The screams had stopped, but not completely. Even if you didn't want to, you could still catch the metallic scent of blood hanging in the air. A whole day had passed. No service, no reply from the emergency lines. The sound of guns did echo once, but the firing didn't last long.
The guilt kept eating away at my heart. I was trapped in the doubt—was this truly because of my wish, or was the horror just remaining in my heart because I couldn't stop blaming myself?
A few minutes passed as I sat in the silence.
I've finally decided—I'm going outside. I still don't know if my wish was the cause, but I've decided that I'm not going to die, and I'm not going to let my family die either.
I know one thing: if there's anyone here strong enough to fight those things, it has to be me. It's about time I stop holding back.
I don't want to hurt anyone, but if I just sit here, we will all eventually starve and lose our strength. If they make their move then, we won't have a chance. If I don't act now, I never will.
I stood up, my voice cutting through the heavy silence. "I'm going out."
"No!" my mother screamed, her voice cracking.
"Arthur, stop," Jasmine added, her eyes wide with fear. "This isn't the time to play hero."
Sean just looked at me, his gaze heavy with the memory of my "prayer." "I know you're feeling guilty, but this isn't the way. We should just wait."
"Wait for what?" I snapped. "Death? You know better than anyone that help isn't coming. Those things aren't human. And you know they are just the weakest ones."
"Even the weakest have numbers, Arthur," Sean countered.
"If we wait here, we'll starve. Or worse, they'll find us when we're too weak to fight back," I said. "If not now, then never."
So you're telling us to go down there and die? They have weapons!" someone yelled from the crowd.
That's why I'm going down," I said.
Sean stood up, getting in my face. "Are you mad? You aren't a hero. You've never been in a fight in your life! You've always been too scared to face anyone."
"That's where you're wrong, Sean. It's not that I'm scared because I'm weak. It's because others are too weak."
Sean froze.
" I'm not scared because I'm weak, Sean. I'm scared because you all are so... fragile. My body has always been different. While you were learning to fit in, I was learning to hold back. My muscles, my reflexes—they don't care about 'fairness.' They were built to kill."
"I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a flat, emotionless tone. "Remember Iljin from 8th grade? Everyone thinks he just 'decided' to move schools. He didn't. He left because I stopped pretending for a single minute. I didn't just fight him; I nearly ended him because my body doesn't know how to stop once it's started. It doesn't matter what I 'want' anymore—the strength is just there, waiting."
I exhaled, the room silent. "I've spoken too much. Either come with me, or open that goddamn door so I can leave."
SLAP.
My mother's hand stung my cheek. "Stop it, Arthur! Your father already died serving this country. I won't lose you too!"
"Mom," I said softly, "I'm not doing this for the country. I'm doing this for you. I will protect you guys, and you aren't going to stop me."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Damn it... why do you have to resemble your father this much?"
"I'm nothing like him," I replied. "He protected others for a cause. I'm doing this for my own benefit. I just want you safe."
She wiped her eyes. "Then go. But please... don't die."
I turned to Jasmine. "Take care of Mom."
"I will," she sobbed. "Please come back alive."
I looked back at the group.
"So. Who's coming?"
Sean let out a frustrated laugh. "Damn you. After putting on a show like that, you expect me to stay behind? You win, you bastard."
A few other hands rose in the dim light.
"So, what's the move?" Sean asked. "You're the one who decided to go out. Don't tell me you don't have a plan."
"Don't look down on me," I said, a small, familiar grin returning. "I've spent my life playing every type of game there is. This is just another level. First, we scout. We mark safe zones and danger zones. Our main goal is weapons."
"Where are we going to find weapons in a school?" Sean asked.
"The cafeteria knives," I said. "The chemicals in the lab are too diluted to be useful. We get the knives, and then we hunt a goblin. We take their weapons. That's the only way."
"It's 10:00 a.m. now," I said, checking my phone. "We wait until 1:00 p.m."
Sean frowned. "Why noon? Shouldn't we go during the night? Isn't that when they're asleep?"
I looked at him. "You're the expert on these things, Sean. You should know they're social creatures, right?"
"Yeah. That's why they hunt in groups."
"Exactly. And that's exactly why we move at noon."
"I don't get it," Sean said, leaning in. "What does that have to do with timing? Night is still the best for stealth."
"That's a rookie move," I said.
"What?"
"At night, they are more vigilant. They know they're vulnerable, so they take turns guarding. They expect an attack at any time when it's dark," I explained. "But during noon? In the hot sun, they think the chance of an attack is low. Plus, it's their peak hunting time. The strongest ones will be out looking for food, leaving their base with less guarded."
Sean blinked, processing the logic. "I never thought about it like that."
"That's why I called it a rookie mistake. Now, let's find equipment."
"Did you forget?" Sean gestured to the empty hall. "We don't have any equipment."
"Not yet. Who manages this conference hall?"
A hand rose timidly from the middle of the crowd. A soft voice answered, "It's me."
"Good," I said, walking toward her. "Do you know where the mini-generator and the spare fuel are kept?"
"Oh... it's in that cupboard over there."
"Perfect. Take it out for me, please."
"Why do you need fuel?" Sean asked. "Are
you going to use it to mask our scent?"
"That only works in movies," I replied.
"Besides, we don't have to worry about our scent. The air is already so thick with the smell of blood and flesh that they won't be able to distinguish us from the corpses."
I looked at the fuel cans. "No, we're going to use the glass bottles from the lunch crates and some strips of cloth. We're making Molotovs."
Hours bled into each other until the clock finally struck one.
"It's time," I said, standing up. "Let's move."
"Wait," I turned back to the crowd. "Is there a chemistry teacher here?"
A woman raised her hand. "The teacher isn't here, but I manage the lab."
"Good enough. Is there any Hydrogen Sulphide in stock?"
"About two bottles," she replied.
"Perfect."
Sean looked confused. "I thought you said the chemicals were too diluted to use as weapons?"
"They are. But Hydrogen Sulphide smells like rotting eggs. It's a deterrent. If we get cornered, the scent can mask us or buy us a few seconds of their hesitation. Now, listen up."
I looked at the group stayng behind.
"When we return, we will knock on the gate in a code: twice, a three-second pause, then three times, then once. Do not open the door for anyone who doesn't use that signal. Understood?"
"Understood."
"Then let's move. Grab the school bags."
The metal gate groaned as it opened. We stepped out into the hallway, the silence of the school feeling like a physical weight.
"Sean, take the second floor. Others hit the lab for the chemicals. I'll take the roof to scout the perimeter. We regroup here in exactly fifteen minutes. Move!"
I sprinted toward the roof. From the balcony, I looked out over the campus. It was a wasteland. Smoke rose from distant buildings, and the silence was only broken by the occasional, distant shriek.
Fifteen minutes later, we regrouped at the stairs.
"It's empty,"
Sean whispered, looking around nervously.
"We haven't seen a single one."
"Like I said—perfect timing," I replied.
"Now, the cafeteria. We need food, and we need those knives."
We descended quietly. When we reached the cafeteria, I held up a hand. I leaned forward, peeking through the crack of the swinging doors.
There it was.
A green-skinned creature, no taller than a fourteen-year-old boy, was rummaging through a pile of discarded trays. Its ears were jagged, and it clutched a rusted iron blade in its filthy hand.
"There's one," I whispered to the group. "It's worse than the pictures."
"Should we use a Molotov?" Sean whispered, reaching for a bottle.
"No. It won't die instantly. If it screams, we're dead. We have to kill it silently."
"How?"
"I've simulated this a thousand times in games," I muttered, more to myself than them.
"Just stay back. Don't move until I say so."
I waited. I watched its patterns. It turned its back to the door to reach for a box on the counter.
Now.
I didn't run; I launched. I slammed into the goblin's back with a kick that sent it flying into the tiled wall with a sickening thud. Before it could gasp, I lunged. I grabbed the back of its head and slammed its face into the floor.
Then I did it again.
And again.
The creature had stopped moving after the third strike. Its skull was already crushed, but I didn't stop. I lifted the limp, green body and drove it back into the ground. My vision narrowed. The world was nothing but the rhythm of the impact and the wet sound of breaking bone.
"Arthur! Stop! It's dead! ARTHUR!"
Sean was suddenly there, pulling at my shoulders. I blinked, the red haze clearing from my eyes. I looked down. The goblin's head was unrecognizable—just a smear of green blood and bone on the cafeteria tile.
"Sorry," I panted, wiping a splatter from my cheek. "I... I think I was just frustrated."
The others stared at me. They didn't say a word. The air in the room had changed. It wasn't the goblin they were looking at with fear—it was me.
"Let's just... let's get the supplies," Sean muttered, his voice trembling. He reached down and picked up the goblin's rusted blade. "We're taking this."
Sean looked at me while I was busy packing food. He saw the faint, unconscious smile still lingering on my lips.
Frustration? Sean thought, a chill running down his spine. That wasn't frustration. That was enjoyment.
He realized then what I hadn't yet noticed about myself. It wasn't that I was "scary" because I was strong. I was dangerous because once the violence started, I didn't want it to end.
"He's more of a monster than they are," Sean whispered to himself.
We finished t
he raid in silence. We returned to the hall, used the code, and slipped back inside.
"Divide the rations," I said, my voice returning to its normal, calm tone. "Eat. Then we talk about the next move."