Derek broke into a full sprint, the cracked pavement blurring beneath his boots.

The library towered ahead, blackened at the edges from fire and collapse, its once-proud glass façade now a gaping mouth of broken teeth. Half the roof had caved in, burying the western wing under steel beams and shattered brick. The remaining structure leaned like a drunk on its last leg.

Derek's heart pounded as he closed the distance, his mind grinding through thoughts faster than his legs could carry him.

The thought barely formed before his boots hit the crumbled steps. The air smelled of burning wood, ash, and something fouler—rotting flesh. It made him gag, but he ignored it, not giving in to his stomach.

He shoved past the twisted remains of a barricade—sandbags torn to ribbons, bullet-riddled posts sagging under the weight of fire damage—and sprinted into the courtyard. He didn't care about the fire crackling at the edges or the dying groans of whatever structures still stood. He barely registered the metallic scent of blood seeping into the dirt, the charred remains of bodies littered along the way.

He could hear them before he saw them—growls, gurgling, the scratching of claws on stone. Damn it.

Without hesitation, he unsheathed his blades and slashed through the nearest beast. The creature's head rolled from its shoulders, and its body crumpled with a sickening squelch. Derek didn't even look at it as he moved, focusing on the library's entrance.

He cut through the monsters that lingered like scavengers—flesh and bone scattering with every strike, turning the ground beneath him slick with blood. His movements were a blur, the suit's hydraulics screaming as it accelerated his attacks. But the deeper he moved, the more intense the stench grew, and a heavy feeling sank in his chest. Something felt wrong.

He reached the entrance and shoved the last remnants of a wooden door aside, its frame hanging by a single hinge. Inside, the library's silence swallowed him whole, except for the faint dripping sound that echoed off the walls. His eyes flickered across the ruined shelves and broken tables. The room was littered with debris and corpses, but his gaze immediately fixed on the far corner.

A figure lay crumpled among the wreckage.

Lila.

Her body was mangled, half-eaten, as though something—something had savaged her in desperation. There was no mistaking the bloodstained remnants of her once-white jacket, the too-familiar curve of her face now pale and unrecognisable, her features distorted by the brutality of her end. A part of Derek's mind screamed at him to look away, but he couldn't. He couldn't tear his eyes from its horrible reality.

Why, Lila? Why'd you have to be so fucking stupid?

The anger welled up, hot and thick, curling around his heart like a noose.

"Why'd you throw yourself away like that?"

He staggered forward, barely registering the monsters he'd killed in his wake. The truth slammed into him with brutal force—the girl who had meant everything to him, the girl he was supposed to protect, was gone.

And she had died alone.

His chest tightened painfully, but it wasn't the grief that came first. It was the wave of nausea.

His stomach lurched, the pit inside him twisting as bile rose. He dropped to his knees, feeling the cool concrete beneath his palms. He couldn't hold it back. He vomited, the bitter taste of acid and blood burning the back of his throat as he collapsed onto the floor.

" You are so stupid...STUPID, STUPID, STUPID, STUP....!! "

He screamed at the sky till his voice broke,

" You....I am so stupid" he said in a low tone

Why couldn't I save her?

" Why didn't I warn her...wh.."

He clutched the ground, his breath ragged, his entire body trembling. He wanted to scream—wanted to yell at her, at himself, at the world—but all that came out was a strangled sob. The reality of it was too much. He couldn't process it.

He finally dragged himself to his feet, eyes still locked on Lila's mutilated body. Stupid. She was stupid.

But so was I for thinking I could save anyone.

Tears stung his eyes, but they didn't fall. He wasn't crying—not yet. He wouldn't allow it. Not here, not now.

He stood over her, the silence between them suffocating, and whispered through clenched teeth, "I'll make them pay."

Derek stood for what felt like hours, though it had only been minutes. The scent of blood and ash still hung in the air, clinging to his skin like guilt. He stared at the empty space where Lila's body had just lain, now stored away, sealed behind the sterile wall of his inventory.

A convenience, he thought bitterly. A digital coffin.

He didn't move, didn't speak. The wind stirred dust and ash around his boots, and the world remained painfully indifferent.

Then, for the first time in what felt like forever, the system spoke—but not with its usual sterile coldness, nor with the snide edge that often taunted him during combat missions or failed objectives. No. This time, its voice was… quiet.

Almost gentle.

[System Notification: The Netherworld Flowerbud has detected a compatible soul signature.]

Derek's brow furrowed, his pulse hitching in his throat. "What…?"

[Ability Unlocked: Soul Preservation (Netherworld Bloom Variant). The flowerbud has intercepted the soul of the deceased. It is currently preventing dispersal.]

He blinked, stunned, a thousand thoughts crashing in his mind. The system continued:

[The soul will remain stable for three years, during which the host may seek out a method of resurrection. Please note: revival is not guaranteed. Time remaining: 3 years, 0 days.]

Derek's breath caught in his throat.

It wasn't over.

He staggered back, a shaky laugh escaping his lips—but it wasn't relief. It was something jagged. Desperate. He ran a hand down his face, smearing soot and tears. "You're telling me… she's not gone? Not completely?"

The system didn't answer.

Not with words.

Just a single, subtle pulse from his inventory. A soft warmth—not physical, but something deeper. Like a heartbeat brushing against his own.

She was still there.

Barely. Like a candle flickering in a storm.

The world hadn't taken everything from him. Not yet.

His voice cracked as he whispered, "I'll fix this. I'll bring you back. I don't care what I have to do. I swear it, Lila."

He looked toward the horizon, jaw clenched. The apocalypse was just beginning. His enemies had no idea what kind of monster they'd just made.

Because now?

Now he had three years.

And a reason to burn the world down.

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