Morning light seeped through fractured domes, touching freshly sprouted basil and mint in garden beds. Arjun strode through the courtyard, the quiet hum of community emerging around him—survivors clearing rubble, chatting in low voices as they sifted soil for seedlings.
"One day at a time," Janak, an elderly volunteer, mumbled as he leaned on his spade.
Arjun nodded. We had fourteen days to build more than defense. We needed hope.
Over the next two weeks, each member found a purpose that matched—sometimes exceeded—their pre-apocalypse roles.
Jasleen & Reena (Farmers)They transformed ruined terraces into green towers—stacked troughs of bean sprouts, spinach, microgreens. They taught 40 residents basic planting, compost creation, and crop rotation, turning dirt into dinner.
Sarika (Ex-schoolteacher)Salvaged notebooks, created schedules, held classes under tents. Children learned math and poetry again. Orphaned children found silent solace—giggling under chalk scribbles.
Sunil & the Engine CrewWorked on solar panels and solar water pumps. Each evening, they stood on the mosque's roof, sparking lights against dusk as a symbol of reclaimed normalcy.
Dr. Mehra (Paramedic)Ran a small clinic; health checks, stitching wounds, distributing supplies. She taught everyday first aid to 20 people—who learned to self-administer CMP kits during patrols.
Arjun's structure of defense mirrored a militia but held hearts within it:
Level 1 Guardians – 20 residents learned rifle basics, barricade setup.
Level 2 Wardens – 15 volunteers led morning drills, civilian escort.
Level 3 Protectors – 10 seasoned fighters planned night watches around five sacred points.
Level 4 Sentinels – 8 responders practiced drone-assisted breach protocols.
Level 5 Elite – 5 fast-response squad leaders (including Ravi and Jassi) who could react to alerts in under 60 seconds.
Every evening, the air vibrated with synchronized footfalls. Every dawn, on the outer walls, whistling ran through simulated alarms and rapid-fire ranger drills.
Men and women who had lived war now practiced hope—and how to protect it.
After the intensive grind, Arjun used his Apocalypse Coins to better equip the group:
Reinforced armor plates on 15 security vests – each piece unique: prayer prayers stitched on the back.
Satellite-linked radios handed to patrol leaders.
First-aid injectors in belt loops.
Ammo and food caches drilled every 200 meters of sanctuary radius.
Varun and Dhani's weapon evolutions became symbols—they emerged from darkness, upgraded and crafted for protection:
Ashthorn Bracers now had reactive feedback—pulse to enemy heat, thump to trap.
Glacier Thread could extend five meters, coil and freeze in under two seconds.
Tapan's drones cut through dusk shadows; Meher's turret patches covered lanes. Together, the gear and people meant sanctuary wasn't a fence—it was a promise.
Within the walls:
Women shared fresh roti with children.
Electric fairy lights glowed next to clay lamps and prayer flags.
Teens played badminton on a flat rooftop; laughter bounced off the walls.
Evening prayer circles under the minaret—silent heads bowed for peace.
Families started sleeping in rebuilt quarters. The air smelled of jasmine and burnt wood—new life rising where old burnt.
On Day 21, under scattered lanterns, the council of ten—including Arun the mechanic, Sarika the teacher, Nurse Mehra—surrounded Arjun.
Women with stats in security. Men with roots in agriculture. All human, all changed.
He stood before the minaret, the talisman in his palm.
"We stand for each other. We can't just survive—we must thrive."
He activated the interface.
Blessing Granted: Sanctuary Harmony+10% Defense / +10% Growth / +10% Divine Favor Gains
The barrier glimmered brighter as a gentle warmth flowed through sanctuary pipes and seedlings.
Sunlight found the garden early next morning: visitors tapping on solar radios, sandals tracing clean paths. Garden produce bagged for families. Med-kit kits in every patrol satchel.
From the high wall, Arjun watched:
He saw children running alongside patrols. He saw Sarika teaching a geometry lesson on dust-smeared boards. He saw veterans repairing a broken solar inverter with Sunil's crew.
And as he slipped away toward a distant wall—northward, toward his past—he whispered:
"We protect this place so other people don't have to."