The atmosphere in the meeting room was quite tense; the hum of electric equipment could be heard in the background.
" From now on, we'll set up two divisions, the Awakening Response Division and the Building Development Division. General Miles, you will be in charge of the Awakening Division, and Mayor Harkland will be in charge of the Building Development. if you encounter any problems, you can report directly to me. "
Derek said, assigning the roles to them, then he waved his hand grandly.
Suddenly, many objects appeared, forming a small hill on the table a pile of shimmering armors, gleaming potions, and weapons of unknown origins. They were unlike anything the room had seen before, yet they had the smell of untold stories about them. Each object gleamed as if forged in a place where magic still held sway.". Derek watched their shocked and confused expressions with delight.
" These objects are my collection of potions, armours and weapons, They have been gathering dust for a while, though they are not enough for the numbers we are expecting; they should do fine, if they are in the hands of the right people. They should serve just fine. "
Everyone looked at Derek with an unknown light in their eyes, he was getting more and more mysterious in their eyes.
His strength and his knowledge about the apocalypse were suspicious enough, but now he could produce a mountain of equipment far superior to any current equipment possessed by the military. What was his secret? They wanted to ask, but they did not dare, even Yvalna, who came from an advanced Fantasy world, was shocked, most of the objects were D rank or C rank, it was not that she had not seen one before, but their sheer number was not something even those top-tier families and kingdom's from her previous world possesed.
She was also curious about what secret her summoner was hiding. " Could it be that there is a god behind him, but which one? "
" Aside from the weapons and equipment, I will get someone to send over some mana stones, they are crucial for the awakening of the soldiers and the civilians " Derek was not fazed by the many stares, it was not like they would figure out his secret, been if they did, could they take the system away from him.
"But it was better to keep the system hidden " He was not arrogant enough to believe that outside of the universe, there were no entities that could strip the system away from him.
He had to make that strength his own.
He looked at the pitiful amount of system credits he had.
[ 2356 system credits ]
He still had a few equipment he had gained as loot, some where of the A-rank and B rank, he planned to give them to the Genesis Unit, but Maya needed Ice-attribute equipments, he had none of those.
The lights in Shelter 9's cafeteria hummed overhead, an uneven electric drone that pulsed alongside the rhythmic flicker of failing fluorescent tubes. The air smelled of sweat, metal, and that faint tang of sterilised despair—a scent that seemed to cling to concrete, no matter how many times it was mopped. Hundreds were crammed inside, seated on bolted-down benches or pressed against the walls. Canned beans and synthetic protein cubes sat untouched on dented trays. No one was eating anymore. The low murmur of half-hearted conversations, of speculation and shell-shocked small talk, began to dry up the moment the old wall-mounted monitors crackled to life.
There were seven of them—mismatched displays salvaged from busted arcades, classrooms, and hospital wings—bolted together like a nervous system of failing tech, their glass surfaces scratched, scarred, and stained by old fingers and dried blood. A single tone rang out—sharp, piercing, meant to override thought. A child in the front row flinched and started to cry, but their mother didn't look down, just pulled them close with one hand while the other gripped a cracked plastic spoon like it was a blade.
Then the screen steadied, and a symbol emerged—a sleek black shield with a crimson flame in the center, flickering ever so slightly. The Paleview Emergency Command insignia. The room inhaled together, like a single organism bracing for what came next.
"This is an emergency-level broadcast from the Paleview Emergency Awakening Response Division. Shelter 9, stand by for mandatory alert."
The voice was male, synthetic, sanded clean of all regional tone or personality. But it was powerful. Not booming. Not aggressive. Just... undeniable, the way gravity is. It wasn't there to inspire or plead. It was there to inform, as if truth could be spoken like concrete. The voice belonged to the battle hardened General Miles, no doubt.
"Attention, all Paleview citizens. This is a formal transmission from the Emergency Awakening Response Division."
The crowd was silent now, except for the unsteady breathing of a few people trying to maintain composure. A low murmur broke out at the mention of 'Awakening,' but it was quickly stifled by the heavy silence that followed. Some gripped their seats like they would anchor themselves to reality if the world collapsed. Others looked to the exits, eyes darting as the urge to run crept in
"If you or someone you know has experienced changes—accelerated healing, extreme reflexive speed, heightened perception, or unusual energy manifestations—you are likely Awakening-compatible."
A flicker of movement—subtle, but real. A girl at one of the far benches reached instinctively to cover her forearm where faint, bioluminescent veins had begun to pulse beneath the skin. A man near her caught the movement and turned away, gripping his thermos tightly. No one spoke. The air felt heavier now, like mana itself was thickening in the vents.
"Awakening is not a curse, don't worry, you are not turning into a monster . It is the next phase of evolution for humanity. We do not fully understand the origin of this phenomenon, but we understand its value. You may be the only force capable of pushing back the Apocalypse."
The monitors cut to footage—grainy, raw. Shaky camera angles of monstrous figures erupting from beneath torn pavement. Screams layered under collapsing buildings. Fire. A single woman standing amidst it all, face bloodied, her right hand glowing with unstable light as she hurled what looked like a fireball the size of a dumpster into a charging beast. The blast shook the lens, the screen turned dark momentarily.
"All confirmed Awakeners who report voluntarily to an A.R.D. checkpoint will be enrolled in the Survival Corps. In exchange for service, you will receive priority rations, upgraded shelter access, and equipment tailored to your Gift. You will not fight alone. You will be trained. Protected. Honoured."
Someone laughed quietly—bitter and tired—and was immediately hushed by a neighbour. Another man rose slowly from his seat, as if resisting the urge to bolt out the door. He was staring at his own hand like it no longer belonged to him.
"You will face danger. We will not deceive you. You may die. But without you, all will." Note: Check * for any corrections.
The image cut to the thousands of monsters marching forwards in the street, and then the camera zoomed, showing the directions they were marching in; The Shelters.
A wave of panic came over everyone.
" Without you, all will" the General repeated.
The screen turned pitch black. The atmosphere in Shelter Nine's Cafetria was tense, then suddenly more than half of the people stood up rushing out.
The same situation was playing out in every other shelter.