Nilbog sprang awake, pressing his back against the wall with his knives perked up.

The night clamorous with the gusts of wet winds rattling the windows and the distant rummaging heard all around him.

Nilbogs ears had grown deaf to the explosions in the distance. They colored the sky with lightning that sparked upward and beams of yellow that parted the dark clouds.

They were a large distance away.

He swallowed nervously as he paced the room, glancing around, and at some point even looking under the bed.

Something was wrong. Nilbog felt the walls closing in on him, the air turning horribly wrong in his lungs. His skin itched, an uncomfortable cold growing below it. He scratched the side of his head, rubbed the throbbing wounds growing on his chin. He paced the room quicker, clutching his teeth together. Everything felt so wrong. Every part of him was irked. Nauseous. The way the bed was set, the way clutter was all over the floor.

He needed to leave.

Nilbog pocketed one of the knives within the recess of his coat. Moving with both reduced his mobility.

He stepped out of the room, holding the handle of his knife with enough force to bend the wooden handle. Little sounds in the corner of the hall jabbed at his shoulders. They spasmed fiercely, incessantly, taunting him in a nearly inaudible whisper. He popped his shoulder, circling, stretching it, but the sensation was still there.

Now it was creeping down to the sides of his spine. Spreading. Multiplying.

Nilbog placed the knife in front of him, staring at the face that looked back. It was clean and reflected a thin-lipped face and dry eyes. They stared back ragged and red. His hands shook but his reflection did not. It looked back, becoming more foreign with each passing step. He snapped it back and pulled his head up, glancing around him furtively.

It was ghostly quiet. Most were asleep now, deep within their houses, or other people's houses, but Nilbog still felt like something was haunting him, like something was glaring at him from some gloomy nook, hidden away from his sights.

But nothing was there. Just him and a nearing sensation of doom. It got closer, and though he could not hear it he swore he could feel its pressure pulsing in all around him. He cursed, realizing he left the bag of food in the room, but did not stop to fetch it.

He had to get out of here. Full of acid and torn muscle, the taste of blood and the lack of breath quickly began driving nails in the back of his head. His steps attracted attention, as the walls few creaked and shuddered in response, but it still did not slow him. He could already feel the walls collapsing around him, the dust falling on his heels. With each stop it got worse, until breathing became difficult.

He got half-way through the apartment complex before turning a corner by four different men.

He squealed and his mind nearly collapsed but his body moved. Because of his small size, Nilbog was able to slightly duck below the first swing, his Seventh Sense doing him the favor of preparing the movements before the rest of his senses realized, and sidestep the second swing, and then rolled to the corner, bouncing off the third man’s legs and going below his blade as well.

He hit the cement ground with the back of his shoulder but rolled with the momentum, evading the final thrust. The sword missed him by a couple of inches and broke itself in half at concrete as Nilbog sprang from the floor, his quads nearly ripping as he propelled himself forward, half-rolling and half-clawing across the ground as he escaped the blades and curses of his pursuers.

As his feet bounced off the ground awkwardly, Nilbog glanced back. The men did not give chase. They instead seemed keen on knocking down the rooms one by one.

The icon above their heads was the same animated helm as the Anima, but purple. Instead of helping their faction, they now were rewarded for the damage they could do to it. How did they pass the people below? Did they let them go, or did they somehow sneak by?

A staircase later, Nilbog found himself in the hallways of the first floor.

It seemed he was alone in his panic. People were huddled together, covered by blankets snoring peacefully.

“You back?” the old man said. The same one, walking with a limp and sword at hand.

Nilbog sucked sharp breaths, his heart still beating rapidly. “You need to… leave,” he said, looking around. “It’s not safe here.”

“It’s not safe anywhere, kid. Hear that outside?”

Nilbog could. His hearing was not the best, but even he could feel the vibrations in the ground. “You need to keep moving. You can’t stay,” Nilbog struggled to say.

What was he supposed to say? That his gut-wrenching told him it was dangerous?

The old man sighed, shaking his head. He looked back from Nilbog to the others. “Can’t kid, everyone is beat, and not everyone can move. We stuck here.”

Nilbog nodded and began to leave. He was probably wrong. Maybe Seventh Sense activated because of those thugs above. He never knew how that skill functioned.

He exited the building to the dingy streets of the Second District, and was among a few scarce stragglers who were foolish enough to not seek shelter from the night’s deadly chill. His rapid wheezing slowed down, the sweat soaking his shirts again.

He looked at the apartment complex he had left, realizing how crazed he was in sprinting out like that. It was tall, nearly six stories high and wide, but not much different than all the buildings near it. It wasn’t the brick and mortar which was going to collapse on him, but the looters. He misunderstood his Seventh Sense.

He felt increasingly ridiculous, and for a second he pondered whether he should fetch his food. With the Games, all resources were now considered a scarcity, as most of everyone worried more about keeping their hides alive than to tend to the farms. Points were too precious to be spent on food.

Hearing shouting, Nilbog bent his head upward in time to see someone being hurled out of the windows from one of the top floors. They fell a distance away from him, making a squish sound he hadn’t heard in a long time.

With a shudder, Nilbog turned around and walked away. He’d had enough for today. More than enough. His stomach began to irk him, the irritating thing begging him for food again. He got a couple of hours of sleep, four maybe, but more would be pleasant.

He was slightly at more than half Overall STM. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good.

Blood began to rise to his cheeks, and he could have sworn he began to hear some type of whistling sound nearing. It was familiar, but he couldn’t seem to put his fi-

You have received 12 damage.

You have failed to resist a stun status effect.

The bricks found Nilbog before he could find them. He groaned, his eardrums ringing painfully. He reached forward, surprised to meet the ground. He pushed himself up, glancing behind him as the world shook and danced carelessly.

The buildings were missing half their bodies, and some were completely obliterated. A dust cloud had risen up from all the debris.

A building near him moaned as it began to crumble, spitting bricks, sofas, people and entire floors as it fell apart.

The ground kept quivering. Lightning flashed across the sky from a black cloud, hitting one of the nearby buildings that had completely fallen. Another one quickly followed its tail, spiking from above and crashing down at location, sending more dust into the air.

“For fucks sakes, I just want to sleep!” Nilbog yelled, his voice a flicker in the heavy rain. Another flash brightened up the sky, revealing a woman's silhouette within the clouds.

The rubble she had struck began to move, and as Nilbog glanced suspiciously at the dust a large figure rose from it.

He was some type of giant, towering at 20 meters at the very least and nearly just as wide. The smell of burnt skin oozed out of him as he roared viciously, his boom on peer with the thunder’s own call. He bent down and lifted a giant piece of concrete nearly twice his size, and with a grunt and some type of glow resonating from his body, he tossed it at the clouds.

A bolt of lightning struck it, splitting it in two but did not slow it down as the two pieces kept flying towards the large cloud. More lighting came down but by then it was too late, as the concrete exploded in the sky, hurling small pieces like sharp knives through the clouds, spreading them thin.

A shriek was heard, following by an increased barrage of more ferocious lighting.

The very sound of their blows began taking HP points from Nilbog.

Ascended, in a place like this?

Nilbog’s bloodshot eyes glanced at his status screen, feeling the familiar sensation of power crawl into his muscles.

Player Killer

No, they were not Ascended. They were just Players. The ones he was supposed to hunt.

Nilbog turned and began to limp away.

Not yet. It could still get worse. Nilbog couldn’t imagine how but he knew it could. He gave a quick glance to the building he had exited, but the dust was everywhere. He didn’t know whether it had completely collapsed, but did not stay to check.

One step at a time, one step at a time, Nilbog whispered to himself as shards landed around him. One of them might have struck a part of his body, but he didn't know. Everything was so loud that he could barely see or think.