William's POV
I work three part-time jobs. Sometimes four. It's just enough to keep the lights on... and keep my son fed.
Samuel. He's two now.
He doesn't understand the world yet—doesn't know it ended ten years ago.
Back when monsters spilled from the sky, and the streets ran red. When the world as we knew it collapsed. When hope became a rumor, and survival became a prayer.
I remember holding Isabel's hand as we ran through the wreckage of our city, ducking under collapsed bridges and burning signs. She was crying, but she didn't let go.
Back then, we thought we could make it. We really believed that.
But even after the monsters were pushed back—after the Hunters came—our story didn't turn into a fairy tale.
She gave birth to Samuel on a cold, rainy night, one week after losing the last of her family. Her eyes never lit up again after that. She smiled, but her soul was somewhere else.
Two years ago...
"Will…" Isabel whispered, her voice fragile like the rain tapping on our cracked window. "Do you think... it's okay if I feel tired?"
I held her hand tighter. "It's okay to feel tired, Izzy. But don't leave me here, okay? Don't leave us."
She looked at our newborn son—red-faced, wrapped in a towel. "He looks like you…"
I tried to smile. "Poor kid."
She gave a ghost of a laugh. "Don't say that…"
There was a long pause. Then she whispered, "I don't know how to live in this world anymore."
"You don't have to do it alone."
But her silence said she already was.
She died two days later. Her heart stopped in her sleep. The doctor said it was postnatal stress. I knew it was grief.
Now it's just me and Samuel.
"Dada!" he giggles, stretching his arms toward me.
He doesn't know I haven't eaten since yesterday. Doesn't know I'm running on coffee and desperation. Doesn't know I only have $80 left in my pocket, and rent's due in three days.
I squat in front of him, brushing crumbs from his cheek. "You wanna go to the park later, buddy?"
"Park!" he beams.
I smile, but it's hollow.
Everywhere I go, I see posters: Become a Hunter! Change your life today!
And every time I walk past them, I wonder—what if?
What if I could afford the Hunter Academy fee? What if I had the talent? The strength? What if I could become one of those legends on the news, slaying monsters and making millions?
But I can't.
I'm not one of the chosen. I'm just a guy with tired bones and a toddler who believes I'm a hero.
And for him, maybe that's enough.
But I don't know how long I can keep pretending.
Flashback: The Night the Sky Broke
The room was quiet, save for the steady rhythm of the rain against the window and the sound of Isabel's soft breathing beside me.
Our clothes were scattered across the floor. Her head rested on my chest, her fingertips tracing slow circles over my skin.
We weren't thinking about the world outside. Not the bills. Not the headlines. Just us. Just this moment.
"I wish it could always be like this," she murmured, voice muffled against me.
I smiled, wrapping my arm tighter around her. "It can be. Maybe not perfect, but—close enough."
She leaned up slowly, her lips brushing against mine. We kissed, slow and warm, like time had paused just for us.
And then—
BOOM.
The glass exploded inward.
We flinched, gasping as the room was flooded with wind, smoke, and a sudden, alien heat.
"What the—!" I rolled off the bed, grabbing the blanket and pulling Isabel down with me. We hit the floor just as another explosion shook the walls, this one even closer.
Screams echoed outside. Sirens wailed. And then, a sound I'd never forget—an unearthly howl that didn't sound human or animal, but something else entirely.
Isabel clutched the blanket to her chest, trembling. "Will… what's happening?"
I scrambled to the window, broken glass crunching underfoot. Outside, the city was burning. The sky—once gray with rain—was torn open by streaks of violet light. A jagged portal floated over the skyline, pulsing with ominous energy. Shapes were pouring out of it. Massive. Fast. Wrong.
Monsters.
Real monsters.
My voice caught in my throat. "We… we have to go. Now."
I grabbed her hand, still shaking, and pulled her to the closet. We dressed in silence, hurried and clumsy, our hands trembling with panic.
The world we knew was over.
And we were there when it ended.
Absolutely. Here's the continuation of that scene, following Isabel and William as they escape the city in chaos, witness horrifying loss, and end with a quiet moment of survival—fragile but real. This will close out the chapter with emotional weight and a sense of trauma that lingers.
We stumbled into the hallway, barely dressed, clutching what little we could grab in thirty seconds.
The lights flickered. Then went out.
The screams on the street were growing louder, sharper. A woman cried out—then was cut off by a sickening crunch.
The elevator was dead. We took the stairs, Isabel barefoot, holding my arm like a lifeline. Smoke was rising from the lower floors. Somewhere below, a fire alarm was wailing, drowned out by another monstrous roar.
When we burst out of the building, the world was unrecognizable.
Cars were overturned. Lampposts bent like wire. People were running in every direction—some dragging bleeding limbs, some carrying children, some not fast enough.
One of the creatures—seven feet tall, all teeth and claws—lunged from an alley and tackled a man in front of us. Isabel screamed. I pulled her back, but we were frozen.
Then something shot from above—a beam of gold light—and the monster was vaporized.
We looked up.
A person floated above the street, glowing with power. A sword in one hand, fire burning in the other.
The first Hunter.
He didn't say a word. Just dove into the next wave of beasts like a meteor, and the sky burned behind him.
We ran.
For hours.
We watched buildings collapse. Friends pulled into shadows. Isabel's cousin died in front of us—trying to help an old man stand. He didn't even have time to scream before something snatched him into the smoke.
We made it to Isabel's childhood home on the edge of the city. Her mother and father were still there. We thought we were safe. That we made it.
We were wrong.
The monsters came at midnight.
By morning, the house was gone. The only reason Isabel and I lived… was because her mother had forced us into the old basement freezer and locked the door behind us.
We heard them scream.
And we couldn't do anything.
One Week Later
The world was ashes. The government was gone. Electricity came and went. The internet died. The sky had a scar that never faded.
We buried her parents under the broken tree in the backyard.
"I don't know how to keep going," Isabel whispered, kneeling before their grave.
I sat beside her, silent. I had no answers.
She looked at me, eyes red, voice barely audible. "If I didn't have you… I think I'd let myself go."
I took her hand. "Then don't let go. We hold on. For each other."
She leaned into my shoulder and cried.
That was the day I realized we were alive—but only just.
End of Chapter 1