Chapter 7 – Calm City
The surge of energy coursing through Zane's body slowly began to settle, but the aftereffects remained. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, testing his range of motion, marveling at how light his body felt. It was like a layer of sludge had been stripped away. His limbs moved with a newfound fluidity, and the usual sluggishness in his joints was gone.
"So this is what a functional body feels like," he muttered, stretching his arms overhead and letting out a quiet grunt. "It's almost like I didn't feel this way in ages."
He rolled his shoulders, then hopped twice more to feel the spring in his step. "Okay… ten minutes of this stuff. Let's not waste it."
Without waiting another moment, Zane launched into a jog. His feet hit the pavement with surprising ease, and for the first time in what felt like ages—if not ever—he didn't feel like a sack of bricks being dragged by gravity. His breathing was steady, and his pace held.
The quiet hum of the neighborhood accompanied his movement. The morning air was still cool, the sun just beginning to stretch its golden fingers through the sky. Houses passed by him in a blur—modest, clean, neatly kept—lined up like disciplined soldiers. A bird flew overhead, and somewhere in the distance, the soft growl of a delivery drone could be heard.
Zane took it all in, his eyes scanning everything, cataloging. Despite the calm, he couldn't help the underlying habit of reading his environment. A cat perched on a fence post. A man trimming his hedge. Two kids riding bikes on the opposite sidewalk. All of it registered, filed away.
But what pulled his focus most was how… normal everything seemed.
'This is supposed to be a hundred years in the future?' he thought, frowning slightly. 'Where are the flying cars? The robotic butlers? Even the buildings look like something out of the 2030s…'
He remembered the apartment's clunky interface, the outdated computer, the physical keys. Nothing screamed "futuristic utopia" about any of it. If anything, the city seemed like a cautious step forward from where the world had been—not a leap. He slowed his jog slightly as he turned a corner, brow furrowed.
'Maybe it has something to do with the monsters. The mutations. Maybe humanity had to halt its progress to survive…'
It was speculation, but not unfounded. A post-cataclysm world would have different priorities. Survive first, rebuild later. That could explain why the world wasn't too far ahead of where Zane came from. It must've shifted its focus to survival rather than advancement.
He picked up the pace again as the neighborhood opened into a wider avenue. Cars buzzed gently down the street, sleek but still grounded on wheels—another sign that this wasn't quite the "sci-fi" world he'd expected. People were out and about, most of them dressed casually. Joggers, walkers, a few groups gathered outside a café, sipping what looked like coffee.
And then, in the distance—looming above the skyline like a steel titan—he saw it.
The wall.
It cut across the horizon, towering and impenetrable, casting a long shadow over the edge of the city. Even from here, it was massive. Zane slowed to a stop, placing his hands on his hips as he caught his breath.
"Damn," he whispered, staring up at the giant iron structure. "It's even bigger than I thought…"
The thing looked ancient, rusted in places, yet defiant. Enormous support beams jutted from its base like the roots of some mechanical tree. There were even buildings built into the side of it—observation towers, maybe—peppered along the wall's face like metal growths.
It wasn't beautiful. It was raw, brutal, and functional. A monument not of ambition—but of survival. Yet, Zane could only admire it as if it were a perfect piece of art, not for its beauty, but rather for the tales it told about this world and the disasters it faced. That wall was akin to a reminder for everyone that humanity was still alive and it will always be alive, no matter what happens.
'Yeah… this thing wasn't made to look good. It was made to hold something back.'
And judging from its size, Zane could only imagine the scale of what it was meant to keep out.
'Mutants... monsters. Whatever tore the world apart, it had to be bad... Really bad.'
But there was something else about the wall that unsettled him. Not fear, not exactly—but reverence. The way it stood there, still, indifferent to the lives it guarded, reminded him of something sacred. A relic of war. Or a tombstone.
He jogged toward it, needing a closer look.
As he moved through the outer districts, the buildings thinned out, replaced by warehouses and depots. Eventually, they disappeared entirely, replaced by a vast, open expanse of pavement and reinforced fencing. This was a buffer zone, he realized—a no man's land between the civilians and whatever threats lurked on the other side.
Smart. Cold, but smart.
Zane stopped just short of a "RESTRICTED ACCESS" sign and stared up at the wall again.
'From up close, it feels… ancient. Almost like something out of a forgotten era.' He squinted. The metal plates were scarred and weathered, some even melted. Whatever this wall had faced, it had survived. Barely.
'They built this to last. But even this isn't enough to stop everything.'
Turning away, he jogged back the way he came, branching off into a different street. A glance at his phone's map app showed a small green icon nearby. A park. Might as well finish the run there.
As he rounded a corner, a familiar sound rang in his head.
[Ding!]
[You have gained +1 Agility.]
Zane grinned. "Nice. That's… actually working, huh?"
He didn't need to see the numbers to feel the difference. His stride had lengthened slightly, and his feet felt quicker. It wasn't a night-and-day change, but it was enough to feel real.
'Stats. Like a game.' He chuckled softly, picking up speed. 'If I keep training, I can get stronger. Actually stronger. Not just pretending.'
The path to the park came into view, a dirt loop surrounded by greenery. The park itself was modest, but clean. Joggers circled the track, most of them plugged into music or lost in their own pace. Zane joined the loop, matching the flow of movement like a cog sliding into a gear.
He didn't look at the others. He didn't care to.
He was focused now. The rush of the elixir still flowed through his veins, though it was starting to fade. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but he pushed forward.
His mind wandered—not to danger, not to planning or strategy—but to something far simpler.
He was… enjoying this.
The rhythmic pounding of his feet, the sound of his breath, the steady burn in his legs. It wasn't a mission. It wasn't life-or-death. It was just… running.
And it felt good.
[Ding!]
[You have gained +1 Stamina.]
Zane chuckled to himself. "Another one. Alright, not bad."
He wasn't pushing for the rewards. Not really. But getting them—feeling the growth—gave him something he hadn't realized he was missing.
Motivation.
Even when the green veins finally faded from his skin and the last bit of energy left his muscles, Zane didn't stop. The fatigue hit him like a slow wave, creeping into his calves and back. His breathing grew heavier, and the sweat began to soak into his clothes.
But he kept running.
'Why am I doing this?' he asked himself.
This wasn't his world. This wasn't even his body. And yet, he was pushing himself quite hard for someone who didn't even know what he was doing there.
In his old life, he'd been a weapon. A silent ghost trained to kill and disappear. His only goal had been to survive the job and make it to the next one. There was no joy in it. No meaning. Just cold routine.
He'd mastered death, but he'd never learned how to live.
And now, in this strange world—with monsters on the horizon and a foreign name on his ID—he felt something stirring.
Not obligation. Not strategy.
Desire.
The desire to move. To improve. To find out what this new life could be.
'Maybe it's the system talking. Maybe it's just the high from the elixir. But for once… I feel like doing something... Really odd.'
He wasn't running away from something this time.
He was running toward something.