agility, stamina... each attribute affects how you fare in this world."

I took a deep breath, trying to make sense of it all. "So, what would you suggest?"

He shrugged, an action dripping with indifference, "Maybe pump everything into agility. That way, you can spend your life running away. It's probably the best you can hope for."

His icy gaze locked onto mine momentarily. I braced myself for him to dismissively turn and leave, but instead, in a voice edged with sharpness, he declared, "Kairos. That's my name."

"Why even tell me?" I countered, confusion painting my features.

He looked away, towards the distant horizon. "Maybe so you know the name of the man who saved your worthless life. Or perhaps because I simply felt like it, since you are the first survivor I've met in a while."

That last bit sent a chill down my spine. "A while? How long has it been since... this all began?" The sinking realization that perhaps I'd been out for longer than I thought began to set in.

Kairos didn't respond. Instead, in the next heartbeat, he moved with such speed that it felt like he had disappeared, leaving no trace behind. I was left alone once more amidst the ruins, the weight of his words pressing heavily on my mind.

The silence following Kairos's abrupt exit weighed heavily. His words, cutting as they were, lodged themselves deep in my mind. The only talentless person in an apocalypse? Just my luck. But was talent really everything?

Kneeling next to the beheaded behemoth, a peculiar mark caught my eye. A sequence of symbols, ⚎⚌⚍, was etched onto its skin, seemingly burned in. They looked familiar, and yet, I couldn't place them. What were they hiding? An odd sensation overcame me, as if the symbols wanted to convey something, but it was being deliberately concealed from my comprehension.

A wave of emotion crashed over me. Confusion, anger, and a deep-set fear, but perhaps most overwhelming was the need to remember. To remember who I was, to reclaim my past, my identity. If I didn't even know my own name, how could I possibly navigate this new reality?

Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly recalled Kairos's instruction – Open your stats. Hesitantly, I concentrated, thinking of the panel that had appeared earlier. To my surprise, the virtual board materialized before me again. Alongside strength, agility, and stamina, were two other attributes I hadn't noticed before – intelligence and Perception.

But what drew my attention most was a blinking notification icon in the corner. I focused on it, and the message expanded:

Congratulations! You have successfully defeated a Level 5 Boar Beast. +5 Skill Points awarded.

Despite the grim circumstances, a small smile tugged at the corners of my lips. I found myself analyzing their potential use. Could I enhance my strength? Maybe improve my intellect? Or rather increase my Stamina? Given the circumstances, allocating them properly could mean the difference between life and death. It was a small start, but a start nonetheless.

As the remnants of the day faded, a cold wind blew through the ruined streets, sending shivers down my spine. With the realization of my forgotten identity and the new knowledge of this system, I needed to make decisions swiftly. With those skill points in hand, I could maybe gain an edge in this apocalyptic wasteland.

I assigned a couple of points to stamina, the energy I'd burned running from that monstrosity and towards the explosion made it evident that I'd need to move fast and frequently. I then placed a point in agility. If Kairos was right about one thing, it was that evading threats might be more beneficial than confronting them head-on. The remaining points, I reserved. The events of the day taught me that the world had more secrets than what appeared at face value. Maybe I'd come across a way to use them more effectively.

The deep silence of the night was unnerving. Without the usual ambient sounds, every rustle or shift seemed magnified, making me more alert to my surroundings. The desolation, the emptiness of it all, was a constant, chilling reminder of the transformed world outside.

With a heightened sense of wariness, I cautiously settled into the improvised bed I'd made earlier. Every little noise had me on edge. My senses, though not as sharp as they probably should be in this environment, were acutely aware of the lonely silence.

I pulled the blankets close, trying to find a semblance of warmth and security. The weight of today's events pressed heavily on my chest, making it hard to breathe, let alone sleep. With a wary eye on the dark corners of my shelter, and thoughts of the earlier encounter with the beast still fresh in my mind, I gradually succumbed to a fitful rest.