The sound slithered down the stairwell shaft like something cold and unnerving, echoing strangely in the concrete confines. It wasn't the guttural snarl of a Shadow Hound or the chittering screech of the Mantis-Roach. This was structured, rhythmic. A low, multi-voiced drone, almost like chanting, punctuated by a soft, repeating thump… thump… thump. It seemed to pulse in time with the erratic flickering of the damaged emergency lights, weaving itself into the very fabric of the building's newfound dread.
Alex and Maya froze instantly, exchanging wide-eyed glances. He held up a hand, tilting his head, straining to pinpoint the source. It seemed to be coming from several floors above them, maybe the fifth or sixth floor, but the acoustics of the stairwell and the surrounding hallways distorted it, making it feel both distant and unnervingly close.
"What is that?" Maya whispered, her voice barely audible over the low chanting. She gripped her hammer tighter, her knuckles white. The raw, animalistic terror of the monsters was one thing; this implied something else. Intelligence? Ritual? Purpose? It felt somehow more insidious.
Alex's mind, conditioned by years of gaming tropes, immediately jumped to possibilities: Cultists performing a dark ritual? A summoning spell? A bizarre hive-mind creature coordinating its drones? He quickly scanned his UI – no helpful prompts, no environmental warnings. Just his own stats, Maya's presence likely registered somewhere in the System's backend but not explicitly shown to him, and the daunting [EXP: 65/100] bar that felt miles away from Level 2.
"I don't know," he whispered back. "But I don't like it. Sounds… organized." He listened again. The language – if it was a language – was guttural, alien, filled with harsh consonants and sibilant whispers that grated on the ears. The rhythmic thumping continued like a slow, morbid heartbeat.
Should they investigate? Creep upstairs and get a look? Every survival instinct screamed no. They had supplies, they had survived two brutal encounters, the primary objective was to return to the fragile safety of the lobby and report in. Going towards an unknown, potentially intelligent and organized, threat felt suicidally foolish.
"Lobby first," Alex decided, his voice low and firm. "We report this to Frank. Let the group decide. But we stay quiet and keep our eyes open on the way back."
Maya nodded quickly, clearly relieved not to be heading towards the chanting. The unknown was terrifying, and right now, the devil they knew – the disorganized lobby and the immediate surroundings – felt marginally safer than the deliberate, rhythmic horror echoing from above.
They continued their journey back towards the main lobby access stairwell, moving with even greater caution than before. The chanting seemed to follow them, a low thrumming reminder that new, potentially worse threats were emerging in this broken world. Alex found himself constantly glancing upwards, half-expecting to see cloaked figures peering down from the upper railings.
As they passed the hallway leading towards Alex's own ravaged apartment – number 1503 – his eyes were drawn to the spot near the splintered doorframe where the first Goblin Scout had died. In his initial panic and flight, he hadn't stopped to look closely. Now, in the flickering emergency light, something caught his eye.
Not smoke, not ichor, but… something solid. He paused, signaling Maya to wait. He cautiously approached the spot, knife ready. There, nestled against the baseboard, almost hidden in the grime, was a small, rough pouch made of crudely stitched greyish leather, about the size of his thumb, tied shut with a sinewy cord. Beside it lay a single, jagged goblin tooth, unnaturally sharp.
He picked up the pouch. It felt leathery and slightly damp. He tugged the cord loose. Inside were three dull grey stones, each about the size of a pea, cool to the touch. They felt slightly heavier than normal pebbles.
[Crude Goblin Pouch - Common Material]
[Goblin Tooth - Common Material]
[Dull Grey Essence Stone (x3) - Common Material]
Faint text shimmered briefly over the items as he focused on them, identifying them through his UI. Materials? Like crafting components in a game? He remembered the Shadow Hounds and the Mantis-Roach dissolving into nothing but smoke. Why did the goblin leave something behind, but not them? Was it random? Did only certain types drop loot? Or maybe only sometimes? The System was maddeningly inconsistent, offering fragments of game logic wrapped in layers of deadly mystery. He quickly scooped the tooth and the stones back into the pouch, cinched it tight, and shoved it deep into his backpack pocket. Worthless junk? Or vital crafting reagents for some future, unknown purpose? He had no idea, but loot was loot. His gamer instincts wouldn't let him leave it behind.
He signaled to Maya, and they continued on. The power grid remained stubbornly intermittent. Lights flickered on one floor, only to be plunged into darkness on the next landing. They passed another apartment, 3C, where they could clearly hear sounds from within – not monsters, but muffled crying, punctuated by angry, fearful shouting. Someone was arguing inside, maybe trying to barricade themselves in more thoroughly. Other pockets of survivors, trapped, terrified, fighting amongst themselves already? It was a grim reminder of how quickly society frayed under pressure.
Finally, they reached the stairwell door leading back down to the lobby. The chanting from above seemed slightly muffled here, but still present, an unsettling background hum. Alex paused, listening intently for sounds from the lobby below before pushing the door open.
He announced their presence quickly, "Alex, Maya, returning!" before stepping out, Maya close behind.
The lobby scene was much as they'd left it, but with subtle shifts. The makeshift barricade at the main entrance looked slightly more robust – someone had managed to wedge a heavy metal filing cabinet into the gap. Henderson was propped up against the wall, his face tight with pain, his leg crudely bandaged with what looked like torn strips of office shirt. Frank stood near the barricade, peering nervously out into the dark street, holding the tire iron. Ben and the Carsons (the terrified couple) were huddled near the reception desk, sorting through the meager supplies they'd presumably gathered from the lobby offices.
"You made it!" Frank said, relief evident in his voice, though his eyes were still wary. He looked them up and down, noting their tense expressions. "Trouble?"
"Found supplies," Maya reported, holding up the backpack she'd acquired. "Canned goods, water, decent first-aid kit." She glanced towards Henderson. "Looks like you need it."
Alex nodded. "We cleared two apartments on the second floor. The second one… had issues." He quickly recounted the encounter – the locked door, the paranoid survivor Daniel, the Mantis-Roach attack, keeping the details of Maya's Awakening deliberately vague. "It came through the window. We managed to kill it, but… the guy, Daniel, he's completely catatonic. We had to restrain him for his own safety. Left him water and food. He's in 2B."
Frank's face grew troubled. "Restrained him? Gods… poor bastard. But… probably necessary. Can't risk him bringing more trouble down on us." He sighed heavily. "Good work, both of you. Killing another one of those… things." He looked at Alex's side, noticing the fresh tear and bloodstain on his shirt. "You hurt?"
"Just a scratch," Alex deflected, not wanting to show weakness or draw attention to his HP bar. "But that Mantis… thing… it was tough. Faster than the goblins, tougher hide."
"Yeah, these things aren't all built the same," Frank agreed grimly. "The security feed before everything went completely dead showed… varieties. Some small and fast, some big and slow but strong. Doesn't make sense."
Ben, the student, looked up from sorting cans, his eyes bright with a nervous, analytical energy. "Maybe like… monster roles? Or tiers? Like in games? The goblins are scouts or minions, low tier. The shadow dogs are chasers, maybe mid-tier speedsters? That insect thing sounds like an ambusher or maybe a tougher 'tanky' type?"
Alex felt a flicker of connection with Ben's thinking. It was how he was trying to categorize the threats too. "Could be," Alex allowed with a noncommittal nod. "Hard to tell without more data. That insect felt… significantly more dangerous than the goblin or the hounds we fought down here, though." He consciously avoided using levels or ranks, sticking to observable differences. He noted Frank and the others seemed to accept this comparison without question, their minds perhaps already grasping for ways to categorize the nightmare.
Maya remained mostly silent during the exchange, occasionally adding a detail about the Mantis-Roach's movements. Alex saw her subtly flexing her fingers, her gaze distant for a moment. He guessed she was trying to process her Awakening, maybe checking her own UI, feeling the faint thrum of mana manipulation she now possessed. The shared secret felt like a tangible thing between them, isolating them even as they stood amongst the small group.
Henderson groaned, demanding painkillers. Maya opened the new first-aid kit, efficiently finding antiseptic wipes and stronger bandages. As she tended to Henderson's nasty bite wound, Frank turned back to Alex.
"You said you heard something else? Coming back?"
Alex nodded grimly. "Yeah. Upstairs. Maybe fifth or sixth floor, hard to tell. Sounded like… chanting. Rhythmic. And thumping. Multiple voices, not speaking English."
The remaining survivors exchanged uneasy glances. Chanting? What did that mean?
"Cultists?" Ben breathed, eyes wide. "Like… summoning stuff?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Henderson snapped, wincing as Maya cleaned his wound. "Probably just… wind whistling through the vents. Or psychos."
"It wasn't the wind," Maya said firmly, her voice low. "It was deliberate. Structured. And it sounded like it was getting closer while we were heading down."
As if on cue, the sound became audible even here in the lobby. Faint at first, but growing steadily louder, echoing down the central stairwell shaft and maybe the elevator shafts too. The low, droning chant, the rhythmic thump… thump… thump. It resonated in the bones, deeply unsettling, utterly alien.
Everyone froze, conversations dying instantly. Frank motioned for silence, creeping towards the stairwell door, tire iron raised. The chanting swelled, no longer distant but seemingly just a floor or two above them now. It was definitely multiple voices, a guttural chorus in a language that felt ancient and wrong. The thumping intensified, like a slow, heavy drumbeat keeping time with the unnatural litany.
Then, figures emerged from the stairwell doorway.
Not monsters, not exactly. They were humanoid, shrouded in ragged, dark cloaks that obscured their forms and faces deep within shadowy hoods. There were three of them initially, moving with a slow, deliberate, almost processional gait into the lobby. They didn't immediately attack or even seem to notice the terrified survivors huddled behind the barricade. Their obscured faces were tilted slightly downwards, focused on their task.
One carried a gnarled wooden staff that pulsed faintly with a sickly green light. The other two carried crude, drum-like objects made of stretched hide and bone, striking them with padded mallets in that same, slow, heavy rhythm. Thump… thump… thump.
Alex squinted, focusing his Perception, trying to get a read from the System.
[Unknown Cloaked Figure - Level ???]
[HP: ???/???] [MP: ???/???]
[Status: Chanting]
[Unknown Cloaked Figure (Drummer) - Level ???]
[HP: ???/???] [MP: ???/???]
[Status: Chanting]
Question marks. The System didn't have clear data. Were they human? Mutated? Something else entirely? Their levels and stats were hidden, masked perhaps by magic or the System's own limitations. This was different. Organized, ritualistic, and unknown. Alex felt a prickle of fear far colder than what the mindless beasts had inspired. These felt like intelligent opponents, operating under rules he didn't understand. Were they E-rank? D-rank? Impossible to tell yet, but definitely dangerous.
More figures emerged from the stairwell, two more drummers, taking up positions behind the first three, their rhythmic beating filling the lobby, making the already flickering lights strobe erratically. Dust motes danced violently in the air. The pressure seemed to build, a tangible weight pressing down on Alex's chest.
The survivors were frozen, caught between the inadequate barricade protecting them from the street and this new, bizarre threat emerging from within the building itself. Henderson had stopped groaning, his face slack with terror. Ben watched with wide, unblinking eyes, a strange mix of academic curiosity and primal fear on his face. Frank gripped the tire iron, unsure whether to attack or hold position. Maya had instinctively moved closer to Alex, her hand gripping the hammer tightly.
The chanting swelled, the guttural words becoming clearer, though no less incomprehensible. The figure with the staff stopped in the center of the lobby, ignoring the survivors completely. It raised the staff high. The sickly green gem set in its tip flared, casting eerie shadows.
The figure slammed the butt of the staff onto the marble floor. CRACK.
Not a sound of impact, but of reality itself splintering. A complex symbol, glowing with the same nauseating green light, began to etch itself onto the floor tiles around the staff wielder, spreading outwards like incandescent frost. The air grew heavy, vibrating with power.
Summoning? Area-effect spell? Trap?
The survivors could only watch, paralyzed by fear and uncertainty, as the ritual reached its crescendo, the unknown figures seemingly moments away from unleashing… something truly terrible upon the besieged lobby.