Scrap Knight Chronicles - A High Quality, Reader Insert, Furry, Zombie Apocalypse Knight Story by TheCataloger

Tags: LitRPG, Post Apocalyptic, Anti-Hero Lead, War and Military, Male Lead, Adventure, Drama, Fantasy, Romance, Dystopia, Reader Interactive, Strategy, Supernatural
Status: In-Progress
Updated: 2024-12-10 09:47:57

Summary:

The Cataloger could be a single author, a team, or something else entirely-but who I am doesn't matter. What matters is the work. My stories are crafted with care, delivering high-quality, unique narratives that challenge the conventions of your favorite novels and fanfics. With professional writing experience and success behind me, I've returned to fanfiction purely for the love of storytelling. You won't find "Y/N" inserts or lazy formatting like colons for dialogue in my work. Expect engaging, skillful writing that brings something fresh to genres often overcrowded with mediocrity.

In a world ravaged by a devastating virus, humanity and anthros-a race of human-animal hybrids-stand on the brink of extinction. You awaken from the chaos, clinging to hope with your closest friends, only to find a fractured landscape ruled by fledgling societies and remnants of old-world governments. As tensions rise, centuries of hatred between humans and anthros ignite, pushing both to the edge of war. But as battle looms, the shadows teem with greater horrors-monsters and the undead, haunting what remains of the world.

Yet, as humanity teeters on the edge of annihilation, the Earth itself seems unwilling to let go. A silent evolution takes root in you, granting strange dreams-or perhaps memories-of an old Templar ancestor. His blood flows through your veins, his knowledge intertwining with this ancestral awakening. Will this gift be enough to defy extinction? Or will humanity fade, remembered only for its hatred and violence, leaving behind a legacy devoid of hope?

Chapter 1 - Were They Dreams...Or Memories?

“That the sons of God saw the daughters of men, that they were beautiful; and they took wives for themselves of all whom they chose.” - Genesis 6:2

Everything was dark. You stood in an abyss, the air thick and heavy, like a deep oceanic fog that clung to your skin and slowed your movements. And then there was the light—blazing, insistent, a pulsing yellow beacon cutting through the black. It throbbed like a heartbeat, erratic and alive. You raised your hand toward it, slow and methodical, fighting against the resistance of the fog.

The light pulsed again, blinding in its intensity. You reached, your fingers clawing toward it, desperate to grasp it. But the light recoiled, each pulse growing harsher, more intense, searing your retinas and forcing you back. Pain surged through your skull as you gritted your teeth, your hands flying to the sides of your head. A scream ripped from your throat, raw and instinctual.

“Run, run, fucking run!” Your father’s voice exploded in your ears, sharp and commanding, cutting through the haze like a gunshot.

They were here. They had come.

The darkness shattered, peeling away like smoke on the wind. Your vision snapped back, the swirling void replaced by the familiar contours of your home. Wooden walls surrounded you, their imperfections etched into your memory—you even knew which panel creaked underfoot. Family photos lined the walls, their frames tilted and askew, their subjects blurred by your panic.

“Isaac! Demarcus!” your father roared, his voice booming down the narrow hall. “Push the fridge to the back door, Demarcus! Isaac, get those windows boarded up!”

Isaac and Demarcus exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes darting from you to your father and back again. Friends since forever, you were all the same height, the same year. Now, survival painted your connection in starker terms—your lives were balanced on a knife’s edge.

The sound of breaking glass cut through the air like a blade. Moans and guttural groans followed, low and unrelenting, creeping closer. Demarcus and Isaac’s eyes widened in terror, but your father reacted first.

“Fucking move!” he bellowed, and they didn’t need to be told twice. Both turned on their heels, bolting to opposite corners of the house to carry out his orders.

Your father turned to you, his expression fierce and urgent. His eyes, so much like yours, shone with equal parts fear and determination. “Listen, Champ,” he said, his voice dropping as he moved closer. He gestured emphatically with his hands as he spoke. “You still remember how to shoot?” A dry, bitter chuckle escaped his lips, almost involuntarily.

You blinked, your mind racing. “Like... not since I was thirteen,” you muttered, your voice trembling.

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. Without another word, he guided you into the master bedroom. Your breath caught as your gaze landed on the bed, its surface obscured by a blanket draped over a sizable lump. You didn’t need to lift it to know what was underneath. The sight clawed at the edges of your consciousness, threatening to pull you under, but you tore your eyes away, focusing instead on the void that seemed to expand in the corners of the room.

Your father dropped to one knee in front of you, his movements slow and deliberate. The pounding on the house’s foundation grew louder, reverberating through the floorboards. Each thud was a cruel reminder of how close they were.

“You hear them out there?” he asked, his voice quiet but laced with tension. His eyes didn’t meet yours. He stared at the floor, his thoughts seemingly miles away.

You wrapped your arms around yourself instinctively, your gaze sweeping the room but avoiding the bed. You couldn’t look at it, couldn’t face what was hidden beneath that blanket. The room seemed smaller now, the shadows pressing in on you from every angle.

Your father’s voice pulled you back. “They’re not gonna stop,” he said, his tone grim.

“Go and turn on the radio,” your father ordered, his voice tight with exhaustion. The old radio sat on his nightstand, its worn edges a testament to years of use. You walked over slowly, carefully avoiding the lump on the bed. You didn’t dare look at it—not directly.

You picked up the radio with both hands, its familiar weight grounding you for a moment. As your fingers flicked through the dials, your eyes drifted to an old family photo propped on the same nightstand. It was from years ago—middle school, maybe. You and Demarcus were grinning ear to ear, Isaac caught mid-laugh. Behind you stood your father, a stoic but proud figure, and next to him, your mother, her smile warm and full of life. The memory stung.

The radio crackled to life. “This is the National...” an automated government voice began, its monotone delivery filling the room.

“Shut that shit off,” your father barked, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s been on repeat for days. Go through the private channels—see if anything new came up.”

“Okay, Pa,” you muttered, turning the dial. Static hissed between stations, the occasional garbled voice breaking through.

Behind you, your father dropped to a knee in front of the bed. The banging outside grew louder, the infected pounding against the house like a relentless tide. From the other room, Demarcus and Isaac’s curses carried through as they pushed furniture to barricade the doors and windows. You flicked the dial again, but your attention lingered on your father. He knelt before your mother’s still form, her lifeless hand limp in his.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her wrist gently. His voice was low, trembling as he whispered, “I’ll make sure... they’ll survive... I promise you, I swear.” For the first time in your life, you saw tears streak down your father’s face, a powerful sob shaking his body like a gunshot.

The radio sputtered, and a loud, angry voice burst through the static. “Listen, man, I don’t know what you’re trying to say here. You think I’m lying about this shit? About what’s going on right now?”

“I’m not saying you’re lying, Bill,” another voice replied, calm but cold. “It’s just... hard to believe. Feels like the kind of crap those Anthros are always going on about. You’d expect this shit from them.”

“Oh, so now we’re making this a race thing?” a third voice cut in, sharp and defensive. “Okay, okay. I was a United States fucking Marine. I fought for their rights. How about you shut the hell up?”

“Oh, really, big man!” the host’s voice thundered with sarcastic laughter. “It’s the end of the goddamn world—who gives a shit about your résumé?”

The tension in the room was unbearable. You glanced back at your father, who still knelt by the bed, his shoulders trembling. The radio voices continued to blur into the background, growing louder, harsher. You stepped forward, your arms outstretched to hug him, to ground him, to do something—anything—to stop the spiral.

On the radio, the third voice sneered, its tone dripping with disdain. “You don’t get it. You don’t have a fucking clue what’s coming.”

“Oh, and you do?” the host fired back, his words laced with mockery. “You’re calling into my show, so I can most definitely bet you’re one of the deserters.”

The voice flared, furious. “I did my time in the Army! My family needs me—I won’t abandon them to die to zombies, or to be at the mercy of this hellhole!”

“Oh, so you have a wife and daughter?” the host said, his tone shifting to something quieter, almost predatory. “How are they handling all this?”

The man on the radio went silent for a beat. Then his voice returned, low and unsteady. “I already explained to you about my daughter and…”

“Oh, come on, this is fucking unbelievable,” the radio announcer interrupted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You don’t actually expect me to believe your daughter’s the next John fucking Rambo, bro.”

“Best believe it,” the man fired back, his voice rough but resolute. “I had a hard time with it too. But this whole world’s been turned on its axis. We’re getting reports—real reports—of Anthro-Humanoids being immune to this shit.” He let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “Those same people you’ve been shitting on might just be the last ones standing when we’re all gone. This world is changing, and let me tell you, I’ve seen it firsthand.”

The man’s voice grew heavier, more deliberate. “I was a U.S. Marine for eight years. I settled down. My daughter—girly girl to the core. Barbie dolls, makeup, the works. Never took her to the range, never even crossed my mind. But then she found an assault rifle on the floor one day, and she let that thing rip into a crowd of Z’s like she’d been doing it her whole life. They were gone—dead, just like that.”

There was a pause, heavy and oppressive. Neither side spoke for a moment, the airwaves buzzing with static.

“Believe me or don’t,” the man continued, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. “But I’ve heard of others like her. Doing strange things they shouldn’t know how to do. Humans, Earth—hell, this virus—it’s all changing. I asked her, you know, how she knew how to shoot like that. How she knew what to do. You know what she said?”

The announcer’s voice was tight, skeptical. “What’d she say?”

“She said, ‘Uncle Dave taught me.’”

“Your brother, I assume,” the announcer replied, the sharp edge of disbelief evident.

By now, you’d helped your father to his feet. He wiped the tears from his face, his movements rough, almost mechanical. Then, to your surprise, he reached out and wiped your tears too. His hands trembled slightly as they clamped down on your shoulders, grounding you.

“You’re strong,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “You will survive this. I know you will.” He smiled faintly, the expression worn but warm, and his hand traced under your cheek for just a moment.

You tried to smile back, but your eyes darted away. “Pa… this is… this is really scary. I…” Your voice cracked as you struggled to hold it together.

“You are strong,” he repeated, the words steadying you like an anchor. It wasn’t just a statement—it was a command, one you felt in your bones. He guided you toward his closet, sliding the door open with a creak. Inside, he knelt, the jingle of keys cutting through the muffled chaos outside as he unlocked a metal locker.

The radio voices droned on behind you. “My brother joined the Army before me,” the man said. “He was older, far more skilled and talented. He died in Operation Desert Storm, years before she was even fucking born. So tell me, how the fuck could my daughter know what he taught her?”

“Well, that’s our time,” the radio announcer said suddenly, his voice clapping like a gavel. “Listen, buddy, like a lot of fathers in this day and age, you just trust your daughter too much and can’t tell when she’s lying.” With a dismissive laugh, he hung up on the caller.

You barely noticed. The locker door swung open, and your father rose, the outline of a pump-action shotgun slung across his back. His expression was grim, resolute.

“Take this,” he said, handing you an ammo case. The weight of it pulled at your arms, but you managed.

He flipped the second shotgun over and held it out to you. The moonlight from the window glinted off the polished wooden stock and the cold steel barrel. Your father sighed, tossing it gently into your hands.

“Remember the weight?” he asked with a wry chuckle.

You slung the shotgun over your shoulder, snickering despite yourself. “Better than dealing with those things out there with a bat,” you said. Then you added, “Did you hear what they were saying on the radio? About Anthros being immune?”

Your father rolled his eyes, his expression hardening. “That racist horse trash? Please. I saw a big-ass bear Anthro type once. Fucker needed a whole firing squad to put him down, and that was before he’d slaughtered twenty people.”

“Then why are people saying it?” you pressed.

His gaze narrowed. “Why do people do anything?” he snorted, brushing lingering tears from his cheeks. Before you could respond, a deep, resonant thud rocked the house, followed by another, and another.

The sound of helicopter blades snapped overhead, the rhythmic chopping filling the air. “Stay inside your homes! Do not leave! This is a direct order from the United States Army!” a voice blared from the helicopter’s loudspeaker.

For a moment, the banging outside stopped, as if the infected had been stunned into silence. But then, like a dam breaking, the pounding resumed—harder, faster, more desperate. The sound clawed at your nerves as you gripped the shotgun tighter, the gravity of the moment settling into your chest like a lead weight.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, the word slipping out before you can stop it.

You place the ammo case on the table with a thud, your father snapping it open. Both of you lurch for the green-colored boxes inside, the pounding at the door growing louder, more frenzied. Your hands tremble as you fumble with the box, the shells rattling as your fingers struggle to keep steady.

“Damn feds agitated them,” your father mutters under his breath, his voice low and bitter. He’s already popped his box open, his hands deft as he begins loading shells into his shotgun.

“Listen here,” he says, his tone sharp and commanding. Before you can respond, the box in your hands gives way, and the shells scatter to the floor like raindrops. Instinctively, you drop to your knees to gather them, but his voice booms over you, resonating with an intensity that halts your thoughts.

“We are beset on all sides, my child. You must be stronger. Faster. More ruthless.” He towers above you, his shadow cast long by the flickering candlelight. “Demarcus and Isaac—they’re strong like you. But strength alone isn’t enough. Not now.”

You grip the scattered shells tighter, the sweat on your palms slick against the smooth metal. As you rise, clutching the last of the shells, his voice grows firmer, almost reverent. “The news, the radio—they all say the government can fix this. But I know they can’t. The world governments would never admit how bad this is. And the Anthros? The ones still standing?” He sneers, his lips curling with disdain. “They’re doing just fine.”

His gaze darkens. “I had problems with you and that one... the Deer one.”

The words hit you like a slap. Moments ago, fear and confusion had gripped you, but now anger surges to the surface, hot and raw.

You glare at him, your voice low but seething. “First off, not deer, Polar Reindeer. You’ve got some nerve...” you say, the words biting. “Ulyana? Now?” Your gaze shifts to the bed—the lump beneath the blanket—and back to him. “Right next to Mom? The same mom who never cared about Anthro or Human relations, and you decide now’s the time to bring this up?”

Your father’s expression doesn’t change, his calm unsettling in the face of your fury. “You’re right,” he says quietly, his lack of emotion freezing you mid-breath. His hand steadies on your shoulder, grounding you. “Like I said, Ulyana and her people have probably fled back to the old Demi-Human lands to evade this virus. You get there, and you’ll find someone who’ll vouch for you. You’ve always had faith in what we can bring to the table—all of us, as a conjoined species.”

His grip tightens, his gaze locking with yours. “I know you’ll survive. And our name will live on.”

Tears well in your eyes, your chest tight with emotion. Slowly, your free hand moves to his back, returning the hug. The moment is brief but profound, a fleeting anchor in the chaos.

“I love you too, Dad,” you say, the words soft but steady.

And then you’re back. Back within the black current of the ocean. The world slips away, your body weightless as the tide pulls you deeper, the water cold and unfeeling. The pounding fades, leaving you in a haze of swirling emotions. You drift, lost, sinking further and further into the abyss.

Time becomes meaningless—seconds, minutes, hours, days? You can’t tell. But then, suddenly, the beating returns. Soft at first, then stronger. Warm, steady, comforting. The sound of rain fills your ears, each drop a tether pulling you toward something brighter.

And then it happens—your mind’s eye opens, brilliant and blinding, like the blazing light of a new dawn.

“Yo, wait up!” Demarcus hollers, his voice slicing through the heavy, suffocating quiet of the night.

You’re leaning against Demarcus’s beat-up minivan, the moon’s pale glow casting faint light on its scratched paint job. The moonlight struggles to push through the dense line of trees surrounding you, leaving jagged, restless shadows that stretch across the gravel like claws. The air feels thick and watchful, pressing down on your chest.

A cardboard box sits in your arms, its flaps barely closed, clothes spilling out the top. “You get the last one?” you ask, shifting the weight of the box slightly to keep your balance.

Demarcus smirks, hugging his arms across his chest as though the chill might bite through him. “Saved that one just for you.”

You shoot him a look, half-serious, half-annoyed. “Real nice. That’s the last thing we need to grab before we’re out of these crappy dorms.”

Before he can answer, a sharp crack echoes through the stillness. The two of you snap your heads toward the sound. The campus is deep in the outskirts of upstate New York, far from the constant hum of the city you’re used to. Out here, every sound carries, sharper and more menacing in the dark. This isn’t your territory.

“I don’t like being out here when it’s like this,” you mutter under your breath, your eyes scanning the line of trees.

Demarcus rolls his eyes, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, more like when we’re not high.”

You groan and set to work, loading the boxes stacked beside you into the minivan’s trunk. “At least when we’re baked, there’s still some people around. Now it’s dead. Hell, even the faculty bailed. You know those directors and coordinators never stick around after finals.”

Demarcus barks out a laugh, loud and unrestrained. “You’re scared, huh?”

“I’m not scared,” you snap, a little too quickly.

“You’re a chicken. A big ol’ chicken,” he teases, spreading his arms wide like he’s trying to sell you the act. Finally, he leans down to grab a box, still grinning like he’s in on some joke you’re not.

“It’s not even that serious,” he says. “We’re in upstate New York, man. Not some backwoods swamp with gators.”

“I know that,” you fire back, annoyed.

“Then chill out,” he says, leaning back against the van. “Hey, this is the last time you’re seeing Ulyana for a while, right?”

His words hit like a sucker punch. You pause mid-motion, the weight of the box suddenly twice as heavy. A sigh escapes before you can stop it. “Fuck off, Demarcus. I don’t want to think about that right now.”

Demarcus smirked, his grin stretching ear to ear. “She’s a beaut, sure, but kind of lacking in the body department if you ask me.”

You let out a short, sarcastic laugh. “Demarcus, you’ve got no room to talk. You’re into those ‘My 300-Pound Life’ girls.”

“Man, fuck you,” he shot back, wagging a finger at you. “At least I got bitches on my dick. Meanwhile, you’re out here flying the virgin flag like it’s something to be proud of.”

You sighed, the weight of the conversation wearing on you. “Look, I get it. I do. But it’s just an hour and a half away from seeing each other. Yeah, it sucks, but it’s not the end of the world.”

Demarcus wasn’t letting up. “Come on, man. Aren’t you gonna tell her how you feel? What, you’re just gonna sit on it?”

You hesitated, the question hanging in the air like a loaded gun. Finally, you shrugged. “I’ll let time decide. I like her more as a friend right now anyway.” You turned back to the boxes, resuming your task. Behind you, Demarcus froze, his face a mask of disbelief.

“Are you being serious right now?” he asked, his voice rising with incredulity. “She didn’t need to stay behind and help us—no, help you—load your stuff into my van. She stayed the night, man. And you invited me, your boy, along for the ride.”

You scoffed, your patience thinning. “Listen, all that’s on my mind right now is my C-minus and how my parents are gonna freak when they find out. Then there’s my music, and this internship I’ve got lined up. Ulyana is great, yeah, but next year? I’ll figure it out then. Right now, I’ve got enough on my plate, and if a girl’s part of it, she’s coming in fourth.”

Demarcus groaned, dragging a hand down his face like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “And what happens if she finds someone else this summer? What if she cucks your virgin ass?”

You shrugged again, nonchalant. “Then I won’t be with her. Simple. I’m not about to jump into something and ruin a good friendship over feelings I’m not even sure I have.”

Demarcus turned to you, his face a mix of confusion and disappointment. “What?” you asked, your tone sharpening. “Look, I’ll keep jerking off before I risk screwing up my future over some girl.”

“Some girl,” Demarcus echoed, shaking his head as he slid the last box into the van. “Dude, she’s up there waiting for you right now. She probably thought you were gonna make a move last night.”

You rolled your eyes, the conversation pushing every button you had.

Demarcus sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the van. “I wasn’t even around. It was just you two up here. And you’re telling me nothing happened? How did you not get laid? Seriously, sometimes I think you could be the last man on earth with one woman left, and you’d still find a way to die without getting any.”

Brandon shrugged as Demarcus leaned into the driver’s seat, finishing his sentence with a casual flick of his hand. “Take as long as you need, friend,” Demarcus said, his voice dripping with mock patience. He gestured toward the looming shadow of the dorm building, a dark monolith against the starless sky. “I’ll be waiting.”

For a moment, you stood there, staring at the van as if it might offer some reprieve. Instead, a groan slipped from your lips, low and frustrated, the sound of someone resigned to the inevitable. “I already said bye to her,” you muttered under your breath. The words felt heavy, almost bitter, as you turned and started down the stone pathway. “I don’t get why Demarcus has to make this harder than it needs to be.”

The dorm building loomed ahead, its edges blurred by the surrounding wilderness. The college was small, nestled deep in a lush forest that seemed to swallow everything whole. Lecture halls stood scattered in the distance, silent sentinels of academia, but it was the dorms that drew your attention—the freshmen dorms, to be exact. Your domain as a resident assistant. It wasn’t glamorous, and it came with its own set of headaches, like babysitting freshmen who thought beer pong was a personality.

The path grew darker as you approached, the outdoor lights either burned out or barely flickering. “Damn,” you muttered, squinting up at one dim bulb hanging precariously from its fixture. “They can’t even keep the lights on.” The building’s entrance loomed before you, glass doors reflecting nothing but the oppressive blackness inside. You leaned closer, peering in, and noticed the faint, erratic flicker of hallway lights further in.

Pulling open the first door, you were met with the dull creak of hinges protesting their use. Beyond it lay the second door, the security checkpoint. It felt more like the entrance to a dingy apartment complex than a dorm. You fumbled for your key, the jagged edge fitting snugly into the lock. With a twist and a pop, the door swung open—but you hesitated. Your eyes drifted downward to a small wedge of wood propped against the frame.

“That little piece of wood,” you muttered, nudging it with the tip of your shoe. The improvised doorstop skidded into the gap, and you jammed it securely into place. Satisfied, you turned on your phone’s flashlight, the beam cutting through the darkness ahead. “I don’t even know how big this box is, but if no one’s around, who cares?” you muttered, your voice a mix of resignation and annoyance.

The hallway swallowed you whole as you stepped inside, the faint smell of mildew clinging to the stale air. Each step echoed off the walls, the sound bouncing back to you like a warning. You started up the stairs, your flashlight illuminating scuffed floors and peeling paint. The freshmen dorms were relics of a bygone era, with rumors of underground tunnels connecting them to the main campus. Those tunnels, long sealed off, were the stuff of urban legend—places where students dared each other to explore, or so they said.

Your ascent paused as a sound reached your ears—a rhythmic banging, distant but unmistakable. You froze, your grip tightening on your phone as your gaze shifted toward the narrow windows lining the staircase. The darkness outside was thick, oppressive, swallowing the world beyond. Rain pattered softly against the glass, but it wasn’t enough to mask the noise.

You leaned closer to the window, your breath fogging the cold glass. At first, there was nothing—just the rain and the oppressive quiet. But then, just beyond the faint glow of the campus lights, something moved. You squinted, trying to make sense of the shape, the motion, but the shadows were too thick, too alive with suggestion.

“Probably just the wind,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. But the unease didn’t leave you, clinging like the damp chill in the air as you turned back to the stairs and continued your climb.

Outside, Demarcus was in his element, the minivan practically vibrating from the bass of heavy rap blasting through the speakers. The music rattled the roof and the tires, but Demarcus didn’t care. His head rested against the seat, his eyes closed, and a wide, lazy grin spread across his face.

The vape pen in his hand glowed faintly as he took a long, slow hit. Clouds of thick smoke filled the interior of the van, clinging to the windows in a hazy film. It was a vibe—a perfect little moment of peace in a place that was anything but peaceful.

And then he heard the bang.

The sound jolted him upright, his eyes snapping open. “What the fuck?” he mumbled, waving a hand in front of his face to clear the lingering smoke. His heart thudded heavily in his chest as he looked toward the dorms. Both doors—the main one and the supposedly locked one—were wide open, rain splattering across the threshold.

He squinted, trying to see through the gloom, his mind racing. That last box he’d left for you and Ulyana... Could it have been that heavy? Maybe you needed help, or maybe—

“Yo!” Demarcus called out, his voice cracking with unease. He opened the driver’s side door, letting the rain slap against him as he stepped halfway out. “You better not be fucking with me!” he yelled, his voice louder this time, but there was no reply.

He craned his neck, squinting up toward the building. Through the single lit window, he thought he saw movement—shapes shifting just at the edge of visibility.

“They must still be talking,” he muttered to himself, a weak attempt at reassurance. “Had to be a gust of wind.” He let out a shaky sigh, stepping back into the van and closing the door. “Man, I hate these white people woods.”

But even as he settled back into his seat, the uneasy feeling clung to him, thick as the smoke that still lingered in the van.

It didn’t take long for you to reach the door, but you hovered outside, just short of the knob. It wasn’t your room anymore—not really. It had been your home for the past year, though, a place filled with every wild, chaotic memory that made the grind of school bearable. You’d disciplined residents here, held your own against their excuses. You’d gotten drunk, smoked more than your fair share of weed with Demarcus, and even spent one sleep-deprived weekend crashing through parties and waking up at 7 PM the next day.

Whoever said being an RA didn’t come with perks clearly wasn’t doing it right.

The thing about this room wasn’t just the walls or the furniture—it was the time. All those fleeting moments, the kind you don’t realize are important until they’re gone. You could salvage some of them, sure, but there were always pieces left behind. It was just having fun, wasn’t it? None of you ever thought about how much these moments mattered, or how much the people in them did.

She was inside. Ulyana. Just like always, just like when it was you, her, and Demarcus, hanging out, wasting hours in the best way possible. But tonight, the thought of her sitting there filled your chest with a cold, unfamiliar ache. Why now? Why this strange sense of loss when you hadn’t even left yet?

Would it have been easier if Demarcus had grabbed that last box? If you’d waved your goodbyes already, packed up, and hit the road? You could’ve skipped this part, the part that felt like ripping something out by the roots.

“Heartache,” you muttered, the word twisting bitterly in your mouth. You sneered. “What a stupid word.”

Your hand hovered over the doorknob, the hesitation rolling into frustration. “Get this over with,” you growled, surprised by the sharp edge to your tone. Anger, annoyance—but sadness too, buried deep enough to almost miss. You twisted the knob, her face already forming in your mind, vivid and unshakable.

“Damn it,” you hissed under your breath. “This year was too much fun.”

The door creaked open, revealing the skeleton of what had once been your sanctuary. Your eyes moved automatically to the empty spaces where your life used to be. The furniture was gone, stripped bare like an abandoned shell of its former self. It felt like walking through someone else’s memories, except they were yours, and that made it worse.

Sure, the new room was going to be better—upperclass housing, private bathroom, the works. But this space? You and the others had made the best of what you’d had. Now the blank spots on the walls stared back at you, silent reminders of your old posters. The long strip of paint peeled away where your LED lights used to run, leaving behind a scarred, faded streak.

Your Xbox? Gone. The speakers you’d blown out once during a late-night gaming session? Packed up. Your laptop, your books, your music equipment—all of it, waiting for you at your aunt’s house.

You stared at the room, feeling the void creep into the corners of your mind. It was easier being here, though, better than being left alone with the places your thoughts wanted to drag you. Especially now, with everything else going on.

You sighed, your gaze wandering across the stripped-down room. Everything was gone—except for her. Your eyes landed on Ulyana, and your breath caught for a moment, the kind of pause you didn’t want to think too hard about. She was bathed in the warm, amber light of the desk lamp, her back resting against the bedframe, the bare mattress her perch.

Ulyana had always been unique, but now, staring at her under the glow of the lamp, you felt that reality hit you like a weight. Her fur, sleek and a soft caramel hue, caught the light and gave her an ethereal warmth. Her large, expressive gray eyes shimmered like pools of liquid silver. She tilted her head slightly, her ears twitching as they caught faint sounds beyond the room, a reminder of her sharp instincts. Her delicate antlers, small but elegant, framed her face like a crown.

And then there was her nose. It wasn’t glowing now, but it could at any moment—it always did when her emotions ran high. She hated how much attention it drew, but you couldn’t deny that it gave her a strange, otherworldly charm. Rudolph jokes? She’d heard them all, and you knew better than to bring it up unless you wanted a swift verbal smackdown.

Her red hair, still tied into those perpetually messy pigtails, framed her face in loose strands that refused to stay in place. You narrowed your eyes, fighting the familiar urge to brush them back for her. That disheveled look—it was part of her, like the knowing smirk playing on her lips. She carried it with a confidence that left you equally frustrated and captivated.

Ulyana shifted, pulling her jacket closer around her frame. That leather jacket—dark brown, worn just enough to be perfect—always hugged her like a second skin, accentuating her petite but athletic build. Beneath it, she wore sweatpants and the school’s orange T-shirt, a casual outfit that somehow still made her look striking. You, on the other hand, just stood there in your plain jeans, feeling unremarkable by comparison.

“What are you doing up here?” she teased, her voice light but carrying just a hint of mischief, her tail flicking lazily behind her.

You snorted, crouching down to grab a small box tucked near the bedframe. “I’m looking for—” Your eyes caught the corner of it, and you straightened with a smirk. “Found it.” The box wasn’t much bigger than a shoe box, and you hoisted it onto your shoulder with exaggerated effort. “If Demarcus had told me how tiny this thing was, I wouldn’t have bothered propping the door open.”

Ulyana arched a brow, her smirk fading into something sharper. “You came all the way back up here for a box?” she asked, her tone flat and unimpressed, her ears twitching.

“Well,” you stammered, scratching the back of your neck, “I, uh, I also came to say goodbye. Again.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned back against the frame, her posture stiffening. You weren’t always the most perceptive, but even you could tell she wasn’t buying it. That subtle flick of her tail, the way her ears tilted back slightly—it all screamed annoyance.

“You wanna talk?” you asked, setting the box down by the bed. You perched on the edge of the mattress, watching her carefully.

“Why?” she shot back, her voice clipped. “If Demarcus hadn’t left that box, you’d already be gone.” She waved a hand vaguely toward the door. “You can leave now if you want. You’re done here, aren’t you?”

Her words hit you harder than you wanted to admit, but you swallowed down the feeling, shrugging as you leaned back on the mattress. “Look,” you said, clapping your hands together lightly, “if you’ve got something to say, just say it. We’re not going to see each other for three months, so if there’s unfinished business, now’s the time.”

“Two and a half,” Ulyana said, lifting her chin in defiance, her voice soft but firm.

“Three months,” you corrected, your tone flat and unyielding. You gestured vaguely around the room. “So, is this just a goodbye? Or do we have any unfinished business, or...?”

Her response wasn’t immediate. Instead, tears clung to the edges of her soft features, trembling but refusing to fall. She looked fragile in that moment, her petite frame curled inward like a wounded animal. Her chest heaved slightly as suppressed sobs sent tiny tremors through her. She looked like an auburn squirrel, with her fiery red fur and delicate build. Small, with ample curves—a tight but bouncy butt that you were now desperately trying not to think about.

Your mind betrayed you, pulling you back to a few weeks ago. She had sat on your lap right here, in this very room. Maybe on this bed—or was it the other one? You remembered the playful wrestling, the way she’d pinned you from behind, and then how she’d started grinding her hips against you. You hadn’t told her to stop—it had felt too good—but you were sure it had only meant something to you. Later, she clarified, laughing, that she’d been aiming for your stomach, not… that.

You shook off the memory. “Man, it’s gonna suck not having a two-bed anymore,” you blurted, desperate to lighten the mood.

“Two-bed?” Ulyana repeated, cocking her head to the side, her ears twitching slightly.

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging. “They gave us these rooms last semester. Total BS that the new RA hires are gonna inherit them for years while me and Demarcus only got them for half a semester.”

Ulyana chuckled, a sound that eased some of the tension hanging in the air. “Bran,” she teased, her voice lilting.

“Stop calling me that!” you shot back, louder than you intended.

“What, Bran?” she repeated with a grin.

“You’re such a fucking nerd,” you said, pointing at her and laughing. Her giggle broke free, light and genuine. It was better seeing her like this—happy, even for a moment—than watching her tears threaten to spill.

She shrugged, still smiling. “You forgot to give me back my Game of Thrones collection,” she said, tilting her head like it was no big deal. “I really liked those books, you know.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” you said quickly, holding up your hands. “Listen, you’ve read those things—what, two—” You paused, watching her face shift. Her expression darkened slightly before morphing into a smug grin. “Three times,” you conceded, dragging the word out. She beamed at you, her smile stretching from ear to ear.

“Yeah, three times,” she said triumphantly.

You smirked. “How about you go read Harry Potter or the Star Wars EU again or something?”

“Don’t even start,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You know I’m still collecting those books.”

“My apologies, Master,” you quipped, bowing your head dramatically. It was just a joke, but you could see how the moment was changing. There was something unspoken hanging between the two of you now, something heavier than the banter could cover.

You didn’t want to think about what this night was becoming.

She blushed deeply, her gray eyes darting to the floor before flicking back up at you. Instinctively, she tugged her jacket’s collar higher, half-hiding her mouth. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed.

“Ulyana…” you said, her name rolling off your tongue like it belonged there. You dragged it out, savoring the sound, the way it felt to say it. For a moment, that was all you wanted—to just speak her name.

Her eyes widened, and the warmth in her gaze hit you like a tidal wave. She looked at you like you mattered, like you were something more than just… well, you. But then doubt crept in. You were still young, too focused on work, too lost in your head after the accident. Relationships weren’t part of the plan. Maybe this year you’d been too distracted. Memories flashed before you like a slideshow on fast-forward—moments with her that you hadn’t let yourself dwell on.

Your mind caught on one in particular: the time after practice. You’d been alone in your dorm, the room dark except for the TV’s glow. You’d been chilling, mixing music and smoking a little, when she came in. She flopped down in front of the TV without a word, belly on your rug, elbows propping her up as she scrolled through your streaming apps. Her legs kicked lazily in the air, her sports bra and track shorts clinging to her sweat-damp fur. You remembered the faint sheen on her stomach, the way her back arched slightly, the strap of her bra just visible under her shirt. Soccer was her thing last semester—that’s how you remembered. And damn, you hadn’t realized just how sexy she looked until that moment.

“Your face is doing that thing again,” Ulyana said, snapping you out of it. Her voice was teasing, her nose scrunching up slightly. “You’re weird sometimes, you know? I bet you’d love to call any girl ‘Master.’” She turned her chin up, her smirk back in full force.

And just like that, the magic evaporated. You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the mattress. “So, what’s the plan, then?” you asked, deflecting.

“I’m probably going to stay the night,” she said casually.

“What?” You blinked, caught off guard. “I thought you were kidding about that.”

She shrugged, the movement as effortless as it was maddening. “Listen, the team’s responsibilities wrapped up today, and with the storm, it’s a long trip to Florida by car.”

“I can’t believe your parents expect you to do a twelve-hour drive alone,” you said, your irritation slipping into your tone.

Ulyana pouted, her nose glowing faintly red—a sure sign her emotions were running high. “I’ve done it before.”

“They’re rich. Why don’t they just pay for your flight?” you shot back.

“Because I bring a lot of stuff and—why do you care so much?” she snapped, her voice rising.

“Because it’s not safe!” you said, your voice matching hers. “I wouldn’t have let you stay the night if I’d known you were planning to do this alone.”

The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the faint hum of the wind outside. You glanced at her, noticing how the glow of her nose had dimmed but hadn’t entirely disappeared. An idea popped into your head, unbidden, and before you could stop yourself, you started singing: “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer…”

Ulyana’s ears flattened against her head as her cheeks flushed crimson. “Oh, you’re so original,” she muttered, her tail flicking sharply. “Shut up!”

You grinned, leaning forward. “Had a very shiny nose…”

“Stop it!” she hissed, throwing a pillow at you. “I swear, if you don’t—”

“Come on, Ulyana,” you said, catching the pillow. “You are Rudolph. Own it!”

Her glare softened slightly, and she rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” you shot back, smirking.

The moment passed, giving way to a heavier atmosphere as she sat back down on the mattress. She glanced at the TV, the news playing quietly in the background. The ticker at the bottom scrolled ominously: “Cases of unidentified disease spreading across East Coast; CDC investigating.”

“You hear about that?” she asked, her voice subdued.

“Yeah,” you said, your tone darkening. “It’s everywhere now. And with the way things are between humans and Anthros…” You trailed off, shaking your head.

Ulyana sighed. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it? The protests, the violence… My dad says it’s only a matter of time before something big happens.”

You hesitated, then decided to push. “Speaking of your dad… You ever going to tell him the truth about me?”

Her eyes darted to yours, wide with guilt. “I—I don’t—what do you mean?”

“You’ve got him thinking I’m some lion or something, don’t you?” you said, your voice tinged with bitterness. “You’ve got him dreaming about us having some master-race hybrid babies while I’m over here just trying to figure out if you even want this.”

“Don’t do that,” she said, her voice cracking. “Don’t twist it like that.”

“How am I twisting it? You can’t even be honest with your own father about who I am,” you said, your frustration spilling out. “What does that say about us?”

“How am I twisting it? You can’t even be honest with your own father about who I am,” you said, the frustration spilling out in waves. “What does that say about us?”

Ulyana’s mouth opened slightly, her eyes searching yours for something—understanding, maybe, or a way out of this conversation. But there was no response, just the faint flicker of her nose glowing red again, betraying the emotions she couldn’t hide. Finally, she folded her arms across her chest, a smug expression replacing the vulnerability.

“That’s cute,” she said, her tone tinged with mockery. “You think you can order me around.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m not trying to order you around. I’m worried about your safety. Can you really blame me? You’re going to be the only person left on this campus. They’re doing construction repairs, and no one is—”

“I know that,” she interrupted, her voice sharp but not unkind. “Construction doesn’t start for three days, and I’ll be gone by morning. It’s just a late move-out... and it sucks. I wish we had more time.”

“Me too,” you said, the weight of your frustration giving way to something raw and honest. “I fucking hate this job!”

Her eyes widened, and suddenly, the tears welling up in her eyes weren’t from sadness anymore. “I fucking hate it too!” she shouted back, her voice cracking into laughter.

“Yeah, well, next year, we’ll make up for it!” you yelled, the energy infectious.

“Next year,” she echoed, nodding so hard her pigtails bounced. “We’ll stick together like glue! Brandon and Ulyana time!”

The two of you collapsed into laughter, breathless and red-faced. The room seemed to hum with life, the purples, oranges, and reds of the setting sun pooling around you like a painting.

“No Demarcus,” you said after a moment, your voice soft but deliberate. Your gaze locked onto hers.

Her shoulders tensed, her frame shrinking slightly, her tail flicking behind her. “Y-yes… only you,” she stammered, her voice quieter now.

For a moment, you couldn’t look away from her face. You noticed everything—the faint freckles across her tanned cheeks, the dimple in her chin, the way her gray eyes held flecks of sharp blue that seemed to shimmer in the light. You could get lost in eyes like that. And you did.

You didn’t even realize you’d moved until your lips met hers. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but the heat rose quickly. You didn’t think about it; you just felt. The thump of the wall barely registered as you pressed her against it, your arms bracketing her small frame. Her breath hitched, her body tensing before she melted into the moment.

“Demarcus isn’t here now,” you murmured, your voice low, a strand of saliva bridging the space between your lips as you pulled back slightly.

Ulyana wiped the strand away, her cheeks glowing beneath her fur. “Isn’t he expecting you?” she asked, her voice laced with nervous energy. Her eyes held a mix of apprehension and something else—something deeper, something warmer.

“He told me to take my time and talk to you,” you said, your voice steady but laced with something softer. “Glad I did. But what are the rules this time around?”

Ulyana blinked, her confusion flashing briefly before her cheeks darkened into a deep, unmistakable red. Her glowing nose gave her away again, even if she tried to hide it. “This hasn’t happened in a while,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“When we start losing it like this,” you said, the words hanging in the air, more observation than question.

“Y-yeah,” she stammered, her gray eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. Her hand rose hesitantly, her fingers grazing your bare chest. The touch was light, tentative, but electric. She bit her lip, glancing away before speaking again. “I-I know the agreement we made was mostly about... all the confusion at the beginning of the year, but are you sure you want to start this now?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, your arms loosening as doubt crept in. Had you overstepped? The thought clawed at you, but deep down, you knew she didn’t want you to stop. Still, her hesitation was enough to pull you back a step.

“You’re staying here in NYC, and I’m heading back to Florida,” she said, her tail flicking nervously behind her. She paused, her voice trembling. “I won’t... I won’t do anything. And I—I’ll save myself for you now that we’ve talked. But... what about the rest of the summer?”

Her words hit like a sledgehammer. You froze, your eyes widening, and for a second, you nearly let out a surprised “Woah.” You caught yourself, barely. She was younger than you—not by much, but enough for it to weigh on moments like this. Still, the way she looked at you, the way she was opening up, made you realize just how serious this was for her.

The two of you had talked about relationships before. She’d been honest about being a virgin, waiting for someone she felt comfortable with, someone she knew was right. And now, she was looking at you like you were that someone.

You were Mr. Someone Right.

Not that you’d done much yourself. But that was more about priorities—your music, your YouTube channel, the accident. Your channel had been blowing up lately, and maybe, just maybe, you could get it monetized by the end of the summer. Relationships had never been on the radar. Until now.

“I—Ulyana, we’ll be fine,” you said finally, your voice soft but certain.

She studied your face for a long moment, then sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “W-we did stuff instead of kissing before... That was our first kiss,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, I know,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. “How did it feel?”

Her blush deepened, her nose glowing faintly. For a second, she looked almost ethereal, like something out of a dream. Stars danced in her eyes as she whispered, “Good.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and the confidence from earlier came rushing back. Still pinning her gently against the wall, you leaned in for another kiss. This one was deeper, slower, as if the world outside had stopped and all that mattered was the moment.

When you pulled back, your voice dropped to a playful murmur. “How’s that for good?”

“Good...” she moaned softly, her voice trembling as her hands gripped your shoulders, holding you in place.

“You think you can come around here looking like that... staying an extra night... without me coming for that ass,” you whispered into her ear, your breath hot against her neck. She shivered, her laughter mixing with a soft whimper as her tail flicked behind her.

“That was our first kiss...” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

You smirked, leaning closer. “...but we’ve known each other a long while, haven’t we, sweetheart?”

Before she could respond, her laughter erupted as you tossed her onto the side bed, the springs creaking in protest.

“Agh, the bed is so small!” she shouted, wriggling to make room.

“We’re just gonna be here ten, twenty minutes max,” you said with a grin, but the teasing lilt in your voice didn’t go unnoticed.

She gave an exaggerated sob, glancing at the cramped bed like it was a tragedy. “Barely enough space for my tail,” she muttered.

You chuckled, the sound low and easy. “Remember that time we got so high, played Call of Duty, and ended up falling asleep on the same bed?”

She groaned, cracking her neck as she settled more comfortably. “Uh-huh. Demarcus left hours before that, didn’t he?”

“Pussy,” you said with a shrug, earning another burst of laughter from her.

“Don’t be mean to your best friend,” she scolded, her voice playful but firm.

You raised both hands in mock surrender. “Hey, all I’m saying is, you were pretty nice and cozy that night,” you said with a sly grin.

“Guess next year we’ve gotta make up for lost time,” she said, her tone softening. She shifted onto her elbow and knee, crawling across the bed until her chin rested on your leg. The intimacy of the gesture sent a small jolt through you.

“Next year, I guess you’ll just have to stay over every day,” you said, your hand brushing lightly against her hair.

“Oh, really?” she asked, arching a brow. “And why exactly do I have to do that?”

You cocked a smirk, leaning back slightly, clearly enjoying yourself. “Because the Phys Ed building’s practically a one-minute walk from my dorm. How about that?”

There was a self-satisfied glint in your eyes, one that made her both annoyed and drawn to you. Her ears twitched, betraying her rising frustration, but her heart was already racing. She felt her soul reaching out to you, her desires simmering just beneath the surface. You were twenty years old, her first boy, and she was your first. This was special—something she hadn’t dared to imagine before tonight. Now, she craved more.

“F-fine, then,” she stammered, her cheeks glowing. “I’ll go to your little sex dungeon of a dorm!”

“Sex dungeon?” you asked, blinking in mock confusion. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Her face lit up, her nose glowing faintly red with the rise of her emotions. “Of course a virgin like you wouldn’t get what I mean,” she said, her tone dripping with mockery. “This is why Demarcus always gets more action than you.” She extended her arms dramatically, her smirk widening.

“You’re too smug,” you said, cutting her off as you pounced, pinning her to the bed. The springs creaked beneath her as she gasped, her gray eyes wide and locked on yours. Her back sank into the mattress, her frame small beneath you. Your hands braced on either side of her neck, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin.

“H-how long has it been?” she stuttered, her voice breaking.

It had been ten minutes, but you didn’t care. “Five,” you lied with a sly grin.

She rolled her eyes, her tail flicking against the bed. “You hardly looked at it—”

You cut her off again, this time with your lips. You kissed her harder, your tongue slipping forward, teasing the edges of her mouth until she opened up, letting you in. She gasped into you as you leaned further down, your free hand tangling in her hair. Her fur was soft, warm, and the sound she made—a soft, trembling moan—sent a shiver through you.

Her moan deepened, pulling you further into the moment until your lips popped apart with an audible smack. She was panting, her chest heaving as she stared up at you, her cheeks flushed and her hair tousled. Sweat glistened along her neck, and for a second, she looked like she might cry.

“Ah, so you’re a real naughty girl,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing.

She nodded, her breath hitching as your fingers gently combed through her hair again.

“Does me rubbing your head really do this to you?” you asked, your grin widening.

She nodded again, this time slower, her movements timid and meek. In that moment, she looked smaller than ever, like a frightened squirrel caught in your grasp. Your squirrel.

“A bitch like you needs to be put in her place,” you said, the words spilling out in a rush. You weren’t sure where they came from, but you figured it sounded hot. Hell, it was working. For the first time in the entire year you’d known her, Ulyana was silent.

“I-I wanna do that thing you let me do... when you made up that lie,” you said, the words heavy with implication.

Her face turned a deeper red, her eyes going wide as your meaning sank in. Her breath hitched, and her gaze darted toward the open door. “W-why?” she stammered.

The memory flashed between you, unbidden. Back then, she hadn’t kissed you, but there had been other things—other ways to release the tension that had been building between you two. Ulyana wasn’t exactly subtle. She wore her emotions on her sleeve, and when things boiled over, she struggled to hold back.

That time had been no exception. It had all started with a stupid lie she told after joking about your crush on one of her soccer teammates. It wasn’t just a joke, though—it had been cruel, the kind of thing that stuck with you. You hadn’t spoken to her for weeks after that.

Then she’d shown up, apologetic, desperate to make it right. And she had. She’d swallowed her pride—and more—just to make you forgive her.

Now, her wide eyes darted back to yours, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The question hung between you, unspoken but undeniable.

“Because,” you said softly, leaning in closer. “You owe me.”

Her tail twitched nervously, and for a moment, you thought she might push you away. But instead, she stayed still, her gaze never leaving yours.

Her wide, liquid-gray eyes locked onto your bulge, the outline pressing insistently against your thigh. Her delicate, furred hand reached out tentatively, her touch so soft you barely felt it until she sighed, the sound resonating low and sweet.

“It looks painful,” she murmured, her voice laced with a coy sympathy, her large ears flicking subtly.

“You want to keep me missing you this summer?” you asked, your tone light but tinged with something deeper.

Her gaze hardened into determination, the amber glow of her softly glowing nose accentuating the smirk curling at the edges of her lips. She rose from the bed in one smooth motion, her athletic frame illuminated by the dim light.

“Where are you going?”

“Relax,” she teased, throwing a glance over her shoulder as she padded to the door, her hooves barely clicking against the wooden floor. “You really want this.”

The click of the lock echoed as she turned, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the hallway.

“Why are you locking it?” you asked, your eyebrows raising. “There’s no one around.”

“Except Demarcus,” she quipped, rolling her expressive eyes.

You laughed softly. “He’s outside.”

With an exaggerated eye-roll, she crossed back to the bed in a few languid strides, her tail flicking as she climbed onto the mattress. Her leather jacket creaked faintly as she shrugged it off, revealing a snug shirt clinging to her lithe frame, her subtle curves accentuated by her posture.

“So,” she murmured, dropping to her knees before you, her antlers catching the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the rain-slicked window. “What do you want?”

Your eyes narrowed, a slow smile curving your lips as you leaned back, letting the tension in the air thicken. “I wanna cum all over you. How does that sound?”

Her cheeks flushed, a subtle reddish hue blooming beneath her caramel-colored fur. She tilted her head, her pigtails bouncing slightly, and let out a breathless chuckle.

“Then let’s make it happen,” she said, her voice a mixture of playfulness and heat.

Her small, supple breasts rose and fell with each measured breath as she leaned closer, her graceful movements commanding your attention. Her tight, toned body glimmered faintly under the moonlight, every inch of her a perfect balance of soft and sharp. Her fingers trailed up your thigh, her touch deliberate as she freed your aching cock.

Thick and hard, it twitched slightly as she pressed it to her cheek, the warmth of her breath skimming over your skin. Her lips curled into a teasing smile, her nose glowing faintly red as she murmured, “I haven’t been able to play with this in a while.”

Her hands wrapped firmly around your shaft, the velvety fur of her palms a stark contrast to her grip’s confident strength. Each slow stroke sent jolts of sensation racing up your spine, her rhythm unhurried yet tantalizing.

Her silvery gaze locked with yours, filled with mischief. “I won’t let you cum in my mouth like last time. That was an apology,” she said with a smirk. “Today, we’ll take it slow.”

Your breath quickened as you watched her, the sharp contrast of her natural confidence and delicate features pulling you in. Her movements were fluid, her small hands working expertly, her tongue darting out to tease the sensitive tip as her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

“Are you sure this is alright?” she asked softly, her voice laced with genuine concern, even as she pressed her lips lightly to your throbbing length, her tail flicking behind her in subtle rhythm.

You nodded, the tension in your body evident in the way your hands gripped the edge of the bed. “I’m really riled up, Ulyana,” you admitted, your voice heavy with desire. “This will give me something to remember.”

Her smile widened, her expressive gray eyes glinting with excitement. Her delicate, furred hands reached out confidently, wrapping around your length. “Oh, I’ll make sure of it,” she murmured, her tone playful but tinged with determination, the faint glow of her nose betraying her rising emotions.

Her hands began to move, slow and deliberate, her grip firm but cushioned by the soft fur lining her palms. Each stroke sent jolts of pleasure coursing through you, her velvety touch almost surreal against the heat of your skin. Her movements were measured, her small fingers gliding smoothly along your shaft, her eyes never leaving yours.

Leaning in closer, she let her warm breath tease your sensitive skin, her lips brushing against the tip with the barest hint of a kiss. “Does this feel good?” she asked, her voice low and sultry, each word melting into the next.

Your breath hitched as you stammered out, “Y-Yes, Ulyana. It feels incredible.”

Her hands continued their rhythmic movements, her furred thumbs grazing just beneath the sensitive head with practiced precision. She flicked her tongue out, tasting the bead of pre-cum that had formed, a soft moan escaping her lips as the flavor met her tongue. The sound reverberated through you, amplifying the electric heat between you.

You flinched slightly, wincing as her hands worked a bit too roughly in their enthusiasm. “Your hands are a little rough,” you said, your voice tinged with discomfort.

Ulyana froze, her large, soft ears flattening in concern. Her gray eyes widened as she looked up at you apologetically. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice earnest and tinged with worry. “Do you have any... lubricant or something?”

You shook your head, a teasing grin spreading across your face. “Just use your mouth,” you suggested, the casual tone of your voice belying the fire in your gaze.

Her ears twitched, and a playful glint sparked in her eyes. “If I do this, I expect a load big enough to be worth it,” she teased, her smirk widening.

A low chuckle rumbled in your throat as you leaned back against the mattress, your arousal mounting. “That depends on how hard you’re willing to work for it,”

You replied, your voice low and laced with challenge, each word thick with unspoken promises. Shrugging off your shirt, you let it fall to the floor, the tension in the room thickening as Ulyana followed suit. Her delicate, furred hands moved to her top, and you reached out, your fingers deftly untying the laces and sliding the fabric off her shoulders. The soft caramel of her fur shimmered in the dim light, catching your eye as you moved to unzip her skirt, letting it fall to reveal her toned, graceful frame.

Now bare, Ulyana stood before you, every inch of her radiant under the warm glow. Her sleek fur hugged her small, perky breasts, the darker tone around her nipples a striking contrast against the lighter shades of her body. Her slender waist curved into hips that flared just enough, her fluffy tail twitching slightly as if responding to your gaze. Her toned thighs and shapely calves completed the picture, her body a masterpiece of natural grace and understated sensuality.

Her rosy red hair spilled from her loose pigtails, framing her face and cascading down her back. Her expressive gray eyes, wide and glimmering with a mix of confidence and shy excitement, met yours. The faint blush glowing beneath her fur, along with the slight flare of her nose, betrayed her rising anticipation.

Your eyes roamed over her form appreciatively, drinking in every detail. You climbed onto the bed, propping yourself up with a makeshift pillow of your discarded clothes. As Ulyana joined you, her movements fluid and deliberate, the mattress dipped under her light weight. She crawled closer, her soft fur brushing against the sheets, her gaze locked on yours.

“You know,” you said, your voice dripping with playful arrogance, “I’m really going to feed you my load. And you’re not ready for it.”

Her ears flicked back slightly, her eyes narrowing with a smug smile. “Oh, I’m ready,” she purred, her voice confident and dripping with challenge. She crawled closer still, her antlers casting faint shadows on the wall. “I’m doing this with the intention of draining you dry for the summer.”

Your cock twitched at her words, quickly stiffening to full arousal again. The sight of her—her lithe, furred form bathed in soft light, her bold declaration hanging in the air—sent a wave of heat surging through you. Without hesitation, she leaned forward, her lips parting as she took you into her warm, wet mouth.

The sensation was electric, her tongue swirling around your tip with practiced ease before she took you deeper. The soft warmth of her mouth engulfed you, and a groan escaped your lips, unbidden. Ulyana’s ears flicked forward, catching the sound, her expression shifting to one of mischievous satisfaction.

Unbeknownst to either of you, something stirred outside the door. A faint shuffle, a low hiss of breath—the creature’s eyes glinted through the narrow crack, widening in shock at the sight before it. Frozen, quivering, it watched, stunned by what it was witnessing.

Inside, Ulyana moved with purpose, her head bobbing as her lips glided along your shaft. Her deep gray eyes never wavered from yours, the determination and mischief within them almost as arousing as the act itself. Her small hands gripped the base of your cock, her velvety fur a stark contrast to the slick wetness of her lips.

Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes as she pushed herself to take you deeper, her nose brushing against your pelvis. Her breaths came in sharp bursts through her nostrils, her glowing nose damp with the effort. The mess only heightened the heat between you—the slick mix of saliva and arousal glistening in the faint light.

She pressed your shaft against her cheek momentarily, her gray eyes looking up at you as she caught her breath. The heat and pulse of your arousal against her skin made her shiver slightly, her lips wet and swollen as she resumed her ministrations. The room filled with the rhythmic sound of her efforts, each movement drawing a groan or gasp from you.

A smirk tugged at your lips as you watched her, her auburn hair swaying faintly with her movements. “You look like a squirrel trying to get its nut,” you teased, your voice thick with amusement and desire.

She paused just long enough to shoot you a glare, her cheeks puffing slightly in indignation before her lips curled into a sly smile. Her tail flicked behind her as if punctuating her resolve. Without missing a beat, she leaned back in, taking you deeper with renewed fervor, her nose brushing your base again as she worked to prove you wrong.

Ulyana pulled back for a moment, panting heavily, her soft, velvety nose glowing faintly red. “I’m your squirrel,” she murmured, her voice playful yet tinged with submissive sweetness. Her lips were slick and swollen, a thin string of saliva connecting them to your throbbing cock. Without waiting for a response, she dove back down with renewed fervor, her warm mouth enveloping you completely.

Her words sent a surge of heat coursing through you, awakening a raw, unfiltered dominance. Your hands shot forward, threading through her messy red pigtails, the strands soft between your fingers as you tightened your grip. You began guiding her movements more firmly, setting a rhythm that matched the pounding beat of your pulse. Each thrust into her mouth was deliberate, your hips moving with increasing intensity.

“I should’ve been doing this all year,” you growled, your voice low and dripping with control.

Ulyana’s ears flicked back slightly, but her response was immediate. She nodded as much as she could, her grunts muffled by your cock filling her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed with every pull, creating a suction so intense it made your thighs tense. Drool spilled freely from the corners of her mouth, glistening as it trailed down her furred chin and onto her chest, pooling between her small, pert breasts.

Her nose, damp and glowing, brushed against you with every downward motion, and faint trails of snot mixed with the saliva dripping from her lips. The messy sounds filled the room, the slick, wet symphony masking the faint rattling at the door.

Unseen through the haze of your shared passion, the creature outside clawed and pulled at the doorknob with frantic, jerking motions. Its glowing eyes were wide with a mix of shock and hunger, fixed on the sliver of light beneath the door. Each thrust you made caused the mattress to creak, the vibrations seeming to mock its feeble attempts to enter.

Seeing Ulyana like this—so eager, so consumed—you felt a wicked grin spread across your face. “I prefer you like this,” you murmured, your voice almost a purr as you tightened your grip on her pigtails. You pulled her down hard, guiding her even deeper onto your length.

Her gray eyes widened, and for a brief moment, annoyance flared within their depths. But the irritation was fleeting; her gaze softened with determination as she redoubled her efforts. She sucked harder, the vacuum of her lips pulling every ounce of tension from your body.

The pressure built within you, the edge approaching faster than you wanted to admit. “Is it okay if I cum in your mouth?” you asked, your voice strained, each word edged with the effort to hold back.

Ulyana nodded frantically, her muffled moans vibrating around you as she worked harder. Her lips formed a perfect seal, her movements relentless as her antlers bobbed slightly with each motion. The messy, wet noises grew louder, her saliva pooling and dripping with abandon.

The combination of her soft fur brushing against your thighs and her eager, fervent pace became too much. Your grip on her tightened as your hips jerked forward, burying yourself deep in her mouth. With a desperate groan, you erupted, the warm, salty fluid spilling into her.

Ulyana froze momentarily, her eyes fluttering closed as she swallowed eagerly, her throat working rhythmically. She milked you with precision, her lips and tongue coaxing every last drop. When your movements stilled, her eyes flicked up to meet yours.

Triumph sparkled in her gray gaze, and a faint, satisfied smirk tugged at her wet lips as she continued to suck gently, ensuring she took everything you had to offer. Her tail flicked once behind her, a subtle gesture of satisfaction.

“That feels so good,” you murmured, your voice heavy and thick with pleasure as the tension melted from your body.

The creature outside gave one last futile tug at the handle before retreating into the shadows, its glowing eyes disappearing as it slunk away, leaving the two of you alone in the aftermath of your shared intensity.

Ulyana pulled back, her velvety tongue darting out to catch the last of your cum as she licked her lips. Her cheeks, covered in a faint sheen of soft caramel fur, flushed deeply, her nose glowing faintly red. She gazed up at you, her gray eyes shimmering with pride and desire.

“It does, doesn’t it?” she murmured, her voice soft but trembling with excitement. Her lips curved into a shy smile as her ears flicked back, betraying her nervousness. She hesitated, as though gathering her courage, before continuing. “I want to go back on our prior agreement.”

You blinked, your brows knitting together in confusion. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice laced with curiosity and concern.

Ulyana’s blush deepened, her glowing nose intensifying as she shifted slightly on the bed. The motion revealed her glistening slit, her arousal so intense that a small pool had formed on the mattress beneath her. The sight made your breath catch, your eyes locking onto the slick trail dripping down her inner thighs.

“I... I need you to help me now,” she said, her voice trembling with a mix of embarrassment and arousal.

Her words sent your mind spinning, the memory of the last time you’d pleasured her flashing vividly. “With my tongue, like before?” you asked, your voice tentative but tinged with longing.

A mischievous smile tugged at her lips as she bit down gently, her sharp teeth just visible. “I’m willing to do something else,” she said, her tone shifting to something more serious, her gray eyes locking onto yours.

Your heart thudded in your chest, anticipation and disbelief coursing through you. “What do you mean?” you whispered, the words barely audible.

Taking a deep breath, her chest rising and falling, Ulyana leaned closer. Her tail flicked nervously behind her, brushing against the bed as she gathered her resolve. “I want us to lose our virginities... together,” she confessed, her voice soft yet unwavering. Her cheeks glowed brighter than ever, her hands resting nervously on her thighs. “I want you to be the only guy for me. Forever.”

The sincerity in her words hit you like a wave, a mixture of affection and awe washing over you. You felt your face heat up as you searched her eyes, unsure whether to speak or act. “Are you sure?” you asked, your tone filled with concern. “We don’t have any condoms.”

Ulyana leaned forward, her nose nearly brushing yours, the glowing tip warm and bright. Her gray eyes sparkled with a fierce determination. “Paint my insides white,” she whispered, her voice so quiet and earnest that it sent a shiver down your spine.

Her lips met yours in a heated kiss, her hands gripping your shoulders as her body pressed against you. For a moment, you froze, caught between shock and desire, before you surrendered to the moment. Her lips were soft and inviting, her tongue brushing yours as the kiss deepened.

Sensing your hesitation, she guided your hands with hers, placing one on her small, firm breast and the other against the soft fur of her flat stomach. “Just for tonight,” she murmured against your lips, her voice trembling with emotion, “imagine what it would be like to put your babies in my belly.”

Her words hit you like a lightning bolt, igniting something primal within you. The feel of her warm, furred skin under your palms, the softness of her breast against your hand, and the intensity of her gaze sent a rush of arousal surging through you.

You kissed her back with fervor, your movements more urgent as you leaned into her. The bed creaked beneath you as she pressed closer, her thighs parting slightly to allow you between them. Her wetness was undeniable, her arousal glistening as it trailed down her furred thighs, pooling against your own skin.

Your cock hardened again, pulsing with need as you felt the heat radiating from her.

As the kiss deepened, Ulyana’s soft, furred hands roamed over your body, her touch both tender and insistent. She pulled you closer, her delicate strength guiding you as her lithe frame pressed against yours. The moment felt surreal, your reservations melting away under the warmth of her lips and the gentle caress of her fingertips. You wanted her—needed her—and the idea of sharing such an intimate experience was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

With a deep breath, you positioned yourself over her, your body trembling slightly from the weight of the moment. You looked down at her, taking in the way her glowing nose and flushed cheeks stood out against the caramel fur of her face. Her antlers framed her head like a crown, and her half-lidded gray eyes gazed up at you with a mix of affection and nervous excitement.

“Can you help me find your hole?” you asked, your voice soft but eager, the vulnerability in your tone mirrored in her expression.

Blushing deeply, Ulyana’s hands moved between you. Her fingers trembled slightly as she guided you to her entrance, her wetness undeniable as the slick heat of her arousal coated the tip of your cock. The moment your head pressed against her, it slid inside effortlessly, and both of you gasped at the sensation—a rush of pleasure so new, so overwhelming, that it left you both breathless.

You began to move, your pace slow and deliberate, savoring the feel of her warmth enveloping you. Ulyana’s moans were soft at first, breathy whispers that sent shivers down your spine. Her body reacted to every inch of you, her velvety walls clenching and fluttering in a rhythm that was almost hypnotic.

The connection between you deepened with every thrust, each motion a deliberate act of intimacy. Her small, furred hands gripped your shoulders, her nails lightly grazing your skin as her moans grew louder. Her breathing became more erratic, her chest rising and falling against yours, her tail twitching beneath her with every movement.

The sensation of stretching and filling her was intoxicating, her body reacting so beautifully that it made your own restraint waver. Her words began to slur, her voice a mix of pleasure and desperation as her hips bucked to meet your slow, steady rhythm. A trail of spit slipped from the corner of her mouth, her eyes half-lidded and shimmering with pleasure.

Seeing her like this, so completely undone, sent a wave of heat through you. “Are you enjoying it?” you asked, your voice strained as you tried to hold back from losing control.

Her gray eyes fluttered open, her tongue peeking out slightly as she nodded vigorously. “Yes... oh, yes,” she panted, her voice thick with lust. “Faster... please, go faster!”

Her arms wrapped tightly around you, her legs following suit as they locked around your waist. The movement pulled you deeper inside her, and she let out a sharp gasp, her head tilting back as her antlers scraped lightly against the pillow.

Encouraged by her response, you adjusted your pace, your thrusts becoming faster, more urgent. Each movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through her, her moans evolving into cries of delight that echoed around the room.

Her furred thighs quivered as her body arched to meet you, her hips moving instinctively in time with yours. Her nails dug into your back, a mix of pleasure and desperation evident in her grip. The sound of your bodies moving together filled the air, her breathy pants mingling with your deep, guttural groans in a symphony of raw passion.

Ulyana’s words spilled from her lips in a tangle of incoherence, her voice high and trembling with pleasure. “Yes... yes, just like that... oh, I need you,” she babbled, her gray eyes glimmering with tears of ecstasy as she clung to you. Her glowing nose pulsed faintly, a rhythm that mirrored her rising cries.

You felt yourself getting closer, the tight, velvety heat of her wrapping around you almost more than you could bear. The softness of her fur against your skin, the warmth of her body, and the way she bucked her hips to meet every thrust drove you deeper into the haze of pleasure. Her flushed expression, the way her tongue peeked out between her lips, and the pure bliss painted across her face spurred you to give her more.

Your movements quickened, each thrust deeper and more deliberate than the last. Her moans filled the room, louder and more desperate as her body quivered beneath you. Her furred thighs trembled against your sides, and her arms wrapped tightly around your neck, holding you close as she rode the waves of sensation.

Suddenly, her half-lidded gaze sharpened, her gray eyes locking onto yours with daring intensity. “Do what that guy did to that girl... in the video,” she gasped, her voice breaking into a whisper. “The one... on my phone... a couple of weeks ago.”

You froze momentarily, her words sinking in as a teasing smirk curved your lips. “You little nerd,” you chuckled, shaking your head, the heat in your voice laced with affection. “I knew you were browsing Reddit for weird stuff.”

Her glowing nose flared in indignation, but before she could retort, you shifted. Grabbing her legs, you lifted them over your shoulders, her small hooves brushing against your back as you folded her into a mating press. Her antlers tipped back against the mattress, and her tail twitched beneath her as you pressed her knees close to her chest.

The new angle was intimate, her hips elevated and her petite body fully open to you. Her gray eyes widened as you pushed into her again, the deeper penetration making her arch against the bed, a breathless gasp escaping her lips.

You started moving once more, your thrusts slow and deliberate, each one driving deep inside her. Her furred hands clutched at the sheets, her nails tugging at the fabric as she writhed beneath you. The deliberate pace allowed her to feel every inch, her body shuddering with the slow, stretching rhythm.

Her voice was high and breathless as she struggled to form words. “I-It feels... so... good,” she stammered, her flushed face framed by the mess of her auburn hair. A strand clung to her glowing nose, the faint sheen of sweat dampening the fur along her cheeks.

Drool slipped from the corner of her mouth, her half-lidded eyes glazed with ecstasy as her body reacted to your movements. Her tail flicked in time with your thrusts, her hips rocking instinctively as if to pull you even deeper.

“You like that?” you asked, your voice low and husky as you watched her. The sight of her—so undone, so completely consumed—fueled the fire inside you. “You like being fucked like this?”

She nodded frantically, unable to summon the words. The intensity of the sensations coursing through her left her trembling, her mind foggy with desire. Her ears flicked back, her furred cheeks damp with tears of pleasure as she clung to you with a desperation that bordered on need.

Her thighs quivered against your sides as you pressed her harder into the mattress, each deliberate thrust drawing a new sound from her lips. Her hands gripped the sheets tighter, her nails digging into the fabric as she surrendered to the rhythm of your bodies.

You kept your pace steady, your gaze locked on Ulyana’s flushed, tear-streaked face. Her fur glistened faintly under the dim light, the glow of her nose pulsing in rhythm with her moans. The way her body moved beneath you, arching and trembling with every thrust, was intoxicating. Knowing you were the one driving her to this state filled you with a surge of pride, an almost overwhelming need to give her even more.

Her moans grew louder, raw and desperate, her petite frame writhing with every deep stroke. Her velvety walls clenched around you tighter with each thrust, the pressure nearly driving you over the edge. She was close—you could feel it in the way her thighs quivered against your hips, the way her tail flicked erratically against the mattress.

Quickening your pace, you thrust into her with more urgency, her cries rising to meet yours. Her breaths turned into gasps, her body trembling uncontrollably as she clung to you. “I... I’m going to...” she tried to speak, her voice breaking into a moan of pure bliss.

Leaning closer, you smirked teasingly, your breath hot against her ear. “Huh? What was that?”

But before you could say more, Ulyana’s body tensed beneath you, her back arching high off the bed as an explosive orgasm tore through her. She let out a loud, unrestrained cry, her eyes squeezing shut as her mouth formed a perfect “O” of pleasure. Suddenly, a gush of liquid spilled from her, soaking the sheets and her inner thighs. The sight left you awestruck, your thrusts momentarily stilled as you watched her come undone completely.

Her glowing nose flared brightly, her head tipping back, antlers grazing the pillow as her furred cheeks flushed an even deeper shade. Her tail twitched violently, her small hands clawing at the sheets as she rode out the waves of her release.

A wide grin spread across your face at the sight. The way her pussy clenched around you, pulsing in time with her orgasm, was beyond anything you had ever felt. Driven by her cries, you resumed your thrusts, unable to resist the incredible sensation. Her body responded immediately, her moans coming in desperate, breathy bursts.

“Please, don’t stop,” she begged, her voice hoarse from screaming. Her gray eyes, glazed over in a lustful daze, locked onto yours with a mix of desperation and adoration. “I need it... I need you to claim me... to make me yours. I’m only yours,” she whispered, her trembling voice filled with unrestrained passion. “You’re the only one allowed to do this... because I’m yours, and you’re mine.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, igniting something primal deep within you. Gritting your teeth, you thrust faster and harder, the bed creaking beneath you as the intensity built. The slick sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room, her cries blending with your groans in a symphony of pure desire.

“Baby, please... fill me up,” she screamed, her voice breaking as her arms wrapped tightly around you. Her nails raked down your back, the sharp sting only fueling your movements. “I love you... I love you so much. Please... give me all of it. I want it all inside me,” she pleaded, her words punctuated by her ragged breaths and the relentless rhythm of your thrusts.

Her furred thighs tightened around your waist, her entire body trembling as the heat between you reached a fever pitch. The connection you shared in that moment transcended words—her cries, her touch, her every trembling movement spoke of a love and desire that consumed you both entirely.

Her words sent you spiraling over the edge. “I’m close,” you grunted, your thrusts growing erratic as the heat inside you built to an unbearable peak.

Ulyana’s gray eyes locked onto yours, shimmering with a mix of love and raw, desperate need. “Do it, baby,” she urged, her voice soft but commanding, the glow of her nose intensifying. “Empty it inside me. I want all of you... please.”

With a final, shuddering thrust, you buried yourself deep within her, your body tensing as your climax erupted. Hot, pulsing waves of your release filled her, and her furred thighs tightened around your waist as her arms pulled you closer. A loud, trembling moan escaped her lips, her body arching beneath you as the warmth of your seed pushed her into another wave of pleasure.

Your breathing was ragged, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. Her velvety fur was damp with sweat where your bodies pressed together, and you could feel the faint, quivering movements of her aftershocks as you held her close.

You stayed like that, intertwined and connected, the air between you charged with the lingering echoes of your shared ecstasy. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, her glowing nose dimming slowly as she smiled up at you, her expression soft and blissful. Her small, furred hands traced gentle patterns across your back, the touch calming and tender.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice full of warmth and vulnerability. “I love you so much.”

You looked down at her, your heart swelling at the sight of her glowing face, her auburn hair sticking to her fur in messy strands. “I love you too,” you murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips.

The two of you lay together, basking in the afterglow of your intense encounter. Your bodies remained joined, the connection between you lingering as you held each other close. Time seemed to stretch and blur, the outside world forgotten in the comfort of her embrace.

After a while, Ulyana’s gaze drifted from your face to her phone lying near the edge of the bed. You squeezed her tighter with your long arms, your lips pressing playful kisses to the fur along her neck and collarbone. She giggled nervously, squirming slightly under your attention.

“You’re tickling me...” she protested softly, her voice laced with laughter.

“Sorry,” you murmured, pausing for a moment before pressing another kiss to her cheek. “Please bear with me.”

As you rested against her, you felt tears slipping from your eyes, dampening her fur where your faces touched.

“Hey...” she whispered, her voice soft with concern. She tilted her head to look at you, her steel-gray eyes sparkling even in the dim light.

You sighed heavily, your emotions spilling out unbidden. “I should’ve just dealt with it. You blew me that one time, and we agreed not to kiss. Now it’s the end of the year, and we’re not going to see each other for another three months.”

She flicked your forehead lightly, her glowing nose scrunching in playful indignation. “I knew you were going to get greedy!” she teased, her voice light and full of warmth. But as you ran your hands along her sides, she softened, her tail flicking gently against the mattress.

Her voice dropped to a tender whisper. “I-I love you.”

Your heart leapt at her words, and you leaned into her, your arms wrapping around her small frame. “I’ve always thought you were really hot,” you admitted, your voice trembling with sincerity. “From the moment I set eyes on you, I’ve wanted you.”

You hugged her tighter, burying your face against her fur. “You just... you understand me. I wish you didn’t live so far away.”

She pressed a finger under your chin, her glowing nose hovering close enough to catch the heat of your breath. “Then... I’m expecting to be at your dorm every day. And...” Her hand moved to cup her small, furred breast, her velvety touch teasingly slow. “I can be your stay-at-home creampie girlfriend all you want.”

Exhaustion warred with amusement as you let out a hoarse chuckle, leveling yourself on the bed. “Y-Yeah, I can get behind that,” you muttered, grinning as her tail flicked playfully behind her.

She cheered softly, her gray eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s smoke more weed, play more video games, watch a ton of movies, and do this shitty job for another year!” She leaned in, planting a final kiss on your lips that lingered like a promise.

With that, the two of you packed up.

Demarcus was nodding off in the driver’s seat of the van when you stumbled out of the dorm, sniffling despite yourself. You yanked the car door open and slid in, slamming it shut harder than you intended.

“Well, excuse you... what the fuck, forty minutes? What the hell were you doing up there?” Demarcus groused, blinking blearily at you.

Your hands trembled slightly as you fastened the seatbelt, your voice cracking when you said, “N-Nothing, man. It’s just... Ulyana is my friend, and you knew I had a crush on her, and this year was really hard and... and...”

Demarcus shot you a flat look, cutting you off. “Okay, motherfucker, what the hell were you doing that took forty minutes?” He stopped mid-sentence when he caught your guilty expression. His eyes narrowed before he threw up a hand. “You know what? I don’t even want to know. Can I crash at your place tonight?”

“Deal,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

“Fuck yeah. Call of Duty zombies and pot—let’s fucking go,” he declared, turning the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot.

The campus lights faded into the dark as the van’s high beams carved a path through the rain-slicked night. The rhythm of the rain against the windshield filled the silence between Demarcus’s occasional expletives about the weather.

“She’s going to be fine,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. “But what sort of man leaves his woman like this?” Your head thunked against the seat as you clenched your fists.

You closed your eyes, picturing Ulyana’s glowing smile, her steel-gray eyes sparkling with warmth. She’d tell you not to overthink it, that it wasn’t a big deal. But a small, nagging part of you feared the dangers of her staying behind, even just for one night.

The van jolted slightly as it hit a puddle, and your eyes flew open. Something outside caught your attention—a fleeting silhouette in the high beams. You sat upright, your pulse racing.

It looked like a man—crooked and hunched, his limbs bent at unnatural angles. His orange jacket and blue jeans were soaked, his hair plastered to his skull. Hollow blue eyes stared back at you, an axe dangling loosely from one hand.

But as quickly as the image appeared, it was gone. The dark forest swallowed it whole, leaving you staring into the rain-streaked night, your breath caught in your throat.

“I shouldn’t have left her,” you muttered, shaking your head as you slumped back against the seat. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus. Ulyana could take care of herself. She’d text you in the morning, probably with one of her silly Instagram posts.

“She really loves me... doesn’t she?” you whispered to yourself, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips.

The thought warmed you, even as a faint tremor of longing coursed through you. You wouldn’t see her for three months, and the ache of separation was already settling in.

“Hey, I think I wanna build a gaming PC,” you blurted out suddenly, breaking the silence.

Demarcus shot you a sideways glance. “Really?” he asked, his tone skeptical. “You wanna start streaming too?”

You shrugged, finally allowing yourself a small, genuine grin. “Fuck it, let’s try new things.”

Demarcus’s face lit up with a matching smile. “Alright, man. Let’s do it.”

The two of you shared a laugh as the van sped away, its tail lights disappearing into the fog and rain.

Back at the dorm, Ulyana stood by the window, her hand pressed against the cool glass. Her glowing nose pulsed faintly as she watched the van vanish into the night, her steel-gray eyes filled with a quiet longing. The rain and fog blurred the edges of the world outside, but she stayed there, watching until there was nothing left to see but darkness.

And like the darkness, you return.

It pulls you back, relentless and unyielding, into the depths of waters that cling to your skin like a shroud. The world above fades into a smear of yellow streetlights, their gentle glow twisting and bleeding into one another until they no longer resemble light at all. They stretch, elongate, and twist into the impossible—into Ulyana’s blazing red. Her glowing nose, her auburn hair, the heat of her cheeks—all fragments of her essence congeal into a crimson that blots out the pale yellows, saturating the world.

The water thickens around you, every movement slowed as if the weight of it is dragging you further under. You can’t breathe. You don’t want to breathe. The surface is gone, and the faint warmth of memory is drowned by the violent, icy cold of the present. The red is no longer her glow; it is violent, pulsing. It surrounds you like an emergency siren, like blood smeared across glass, like the blaring anguish of an open wound refusing to heal.

Red like danger. Red like the ring of death.

Yet what were they, these scattered moments? Were they ever yours? The faces of Ulyana and Demarcus flicker at the edges of your mind, their laughter and voices so distant they might belong to someone else entirely. Their forms dissolve like smoke in water, stretching thin and vanishing before you can grasp them. Another life, another version of you, perhaps.

Did they exist?

Did you?

The questions bounce hollowly within your mind as the abyss stretches on, swallowing everything. In this place, time does not pass—it only collapses, folding endlessly in on itself until there is no difference between now and never. The silence presses against your ears, a heavy, suffocating stillness that denies all hope of reprieve.

Here, there is no Ulyana. No Demarcus.

Perhaps there never was.

But does it matter? The memories are whispers now, faint echoes of a warmth that feels alien and unwelcome in this void. The abyss accepts no love, no light. Only death thrives here, and vengeance simmers below its surface like embers waiting for fuel.

And you, caught in the middle, feel yourself unravel.

The waters churn and twist, pulling you deeper still. The soft red has turned brutal, clawing at your senses. It isn’t the comforting glow of Ulyana’s love—it’s the wrathful flare of an unanswered call, the hollow fury of something left unresolved. It bites at you, tears at you, leaving raw edges where once there was stability.

Is this who you are now? A remnant, an echo of something once human? Or have you always been this—a figure shaped by loss, defined by what you can no longer hold?

The yellow light is gone, the red fading too as even the most vibrant anger drowns in the depths.

All that remains is the abyss.

And it doesn’t care. It waits with infinite patience, promising nothing but the certainty of oblivion.

But even as you sink, even as the cold wraps around your soul like a vice, you feel it—just for a moment. A flicker, a pulse. Faint, and yet undeniable. A warmth that cuts through the void, fragile but persistent.

Her smile.

It wasn’t a memory. It wasn’t a lie.

It was real, and it lingers.

And even here, in the drowning dark, it doesn’t let you go.

I Will Find You…Ulyana

Chapter 2 - The Start of Your Choices

A note from TheCataloger

Hello everyone!

This story has been gaining a lot of attention from authors and readers across three different sites, and I couldn’t be more grateful. Your support and feedback have truly inspired me, and I’m excited to announce the introduction of the choice system in the novel!

From now on, any bolded actions will include a choice for you, the reader, to vote or comment on. Choose wisely—your decisions will shape the story and have a significant impact. For those of you reading early, your input carries even more weight, so make it count!

This is a shorter chapter (last one hit 15k words!), but the next will return to over 5k in length. I wanted to pause here to gather your thoughts on these choices. As always, thank you for reading, and don’t forget to follow, favorite, and comment! Your engagement keeps this story alive.

Chapter 2 - The Start of Your Choices

This time, the red light was gone. Instead, the blazing glare of reality hit you like a sledgehammer—raw, unrelenting, like a newborn thrust into the blast of consciousness. You lurch from the waters of the pod, gasping.

“Easy, Isaac, give him some space to breathe,” Demarcus said, his tone sharp but calm.

Isaac rolled his eyes. “The first thing he needs is to get his shit together.” From the corner of your hazy vision, you caught Isaac pacing, scanning the room. Everything else was a blur of black and molten shapes.

Your hands flailed instinctively, desperate for something solid. “I—I can’t see!” you blurted, panic rising in your throat.

Demarcus groaned. “It’s sleeper sickness,” he muttered, the irritation evident in his voice. “Didn’t think you’d be one of the unlucky ones.”

“Oh my God… a-am I fucking blind?” you stammered, your voice cracking, tears threatening to spill.

Isaac’s laughter cut through the air, sharp and humiliating. “Relax, you’ll be fine,” Demarcus said, shooting Isaac a glare. “But for the next few minutes, keep your hands on the walls and don’t go staring at the damn sun.”

“Speaking of the sun,” Isaac added, his voice more measured now, “it was nighttime when we fell asleep. It’s practically morning.”

Demarcus nodded. “Yeah, but the real thing you should be thinking about is how long we were sleeping.”

Isaac made a face, though you couldn’t see it as you groped your way around. Rising on wobbly legs, you nearly collapsed again, only for Isaac’s hands to catch you. “Easy, buddy. Take your time,” he said, his tone softening.

It took a few minutes, like Demarcus had said, but your vision began to clear. Shapes sharpened, light returned, and the fog in your head lifted. You wiped the fatigue from your eyes, blinking as the world came into focus—and what you saw left you speechless.

The family home, once your haven, was a shadow of its former self. The beautiful, aged wood that had been your father’s pride and joy—the wood your mother had carefully picked out—was now warped and cracked. Before, your father had nurtured this house, maintaining it even during the chaos of the apocalypse. It had been a fortress of sorts, worn but sturdy.

Now? The pristine veneer was gone. The walls were weathered, jagged with cracks. Plant life spilled through the fractures, exposed to the sunlight that now bathed the interior. You lingered as your eyes absorbed every painful detail, the weight of it pressing down on your chest.

Demarcus and Isaac exchanged uneasy glances as they walked ahead, their voices low but not low enough.

“Jesus Christ,” Demarcus muttered, mindful not to let you hear. “How long do you think we were in there?”

Isaac shrugged, his expression nonchalant. “Ten... maybe twelve months.”

Demarcus spun on his heel, glaring. “Man, are you retarded or something?” he sneered, wrapping his arms around himself. “It’s obviously been years. I...”

He hesitated, the words faltering. Isaac raised an eyebrow, his voice cutting through the silence. “Come on, bro. Spit it out.”

Demarcus sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Maybe... maybe we were in too much of a rush. Even now, it’s hard to piece it together. All I remember is the infected breaking in, rushing into the garage, and then...”

“Here,” Isaac finished, his tone flat. Demarcus nodded along, the memory lingering like a bad taste.

“Are we going through the same sickness?” Isaac asked, his gaze narrowing as he studied Demarcus.

Demarcus paused, then nodded slightly. “Sleeper tech is still new. Say what you want about Senior, but the old man knew enough to cook these things up. Problem is, they weren’t exactly the high-end, rich-politician-type pods.”

His voice trailed off, and an uneasy quiet settled between them. Isaac glanced down at the cracked floor, his brow furrowed. “All I remember is him throwing us in, slamming the console, and then... freezing. Sleeping.” He gulped, his voice trembling as if the memories had just resurfaced, raw and vivid. “Are you honestly telling me it could’ve been...”

“Shh,” Demarcus cut him off. “It’s just a hunch. We don’t know anything. All we do know is it’s a new day, and we’re not hearing any infected.”

They exchanged tentative nods, their uneasy agreement folding the conversation into silence as you caught up to them. You moved through the basement, its disarray mirroring the chaos of the garage. Then, stepping into the living room, you stopped dead in your tracks.

“Oh my God...” The words slipped from your lips as you fell to your knees, the truth bearing down on you like a weight you couldn’t shake. The living room was a ruin—the house, the broken windows, everything. You stumbled toward the nearest window, your hands trembling as you gripped the frame. Outside, the other houses on the street were in shambles. The roads were cracked, overgrown with weeds and littered with debris—a silent testament to society’s collapse.

“Holy shit,” Isaac muttered, his voice wavering. “It’s like a fucking movie.”

Your fists clenched, anger surging through you. “This isn’t a movie,” you spat, the words sharp enough to cut.

“Gee, man, I’m—” Isaac began, but his voice faltered as your hands pressed harder against the window’s edges. Across the street, a small family of birds had built a nest on the roof of a neighbor’s house. They stared at you, their beady eyes blazing with something you couldn’t name, before flapping away into the sky.

“What are we going to do now?” Demarcus asked, his voice quieter, the words more of a lament than a real question. No one answered. No one had a clue what came next.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you say, running your hands through your hair, the motion frantic, almost soothing. “Listen—old rules still apply, right?”

Demarcus and Isaac exchange glances, their expressions mirroring each other’s confusion.

“Old rules?” Demarcus asks, his tone skeptical.

Isaac squints at you, his brows furrowed. “Right?”

You roll your eyes and raise three fingers. “Food, water, shelter,” you say, ticking them off like gospel. Then, jutting your thumb toward the floor, you finish, “Priorities.”

Isaac snaps his fingers, a grin breaking across his face. “That’s a smart plan.”

Demarcus, however, stays quiet, wrapping his arms around himself like he’s bracing against something unseen.

You press on, unwilling to lose momentum. “The town’s still here, right? We can break into homes, grab supplies—whatever’s left.”

Demarcus sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah, whatever wasn’t already taken. God knows how long we were out for. But we’ve got a better shot heading deeper into town—see what’s still around.”

“Are you mad?” Isaac interjects, his voice climbing. “The infected could still be out there. And those... furry things.”

“Anthros,” you correct sharply, your eyebrow lifting. The word hangs in the air, heavy. Isaac’s face pales slightly, a cold sweat breaking along his brow.

“Sure, whatever,” Isaac mutters, brushing it off like the word itself might bite. “But the infected are still out there. Remember how they were practically banging down the doors before?”

Demarcus nods, his gaze distant. “I remember. But think about it—it’s been quiet. Silent, even. We used to see them in droves, but now? Nothing. If we’re careful, if we stay mindful, we could find something useful. This was always a small town, anyway.”

Isaac clicks his fingers, his lips curling into a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Here’s the issue with your little plan, buddy—that long walk to get supplies? That’s gonna take half a day. And we’ve got no wheels to get there.”

He turns to you now, his grin widening like he’s passing the buck. “What do you think, man?”

Demarcus shifts his weight, his eyes locking onto yours. “I say we head into town. He says we loot around here. It’s your call.”

A tingle sparks at the back of your mind, like the faint hum of something ancient stirring awake. This is a moment—a crossroads. All choices carry unseen consequences and rewards, and whomever you side with will remember it. Relationships will shift, the threads of trust and loyalty either strengthened or frayed. The weight of your decision presses down, demanding an answer.

You sigh, the room around you suddenly suffocating. “We should grab some stuff from around here,” you say, shrugging your shoulders as your gaze drifts to the cracked wood and the plants snaking their way through the gaps. Everything feels wrong—this place, this moment.

Your eyes catch on matted family photos clinging stubbornly to the walls, heirlooms tarnished and abandoned, thrown like rags to the dirt. You look away, swallowing the knot building in your throat.

Demarcus and Isaac exchange a glance, but it’s Isaac who speaks first. “Agreed. Your dad’s gotta have tools around here somewhere,” he says, his green eyes glinting in the sunlight streaming through the broken windows. “I mean, we could’ve been asleep for months—or years—but not everything would’ve degraded. Right?”

Demarcus nods, though his gaze lingers on you. “From what I remember, your dad took the guns when he put us in the pods. Two shotguns, boxes of shells—those are going to be lifesavers out there. You got any idea where he might’ve stashed them?”

You feel your chest tighten as your eyes drift to the staircase, its wooden planks warped and splintered. The steps lead into a yawning darkness that stretches endlessly upward, swallowing the hallway beyond. Your stomach churns as your gaze lands on the slightly ajar door to your parents’ room, the shadowed interior beyond just visible.

“I—I have an idea,” you manage to say, your voice barely a croak. The words feel like lead on your tongue.

Demarcus steps forward, his tone softening. “Listen, man, I remember how your dad got bit before he shoved us into those pods. Me and you both know what happens when someone gets nicked by one of those things.” He pauses, then sighs heavily, like the weight of his words is breaking him. “I—I can’t blame you if you can’t go in there. These were your parents. God, I can’t even imagine what’s going through your head right now…”

His hand rests on your shoulder, steady and firm. “I’m here if you need me. But I’ve gotta ask—do you think you can do this?”

The air around you feels heavy, your thoughts muddled. Flashes of memory come unbidden, faint and fragmented, like beams of sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

You’re faced with two choices. Neither is easy, but the path you take will shape you.

Choice 1: Allow Demarcus to face the darkness for you. He’ll be quicker, and you’ll be spared the sight of your parents’ rotting corpses. +1 Sanity.

Choice 2: Confront the darkness yourself. Face your fears and the demons within the room. Strength comes from hardship. +1 Strength.

What will it be, Templar?

Chapter 3 - Robbery and Start of Knighthood

Hey everyone,

This chapter is longer than the last one, and I’m so excited to share it with you! The response to this story has been incredible—comments, engagement, and reviews are pouring in, and we’re hitting all the charts on Wattpad. Even authors and readers on platforms like FanFic, RoyalRoad, YouTube, and TikTok are buzzing about it! I can’t express how thankful I am for each and every one of you.

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Thank you for being part of this journey.

Chapter 3 - Robbery and Start of Knighthood

You make your way up the creaking steps, each groan of the wood beneath you amplifying the unease clawing at your chest. The hallway ahead is cloaked in darkness, the shadows stretching endlessly. Your hand brushes against the cracked wall, the rough texture grounding you until you reach the door. You stop, frozen, your breath hitching as your gaze drifts into the room beyond.

Your knees buckle, and you collapse to the floor. Tears spill freely, hot and relentless, as your hands grip your head. This can’t be happening. But as your vision sharpens, pulling in every detail against your will, the truth becomes undeniable.

Two bodies lie on the bed. Decomposed. Their skin is mottled gray, patches missing where time and nature have ravaged them. The air reeks of decay, and your stomach churns. You can’t look away, though every fiber of your being screams at you to run.

Then you see it—the gaping void where your father’s head should be. The realization hits you like a physical blow: he chose this. He ended it before the virus could claim him fully. A mercy, perhaps, but one that leaves an open wound in your soul.

Christmas mornings. Birthday celebrations. The good and the bad, all replay in your mind like a cruel slideshow. Times you were a bad son. Times you should have been there instead of hanging out with friends or losing yourself in video games. You always thought there’d be more time. More chances. But now, those chances are gone. Forever.

With trembling legs, you force yourself to stand and step into the room. Your face is blank, the tears running unbidden as you stare at what remains of the people who raised you.

“I—I’m sorry, Mom and Dad,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of the moment. A tremor ripples through your body as you force yourself to look at them—truly look at them. Their faces blend in your mind, flickering between the vibrant life they once had and the hollow shells before you now.

You grit your teeth, feeling the sadness begin to dull, replaced by something colder. The numbness offers clarity, a strange reprieve from the overwhelming grief. But it doesn’t last. You know this image will follow you, haunting every corner of your life. From the days you survive after this moment to the woman you’ll love, the children you’ll raise—there won’t be a single night where your parents’ ruined corpses won’t invade your dreams.

And then you feel it. Something dark and foreign stirs within you. It burns, filling your chest with a strange, twisted strength. But it carries a rage so vast, so unrelenting, it terrifies you. Is this what the apocalypse has reduced you to? Is strength enough to carry you through this nightmare?

Sanity -1. Strength +1.
Negative Perk Gained: No Sleep
The trauma of seeing your parents’ decomposed bodies has left you forever scarred. Nightmares and insomnia will plague you, stealing peace from your nights. This can be mitigated through certain choices and habits, but the weight of this moment will never fully leave you.

You turn away from the sight, your stomach churning as a sneer twists across your face. Without a word, you move to your father’s side, kneeling by the bed. The gun is still there, resting near him like an unspoken testament to his final act. You pick it up, your fingers running over the cool, smooth metal.

Without hesitation, you sling the shotgun over your shoulder. The other gun sits on the table nearby, along with boxes of ammunition. You take those too, your movements mechanical, almost detached.

For a moment, you hesitate before leaving the room. Something in you itches to look back. Maybe you need closure. Maybe it’s just morbid curiosity. Your gaze catches on the mirror in the corner, and you freeze.

There you are, reflected in the tarnished glass, but your breath catches in your throat. For the briefest moment, like a flicker of a wisp in the wind, they’re there—your parents. Smiling. Staring at you.

The illusion shatters, and you burst from the room. You’re sprinting, reeling, barely keeping your footing as you stumble down the stairs. Isaac and Demarcus whip their heads toward you, alarmed.

“Jesus Christ, man, what the hell was—” Isaac starts, his voice edged with panic.

Demarcus cuts him off with a sneer. “Told you we shouldn’t have let him go up there alone. I knew he was taking too long to grab the—”

“You’re the dumb fuck who let him see his parents’ dead bodies!” Isaac fires back, his voice rising.

“Oh, so now it’s my fucking fault?” Demarcus snaps, his tone venomous.

“Guys!” Your voice slices through their argument, sharp and raw.

You’re standing there, sweat dripping down your face, the tears pooling in your eyes betraying your attempt at composure. One shotgun is slung over your shoulder, the other clutched by the barrel in your trembling hand. You force a smile, but it’s broken, fragile.

“I got the guns,” you say, your voice cracking as you nearly choke on a sob.

Demarcus steps closer, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, man, it was a bad move. I should’ve—”

“No,” you interrupt, shaking your head and brushing his hand away. “I had to confront it. They were my parents. It was the least I could do.”

Demarcus nods, but the regret in his eyes is unmistakable.

“Okay, so… what now?” Isaac asks, his voice hesitant, as if afraid to break the fragile calm.

“We look around,” you say firmly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“So we’re not going to town anymore?” Demarcus asks, his voice heavy with uncertainty.

“I didn’t say that, but right now we don’t even know how fucked the roads are,” you snap, the expletive slipping out with raw frustration. Your tone rises, the weight of everything pressing down on you. “Let’s just look around first.”

“All right, all right,” Isaac says, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Demarcus sighs, his expression softening. “Listen, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but me and Isaac both get it. If you want to stick around for a bit and bury your parents… we’ll help. Of course, we’ll stick around and help.”

Your eyes widen. “You will?” you ask, your voice trembling as your mind reels back to what you saw upstairs—the mirror, their faces, their bodies. Moments ago, your father was alive, shouting orders to keep you safe and urging you to find Ulyana. Now, barely an hour later, he’s nothing more than a decaying corpse lying beside your mother.

How could you face that again?

“T-there’s still work to do,” you say, your voice unsteady. “When I was upstairs, I noticed some of the windows are cracked. They’re letting in air. It makes us less secure. We should leave.”

Isaac and Demarcus exchange startled glances.

“Leave?” Isaac repeats. “You want to find a better place?”

“…better somewhere else than here,” you reply, your voice quieter now as you set the weapons down and wrap your arms around yourself.

Before Isaac can respond, Demarcus nudges him with an elbow. Isaac shoots him an annoyed look, but Demarcus’s expression says it all.

“We can leave and find a new spot,” Demarcus says, his voice measured. “Outside, there are houses in better condition than this one. But... like I said, your parents were good to us. Especially your dad. He saved us. He let us stay here.”

You let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I get what you mean, but there’s a genuine zombie apocalypse happening. Remember what the military said before we went under? About how the infected react to the moon?”

Both Demarcus and Isaac nod slowly, their expressions darkening.

It’s Isaac who breaks the silence. “Dude, it’s your choice.” He pauses, raising his hand and ticking off his fingers. “We can help you bury your parents, or we can leave now, like you said. It’s night, but you’re going to have to make the call.”

You stand at another crossroads. Will you confront your parents’ corpses once more, this time with your friends—brothers in this new, brutal world—and give them the peace they deserve? Or will you use the remaining time to loot, scavenge, and prepare for what’s to come before night falls? The decision is yours. Choose wisely.

Your friends would understand. You told yourself that. But deep down, the gnawing truth was simple: you had nothing to give but time. And even that felt borrowed. Extra time—extra chances—were all that mattered now.

“Fucking brutal, man. Fucking brutal,” Isaac muttered, shaking his head as the three of you finally stepped through the front door of your house. You cast one last, somber look behind you. A horrible, lingering feeling settled in your gut—this was the last time you’d ever see the place that had once been your home.

The sight of the dilapidated walls gnawed at you, dragging you through memories you didn’t want to confront. It felt like another life—because it was another life. Back in the pods, it had all been a dream. Everything was so warm, red, and sunlit. If you’d known waking up would mean stepping into this nightmare, would you have wished to stay asleep?

You adjusted your gear: sweatpants, sneakers, and a bomber jacket. Your old college bag now hung empty on your shoulder, its contents of textbooks long gone. That thought gave you a fleeting moment of joy. No more textbooks. No more assignments. And, hell, no more student loans!

But then, like a flicker, she came to mind—Ulyana. Her brown skin radiant, her doe eyes wide and seductive, looking up at you. Your grip tightened on the shotgun. You should’ve been with her. Instead, here you were, shivering in the late September air. At least, you hoped it was still September.

Pulling your hoodie lower over your face, you scanned the area, the shotgun trained in all directions.

“You guys ready?” Demarcus asked, slinging a duffel bag over his shoulder that he’d lifted from your garage. Isaac adjusted his own school bag, nodding.

“As ready as we’re gonna be,” you muttered under your breath, your voice edged with exhaustion.

Your eyes roamed over the remnants of your hometown. The streets you’d grown up on. The houses you used to know. It all felt familiar yet foreign, like you’d stepped into a twisted Silent Hill version of your world. Everything was dead—muted, overgrown, rotting.

“There weren’t that many people left here anyway,” you murmured as you started walking. “Not after the military swept through.”

Your house faced a thick expanse of woods bordering a dead highway. In the distance, the skeletal remains of clustered cars dotted the horizon, silent witnesses to the chaos that had unfolded.

Ahead, more houses lined both sides of the road, a few with cars still parked in the driveways. Isaac squinted and smiled faintly. “We might be in luck,” he said, his voice carrying a fragile optimism.

“Hopefully we don’t run into an infected or something,” Demarcus muttered, his tone grim as his eyes darted toward the shadows pooling between the houses.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” you mutter, scanning the eerie stillness around you. “Honestly, the infected are scary, but right now, I’m more worried about running into another person. It’s quiet—strangely quiet.”

The three of you continue walking, your footsteps echoing faintly against the cracked pavement. Eventually, you stop in front of a modest house with the first car you’ve seen parked beside it. The windows are shut tight, and mild overgrowth creeps along the walls, giving the place an almost haunted vibe.

“Bro,” Isaac says, nudging your shoulder with his elbow. You glance at him, but his eyes are fixed on the shotgun slung across your back.

You click your tongue, unlooping the gun. Tossing it to him, you say, “Here. Happy now?”

Isaac catches it with a smirk and walks toward the front window, leaning close to peer inside.

“You see anything in there?” Demarcus asks, his voice low but tinged with curiosity.

Isaac snorts. “Nothing except your mother’s fat ass,” he says, laughing loudly at his own joke.

You can’t help it—you laugh too, the sound cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Oh, shut the hell up,” Demarcus grumbles, rolling his eyes. “Christ, this is why I can’t get shit done with you two numbskulls tagging along.”

Isaac shifts, craning his neck to check different angles through the window. Finally, he shrugs. “Looks clear. Let’s go in here.”

He slings the shotgun over his shoulder and waves you forward. “Come on, give me a hand, will ya?”

Holstering your own firearm, you walk over and help him work on the window. It doesn’t give easily at first, groaning and creaking as the frame resists your combined effort. But finally, it budges.

Demarcus whistles from behind you. “Really that easy, huh?”

You’re still catching your breath. “You call that shit easy?” you retort, wiping sweat from your brow.

Isaac, also winded, smirks. “You’re one to talk.”

Demarcus chuckles as he steps through the now-open window and into the room. “All I’m saying is—”

His words cut off as something lunges at him. A tumult erupts inside—a blur of movement, a muffled cry, and then Demarcus is yanked out of view.

“Demarcus!” you and Isaac shout in unison, your voices raw with panic.

Isaac raises his shotgun, his hands trembling, sweat slicking his brow. But before he can fire, you grab the barrel and shove it down.

“No,” you say firmly, your voice sharp as steel.

“That fucking thing got him!” Isaac hisses, his teeth clenched in rage and fear.

“I said no, Isaac.” Your eyes lock with his, unwavering. “The infected are here. If you fire that thing, we’ll attract more of them. We need shelter and supplies—we can’t risk it.”

“How do you expect us to fight them, then?” Isaac asks mockingly, his tone laced with skepticism.

You stare him down, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “…By getting into melee with them.”

Without waiting for a reply, you rise, flipping the safety of your shotgun on with a practiced motion. Both hands grip the weapon tightly as you steel yourself.

Stepping into the house, your eyes sweep over the carnage. Blood stains the floor in grotesque patterns, stretching out in big and small puddles. A matted, decaying corpse sprawls in the corner, its lifeless body a reminder of what you’re up against.

And then you see him—Demarcus.

“Get this fucking thing off me!” he shouts, his voice frantic, raw with panic.

You sneer, a storm of emotions flashing through your mind: your parents’ corpses, Ulyana’s face, school, the future—all the things you could have had, now reduced to ash. Gritting your teeth, you lunge forward, the butt of your shotgun swinging hard into the infected’s head.

The blow frees Demarcus, sending the zombie crashing into one of the wooden kitchen drawers. The impact snaps the creature’s nose cartilage with a sickening crunch. It struggles to rise, snarling through broken teeth, but you don’t hesitate. You’re not afraid. You’re not disturbed. You’re furious.

“Jesus Christ, he’s fucking dead!” Demarcus’s voice roars in your ear, snapping you back to the moment.

You freeze, crouched like some primal creature, your hands locked tight around the shotgun. The head of the infected is caved in, a ruined mass of flesh and bone, blood dripping from your hands and weapon.

“What the fuck was that, bro?” Demarcus asks, his voice somewhere between shock and concern.

“I-I… I needed to be sure it was dead,” you stammer, the words tumbling out without thought. It’s all you can think to say.

Demarcus stands, brushing himself off as he recalibrates. “Dude, you can’t be doing this kind of shit. I get it, you hate them—I hate them too—but if we were rolling with another group or—”

“It won’t happen again,” you cut him off, your voice firm, unyielding. Your gaze locks with his, a silent promise burning in your eyes.

“Whoa, you really fucked that guy up!” Isaac exclaims loudly as he stumbles through the window, nearly tripping into the house.

He dusts himself off, striding over to clap you on the back with a grin. “That’s number two…”

“Number three, actually,” you correct, your voice low but steady.

“Enough of that—it’s time to loot,” Demarcus declared, brushing off the tension as he turned toward the kitchen cabinets.

You and your friends followed, fanning out through the dark, cramped space.

“It’s so damn dark in here,” Isaac muttered, squinting as he fumbled around.

“It’s a fucking miracle the sun’s pouring in through that busted window,” you said, nodding toward the sliver of light cutting through the gloom.

“Why don’t we just flip on the lights or something?” Isaac asked, his tone almost flippant.

Demarcus froze, his eyes going wide. “…Are you fucking retarded?” he snapped, glaring at Isaac before gesturing out the window. “Look around, man. Does any of this look like it’s ‘contained’ to you?”

Unfazed, Isaac ignored the jab and began feeling along the kitchen wall. “What’re you doing now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Trying to find the damn light switch,” Isaac replied, his fingers trailing over the cracked plaster. “Maybe these rich folks have a backup generator or something—damn it!”

Before you could respond, Demarcus stepped over and flicked a switch near the doorway. Light bathed the room, sudden and bright.

“Huh. Look at that,” Demarcus deadpanned, folding his arms.

Your gaze shifted to the lit room, the flicker of normalcy unsettling in the post-apocalyptic wreckage. Instinctively, you wandered to the sink, twisting the knob. Clear water gushed out, the sound filling the quiet space.

“Fresh water… and power during the apocalypse?” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could catch them.

Demarcus joined you, leaning against the counter. “Maybe we weren’t in there as long as we thought,” he said, his voice thoughtful.

“Yeah, so we didn’t get Futurama’d,” Isaac quipped, grinning as he elbowed you in the side. “Hey, that means Ulyana’s probably still waiting for you.”

You sneered, brushing him off wordlessly as your gaze drifted back to the corpse on the floor. Something about it gnawed at you, a reminder of how quickly life had turned into this nightmare.

Pushing away from the sink, you let Isaac and Demarcus take over. They tore into the cupboards with enthusiasm, Demarcus quietly focused while Isaac’s commentary filled the air.

“Fucking sweet,” Isaac said, grinning as he laid out cans and boxes on the counter. “Looks like this guy didn’t touch his stash. Probably one of those COVID nuts who hoarded everything.” His laughter echoed through the room.

Meanwhile, Demarcus broke away, his focus shifting to you as he knelt beside the corpse. The man—once a middle-aged guy with a generic dad look—was now barely a shell. His brown mustache was matted with blood, his eyes bulging and bloodshot.

Demarcus studied the body with a hard, detached expression. “This guy didn’t stand a chance,” he muttered.

“You know this guy?” Demarcus asked, his voice cutting through the quiet.

You shrugged, glancing back at the body. “Looks familiar, but nah. I was never rich… this guy was probably loaded.”

“Shit, you know what that means,” Isaac said, his grin stretching wide. “Who knows what kind of goodies this guy stashed around his crib?”

The house creaked faintly as the afternoon light slanted through broken blinds. Despite the surreal calm, you still felt the lingering effects of sleeper sickness—a dull ache in your head and an unsettling weight in your limbs. You’d made the call to stay the night. After the day you’d all had, it made sense. Besides, everyone deserved a break.

Now, you were nestled on the couch in the living room, the familiar voice of Indiana Jones crackling from the TV. The glow of the screen flickered across your face as you idly flipped through the channels.

“How’s dinner going, wife?” Isaac called from the couch, legs propped up like he owned the place.

“Shut the fuck up,” Demarcus shot back from the kitchen. The tantalizing aroma of pasta and simmering sauce wafted through the air, teasing your empty stomach.

“I’m fucking starving,” you muttered, rubbing your belly. Still holding the remote, you cycled through the channels. “Full Indiana Jones series, Harry Potter movies, Rambo… it’s all here, free to watch. Someone out there’s still broadcasting, but all the live shows are just—”

Isaac cut you off with a loud chuckle. “That’s the perks of the American military, sorting this shit out quicker than we thought.” He leaned back, lacing his hands behind his head. “Before you know it, we’ll be out of this mess.”

You clicked on one of the Harry Potter movies, settling deeper into your seat. Moments later, Demarcus emerged from the kitchen, carrying a steaming pot of noodles coated in rich red sauce. The aroma alone was enough to make your mouth water.

You got up, heading for the silverware drawer to grab forks and utensils. Meanwhile, Isaac pulled the coffee table closer, clearing space as Demarcus set the pot down with a satisfying clatter.

“I know it’s gotta be, like, a week or something,” Demarcus said, spooning a hefty serving into his bowl.

“What makes you think that?” Isaac asked, chuckling between bites.

“All the meat in that guy’s fridge was spoiled to shit,” Demarcus explained, wiping his hands before looking your way. “What about you, man? How long you think it’s been? With all this decay, you’d think years, but if the government’s still active, then maybe…”

“Maybe we can win this,” you said, the words spilling out before you realized it. There was a flicker of something in your voice—a spark of hope.

Isaac and Demarcus both looked at you, their faces softening as smiles crept in. For a moment, the weight of it all seemed to lift. A sense of vigor coursed through your veins.

Grabbing your bowl, you shoveled the pasta into it, the smell even more intoxicating up close. Your stomach growled as you pressed the first bite to your lips. It was warm, familiar—a reminder of something good, even in the midst of everything that had gone wrong.

You finished two bowls before exhaustion finally claimed you and your friends. With the shades pulled tight, the house plunged into near-total darkness, you each found your spot on separate mattresses scattered across the room. Sleep came quickly, and with it, the weight of dreams—heavy, strange, and vivid.

In the stillness of the night, as you slumbered, something stirred. Not in the room, but within. A reawakening, deep in the tendrils of your blood, began to take shape. Something old, yet undeniably new.

You were back there again, your eyes closed, but your mind alive, navigating the wisping currents. This time, it felt different, like you were being guided. The black currents shifted, thinning into a dense fog that wrapped around you. It was heavy but not suffocating, nothing like the oppressive weight of the pod. Instead, a warmth cut through the mist—a comforting light, carrying no guilt or regret.

Ahead, by the glow of a fire, sat a man. His silhouette was stark against the flames as he perched on a log, steady and deliberate. He wore thick plate armor, its surface dulled with age and use, covered by a plain, smoke-stained tabard. His hands worked methodically, cleaning a bloodied greatsword.

As you approached, the man turned, his gaze invisible beneath the shadow of his templar-style helmet. Yet, you could feel the warmth of a smile emanating from him, as if he knew you.

“It’s been a long time,” he said, his voice calm and content. “I’ve heard much about you.”

You raised an eyebrow, instinctively lifting a hand as if to ward off the strangeness. The tabard and his other details seemed to blur within the haze of smoke and flickering firelight. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy. I’d remember meeting a knight in full armor—or anyone wielding a sword that size.”

The knight laughed, the sound crackling like the fire before him. Then, without warning, he drove the greatsword into the earth with a force that made you jolt backward.

“Good reflexes,” he said, his tone almost approving. “You’ll need those if you’re going to survive. If you’re going to continue the bloodline.”

“Bloodline?” You stared at him, the absurdity of the situation pressing down on you. “What the hell are you talking about, old man? And seriously, do you know how ridiculous you—”

“Enough,” he interrupted, his voice sharper now. “Time is short, and there is much to learn. What skill do you wish to master, young one? I can teach you many things, but tonight, we have time for only one.”

You turned away for a moment, taking in the strange expanse of this place. Fog swirled endlessly around you, and the fire burned steady, despite the lack of wind or wood to feed it. You didn’t know if this was life or death or something in between.

“Fine,” you muttered, your shoulders slumping. If this was some bizarre fever dream, you’d play along. “Sure, Sir Knight,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “What do you have for me? Enlighten me with your wisdom.”

The knight either didn’t notice or didn’t care about your tone. He gestured grandly, his armored hand sweeping over an array of possibilities that seemed to appear before you, suspended in the mist.

“Have a look, young one,” he said.

Choice Number 1: Sword, Shield, and Mace. The classic knight’s arsenal. You will start as a squire, learning the fundamentals of discipline and combat. Over time, you’ll grow into the Knight Path, mastering your tools and embodying the legacy of a protector.

Choice Number 2: Long Arms. Greatswords and Polearms. These are weapons of reach, power, and precision. Skills forged in the fires of the Crusades linger in your blood, ready to awaken. With this choice, your expertise in battlefield weapons begins.

Choice Number 3: The Way of the Scrap Knight. Latent memories ripple within you, whispers of a life spent surviving and adapting. Choose this, and you’ll start with a moderate proficiency in small arms, but your true strength will be in crafting. Salvaged weaponry, scrap-built armor—your tools will be born of ingenuity and necessity. Knightly discipline meets modern survival.

However, choose wisely, Templar. You can only claim one path… for now.

As the choice crystallized in your mind, the world around you trembled. Your equilibrium wavered, and a sudden roar yanked you from the haze.

“Damn it, Isaac!” Demarcus’s voice shot through the air, sharp and raw. “What the hell is going on?”

Isaac loomed over you, his face twisted in fury. “We’ve been fucking robbed!” he barked.

Your eyes widened. “W-what? We haven’t even been here that long—”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “We should’ve had someone on watch.”

“Fuck that! Fuck this! Fuck them!” Isaac exploded, pacing in a fury. “I’m angry as hell!”

“Me too,” you muttered, your teeth grinding. Anger coiled tight in your chest like a spring ready to snap.

Demarcus ran a hand over his face, his voice strained but measured. “Guys, I know you’re pissed, but there are people out here just trying to survive. We get our stuff back, sure—but we keep our heads straight.”

“Straight?” Isaac snarled, whirling on Demarcus. “Fuck straight. I want revenge! I want that bastard to bleed.”

Isaac’s gaze snapped to you, wild and electric. “Come on, man,” he said, slamming his fist into his palm. “You wanna be a soft-ass like Demarcus, or do you wanna make this fucker regret crossing us?”

The tension hung thick in the room. Both of them stared at you, their energy like live wires sparking around you. And once again, the weight of choice bore down.

Choice Number 1: Some asshole stole your supplies while you were asleep. Isaac wants payback, plain and simple. If you follow this path, you’ll be ruthless and relentless in your search. But when you find the thief, how far are you willing to let Isaac go?

Choice Number 2: Demarcus urges caution. He’s right—this world has changed, and keeping your humanity might count for something. Still, they stole from you, and food is life now. Can you let this go?