Chapter 3: Reluctant Partnership

There was more air weighing in Keiran's lungs as he made his way through the ruin. The radiating glow of the Calibration Node had sunk into the far distance and now left the landscape below him smothered by creepy twilight.

His body screamed in protest after the fight that had just passed with the Ruin Sentinel; every step jarred fresh currents of pain through his thighs.

"I hope this thing is worth it," Keiran grumbled, turning his head to where the Zenith interface was still floating beside him.

The system voice was as cold and detached as always: "Host must complete the current quest to get the reward. Progress is mandatory."

Keiran scowled. "Mandatory, huh? You're lucky I don't have another option, System.

He glanced at the interface again. His newly unlocked stats hovered in his peripheral vision, each number a stark reminder of how ordinary he was. Strength: 5. Agility: 6. These weren't hero-level stats—they barely qualified as average.

"You'd think saving my sister's life would come with better perks," he grumbled.

The more the ruins gave way to open wasteland, the more he could see his makeshift shelter: a small, rickety cabin he had found months ago while out scavenging. The roof sagged in places, and the walls were cracked, but it was at least something.

The creaky door swung open, and he entered, slumping into the rickety chair; his breathing was short-lived as he leaned back to let the tension leave his shoulders.

The interface blipped on again.

[Quest Update: Prepare for the Journey Ahead.]

Keiran lifted an eyebrow. "And precisely how am I to do that?"

[Recommended actions: Rest, Inventory management, Skill Acquisition.]

The word "rest" had caught his attention; he looked toward the thin cot in the corner of the room, his body screaming for sleep. Still, he knew better than to let his guard completely down.

He snatched up his bag and started rummaging through the contents. A half-filled canteen of water, pieces of dry meat, and a rusty knife were what remained. His stomach growled at the sight of his food, but he also refused to take it out-for now.

"Inventory: pathetic," he mumbled.

The system did seem to agree.

"Suggestion: Prioritize resource acquisition. Survival probability of Host is low."

Keiran smiled wryly. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

As he finished his inventory check, the interface displayed a new notification:

[Beginner's Combat Skill unlocked. Please confirm activation.]

Keiran stared at the message. "You're just giving it to me now? No strings attached?"

[Activation requires host's consent. Confirm to proceed.]

He hesitated for a moment. The last time he listened to this system, it got him fighting some kind of metal monster. But he had little choice if he was to survive.

"Fine, activate it."

The moment he spoke, a surge of energy coursed through his body. It wasn't painful, but it was overwhelming, like a floodgate opening inside his mind. Images and sensations flashed before him-techniques for gripping a weapon, the balance of a perfect strike, the rhythm of dodging and countering.

With the surge finally subsiding, Keiran leaned back, eyes wide.

He stared down at his hands, wiggling his fingers as though checking them for the very first time.

"That… was intense," he muttered.

[Skill: Basic Combat Techniques installed. Host's proficiency: Beginner. Practice recommended.]

Keiran took the iron rod he used. This one felt different in his grip, natural almost, instinctive. He swung it experimentally, surprised by the lightness of his movements.

"Not bad," he said, his lips curling into a small smile. "Not bad at all."

Just as Keiran was starting to feel confident, a sound outside the cabin shattered the quiet. It was faint, like the crunch of gravel underfoot. He froze, his grip tightening on the rod.

The sound grew louder, and then came a voice, faint but clear.

"Is anyone there?

Keiran's heartbeat quickened. People barely ever came to the waste, and when they did, they were never in a friendly mood. Sidling over to the window carefully, he peered through it. Standing outside this cabin was a girl with tattered clothes but with standing feet. She had a knife at her side and a look in her eye that was cautious.

"Great, just great," Keiran told himself. "What's next?

She called a second time, her voice husky with desperation. "If someone's in there, I mean no harm. I just need shelter for the night."

Keiran hesitated. Yes, it was a risk, letting a stranger in. Yet, it was just as dangerous turning her away, too. The desperate types out in Wasteland didn't take 'no' all that well.

He clutched the rod tightly and stepped to the door, opening it wide enough to see her face.

"What do you want?" he asked, his tone unyielding.

She flinched but held her ground. "I'm just passing through. I'll be gone by morning—I swear."

Keiran eyed her a moment longer. Her eyes were cautioning but without any sign of malice. He let out a sigh, flipping the door open farther.

"All right. But don't try anything."

She nodded and quickly stepped inside. "Thanks."

She sat down onto the ground near the little fire Keiran had succeeded in lighting. She wasn't very talkative only mentioning her name: Lira.

Keiran stayed back away from her a look of wariness upon his face. "So. Lira. What bring you out here?"

"Same thing that brings anyone out here," she responded as if to some other target instead of him. "To survive."

He lifted a brow. "Not much in the wasteland for anyone to survive on.

A faint smile etched her lips. "And yet, here you are."

Keiran couldn't contest that. They sat for a few minutes without talking, save for the fire's crackling between them.

Finally, Lira spoke again. "What about you? What're you doing out here alone?"

Keiran was hesitating. He wasn't confident in her as yet, enough to divulge even half of what concerned the Zenith System or his quest. "Just looking for something important," he vaguely said.

She gave him an inquiring look but didn't push it. Instead, she shifted to the rod in his hand. "You're not bad with that thing. Self-taught?"

"Something like that," he replied, twirling the rod experimentally. "Why? You looking for lessons?"

She smiled softly. "Maybe. I could use the practice."

The night wore on, and with that, the tension between them slowly dissipated somewhat. Keiran still didn't trust her, but having someone else around-even temporarily-was oddly reassuring.

When Lira finally lay down to sleep, Keiran remained awake, his eyes fixed on the interface.

The next quest loomed on the screen, reminding him of the journey ahead:

[Quest: The First Step]

[Objective: Travel beyond the wasteland to the Forgotten City.]

[Reward: Advanced Combat Techniques.]

Keiran's fists were clenched. The path ahead was vague now, and an unasked-for traveling companion had been thrown into the mix. Still, if the system required him to make the first step, he would do so.

"Tomorrow," he whispered, "we move."