The world lurched sideways, and John stumbled as reality reasserted itself with all the grace of an earthquake.

  The transition between portal worlds and reality was never pleasant, but this one felt particularly jarring, like his brain had to recalibrate what colours were supposed to look like after being assaulted by that relentless chromatic assault. His equilibrium took a moment to catch up with the rest of him

  He blinked hard, shaking his head to clear the lingering afterimages of disco balls and gyrating insects. The ruins of the real-world nightclub coalesced around him, blessedly dim and ordinary in comparison to where he'd just been. The familiar crimson light of the burning sky filtered through the collapsed ceiling, casting everything in shades of red and shadow.

  Movement caught his attention. Daniel and Marius were rushing towards him from where they'd been waiting, their expressions tight with desperate hope.

  They came to an abrupt halt a few metres away, and John watched as hope curdled into devastation on their faces. Their eyes swept over him, searching, clearly looking for another figure that wasn't there.

  Farah. They were looking for Farah.

  Daniel's face crumpled first, his white robes billowing as he took an unsteady step backward. "No," he breathed, the word barely audible. "No, no, no…"

  Marius remained still, his massive frame rigid in the ruby armour, but John could see the way his jaw clenched, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. The Polish man's stoic facade was cracking at the edges.

  John felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. These fuckers had betrayed him, left him to die at the hands of the headmaster in that school portal.

  But he'd retrieved Farah's corpse anyway. Gone through the effort of fighting to get it stored it in his Inventory before obliterating the portal core. And now, watching Daniel and Marius stand there with the weight of loss crushing down on them, he found he couldn’t regret that decision.

  "I was able to retrieve her body," John told them. "It's in my Inventory."

  Both men's heads snapped towards him.

  "The System has a revival mechanic," John continued. "Costs five hundred Souls per use. The person comes back without their System, but they come back alive. I can—"

  "I'll do it." Daniel cut him off, stepping forward with sudden intensity. "I have Souls from a portal we destroyed. I'll do it myself."

  John blinked, surprised despite himself. He'd expected Daniel to ask him to do it, to beg and plead and offer whatever he could in exchange. The immediate willingness to spend his own Souls, without hesitation or negotiation, spoke to something deeper than John had anticipated.

  Maybe they're not complete bastards after all, he thought, watching Daniel the determination on Daniel’s face.

  "Alright," John said. He pulled up his Inventory with a thought, scrolling past weapons and armour and supplies until he found what he was looking for.

  Human Corpse (73kg)

  His stomach did an uncomfortable roll as he selected it, willing the body to materialise, selecting a blanket he’d picked up from back in the farm. A moment later, a weight appeared in his hands. Farah's corpse was there beneath a beige bedsheet, limp and heavy.

  He made sure every inch of her was covered as he lowered her to the floor, that there was nothing visible that could compound the indignity of her death. He left only her head uncovered. She was an average woman, South Asian as he’d anticipated from her name, with a strong jawline and hair just long enough to touch her shoulders.

  Daniel and Marius had frozen at the sight, their faces going through a rapid cascade of emotions. But they didn't speak, didn't move, as if any acknowledgment of what they'd just seen would make it worse somehow.

  "Go ahead," John said quietly, stepping back to give Daniel space.

  The white-robed man knelt beside Farah's covered form, his hands hovering over the blanket for a moment before he steadied himself. His eyes were closed, his lips moving in what might have been a prayer.

  Then light bloomed beneath Daniel's palms, golden and achingly gentle. It seeped through the blanket, illuminating Farah's form from within, and John felt something shift in the air. The temperature rose fractionally.

  The light pulsed once, twice, three times. Then it flared bright enough that John had to look away, spots dancing in his vision. When he looked back, the light was fading, and, finally, Farah gasped.

  It was a desperate, rattling sound, the kind of breath someone took when they'd been underwater too long, when their lungs were screaming for oxygen and their body didn't care about dignity or control. Her whole body convulsed beneath the blanket, her back arching off the ground as she sucked in air like she was drowning.

  Then she was coughing, sputtering, her hands clawing at the blanket as if trying to remember how limbs worked.

  "Farah!" Daniel's voice cracked on her name, his composure shattering completely. He pulled her up into his arms, blanket and all, clutching her against his chest like she might disappear if he let go. "Oh god, Farah, you're okay, you're okay..."

  Marius dropped to his knees beside them, one massive hand coming to rest on Farah's shoulder. He didn't speak, but John could see the way his shoulders shook, the way he bowed his head and let relief wash.

  Farah was still gasping, her eyes wide and unfocused, staring at nothing in particular. Then her gaze locked onto Daniel's face, and her expression shifted from panic to recognition.

  "Daniel?" Her voice was hoarse, confused, with the dazed quality of someone who’d just been woken up from a pleasant dream. "What… where… The lights… All those lights…"

  "You're safe," Daniel said, and John had never heard anyone sound so desperately relieved in his life. "You're safe. We've got you. You're okay."

  Farah's eyes flicked to Marius, then back to Daniel. "I remember…" She sucked in another breath, this one more controlled. "I died."

  "You did." Marius' rumbling voice was thick with emotion. "But you're back now."

  She looked down at herself, at the blanket wrapped around her, and John saw the moment realisation dawned. Her face flushed, but she didn't seem to have the energy to be embarrassed about it. Instead, she just pulled the blanket tighter and leaned into Daniel's embrace.

  "My System’s gone," she whispered to him.

  Daniel just nodded against her hair.

  Her entire body shuddered. "I think that’s good."

  The three of them stayed like that for a long moment, a tight knot of relief and reunion, and John found himself turning away to give them privacy. He walked a few paces towards the collapsed wall of the nightclub, his hands finding his pockets, his gaze fixed on the burning sky above.

  He could hear them behind him, muffled words, laughter mixed with sobs, the sound of three people who'd nearly lost everything reuniting.

  Even these bastards who fucked me over aren't complete monsters, he thought, watching ash drift through the crimson light. They care about each other.

  It was a strange realisation, uncomfortable in its implications. It was easier to write people off as enemies, as obstacles, as threats to be neutralised or avoided. Messy things like loyalty and love and grief complicated the simple calculus of survival.

  But he couldn't deny what he was witnessing. Daniel, Marius, and Farah had been strangers before the apocalypse, as far as he knew. They'd been thrown together by circumstance, by the random cruelty of the System and the monsters, and they'd forged something real in the crucible of shared trauma.

  Just like he had with Lily, Jade, Doug, and Chester.

  Just like countless other survivors were probably doing all across the world.

  The apocalypse stripped away everything superficial, even with the performances everyone was being forced to put on. In a way, it left only the raw core of who people were, shown through a warped mirror, and sometimes that core was something worth preserving.

  He turned back around, waiting until the three of them had composed themselves enough to notice his presence again. Farah was sitting up now, the blanket wrapped around her like a toga, her expression still dazed but growing clearer by the moment. Daniel had one arm around her shoulders, and Marius sat close on her other side, his presence a silent pillar of support.

  "There's something else you should know," John said, and three pairs of eyes fixed on him. "My group and I, we're not just surviving anymore. We're building something. A resistance."

  Daniel's brows drew together. "A resistance?"

  "Against the monsters. Against whatever sick fucks are running this whole show." John gestured broadly at the ruined nightclub, at Watford beyond.

  +3000 Aura

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  He could see the way the words landed, the way Daniel and Marius exchanged glances. Farah's expression shifted.

  "We have a temporary base," John continued. "Micklefield Hall, west of here. Safe, defensible. I’m clearing out the portals, eliminating the monster spawning points, and getting people out of this shithole town. We're gathering survivors, organising them, giving them a chance to fight back instead of just being prey. We're going to take our world back."

  +3000 Aura

  "And you're telling us this why?" Daniel's voice was cautious, but there was an undercurrent of something else there.

  "Because I'm offering you a chance to join us," John said simply. He met Daniel's eyes, then Marius', then Farah's. "Despite what happened in the school portal. Despite the betrayal."

  Daniel flinched at that word, his jaw tightening. "John, I—" He swallowed hard, then straightened his shoulders, meeting John's gaze head-on. "I'm sorry. For what we did to you. It was wrong."

  Marius bowed his head. Farah’s lips thinned, but she nodded along with Daniel’s words, guilt flooding her teary eyes.

  "I was scared," Daniel continued. "We all were. Every single day since this started has been a fight or flight response, and when you're in that state long enough, you start making decisions you wouldn't normally make. You do things you hate yourself for." His hands clenched into fists on his knees. "But that doesn't make it right. We betrayed you. We left you to die. And I'm not going to stand here and pretend we had good reasons for it."

  John studied him for a long moment, weighing the sincerity in Daniel's voice against the memory of running through that school, the headmaster's booming voice echoing through the halls, the desperation of fighting for his life because three people he'd tentatively trusted had decided he was expendable.

  "If you join us," John said, his voice dropping lower, harder, "and you do anything—anything—to jeopardise the resistance, to endanger the people we're protecting, I will kill all three of you, even if only one of you is guilty of the crime. Remember that."

  +6000 Aura

  The silence that followed was heavy. Daniel didn't flinch this time, didn't look away. "Fair."

  Marius nodded once, sharp and decisive. "Understood."

  Farah just watched John with those steady grey eyes, and he thought he saw something like respect there. Or maybe just exhaustion. Hard to tell.

  "Then consider yourselves invited," John said. "Once you've got Farah some actual clothes and sorted yourselves out, I’ll lead you out of town past any monster waves that are still lingering. From there, head to Micklefield Hall. There'll be people there who can get you situated."

  Daniel's expression shifted, relief flooding his features. "Thank you. Seriously. For Farah, for this chance, for…" He shook his head, words failing him.

  "What happened in the portal?" Marius asked abruptly. "Did you defeat the Dancing Queen?"

  John paused, considering his response.

  "The dragonfly—" John began, but Daniel interrupted him.

  "A damselfly," the white-robed man said, an oddly professorial tone creeping into his voice despite the situation. "It was a violet dancer damselfly."

  John stared at him for a long moment, his expression flat.

  Daniel seemed to realise what he'd just done, his face flushing slightly. "Sorry," he murmured, looking sheepish. "Continue."

  "I didn't defeat the Dancing Queen," John said, and he felt the familiar tingle that meant Aura was incoming. "Because I got the feeling it was already defeated before I even set foot in there."

  +1000 Aura

  The next several hours blurred together in a montage of systematic destruction and methodical rescue.

  John continued his sweep through Watford as a one-man apocalypse, his Clairvoyance scouring every building, every basement, every hidden corner where survivors might be hiding. He found them in ones and twos for the most part, people who'd barricaded themselves in attics, who'd holed up in walk-in freezers, who'd climbed onto rooftops and prayed the monsters wouldn't think to look up, but there were some groups that had banded together, too.

  Some of them were in decent shape, relatively speaking. Others were on the verge of collapse, dehydrated and starving and half-mad from days of isolation and terror. John brought them all out, led them all west toward Micklefield Hall, adding to the growing exodus of survivors leaving Watford's ruins behind.

  There weren’t just people alive, either. In a ransacked pet shop, he found three dogs—a German Shepherd, a Labrador, and some kind of terrier mix—all of whom bore the telltale signs of System enhancement. The German Shepherd could apparently create barriers of solidified air, the Labrador could fly by smelling things like some kind of cartoon, and the terrier could vibrate its jaws fast enough to bite through steel.

  Two cats turned up together. One that could turn invisible, another that didn’t show any sign of ability at all, and John wondered if it had been its former owner to revive it, or its fellow feline friend.

  A hutch of rabbits in someone's back garden proved to have survived by virtue of one rabbit developing teleportation while another could burrow through concrete. He loaded them all up and delivered them to the Hall, where Doug's bemused expression at being handed a bunch of superpowered rabbits had been worth the effort alone.

  The animals were a strange addition to their growing community, but John couldn't bring himself to leave them behind. They'd survived the apocalypse just like any human had, earned their right to live just the same. And who knew? Maybe super-powered guard dogs would prove useful in the days to come.

  By the time the black hole began its nightly manifestation over the Thames, John had evacuated thirty-two more survivors from Watford. Combined with the initial group and the seven from the basement, there were now just under fifty people gathered at Micklefield Hall.

  Fifty people.

  John hovered in the sky above Watford's town centre and tried not to think about what Watford's population had been before the apocalypse. Twenty-five thousand? Thirty? He'd never bothered to check before all this started, never had a reason to care about the demographics of a town he'd never planned to visit.

  Now, out of all those thousands of people, he'd managed to save fewer than fifty.

  The weight of that ratio was a harrowing thing. All those families, all those children, all those ordinary people going about their ordinary lives, snuffed out in a matter of days by monsters and madness and the System's cruelty.

  Can't think about that, he told himself firmly. Can't dwell on the ones I couldn't save. Have to focus on the ones I did.

  But the bitter knowledge remained, a stone in his gut that no amount of rationalising could dislodge.

  The black hole finished unfurling itself over the distant Thames, that perfect circle of absolute darkness hanging in the sky like a wound in reality. The purple haze around its edges pulsed with malevolent life, and John watched as the first thick streams of black ichor began dribbling from its impossible depths into the river below.

  The dark veil spread across the sky, strange creases radiating out from the anomaly, and the world dimmed by several shades. The burning sky took on an even more hellish cast, red light filtering through shadows.

  John stared at the black hole with seething hatred, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. Another item on the list of things that needed to die. Another abomination that thought it could squat in his world, in his sky, and leak its corruption into his planet's waters.

  Later, he promised himself.

  He turned his attention back to the task at hand, descending toward the town with grim purpose. Time for one last sweep, one final check to make absolutely certain there was no one left alive in this cursed place.

  For the next hour, John methodically covered every street, every building, every possible hiding place. He flew grid patterns over the town, Clairvoyance extended to its maximum range, Eagle Eyes peeled, even his mundane—if enhanced by Stats—senses stretched to their limits. He checked the same locations twice, three times, paranoid that he might have missed someone, that there might be a survivor huddled in some corner his senses couldn't reach.

  But there was nothing. No humans, at least. Just monsters, and even those were growing sparse as John systematically eliminated them. Watford had become a ghost town in truth, emptied of all but the predators that had driven its population to extinction or exodus.

  When he was as certain as he could reasonably be that there was no one left to save, John allowed himself a moment of satisfaction.

  It was time for the final act.

  He ascended higher into the burning sky, gaining altitude until the whole of Watford spread out beneath him like a map. The town that had become a death game, a hunting ground, a nightmare factory, all of it laid out in miniature, waiting for judgment.

  John raised his hands, palms facing each other, and brought them together in a thunderous clap.

  Gravity Bomb activated below him, space folding inward on a residential street. The monsters there were crushed instantly, their bodies compacted into a sphere of organic matter that hovered for a heartbeat before exploding outward with devastating force. The shockwave carved a crater a hundred metres across, buildings collapsing like cardboard in the blast radius.

  +8000 Aura

  He moved methodically, targeting one section of town at a time. Another clap, another gravitational implosion, another crater carved into Watford's face. The high street went next, shops and businesses reduced to rubble and ruin. Then the industrial estate, warehouses crumpling like tissue paper. The football stadium, already damaged, collapsed entirely when Gravity Bomb turned half its structure into a crater.

  Between the Gravity Bombs, John used Supernova. He'd point at a section of town, clench his fist, and watch as a sphere of annihilating white fire vaporised everything in its radius. Buildings flash-melted, monsters turned to ash in microseconds, and when the light faded there was nothing left but scorched earth, glowing like magma.

  +12000 Aura

  +15000 Aura

  +9000 Aura

  The notifications rolled in with each devastating strike, but John barely registered them. He was focused entirely on the task, on the systematic erasure of this place that had caused so much suffering.

  A Gravity Bomb for the hospital. A Supernova for the shopping centre. Back and forth, alternating between crushing force and annihilating heat, painting destruction across Watford in broad strokes. He lost track of time, lost himself in the rhythm of destruction.

  Clap, point, clench, watch, move on. Clap, point, clench, watch, move on.

  The black hole watched from its perch over the Thames, that baleful eye in the sky bearing witness to Watford's obliteration. John ignored it, focusing on the work at hand. When he'd swept through the entire town once, he started over, hitting areas he'd missed, ensuring complete coverage. Nothing survived his onslaught. Nothing could.

  By the time he was finished, Watford was no longer a town. It had become a devastated plain, reduced to nothing more than rubble-strewn earth, occasionally interrupted by the shattered foundations of what had once been buildings. Fires burned in scattered pockets where Supernova had ignited stubborn materials, casting dancing shadows across the ruins.

  John hovered above his work, his Dragon Wings spread wide, and allowed himself a moment to simply take it in. The scale of the destruction was staggering, the kind of devastation that would have taken an army with conventional weapons days to accomplish. He'd done it in an hour, maybe less.

  The power at his fingertips was as intoxicating as it was terrifying. With a thought and a gesture, he could reshape the world. With a clap of his hands, he could erase neighbourhoods. With a clenched fist, he could summon fire that would make volcanoes jealous.

  Is this what a god feels like? he wondered, then immediately shook the thought away. That kind of thinking was dangerous. He wasn't a god. He was just a man with stolen power, grinding his way through an apocalypse one level at a time.

  But looking down at the flattened ruins of Watford, it was hard to maintain that perspective.

  A grim smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite himself. The death game was over. Watford's nightmare had ended, cauterised by overwhelming force.

  Humanity's counterattack had begun.

  John beat his wings once, twice, and turned west toward Micklefield Hall. Toward the resistance he'd helped create, the survivors he'd gathered, the strange new community that was coalescing around Doug's leadership and his own overwhelming power.

  There was still so much work to do. So many other towns trapped in similar hells, so many survivors who needed help, so many monsters that needed killing. The black hole still hung in the sky, leaking its corruption. The apocalypse raged on, indifferent to one town's liberation.

  But for now, for tonight, the place that had once been Watford was free.

  +50000 Aura