Chapter 32 – A Fragile Alliance
The offer caught Jack off guard.
He hadn’t expected it—nor had he intended to accept it initially. Teaming up with others was sothing he always avoided. People were unreliable. They got in the way, made mistakes, and got themselves in trouble. More often than not, they beca liabilities. But this situation was different. Very different.
This world... it wasn’t what it used to be. Everything was falling apart faster than he could process. Monsters were crawling across the surface, appearing in places that were once deed safe. Cities had turned to ruins overnight, and soon, no corner of the world would be untouched by the spreading corruption.
Surviving alone? Still possible. But no longer optimal.
Jack knew he wasn’t in control anymore—not really. The old ways, the predictable patterns, all of it had shattered. Too many unknowns. Too many variables. And in a world ruled by chaos, even he had to admit—having a few useful people around might not be a bad thing.
’Teaming up with her, while annoying, is still better than walking this path alone...’ Jack studied Evelyn’s face, eyes narrowing. ’If she really is a Chronist, then I’d be a fool not to make use of her. So far, she’s the only one I’ve t who’s shown any signs of being one...’
He exhaled slowly, his breath misting faintly in the cold underground air. Emotionally, every fiber of his being scread to reject the offer. But logic—brutal, emotionless logic—won out.
"Fine," Jack said at last, his voice low but firm. "But I have three conditions."
Evelyn didn’t even flinch. "State them."
"First," he began, raising a finger, "Don’t stand in my way. If you beco a dead weight, I’m leaving. No hesitation."
"Hm. That’s understandable," she replied coolly. "I have no intention of being dead weight either."
"Good." He raised another finger. "Second condition—this is temporary. I don’t know your goal, and frankly, I don’t care. Once mine is complete, we’re done."
"Understood," she said with a small nod. "Our goals appear to align for now, so that shouldn’t be a problem."
Jack raised a third finger, his tone sharpening. "And third—don’t expect to save you. If you end up in a deadly situation, I might help. But I won’t prioritize you over what I have to do. My mission cos first."
Evelyn didn’t answer right away. Instead, she locked eyes with him, staring deep into his gaze as if trying to peel back the layers of his mind and see what truly lay beneath.
"As cold as ever, huh, darling?" Lune chid in with a smirk. That edge in her voice—the strange fondness—betrayed no discomfort at Jack’s blunt ruthlessness. In fact, it was a part of him she’d always accepted. Maybe even admired. His cold detachnt. His iron will. His ability to put everything aside for a singular goal.
Finally, Evelyn spoke, her voice softer now. "Understood. If I die, it’s because I wasn’t good enough to survive."
Jack nodded once. "Then we have an agreent." Without another word, he turned on his heel and began walking, brushing past her like the conversation had never happened.
Evelyn lingered behind for a mont, her face unreadable. Then, she silently followed him.
The tunnel they entered next was wider, better lit, and bustling with activity. The air buzzed with tension as workers in technician uniforms moved around hurriedly, adjusting wires, checking ters, and speaking rapidly into radios. This part of the bunker felt more industrial, more functional.
"This is where we keep the power generators and the water treatnt units," Evelyn explained, walking alongside him now, though slightly behind. "They’re all behind reinforced steel doors. Access requires a special clearance card."
Jack scanned the area. To his left, a thick door marked with radiation and pressure warnings stood sealed tight, a small glass panel revealing the humming machines inside. To the right, another set of workers huddled around a console, their fingers dancing across the interface as they tried to keep the system stable.
It was clear none of this was ready for the kind of load the bunker was now bearing.
"They weren’t prepared," Jack muttered.
"No," Evelyn admitted. "These systems were designed to support survivors—but not this many. The assumption was always that only a fraction would make it to safety in ti."
Jack looked at her. "How long before they start throwing people out?"
She sighed, glancing at a nearby technician who looked like he hadn’t slept in two days. "If things keep going as they are... maybe a few days. No more than that."
"So this place was built on the idea that most people wouldn’t survive to use it."
"As morbid as it sounds, yes. It was never intended to support this many at once. Not for long."
Jack frowned, his mind working through the possibilities. ’They don’t have ti. Even if they wanted to upgrade or reinforce the systems, the panic alone would prevent it. The next few days are going to be critical—and bloody.’
"I’ve seen enough for now," he said abruptly. "I’ll check out the sewer system later."
"Alright," Evelyn replied as he turned back the way they ca. She didn’t press him, nor did she try to follow too closely.
In truth, Jack had sothing else on his mind.
’I need to check if they made it...’ he thought.
His parents.
If they had heard the ergency broadcast, they would’ve tried to make it here. His father wasn’t soone who froze in the face of chaos. He was a mixed martial arts veteran, calm and lethal in a fight. His mother? A forr Taekwondo champion. She had more fight in her than most people Jack had ever t. If anyone could survive out there—it was them.
He reached the main lounge, eyes scanning every face. Hundreds of people milled about, so huddled in groups, others alone, staring blankly into space. Jack morized faces as he passed, cataloging them by instinct. He wasn’t just searching for his parents anymore. He was looking for signs—clues. Anyone who might be a Chronist, or show potential to beco one.
But no matter how long he searched...
No matter how far he looked...
They weren’t there.
Stopping at a corridor junction, he turned toward Lune, who floated nearby with that sa unreadable expression.
"They’re not here, are they?"
Lune shook her head slowly. "No. I’ve searched every room."
"I see..." Jack’s voice was steady, but the tightness in his throat betrayed sothing else. "They’re still out there then."
"I’m sorry, Jack..." Lune whispered, her voice barely audible. "I hope they’re safe."
"They will be," he said flatly. "I doubt they’d die that easily."
Just as he was about to speak again—
"To everyone within the bunker, please head to the main lounge imdiately!"
A voice blared through the speakers overhead. It repeated again and again, prompting movent throughout the corridors.
People shuffled toward the lounge in a wave, murmuring, wondering what was happening. The tension returned, denser than before.
Soon, the lounge was full. Soldiers lined the edges, rifles slung over shoulders, expressions grim and unreadable. At the center stood a raised platform with a microphone and a military banner behind it.
Then, the door behind the podium opened.
An older man stepped out. Bald, with sharp, calculating eyes and a posture that radiated discipline. The mont he entered the room, silence fell like a curtain.
A general.
He scanned the crowd—fearful faces, so crying, others hardened by recent losses. Despair clung to them like smoke.
He took a breath.
"Thank you for coming," the general began, his voice loud but not harsh. "I know everyone here is afraid. You’ve lost hos. Families. Friends. And I won’t lie to you—we are afraid too."
A heavy silence.
"Nobody understands exactly what happened. Not yet. We are still piecing it together. But we do know this—this is no ordinary catastrophe. And we are not facing it with ordinary ans."
The general paused, letting that settle in. His eyes swept across the room once more.
"But you deserve to know the truth. As citizens, you have the right to understand what’s happening—and what we intend to do next."
Jack crossed his arms, jaw tightening.
’Let’s see what kind of truth they’re willing to share.’
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