The scream lingered in Ethan's ears, sharp and raw, cutting through the smoky haze like a blade. He sprinted down the alley, the hammer's weight a steady rhythm against his palm, his boots splashing through puddles of something too dark to be water. [Predator Sense] hummed, locking onto the sound—east, near the campus edge, a voice young and female, threaded with terror. It could be Mia. It had to be Mia.
The warehouse district gave way to the outskirts of the college, a sprawl of brick buildings and overgrown lawns now scarred by the breach. Streetlights hung dark and useless, their bulbs shattered or burned out when the world broke. Cars sat abandoned, some flipped like toys, others crushed under claw marks too big to belong to anything Ethan wanted to meet. The air stank of charred wood and something sour—blood, maybe, or the rot of whatever these monsters left behind.
He slowed as he reached a shattered intersection, the college's main gate just visible through the gloom. The scream had stopped, replaced by a low, guttural chittering that made his skin crawl. [Perception] sharpened the details: the gate's iron bars were bent outward, a food truck tipped on its side, its awning shredded. Something moved in the shadows beyond—a flicker of scales, a glint of teeth.
Ethan crouched behind the truck, his breath fogging in the chilly March air. [Predator Sense] painted the threat: reptilian, fast, with a heartbeat that pulsed like a drum. Not the anaconda—this was smaller, leaner, but no less deadly. He peeked around the truck's edge, hammer raised, and saw it: a velociraptor, not the feathered kind he'd fought in the garage, but a sleek, movie-style killer—green scales, red eyes, claws tapping the asphalt as it sniffed the wreckage. It dragged a body behind it, a college kid in a torn hoodie, lifeless and pale.
Ethan's stomach twisted, bile rising. Not Mia—her dorm was deeper in, third floor, east side—but the sight hit him hard. He could've been too late for her already. His grip tightened on the hammer, knuckles whitening. He wasn't a hero, just a mechanic who'd fixed cars and patched up his sister's scraped knees. Now he was killing monsters, guided by a voice in his head he didn't understand. Why him? Why this?
The raptor's head snapped up, nostrils flaring, and Ethan ducked back, heart slamming against his bruised ribs. [Predator Sense] warned him—it knew he was here. He couldn't outrun it, not on open ground, and hiding wouldn't get him to Mia. He had to fight.
He took a slow breath, tasting the ash in the air, and shifted his weight. The food truck's counter hung open, a propane tank dangling from a busted hose. An idea sparked—dangerous, stupid, but maybe enough. He edged toward it, keeping the raptor in his peripheral vision. It chittered again, stalking closer, its claws clicking like a countdown.
Ethan yanked the tank free, the metal cold and heavy in his hands. He twisted the valve, hissing gas filling the air, and hurled it toward the raptor. It skidded across the pavement, stopping ten feet away. The monster lunged, jaws wide, and Ethan swung the hammer—not at the raptor, but at the truck's flint striker, sparking it against the counter's edge.
A whoosh of flame erupted, the gas igniting in a roaring fireball. The raptor screeched, engulfed, its scales blistering as it thrashed. Ethan dove behind the truck, heat searing his back, the blast's echo ringing in his ears. The monster staggered, burning, then collapsed, its cries fading to a wet gurgle.
The voice chimed:
[Monster slain: Cinema Raptor]
[Attributes Gained: +2 Strength]
[Skills Gained: None]
[Rewards Gained: Improvised Tactician - +5% damage with environmental traps]
Ethan stood, muscles flexing with new power, his arms heavier, more solid. The [Improvised Tactician] reward settled in his mind—a flicker of instinct, a knack for turning junk into weapons. He didn't question it; the system was keeping him alive, and that was enough.
The truck's wreckage smoldered, acrid smoke curling into the sky. Ethan stepped over the raptor's charred corpse, its scales cracked and oozing. This wasn't natural—none of it was. These things weren't dinosaurs dug up from fossils; they were nightmares pulled from screens, twisted into flesh and blood ,but he'd tear through every monster in Chicago if it got him to Mia.
He crossed the gate, hammer dripping with soot, and entered the campus proper. Dorm buildings loomed, windows dark or shattered, some streaked with blood. [Predator Sense] pinged—more threats, scattered but closing in. He had to move fast.
A faint cry broke the silence—not a scream this time, but a sob, muffled, from the east. Ethan's heart leapt. He ran toward it, weaving through overturned bikes and scattered books, the hammer a lifeline in his hand. The dorms rose ahead, three stories of brick and broken glass. Third floor, east side—Mia's room.
He was almost there.