Lena Park stepped out of her apartment. Her mind was elsewhere, racing. Yesterday's news from Noah had left her shaken. Survival… preparation… the apocalypse that Noah claimed he had already lived through—it all felt unreal.
Yet something in Noah's tone, in his calm certainty, had struck a chord deep inside her. She couldn't ignore it. Not if she wanted to live.
"Alright," she muttered to herself, shoulders squaring. "If I'm going to survive… I need to start now."
Noah had left instructions for her the night before—a list of exercises, basic survival tips, and the location where Mason had been training. Lena arrived at the small abandoned lot near the eastern district. Mason was already there, rolling out a tarp and setting up makeshift targets from old cans and scrap wood.
"You're late," Mason teased lightly, though his eyes were serious. "No time to waste. Noah expects results."
Lena glared but smiled faintly. "I've never trained like this before. Don't expect perfection."
"No one's expecting perfection," Mason replied. "We're expecting survival."
Noah appeared from the shadows of a nearby building, arms crossed, eyes scanning the surroundings. "Good. You're here. Let's begin."
The first drill was simple: situational awareness. Noah led Lena through a short course, scattered with obstacles and improvised hazards. "Move through this course like someone's following you," he instructed. "Listen to every sound. Watch for movement. React without panicking. Timing is everything."
Lena moved cautiously, feet careful over broken concrete and debris. Her heart raced, adrenaline spiking. She stumbled slightly over a loose pipe and caught herself, glaring at the obstacle as if it had offended her personally.
"Focus on the environment," Noah said, calm but firm. "Don't fight it—use it. Every corner, every shadow, every sound is information. Learn to read it."
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. Her hands were shaking, but she pushed through the fear. Mason circled nearby, offering quiet guidance.
"You're doing fine," he said softly. "Just… don't overthink. Move with purpose."
Next came endurance and agility exercises. Lena sprinted short distances, ducked under low beams, and navigated a maze of debris while carrying a small backpack. Each movement left her muscles burning, sweat dripping down her face, but she refused to stop.
"Push yourself," Noah called. "Fear slows you. Awareness sharpens you. Don't let fear control your body."
She gritted her teeth, thinking of what Noah had said yesterday: "Survival isn't about luck. It's about preparation." Every stumble, every panic reflex from the past, would be different this time. She would survive.
By midday, she collapsed on a scrap of concrete, breathing heavily. Mason handed her a water bottle. "You're tougher than I thought," he said. "Just… don't let exhaustion cloud your judgment."
"I… I won't," Lena replied, voice shaky but determined. "I have to learn. I can't be helpless. Not again."
Noah nodded. "Good. That's the right mindset. Survival isn't about strength alone—it's about willpower, awareness, and adaptability. You'll need all three."
The afternoon brought a more difficult test: basic combat drills. Mason demonstrated how to block and deflect attacks with a small wooden baton. Noah instructed Lena to replicate the movements, starting slowly.
Her first attempts were clumsy. She misjudged distance, her timing off, and her balance unsteady. A misstep sent her stumbling back, almost colliding with a pile of scrap metal.
"Stop," Noah called. "Take a breath. Reset. Focus on movement, not force. You don't hit hard yet. You hit smart. Predict, don't react."
Lena's chest heaved as she nodded, taking the baton again. This time, her movements were more deliberate, less frantic. She blocked, pivoted, and dodged with increasing precision. Mason clapped quietly.
"Better," he said. "You're learning fast. Keep it up."
For hours, Lena repeated the drills, sweat soaking her clothes, muscles screaming in protest, but her resolve never faltered. She was learning to trust her instincts, to read the environment, to anticipate danger rather than react to it.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the abandoned lot, Lena paused to catch her breath. Her body was exhausted, her mind fatigued, but a new feeling had settled inside her—determination. She could do this. She would do this.
Noah approached, hands on his hips. "You've made progress today. But this is just the beginning. Physical skill alone won't save you. Fear will. Doubt will. You have to face them. Learn to control them. Accept that danger will come, and you must act without hesitation."
Lena nodded. "I understand. I… I can do this. I have to."
Mason glanced at her, a rare smile on his face. "You're going to be useful. And that scares the monsters more than anything else."
Noah's gaze drifted toward the darkening city streets. "Tomorrow, we expand your training. Supply runs, scouting, and dealing with threats outside the lot. This will test your limits. And we'll see if you can handle what's coming."
Lena swallowed hard, a mixture of fear and anticipation in her chest. "I'm ready," she whispered. "I have to be."
The lot was silent now, except for the occasional creak of a loose metal beam swaying in the wind. Lena's eyes scanned the shadows instinctively, her senses sharper than they had been that morning. She could feel the weight of what was coming—the chaos, the danger, the unknown—but for the first time, it didn't feel paralyzing.
Something in her had shifted. Fear had not disappeared, but it had a purpose now. It would sharpen her, guide her, keep her alive.
as they reached the door, Lena couldn't shake the thought that tomorrow's training would take her beyond what she thought possible—and that the real dangers of the city were already moving unseen, waiting for the right moment.