The world was silent when Ayla opened her eyes. Her senses slowly reawakened, the familiar weight of her old room surrounding her like a fog of confusion. She blinked against the brightness that flooded the space. The humming of the air conditioner. The sound of birds outside. The distant chatter of the neighbors through thin walls.
None of it made sense.
None of it should be happening.
She should be dead.
Her fingers twitched at the thought, and she looked down at her hands—at the same hands that had been torn apart by the infected, the same hands that had gripped the chains in that cursed warehouse. Yet here she was, whole, unbroken, breathing.
The silence that stretched across the room felt suffocating, thick with the weight of what she couldn't yet understand.
Her eyes moved to the window. The street outside was bathed in sunlight, normal. The world looked exactly as it had that morning.
A soft beep pierced the stillness, making her body tense. Her gaze snapped to the device blinking on her nightstand—an unfamiliar holographic screen floating in the air.
[CRIMSON SYSTEM ONLINE.]
[Daily Mission: Survive.]
[Primary Objective: Vengeance.]
Her breath caught in her throat as her heart skipped a beat. She reached for the glowing screen, her fingers trembling. A strange energy hummed within her, like a wire pulled taut in her chest. This was real. This… system, this voice, was real.
The message shifted on the screen, another set of words flashing across her vision.
[Welcome, Player #13.]
[Current Status: Reborn. Host Vitality: 100%.]
[Mission Update: Objective: Survive.]
[Side Mission Available: First Kill.]
Her pulse quickened. A part of her wanted to dismiss it. Wanted to believe this was some fever dream, some twisted hallucination brought on by the pain and trauma she'd suffered. But as the screen continued to pulse with life, something inside her clicked into place. This wasn't a dream.
This was real. And it was only the beginning.
---
Ayla swung her legs off the bed and stood up, steadying herself on her feet. Her body felt strange, different, like she was walking in someone else's skin. She didn't feel weak—no, she felt powerful. Stronger than she had ever felt before.
Every cell in her body seemed to hum with energy, like there was fire running through her veins. Her senses were heightened; she could hear the neighbor's conversation across the hall, the chirp of every bird outside, the rustle of a leaf brushing the sidewalk. It was overwhelming, and yet, she reveled in it.
Her eyes shot back to the screen.
[Side Mission: First Kill Available.]
First kill.
Ayla's lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile. The taste of vengeance had never been sweeter. She could feel the fire of it smoldering inside her, ready to ignite. But the system was right—she needed to survive. First, she had to figure out what this system was, how it worked, and why she had been chosen.
But the first kill… it was an opportunity she couldn't ignore. She had to take it.
---
Ayla dressed quickly, her movements fluid and sharp, as though her body had learned how to move more efficiently in the short moments since her awakening. She slid into a pair of worn jeans, an old hoodie, and laced up her boots. The sound of footsteps echoed from down the hall—her family was waking up.
Her mother's voice floated into the room from behind the door. "Ayla! Come down, we have to—"
But Ayla didn't wait. She didn't want to hear it. She didn't need to hear their lies anymore.
She left her room and stepped into the hallway, the familiar sights only deepening the hollow ache in her chest. They hadn't changed. Her family. They hadn't even noticed what had happened—what they had done to her. They hadn't noticed the darkness that had awoken within her.
Her mother's voice became more insistent. "Ayla, we need to talk—"
Ayla didn't respond. She wasn't the same girl anymore. She wasn't going to pretend.
She turned and walked out the front door, stepping into the warm sunlight of the morning. The world looked peaceful, but she knew better. It was only a matter of time before the full scope of the apocalypse reached them.
The real apocalypse had already begun.
---
The streets were bustling with life as people hurried to their daily routines. It was almost laughable. If they only knew. If they only knew what was coming. The infected had begun to spread, though it was still contained in small pockets. The media reported it as isolated cases—nothing to worry about. No, they were still pretending everything was fine.
But Ayla knew.
She was different now.
As she walked, she couldn't help but notice how alive everything felt. Every breath was sharper, clearer. Her skin tingled with awareness. But her eyes were set on something more important: The first kill.
The mission.
She didn't have to look far.
A group of survivors huddled near a corner store, whispering in low, fearful tones. They were in a panic, trying to figure out what to do next, who to trust, how to survive. Among them was a familiar face—a man she'd seen before. One of the men her family had sold her to. The one who had pulled her away from everything. The one who had left her to die.
He didn't notice her at first, too caught up in his conversation with others. His back was turned.
Ayla felt the sharp, burning itch of fury. She could barely hold it back. The memory of his cold, calculating eyes, the way he'd treated her like nothing more than an object, rushed through her. But now, she wasn't powerless. She wasn't the meek girl she had been.
She was reborn.
Her hand brushed against the small knife she had tucked into her pocket, its edge cold and sharp. Her heart raced, not with fear, but with anticipation.
The system's voice echoed in her mind.
[First Kill Available.]
She took a step forward. He would be her first. She didn't have to hesitate. This was justice. This was survival.
She didn't care what the system called it.
The world was about to learn that Ayla Grant wasn't a victim anymore.
---
As Ayla closed in on him, she felt the rush of power surge through her. This wasn't just about vengeance anymore. This was about taking control. The world would bow to her, and anyone who had wronged her would fall to their knees.
The man turned just as she was within reach, his eyes widening in recognition.
"You..." He gasped, stepping back.
Ayla's lips twisted into a grin. "Yes. Me."
Before he could react, she struck.