“I’m sorry,” Farah apologized, her voice soft. “The people here don’t trust newcomers. We’ve been betrayed before, and… it’s hard.”
She looked away, her gaze dropping to her lap. Her shoulders shook slightly, as if she was trying to hold back tears. Jess reached over and gently placed her hand on Farah’s arm. A warm glow emanated from Jess’s touch, wrapping around Farah like a blanket. Her breath steadied, the sharp hitches fading until she breathed normally again. Farah looked up, eyes wide with awe and confusion.
“What… what did you do? How did you do that?” Farah asked, her voice a mixture of worry and wonder. “Some of us have powers, but I’ve never seen anything like that.”
I looked around, taking in the people nearby, and it hit me. These folks didn’t have any noticeable powers, skills, or proper armor. What little gear they had looked like it had been scavenged from the dead. Even the swords and spears some carried were rusted and worn.
“We’ll explain everything we can,” Jess said calmly. “But first, that little girl who brought us here, she’s been spellbound. Someone had cast a mute spell on her.”
Farah nodded slowly, her voice soft as she replied, “Yes, Isaac did that to her before he died. He had… powers.” She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “Her name is Farisyah. She came to us one day, and we couldn’t get anything out of her, but when she spoke… people died. It’s like there’s this invisible blast from her voice. People’s heads... erm... exploded.”
We all just stared at her, shocked.
“She exploded people’s heads?” Siva asked, his eyes wide in disbelief.
“Not on purpose,” Farah whispered, shaking her head. “It’s just whoever’s in front of her. We decided it would be better this way... safer.”
What the fuck… I glanced at Jess, who slowly turned to look at me, her mouth agape.
Jess: I almost healed her in the truck…
Shawn smacked Jess lightly on the arm, snapping everyone out of the heavy silence.
We spent the next hour explaining to Farah how the northern sector worked and what we had been forced to endure to escape it. We tried to leave out the more gruesome details, but more people began to gather around, pulling up chairs or simply standing nearby as we recounted our ordeal.
Reluctantly, we shared what had happened to our friends, and the crowd began murmuring, speaking in hushed tones as they listened.
By the time we finished, I glanced up to see a circle of horrified but curious faces.
“You were able to get food from the supermarkets?” asked a man from the back, wearing a torn t-shirt and worn-out pants.
“Uh… yes…” I replied, pulling out some snacks and food from my inventory. As soon as I did, people crowded around, eager to get their hands on the food. But before they could grab anything, an elderly Indian woman stepped forward and spoke above the rising din.
“Enough,” she said firmly, restoring order with a commanding presence. She shot me a stern look before walking over. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but this is not how we give out food. If you must, hand it over to me, and I’ll organize a proper distribution.”
She addressed all of us, her voice quiet but authoritative.
We agreed to her terms and asked Farah to wait as we followed the woman to an empty table in the back. We learned her name was Prema and she used to run the local Resident’s Committee and had experience in organizing community efforts like this. She was also the one currently managing the food supply and rations in the camp.
We exchanged glances and, without a word, decided to empty our inventory onto the table. The crowd gasped as we unloaded food, snacks, and drinks, their reactions ranging from heartfelt thanks to expressions of disbelief, some even raising their hands to the sky in gratitude. We covered nearly the entire length of the long table with our supplies, though I noticed there were no ice-cream among them.
Shawn must’ve caught my glance, because he grinned and gave me a sly wink as we walked back to Farah, nodding at the people around us with a few polite ‘you’re welcome’ as we passed.
“Okay... tell us about that other group,” I asked Farah, glancing around the mess hall. Most of the crowd had already moved to the back to get their rations as word spread, and more people were trickling in.
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“Which one?” she asked.
I sighed, catching her meaning. “Tell us about all the groups.”
Farah paused, collecting her thoughts before giving us a brief history of their world, specifically the western end of Singapore. “When the switchover happened, not everyone stayed behind. There were disappearances, just like in the north as you mentioned. But from those who remained, not everyone received notifications or instructions. The ones who did… they quickly split into two factions.”
She leaned in a bit, her tone darkening. “The Temple of the System and The Rebellion.”
I nodded for her to continue.
We listened as Farah explained the situation, but the more I heard, the more I began to piece things together myself.
The Temple of the System... they were the idiots we ran across at West Gate. Apparently, they were in commune with the system running this world, receiving upgrades beyond the norm, like that guy with the crossbow growing out of his forearm.
They controlled most of the west, including all the supermarkets and even some of the 7-Elevens. They claimed to rule the western part of Singapore, but their true power was concentrated around the former hub of Jurong, in the West Gate area. That place housed four major shopping complexes, a hospital and even a stadium.
The Temple’s goal was to evolve with the system’s help, believing they would reach deity-like levels of power. Anyone who wanted to restore the world to what it was before were their enemies.
Then there was The Rebellion. These were people who, like the Temple, had gone through the tutorial and received powers and loot. But unlike the Temple, they wanted to restore the world to how it was before everything went to hell, though they were willing to use violence to make that happen.
They were hard to pin down but rumor had it that they’d set up camp near the Tuas region, where the factories and industrial areas were. They used guerrilla tactics, hitting Temple initiates and then disappearing before the Temple could retaliate. They believed that anyone not fighting for their cause was, by default, helping the Temple’s agenda by choosing not to pick a side.
Shawn rubbed his temples and then buried his face in his hands, groaning lightly.
Shawn: Are we really doing this? Is the AI serious?
Siva: What?
Shawn: This is Mad fucking Max or any other 90s post-apocalyptic movie.
Jess: It’s all real for them, Shawn. People died, and they’re suffering.
Shawn: I know, I know, but seriously…
Chris: Let’s… just hear them out.
I stifled a smile forming at Shawn’s remark. Farah continued, unaware of our brief distraction from the group chat.
The last group, we learned, were the people here, the ones who hadn’t received any system prompts or couldn’t reach a 7-Eleven to activate their systems before the Temple took over. There were several of these encampments scattered throughout the region, and they survived by scavenging and foraging. It… was a fucked-up situation.
The few who did have powers in this group chose not to use them, out of fear that it would cause distrust among the rest.
A headache started to form as the realization came over me. The AI’s intentions were becoming clearer. The system prompt was still vivid in my mind.
[Objective: Choose a side and win the West.]
[Exit Condition: Total control of the West.]
We could only control the West if we joined the Rebellion or weaponized the people here and took out everyone else. Fuck that. There had to be another way.
I clenched and unclenched my fists beneath the table to calm myself. I saw Jess about to reach out to me, the faint glow of her healing spell forming in her hand, but I gave her a slight shake of my head. She stopped.
Farah had to leave to attend to something but told us where to find her so she could arrange beds for us. With that, we stood up and made our way back to the main gate, feeling the weight of stares and whispers following us. We needed the space and the time to process this.
“This is fucked up,” Siva muttered as I lit a cigarette, giving a casual wave to the guards as we walked a little further away. My mind was spinning with the idea I was starting to form.
“You know what I think?” Shawn said, lighting his own cigarette, as we both ignored Jess’s glare when the smoke drifted her way. She moved upwind. “I think we need to take control of a 7-Eleven. Even if they don’t fight, they need healing spells and access to loot.”
We nodded in agreement.
We stood in silence for a while, letting the warm sun bathe us. For perhaps the first time since I’d lived in this country, I found myself actually enjoying the heat. Finally, I flicked away my cigarette and turned to the team.
“Jess,” I said, “see if there are any healers in the camp. If there aren’t any, you’re it. We need them healthy and free from debuffs. You’re the camp doc... for now.”
Jess nodded, already deep in thought and thinking ahead. I knew she was already mentally mapping out a field hospital in her mind.
“Shawn and I will go out for recon. We’ll take the Digger.” Shawn raised an eyebrow at that but nodded.
“What about me?” Siva asked, stepping forward.
I placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled. “You… are going to learn how to ride a motorbike.”
We laughed at his confused face as I placed my arms around him and turned back to the encampment.
A saint meant to silence the divine learns to wake it instead. Dark beauty, dragon gods, and a saint who dares to sing.
A lush, sensual fantasy about power, purity, and the magic that blooms when a girl dares to sing her own song.
What to expect:
- dark romantasy
- a saint who yearns for more
- slow-burn tension
- a love that defies authority