[YEAR 18 Post-Surge]New York Ruins – Sector 9, Lower East Block
Rain fell like bullets. Cold. Relentless. The kind of rain that seeped into your bones and reminded you that even the sky didn't care if you lived or died.
Ezra Vale lay on the broken steps of a half-collapsed subway station, his back pressed against rusted rebar and his coat—if it could even be called that anymore—soaked through with grime and blood. Some of it was his. Some wasn't.
He didn't bother checking.
Every breath came ragged. Every muscle screamed. The pain was constant, but it was familiar. Almost… grounding.
His left eye was swollen shut from the last fight, and a long cut ran across his cheekbone, now clotting with the city's filth. Somewhere above, a siren wailed, but no one came running. Not for him.
No one ever did.
"Still breathing, Vale?" came a voice—mocking, sharp, and far too chipper for the place they were in.
Ezra didn't have the strength to respond. He just turned his head slightly and looked up at the speaker.
Derrick. Another orphan from the same rotted-out shelter, though unlike Ezra, he'd awakened. Fire affinity. F-rank. Nothing special, but enough to throw his weight around in these streets.
He wore a cracked hunter's badge on his chest, the kind you only got from joining the city's lower-tier scavenger guilds. Enough legitimacy to carry a weapon without being shot on sight by enforcement drones. Not that there were many drones left in Sector 9.
"Didn't think you'd actually survive that gate breach," Derrick continued, crouching down with a sneer. "No skills. No rank. Just Ezra the Roach, huh?"
Ezra coughed. It hurt more than it should have.
"I made it," he rasped. "Didn't I?"
Derrick's smile thinned.
"Barely."
Then came the kick.
A boot to the ribs—hard and precise. Ezra folded in on himself, teeth clenched, but didn't scream. Wouldn't give him that.
"You're lucky I don't finish the job," Derrick muttered, voice dropping to something darker. "But hey, maybe the rats'll do it for me."
He left with a laugh, steps echoing down the ruined concrete corridor as the storm intensified.
Ezra didn't move.
Not for minutes.
Not until the last trace of footsteps faded and the silence returned, save for the hollow drip of water leaking through fractured stone above.
That's when he whispered, "I wasn't supposed to live past today."
He wasn't being dramatic. He had gone into that breach zone knowing full well it was suicide. Unranked scavengers weren't allowed inside gates—too dangerous. But he'd gone anyway. Desperation made you brave. Or stupid.
He'd wanted to find something. Anything. A broken shard. A rank stone. Even a monster core.
Instead, he found death.
And yet… he didn't die.
Ezra blinked through the blur of water running down his face and reached into his coat pocket. Fingers closed around something cold. Sharp.
A bone. Jagged. Still warm. He pulled it out with shaking fingers.
It pulsed.
That's not normal, was the first thought.
The second was: Why is it calling to me?
Because that's exactly what it felt like. Not a voice in his head, not words—but a pull. Like gravity bending toward him. A whisper in the marrow of his soul.
[System Update Detected...]
Warning: Unauthorized Affinity Detected
Initializing System Integration…
Welcome, Ezra Vale
Affinities: Necromancy (Unranked), Strength (Unranked)
Primary Class: Hollowborn (Variant)
System Note: First of Your Kind
Proceed with caution
Ezra's breath caught.
He knew enough from watching others awaken that this… wasn't normal. Not just dual affinities. Not just strength and necromancy. But Hollowborn? What the hell was that?
You are currently Unranked.
Survival Threshold: 9%.
Passive Skill Unlocked: Bonebound
"You may raise a single corpse to serve as your companion. Corpse must be within immediate vicinity and partially intact."
Ezra's head lolled to the side.
There.
Half-buried in rubble was a corpse. Probably one of the scavengers who hadn't made it out of the breach earlier. His body had been half-eaten by something monstrous—torso ripped open, helmet cracked, but one arm still whole.
Ezra didn't know why he reached out. He just did.
His fingers touched the bone fragment in his other hand, and then… he spoke.
"Rise."
Nothing happened at first.
Then—
Crunch.
Bone snapped. The corpse twitched. Flesh shifted. Metal armor grated against the stone floor.
Ezra sat up slowly, pain forgotten as the body began to move. Jerkily at first, like a puppet learning how to dance.
It wasn't a monster. Not really. Just… hollow. Silent.
The thing stood fully upright, a head taller than Ezra. It still wore part of its gear, though the chestplate was useless now. One eye was missing. The other stared ahead blankly.
You have raised: Bonebound Initiate.
Name: [Unassigned]
Rank: N/A
Loyalty: Absolute (until destroyed or dismissed).
Ezra couldn't speak.
He didn't know whether to cry, laugh, or pass out.
Instead, he whispered, "...Holy shit."
Later that night...
The rain had stopped.
Ezra limped through the back alleys of Sector 9, the corpse following silently behind him under a tattered cloak. No one paid much attention. Half the people out here were too strung out or too terrified to ask questions.
He ducked into the ruined husk of the old orphanage—his orphanage. It was just a skeleton of what it used to be. The roof had caved in years ago. No power. No heat.
But it was home.
He collapsed near the back wall, next to a rusted boiler, breathing hard. The corpse stood like a statue at the entrance, unmoving unless commanded.
Ezra stared at the fire he'd managed to start with old newspaper and some matches.
The glow danced in his eyes.
Necromancy.
Strength.
The system recognized him now.
He wasn't invisible anymore.
But that didn't mean he was safe.
[Unknown Location – Observation Node 17, North Tower]
"Sir. We've detected another surge."
"Where?"
"Sector 9. Lower East. Localized awakening. Unranked signature, but… the system tagged it as Hollowborn."
A pause.
Then a low whistle.
"That's not supposed to exist."
"Orders?"
Another pause. Then—
"Observe. Do not engage. Let's see what the Hollowborn becomes."
Back in Sector 9...
Ezra didn't sleep that night.
He watched the flames flicker, and beside him, the reanimated corpse stood like a sentinel.
"I should name you," he muttered. "You were someone once."
He hesitated, then said, "How about... Gloom?"
The corpse didn't respond, of course.
But for a brief second, the shadows in its empty eye socket seemed to shimmer.
Ezra leaned back.
His body hurt. He had nothing. No money. No allies. Just a corpse and a name the system didn't understand.
But for the first time in his life, he wasn't powerless.
Tomorrow, he'd scavenge. Find a weapon. Maybe test what else he could raise.
He was still unranked. Still hunted. Still in a city that didn't care if he lived or died.
But something had changed.
He had a system.He had a companion.He had a beginning.
And beginnings… meant hope.
Even in a world without mercy.