He slung his bag over his shoulder, ignoring the curious glances that followed him, and turned to Jenny, Tunde, and Cynthia.
"Aren't we going?" he asked, puzzled.
After a brief pause, they all nodded and began following Cynthia toward the last standing hostel out of the five. It was the one located in the center of the university's residential area, a tall, cream-colored building with vines crawling up the side. Most likely, it was where the remaining female survivors had taken refuge.
The other hostels had collapsed under strange and horrifying circumstances. When that blinding light flashed across the sky, some people exploded outright, their bodies tearing apart in a flash of red mist that shook the very foundations of the buildings. The tremors weakened structural integrity, and to finalize the destruction, cars and debris—seemingly hurled by invisible forces—smashed into the already-tilting structures, toppling them entirely.
Now, as the group made their cautious approach toward the only intact hostel, everyone remained on high alert. Every shadow felt like a potential threat, and the tension in the air was almost suffocating.
But not everyone was frozen in fear.
"Um, thank you," a timid female voice said. One of the girls who had escaped the stadium stepped forward and bowed to Jon and Jenny.
"It's okay," Jon nodded, his voice low but steady.
"You're welcome," Jenny replied with a soft smile, her expression calm—as if the world wasn't currently unraveling. Her composure seemed to trigger something in the other survivors. One by one, tears began to spill, and heartfelt thanks followed, pouring out like a dam had burst.
At that moment, the hostel doors creaked open.
The group tensed instantly, eyes wide and hands twitching toward makeshift weapons, expecting zombies to stumble out.
Instead, a group of people emerged in coordinated uniforms—purple tops, black trousers, and caps bearing the Palflic University emblem. Some clutched walkie-talkies, others had pistols holstered at their waists. Their faces were grim, and their bodies bore cuts, soot stains, and the exhaustion of prolonged combat.
It was the university's contracted security team—the very people they'd hoped to find. But they looked far from their usual professional selves. Their uniforms were scuffed and dirty, their movements sharp and defensive. Still, their presence brought a wave of relief.
Yet, an unspoken question hung in the air: Where had they been while the students were fighting for their lives? No one voiced it. Relief and the flicker of hope in their hearts drowned out resentment.
Around fifteen security personnel had stepped out, flanked by about twelve hostel staff members. Among them stood a middle-aged woman with streaks of gray in her hair and heavy bags under her eyes.
Her name was Martha Port, head of the surviving hostel.
Her hands trembled slightly as she tried to keep her composure. All her colleagues from the other dormitories had perished—burned, crushed, or turned into monsters. She knew how lucky she was to be alive, and she had sworn not to waste that chance. She would save as many people as she could.
"Are you all right?" she asked gently, scanning the crowd.
"Please, I hope no one got scratched," added one of the guards, his hand resting near his holstered weapon.
The security team moved quickly and efficiently, checking for injuries and signs of infection. Meanwhile, the hostel staff offered what comfort they could—bandaging wounds, handing out water, whispering reassuring words to the terrified students.
Only after a while did they start guiding everyone into the hostel.
Two particular guards approached Cynthia, exchanged hushed words with her, and then stayed close by. Cynthia nodded, her eyes flicking toward Jon with a curious, lingering gaze.
No one approached Jon.
It wasn't because they hadn't seen him fight. Rather, it was because they had. There was something about the way he moved, the way he fought—inhuman precision, calm in chaos. They didn't know how to treat him.
Until Martha Port stepped forward. She bowed her head.
"Thank you," she said simply.
Then, the others followed. One by one, security officers and staff members came forward, bowing and murmuring their thanks to both Jon and Jenny.
It was embarrassing, but also deeply moving. They had practically saved every student here. A thank you was the least they could offer.
Tunde and Cynthia moved toward Mrs. Port and the head of security, engaging in quick, focused conversation. Meanwhile, Jon lingered near the edge of the group, speaking quietly with Jenny.
"Do you have any idea what is happening?" Jenny asked. Despite her calm demeanor, curiosity burned in her eyes.
"I don't know," Jon replied, "but I feel like it doesn't matter."
"Why do you say that?"
"Do you really think things can ever go back to normal?"
Jenny frowned, her gaze dropping. She knew he was right. Even if their powers vanished tomorrow, the devastation and loss were irreversible. Governments would collapse, and wars would erupt.
Basically, the old world was gone.
"But it still feels surreal." Jenny couldn't help but feel that way. In just an hour, the world had been turned upside down, and maybe the only reason they were even talking like this was because of their traits.
She looked at him again. "So what do you plan to do?"
Jon was silent for a moment, then said, "Maybe our only answer is to get stronger. Maybe the answers lie along that path."
He looked up at the darkening sky. While others feared the night, he felt an odd surge of strength.
'Is it because of 'Moon'?' he wondered, clenching his fist. It seemed the skill had more layers than he first realized.
"So, you're planning to level up too?" Jenny asked. She glanced at her fingers. "I don't know if it's the trait I got, but I'm not afraid—not like the others."
Jon nodded inwardly. 'I was right. She also got a trait.'
"Yeah. Since the situation isn't changing, we might as well adapt."
"Alright then, let's meet at the entrance in two hours," Jenny said with a smile.
Jon returned the nod. As she turned to go, she paused, then glanced back. "Are you going to join the meeting inside?"
Jon shook his head. "I can guess how it'll go. Besides, they're as clueless as the rest of us."
"Fair enough. See you then."
She disappeared inside ahead of him.
The lobby of the hostel was built to impress—polished tiles, a wide reception desk, and chairs arranged in neat rows for visitors. But now, desks and shelves had been pushed together to form barricades, a makeshift defense against zombies.
...
Across the globe, humanity scrambled to make sense of the calamity.
Scientists were sent to investigate the strange energy signatures, only for many to fall victim to the very phenomenon they sought to understand. The rest could only confirm one thing: the energy flowing around was powerful, unlike anything seen before. Harnessing it could rewrite the future—if the world survived long enough to figure it out.
Religious leaders claimed it was divine judgment. Conspiracy theorists shouted about world resets and alien interventions. Military generals drew up new borders, planning how to seize power in the emerging chaos.
Everyone was trying to come up with their different views, however, the singular truth was? The world had been reset.
Everyone now stood at the same starting line. And in this new race, those who adapted fastest would rise to unimaginable power. This generation would birth legends—the rulers of a new age.
But for every legend, countless others would be crushed beneath the weight of change.
Still, the majority adapted. That was humanity's gift—its resilience.
As Jon entered the dormitory, his instincts were proven right. There were far more survivors than expected.
It seemed the security team had bided their time, coordinating rescues, clearing floors of threats, and ferrying people from collapsing buildings to the only safe structure left.
Hundreds of female students had made it. Some sat in quiet clusters, others sobbed in corners. Most had found strength in solidarity.
Palflic University had always boasted talented students, many of whom now exhibited a natural affinity with mana. It was subtle for some—an instinct to sense danger or shield others. But it was enough to survive.
Among them, only a few male students remained—just eleven, including Jon, all from the stadium.
Seeing the number, Jon's thoughts drifted to Alex and Joe. 'I hope they're okay', he whispered to himself.
A staff member directed him to a room on the third floor. It was spacious and, oddly, solitary.
He guessed who might've arranged it, and silently made a note to thank them later.
For now, his mind sharpened to one goal:
Get stronger.
That was the only way forward.
He closed the door behind him and stared at the ceiling. Somewhere out there, the world was still unraveling—but for the first time, he felt ready.