11

  After entering the apartment building, the group first split up to check whether any lifelines—electricity, water, gas—were still functioning.

  It didn’t take long for them to realize the effort was meaningless.

  They then scattered throughout the rooms to search for supplies, agreeing to regroup in a corner unit on the second floor of the fifteen-story building.

  Breaking open damaged doors, they gathered whatever food the residents had been forced to abandon. The guilt was undeniable—Messiah felt it, and so did Maria. But survival left no room for hesitation. Even so, the traces of everyday life in each room made Messiah pause again and again, wondering what had become of the people who once lived there.

  “Is it really okay to do this…?” Maria muttered, stuffing ham, cheese, and other ready-to-eat food from a refrigerator into a cloth bag she found in the room.

  Elizabeth, rifling through shelves nearby, answered sharply without looking up.

  “If you want to live, you don’t get to be sentimental. If you truly care about Messiah, then you need to be prepared to survive. If you can’t do that, stay away from him—you’ll only put him in danger.”

  With that, Elizabeth finished her search and moved on to the next room.

  Moments later, Messiah entered the kitchen and immediately noticed the change in Maria’s expression.

  “Did something happen with Elizabeth?” he asked.

  Only then did Maria realize he was there.

  “It’s fine. Really,” she said, forcing a smile.

  She turned toward the door, signaling there was nothing left worth taking. As she did, she felt she finally understood Elizabeth’s feelings—the resolve behind her harshness.

  An hour later, everyone gathered as planned in the corner unit on the second floor.

  Whether the residents had fled or been devoured by the Devil’s Children was impossible to tell, but the chaos inside the apartment told the story clearly: a ransacked closet, breakfast left untouched on the dining table—signs of a panicked escape.

  They spread their collected food, clothes, and blankets across the living room floor.

  Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

  “Not much left, huh,” Illart muttered lightly, holding up the only thing he’d found—a Beretta M92 model gun, clearly a toy.

  No one laughed.

  Elizabeth raised her hand, her face visibly flushed even in the dim light of the lamp the priest was holding. Everyone braced for the sound of a slap—

  —but instead, the front door creaked open.

  Tension snapped tight.

  Father Max Dinger raised his customized MAXI8 Unlimited revolver. Beard Bull aimed his H&K XM8 at the doorway. Messiah stepped back, shielding Maria with his body. Fan and Elizabeth gripped a crowbar and hammer they’d found earlier.

  Illart proudly raised his model gun, though it inspired no confidence at all.

  Because the building’s foundation had shifted, the door let out a shrill metallic scream as it opened. If monsters flooded in, jumping from the window would be their only escape—that was why the priest had chosen this room.

  Images of human flesh being devoured raced through everyone’s minds.

  Slowly, the door opened. The smell of cold sweat filled the room as several figures stepped inside.

  Just as a young soldier’s finger tightened on the trigger, an unexpected voice rang out.

  “Maria…? Is that you, Maria?”

  Startled, Maria peeked out from behind Messiah.

  A familiar face emerged in the lamplight, and Maria’s face lit up.

  “Makina…?”

  Makina Anaz—about their age, with a round face, bobbed hair, and a long skirt—ran toward her, eyes wide with disbelief.

  “It really is you! How—why are you here?!”

  She rejoiced openly at her friend’s survival, but when her gaze shifted to the others, especially Messiah, her expression stiffened. Messiah, too, forced an awkward smile.

  Makina had been Maria’s closest friend since childhood, ever since Maria had spoken to her at a church daycare when Makina barely talked to anyone. They had stayed close through school.

  But Makina and Messiah had never liked each other. That tension now filled the room.

  “My god, you won’t believe what we’ve been through!” Makina burst out.

  “Later,” Father Max said gently, cutting her off. “Come inside first.”

  Makina froze when she noticed the revolver in his hand, stumbling back in shock. The people behind her recoiled like frightened sheep.

  “It’s okay,” Maria said softly. “You’re safe here.”

  Her voice somehow eased them, and they hurried inside.

  In that moment, the priest transmitted his consciousness to headquarters and requested dimensional shielding. Approval came instantly.

  The room was now completely isolated from three-dimensional physical space. No one could enter—or leave.

  From inside, however, nothing looked different.

  “Do you have food?” the priest asked calmly, holstering his weapon.

  A man stepped forward holding a hunting shotgun.

  “My name is Ninola Penders,” he said, lowering the barrel. “We took supplies before coming here. Survival leaves little choice.”

  Behind him, tensions flared, personalities clashed, and sleeping arrangements turned into arguments—but for now, they were alive.

  Later, Messiah stepped onto the balcony.

  The city below was unrecognizable. Fires rose like skyscrapers. The sky was choked with black smoke. In the darkness, he heard wet, tearing sounds—people being eaten.

  “It feels like a nightmare,” the priest said quietly, joining him.

  “It’s real,” Messiah replied.

  “And it’s only the beginning,” the priest said. “Humanity will wage war against myth itself.”

  Far below, the city screamed.

  And unseen by them all, their fates—set in motion long before the birth of the universe—continued to turn.

  To be continued — Episode 1-12