The quiet after dinner settled slowly.
Instead, the bakery filled with smaller sounds. The scrape of ceramic plates. The soft rush of water from the sink. The faint creak of wood as the building cooled in the night air.
Ken stacked the empty plates together and carried them toward the back, the metal clinking softly. The faucet coughed before finally surrendering a thin, hesitant stream of water.
Kiana leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms high above her head until her shoulders popped lightly. A contented sigh escaped her lips. "Haaa… Can't believe canned tuna would taste this good."
Ken chuckled as he rinsed one of the plates. "I know, right? If you'd told me a week ago canned tuna would taste heavenly, I wouldn't have believed you."
Kiana grinned lazily, her bright blue eyes catching the dim light filtering through the boards. "Thanks for the meal, chef."
Adrian nodded but didn't say anything. He was still picking at his flatbread, his gaze drifting toward the boarded windows.
His mind refused to stay in the present. It wandered to things that didn't matter right now—what tomorrow might look like, how long this fragile routine could last, what if a herrscher suddenly descended, or whether any of them were actually surviving or just delaying the inevitable.
Thoughts like that were pointless. But once they started, they were hard to stop.
A faint scraping sound slid across the wood of the nearest window. Slow. Dragging. Something brushing against the outside wall. The boards creaked once — a dull, heavy sound — but there was no real force behind it. After a few seconds, the sound drifted away again, swallowed by the vast silence of the ruined city.
Adrian's hand relaxed on his bat.
Kiana stretched again, then looked over at Adrian with a curious tilt of her head. "Hey, can I ask you something?"
Adrian glanced at her. "You just did."
She rolled her eyes. "Okay, another thing. You and Ken; you're surprisingly coordinated for two guys who look like they just met. The way you moved during that fight, the way he just… listens to you." She gestured between them. "How long have you two known each other?"
Ken turned from the sink, drying his hands on a rag. "Uh… like a day?"
Kiana blinked. "A day?"
"Give or take," Adrian said.
She stared at them both, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and something like envy. "That's… weird. Most people I've run into since this started can barely stand each other. You two already have a system."
Ken shrugged, glancing at Adrian before looking back at Kiana. "Adrian's just good at telling people what to do."
Kiana tilted her head. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It's not," Ken said quickly — maybe too quickly. He shifted his weight, then his head snapped toward Kiana, blinking. "Wait, you've run into other people?"
Kiana leaned back in her chair, considering the question. "Quite a few. At first, everyone was just… running. No direction. No idea what was happening. I tried to help where I could."
Ken stepped closer, his expression caught somewhere between hope and confusion. "But then… why are you alone out here?"
Kiana shrugged, but there was something guarded in the motion. "I couldn't stay with them. I kept thinking about my aunts — about whether they were okay. So I left. Kept moving." She paused, her gaze drifting toward the window. "I pointed them toward safer places before I went. A community center basement a few blocks from here. An apartment building near the river that someone fortified. A police station that had survivors, last I heard."
Ken's expression brightened — just for a moment. "So there are people. Organized people."
"Some of them," Kiana said. "Not organized, exactly. Just… surviving. Together."
"And they're safe? The ones you left behind?"
Kiana nodded. "As safe as anyone can be right now. The basements are solid. The apartment building has walls. They're not going anywhere."
Ken opened his mouth, then closed it.
He wanted to ask more. Adrian could see it. The way Ken's fingers tapped against his thigh, the way his eyes lingered on Kiana's face like he was waiting for her to say something else.
But he didn't ask.
He just nodded slowly. "That's good. That they're safe, I mean."
Something flickered across his face — too fast for Adrian to name. Then it was gone.
Kiana didn't seem to notice. She stretched again, the moment passing. "Anyway, you two are weirdly functional, and I mean that as a compliment. I'll follow your lead, just don't expect me to follow orders like Ken here."
"Noted," Adrian said.
Ken muttered something under his breath that might have been "I don't follow orders" but his heart wasn't in it.
Adrian watched him for a moment longer.
---
They decided on sleeping arrangements after a brief discussion. Ken had cleared out the top floor earlier — two small rooms, dusty but usable, with a bedframe and some blankets in the closet. The mattress they'd hauled outside to air out was still propped against the wall. No one wanted to drag it back in.
"You two take the upstairs rooms," Adrian said, nodding toward the staircase. "Safer up there. Less entry points."
Kiana raised an eyebrow. "What about you?"
"I'll stay down here. Take first watch."
Ken frowned. "Alone? That's risky."
"Someone has to watch the door. And if I'm downstairs, I can hear if something tries to get in before it reaches the stairs." Adrian's voice was flat, matter-of-fact. He didn't add the other reason — that if something did get in, he'd be the first to go. No point worrying them.
Kiana studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. But don't be a hero. If something happens, yell. We'll hear you."
"Noted."
Kiana grabbed the relatively clean blanket that Ken handed to her that he got out of the upstairs closet. "This is going to be a terrible night's sleep."
"Better than no sleep," Ken said.
"Debatable."
They headed up the creaking stairs, leaving Adrian alone on the first floor.
Kiana paused at the top. "Hey."
Adrian looked up.
"Don't fall asleep down there."
"I won't."
She disappeared into the darkness of the upstairs hallway.
Ken lingered for a moment. "Hey. Wake me up if your tired, alright? I won't mind."
"I know."
Ken studied him — that same searching look from earlier. But he didn't push. He just nodded and laid down.
"Goodnight, Adrian."
"Night."
---
The bakery fell silent.
Adrian sat with his back against the wall, bat across his knees, facing the door. The building settled around him — small creaks and groans that might have been the wind or might have been something else. Outside, the world was dark and quiet.
Two days.
He'd been in this world for two days. It somehow felt like weeks. Months. Like he'd always been here, sitting in dark rooms, waiting for something to break through the door.
'Two days since I woke up in that ruined building. Two days since I saw my first zombie. Two days since I found out the Honkai is here.'
Two days ago, he'd been planning to stay up late playing games. Grinding through levels. Chasing achievements. The biggest decision he'd made that week was instant ramen or delivery.
Now he was sitting in a dark bakery, holding a bloodstained bat, listening for monsters while two people slept just upstairs.
The contrast was so absurd he almost laughed.
Almost
He didn't feel like a leader. He didn't feel brave or capable or any of the things he'd imagined in daydreams about the end of the world. He felt tired. Confused. Stuck in a nightmare he couldn't wake up from.
But someone had to stay awake. Someone had to watch the door.
So he did.
His leg bounced. He shifted his weight. He tapped his fingers against the bat handle.
I hate this part.
He was used to staying awake. College had trained him for that — pulling all-nighters to finish projects, cramming for exams, grinding through games until his eyes burned. But that was different. Back then, being awake meant doing something. Typing. Reading. Clicking. There was always a task, a goal, a next thing.
Now, being awake just meant… waiting.
Staring at a door.
Listening for sounds he didn't want to hear.
'It's boring', he realized. 'That's what I hate about it. Not the fear. The boredom.'
His eyes drifted toward Ken's bag. The deck of cards was still visible, sticking out from one of the side pockets.
Adrian hesitated. Then, quietly, he reached over and pulled them out.
The cards were worn, edges soft, corners bent, but they were something. He shuffled them slowly, the soft *fft-fft-fft* of the cardboard the only sound in the room. Then he started laying them out in a game of solitaire.
'This is ironic', he thought. 'I'm playing cards while the world ends'.
But he kept doing it.
---
'Two days in.'
He turned over a card. Ace of spades.
Kyuushou
The name surfaced unbidden. Houraiji Kyuushou. The self-proclaimed savior. The chunibyo who might actually be the real thing.
What is she doing right now?
He remembered Ken's story — the pink light, the bus, the white monster. Kyuushou had been there. She'd kicked away zombies, screamed at everyone to get inside, held things together while everyone else panicked.
Is she still at Chiba Academy? Is she fighting right now?
He turned over another card. Seven of hearts.
The Herrscher of the End.
His stomach clenched.
If this was GGZ — the real GGZ — then the Herrscher of the End was already a threat. Kiana's other self. The final lesson. The thing that destroyed everything.
'But I saw Robin. A poster in a bakery. Ken talked about her like she was a real person. A public figure. A singer.'
Robin wasn't from GGZ. She wasn't from HI3. She was from Star Rail — a different world, a different set of rules.
So what is she doing here?
He turned over another card. Queen of diamonds.
The Imaginary Tree.
All connected. Every universe, every timeline, every story — leaves on the same cosmic tree. That's what the dream had shown him. The white-haired swordsman. The blond man with the shield. The sword driven into the bark.
But why did I see it? Why me?
He didn't have answers. Just more questions. Always more questions.
'this feels like one of those cliché stories with the reincarnator being a chosen one of destiny, with some hidden history or connection to fate'.
'Heh', he let out a dry chuckle, 'who am I kidding, me? a destiny's slave? I just arrived here and could die any minute, I ain't gonna hold any delusions now.'
His eyes glances at the stairway a few feet away. 'And what if the Herrscher of the End just suddenly pops out? What if she decides she wants to reset the world? Don't I just get screwed?, with her just sleeping upstairs.'
His hands stopped moving over the cards.
I've been here two days. Two days, and I already feel like I'm drowning.
He shook his head and kept playing solitaire.
---
He didn't mean to fall asleep.
One moment, he was laying out a row of cards — a seven of clubs, a queen of hearts, a two of spades — and the next, his head was drooping, his eyes heavy, the cards slipping from his fingers.
'Just for a moment', he told himself. 'Just… rest my eyes…'
---
A noise woke him.
Soft. Deliberate. Fidgeting.
Adrian's eyes snapped open.
The cards were scattered across the floor. His bat was still in his lap. The room was dark — darker than before, the last traces of twilight gone.
How long was I out?
He didn't reach for his phone. Didn't check the time. He just… listened.
*click* *thump*
Something was at the door. Not banging. Not scratching. Just… testing. A slow, persistent pressure against the wood. The handle rattled softly.
Adrian's hand tightened on the bat.
'Just a zombie. Just a zombie. Go away.'
The fidgeting continued for ten seconds. Twenty. A low, wet groan leaked through the cracks in the boards — close, too close, right on the other side of the door.
Then, slowly, it stopped.
The handle went still.
The footsteps — if they could be called that — shuffled away, fading into the night.
Adrian exhaled. He didn't move. Didn't wake anyone. Just sat there, heart pounding, waiting for it to come back.
It didn't.
---
He was still awake when the first pale light of dawn began to filter through the cracks in the boards. Gray. Thin. Barely there.
Adrian stood up, his legs stiff from sitting too long, and walked toward the window. Not the front one — the side window, the one facing the street. The boards didn't cover it completely. A thin sliver of the outside world was visible through the gap.
He peered through.
A streetlamp at the far end of the block was still flickering weakly, casting long, broken shadows across the cracked pavement. The rest of the street was empty — overturned cars, scattered debris, the usual ruins.
Then he saw it.
A figure.
Standing directly beneath the streetlamp. Dark. Human-shaped. Impossibly still.
Adrian's breath caught in his throat.
The figure wasn't moving. Wasn't shuffling like the zombies. Wasn't swaying or groaning or doing any of the things the dead did. It was just… standing there. Waiting.
And in its hand, something long and thin caught the flicker of the light.
A sword.
Adrian's mind went blank.
What the hell is that? Why is it just standing there? Is it looking at me? Can it see me?
He didn't know what it was. Survivor? Something else? He just knew — with a certainty that settled deep in his bones — that he didn't want it to come any closer.
He blinked.
The figure was gone.
No sound. No movement. Just empty street and the swaying streetlamp, casting shadows on dead ground.
He stared at the spot where it had been. Then — movement. In the alley across the street. A shadow detaching from the wall. Shifting. Waiting.
Or maybe he imagined it. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him in the gray light.
He couldn't be sure.
That was the worst part.
Did I imagine it? Was I still half-asleep?
But the feeling didn't go away. The certainty that something was out there. Watching.
Then — a soft fidgeting came from the door.
Not the heavy pressure of a zombie. Something lighter. Deliberate. Like fingers tracing the wood.
Adrian froze.
The fidgeting stopped.
Then started again.
Then stopped.
He didn't move. Didn't breathe. Just watched the door, bat in hand, waiting for something — anything — to happen.
Nothing did.
Minutes passed. Or maybe seconds. He couldn't tell anymore.
He waited. The fidgeting didn't return.
But the feeling — the prickling at the back of his neck, the certainty that something was still there, just out of sight — didn't fade.
He waited until the gray light outside grew brighter. Until the shadows shortened. Until the streetlamp finally flickered out.
Only then did he move.
He walked upstairs over to Ken and shook his shoulder.
Ken stirred, blinking against the gray light. For a second, he looked disoriented — then his eyes focused, sharp and alert. He rubbed his face with the back of his hand and sat up.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice rough but steady. A week of being jolted awake by monsters had trained the grogginess out of him.
"We need to go. Now."
Ken didn't ask questions. He was already moving, grabbing their bags and shoving supplies inside. "Kiana," Adrian called quietly. "Wake up."
Kiana stirred, her silver-white hair spilling across the dusty floor. "Mmgh… five more minutes…"
"Now," Adrian said a bit louder this time.
Something in his voice must have cut through the sleep, because Kiana's eyes opened — wide, alert, scanning the room. She saw Adrian's expression and didn't argue. She was on her feet in seconds, grabbing her bat and bag.
"What's going on?" she asked, her voice low. "Did something happen? You look like you saw a ghost."
Adrian glanced toward the window. The street was empty now. No figure. No sword. No shadow in the alley. Just the ruins and the purple sky.
"I don't know what I saw," he admitted. "Something. But I don't want to wait around to find out if it's coming back."
He turned to face them. "We gotta get out of here, we need a new safer area. We're moving to ME corp now."
Ken nodded, already slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Got it."
Kiana looked between them — the easy coordination, the way Ken moved without hesitation. She didn't say anything, but Adrian saw the question in her eyes.
How long have you two known each other?
One day.
She shook her head slightly, then followed.
They slipped out the back door, moving quickly and quietly through the alley. The morning air was cold and damp, carrying the faint scent of smoke and decay. The sky was the same bruised purple it had always been, offering no comfort.
Adrian glanced back once. The alley was empty.
But the feeling didn't go away.
He didn't look back again.
The bakery had been safe. But safety, Adrian was learning, was always temporary.