I had to admit, the man possessed a certain twisted boldness. To double back and attempt to coerce the sceptics after successfully shepherding hundreds to their doom required a level of sociopathic confidence that only a Traitor could manifest. He stood there, silhouetted against the deepening violet of the sky, radiating an aura of false protection that made my skin crawl.
However, before I could even open my mouth to deliver a scathing rejection, Isabella jumped in. In that moment, she provided the first undeniable evidence that she had fully placed her trust in me over the "authority" of the crowd.
"And who exactly decided we should do that?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and standing her ground with a defiance that seemed to catch the man off guard. Her voice carried through the unnerving silence of the park. "This is a free country, last I checked. No one is obliged to follow your orders or go anywhere against their own will. We're staying right here."
"C'mon now, don't be like that," the man said, his voice dropping into a patronising, fatherly tone that felt like oil on water. "You're far too young to realise the gravity of what you're doing. You're making a mistake that could cost you your life."
Then, he did the unthinkable. Perhaps he was feeling the pressure of a ticking clock on his own hidden quest, or perhaps he underestimated the girl's spirit. He reached out with a thick, calloused hand and dared to grab Isabella's arm, intending to pull her toward the subway entrance.
"Hey!" I moved instantly. My hand shot out like a coiled spring, intercepting his wrist before his fingers could fully close around her jacket.
The physical contact was jarring. Up close, I could see the rage simmering in his eyes—a cold, inhuman fury that didn't belong to a man worried about a stranger's safety. He glared at me as if I were a cockroach he was itching to crush.
"How dare you?!" Isabella gasped, recoiling from his touch. The shock lasted only a second before it transformed into an explosive anger. "What gives you the right to put your hands on me? Get the f*ck out of my sight, now!"
This sharp conflict acted like a signal flare, drawing the attention of the scattered groups still lingering on the Great Lawn. Students, tourists, and academics—those who had been smart enough to doubt the initial march—began to drift toward us. They were observant enough to realise that what was happening to us was a precursor to what he intended for them.
If this man had stayed calm and used persuasion, he might have eventually worn them down. But by resorting to physical coercion, he had made a fatal tactical error. He had unmasked himself too early.
"I'm sorry," the man said, sensing the immediate shift in the atmosphere as the other stragglers began to encircle us. "I didn't mean any harm. I'm just deeply concerned about your safety. You're young, you're inexperienced, and the world is falling apart."
"F*ck off!" Isabella's retort was a jagged blade.
The other bystanders began to pile on, their voices rising in a chorus of indignation that physically pushed the man back.
"You heard her! You have no business forcing anyone to go anywhere!" "What's wrong with you? Grabbing a girl like that?" "I can't believe you actually talked all those other people into following you. I feel sorry for them!"
The man retreated, his face a complicated mask of frustration and hidden malice. Serves you right, you bastard, I thought, watching him fade into the shadows. I knew exactly why he had come back, and I knew he wouldn't stay away for long.
Traitors had their own progression quests; the more "sacrifices" they delivered to the slaughter zones, the higher their initial rewards from the System. Eventually, these men would grow into the "Warlords of the Tunnels," some of the most reviled threats to human survival in the early years. But I knew their weaknesses—they were still bound by the same physical limits as the rest of us... for now.
"Let's go," I said without hesitation, turning my back on the subway entrance and walking toward the deeper, more open sections of the lawn.
"Wait!" a youth from one of the other groups shouted, jogging to catch up. "Can we come with you? We saw how you handled that guy."
"Yeah, we trust you more than that creep," a girl added. "Please, we need to stick together. Strength in unity, right?"
I stopped and looked at them in a heavy, pitying silence. These people were still thinking in the terms of the old world. They didn't understand the rules of the game they had just been forced to play.
One of the primary reasons I chose Central Park was because I knew the mechanics of the first hour. The initial wave of the apocalypse involved "Heat-Seekers"—monsters that tracked targets based on the density of their life-force. In this new reality, "unity" was a death sentence. The larger the crowd, the larger the target, and the more monsters that would be dispatched to harvest them.
I had let the Traitor take the hundreds of others because I needed them to act as a distraction. I needed the bulk of the initial monster wave to be funnelled into the subway tunnels, leaving the surface relatively quiet.
It was cold, and it was brutal, but it was the only way to ensure the "Survival" quest reached its sixty-minute mark.
At this stage of the game, solitude was a shield. It wouldn't be until people raised their stats, unlocked their Classes and began to manifest real power that the benefits of a group would outweigh the risks.
The irony of the apocalypse was a bitter pill that most humans failed to swallow until it was far too late. In the early stages, when we were at our weakest and most vulnerable, the instinct to huddle together was a siren song that led straight to the grave.
Conversely, in the later stages, once we had ascended and gained god-like power, that was precisely when we needed to stand shoulder-to-shoulder to survive the truly cosmic horrors. Humanity almost always got the order backwards.
The challenges awaiting us in the coming years were so frightening, so fundamentally alien, that no single human—no matter how many levels they gained or how many legendary artefacts they equipped—could ever hope to stand against them alone. But for now, in this first hour, a crowd was nothing more than a buffet.
"Please, let them come with us," Isabella whispered, leaning toward me.
My hesitation must have been written clearly across my face. I looked at her, seeing the genuine concern in her eyes, and I realised I couldn't bring myself to deny her first request. I needed her to trust me implicitly; I needed her to lower the defensive walls she had built around herself. It was the only way to ensure that this fierce, natural-born fighter would eventually choose to stick by the side of a "loser" like me.
"Alright," I conceded, my voice flat. "They can follow."
After all, the first quest wasn't actually that difficult to clear if you understood the hidden mechanics and the subtle tricks of the System. And I knew every single one of them.
"Where are we heading now?" Isabella asked as our expanded group began to move. The silence of the park was absolute now, broken only by the rhythmic crunch of our footsteps on the gravel paths.
"I heard there are a few playgrounds nearby," I said, faking a layer of ignorance to hide my tactical intent. "Large, open spaces. Like baseball or football fields."
"Yeah, there are several around the North Meadow," one of the youths volunteered, his voice cracking slightly from the cold. "I used to play there with my team every weekend."
"It's not far, maybe a few hundred meters or so," another added.
The group was comprised mostly of people around my age, perhaps a year or two older or younger. They were essentially children playing at survival, and they were looking to me to be the adult.
"Let's head for the baseball field then," I said, acting as though I were merely entertaining their suggestions. By pretending to respect their input, I was quietly building the leverage I would need to command them without question when the blood started to spill.
"May I ask why we're going to a field?" a girl asked in a shy, hesitant tone. I didn't turn to look at her, but I had been expecting the question.
"Have you noticed how dark it's getting?" I asked, my voice low and ominous.
"Well, yeah. The sun is blocked out," a boy replied, trying to sound brave. "It's bound to be dark."
"Then why hasn't a single streetlamp or building light turned on yet? Look at the skyline."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. I felt the air grow heavy with a new layer of shock and nervousness. Whispers broke out among the students as they looked toward the silhouettes of the skyscrapers surrounding the park. They were dark—total, abyssal voids against the purple sky.
This small, seemingly mundane detail was the pivot point between life and death. The monsters being summoned into our world hailed from dark, frigid dimensions; they were biologically repelled by light. Humans, conversely, were diurnal creatures who feared the dark with a primal intensity.
Those who had allowed the Traitors to lead them into the subway tunnels were putting themselves at a catastrophic disadvantage. They were moving into an environment where the predators could see perfectly, while the prey would be effectively blind. It wouldn't be a battle; it would be a harvest.
"Maybe the whole power grid is just... down?" one of the kids suggested, his voice trembling.
"Then why are the phones dead? Why is every piece of technology a brick?" I countered. "Does anyone have a laptop in their bag? Pull it out. Try to turn it on. We need a source of light, and we need it now."
We had lost precious time dealing with the Traitor, but I didn't mind wasting a few more seconds here. We were almost at the edge of the expansive baseball fields—a wide, open target that suited my needs.
I wanted to be convincing. I wanted them to see that I was right, because among these terrified students, there might be a few "hidden gems"—individuals with high growth potential who could be useful later.
"Holy sh*t! My laptop is dead! It won't even post!" "Mine too! It's like the battery was ripped out!"
The group turned their gazes toward me, and for the first time, I saw the flicker of true realisation in their eyes. Their wide, childish stares were nothing compared to the things I had faced in my own time—the stinky, sulfurous breath of a werewolf or the deafening, earth-shaking roar of a golem. Facing these kids was as easy as a summer breeze.
"I believe a wide-scale electromagnetic weapon has been deployed," I said, stepping toward a small maintenance shed located just a few meters from the edge of the field. I reached for the handle.
Click.
To my luck, the door was unlocked. I had been fully prepared to kick the frame in, but the universe had decided to be merciful for once. I stepped inside the cramped, lightless room and began feeling along the walls and shelves. After a moment, my fingers closed around the cold, heavy shape of what I was looking for.
I stepped back out into the dim twilight, holding a heavy-duty, industrial-grade flare kit and several jugs of high-octane gasoline used for the lawnmowers.
"If the lights won't turn on for us," I said, looking at the confused faces of the group, "we're going to make our own."