Two more months had passed, and winter in this new world, if that’s what it still was, had grown into something monstrous, something June could never have imagined or prepared for. A thick, smothering weight of snow blanketed the earth, though calling it a “blanket” felt insulting. It was a suffocating shroud, and in just two days it had swallowed the town whole, sealing June inside the bookstore as if the world itself had locked him in.
Temperatures had plunged three dozen degrees below freezing and if not for his passive characteristic ‘Cold-Tolerant’ that made him somewhat resistant to cryo conditions and low temperature, June wasn’t sure if he would survive for long.
Samewhile, his outdoor farm, the one he’d cultivated for over half a year with careful patience, was wiped out overnight. Of course, he’d anticipated emergencies and built a greenhouse garden inside the mall, but the snowfall had been so fast, so violent, that even reaching it became a battle of will. He’d had to plow through walls of snow, his breath freezing in the air and by the time he reached the indoor plot, the damage had already set in. The temperature inside had plummeted just enough to freeze most of the crop beyond saving. His backup plan was bleeding out in front of him. The rest of that brutal month was spent rationing his emergency food and clinging to whatever warmth he could manage.
The solar panels on the mall roof barely worked as sunlight made rare appearances, just enough to juice emergency lighting, but not much else. He burned everything he could find. Tables. Broken furniture. Anything that could go into the fire without poisoning him. Crossing the snow-choked plaza to gather even a bit of usable wood had become harder than scaling cliffs. The woodburner never went out. It hissed and crackled nonstop, day and night, keeping just enough heat inside the bookstore to make the air breathable. June had plastered the walls with insulation torn from the mall’s forgotten supply rooms, sealed off every window and vent, but the cold still seeped in, bone-deep and mocking. And what use was a dungeon, he thought bitterly, if it couldn’t even hold a stable temperature? He glanced at the frost collecting around the inside of the sealed front doors. If this place had some system for climate control, it was dead or asleep.
Zoe let out a long, drawn-out groan from the couch where she lay sprawled like a bored cat. “How is it even snowing right now? It’s supposed to be summer,” she muttered, staring at the ceiling.
June didn’t look up from the book in his lap. “Maybe the seasons are broken, too.”
He had no better answer. Weather was already a mystery for him from the childhood. Here, it might as well have been magic. All he could do was conserve energy, stay warm, and try not to freeze before spring showed itself - if it ever did.
“I miss the sun,” Zoe complained, rolling onto her side and draping an arm dramatically across her forehead. “I’m cold and dead and miserable.”
“You literally don’t feel anything,” June said flatly, turning a page.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t have standards,” she huffed.
June didn’t reply. His focus returned to the stack of books beside him, he'd recused from the school library, which surprisingly had been left untouched and provided him with a treasure trove of literature to get lost in.
Seeing his lack of response, Zoe heavily sighed, “I wish someone would care more about me.”
June rolled his eyes, “Move on, because you’re not finding anyone in this life.”
Zoe didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she slowly peeled herself off the couch, dragging the throw blanket with her like a regal cape. Without asking, she collapsed beside June, and leaned her head dramatically against him.
“You’re so warm,” she squeezed his arm.
“Personal space?” he mumbled, trying to keep reading.
“You know,” she said after a while, “if we weren’t stuck in a frozen apocalypse, I’d be somewhere on a beach right now with my friends, maybe Hawaii or Florida. I’d have sunglasses, a stupid fruity drink, and zero responsibilities.”
“You’d probably get sunburned in an hour. Then you’d whine about how the sand’s in your shoes and the drinks are watered down.” June didn’t believe her a bit and said his thoughts out loud.
She snorted. “You say that like I wouldn’t still enjoy it.”
June didn’t answer, but the corners of his mouth turned upward. The sound of pages flipping resumed.
Zoe stretched her legs out across the rug, the blanket now half-draped over June too, “Sometimes I forget we’re actually surviving, not just... playing some weird game. Like, I keep thinking one day someone’s gonna knock on the door and be like, ‘Alright, experiment’s over, you can go home now.’”
“Perhaps…”
…
It took one more month before the snow stopped falling and another two months before it half melted and another four before the town could be seen again.
June had been in this world for eighteen months. And if he would have to describe his experience, he would call it a mix of nightmare and fun. Fun, mostly because he didn’t have to interact with people and no one tried to bully or beat him.
On the third day of the new month, it was a sunny and warm day with sunny in its full glory.
June had been cooped up inside for so long he was honestly bored out of his mind. He'd burned through all the available literature over the past year and a half, leaving him with nothing to do but experiment with what he’d learned. Lately, he’d been toying with a few theories - specifically, about hostile entities. If he dismantled one piece by piece, would it still retain its animation? Could he repurpose the parts to build something new?
The crux of the problem was that he had killed the last dozen or so hostile entity in town, leaving him with nothing to experiment with or on.
Furthermore, he already had a decent grasp of several scientific disciplines. He didn’t think of himself as a genius or even particularly bright, but his new epithet—Scholar—was undeniably useful. He’d describe it like this: If Thinker had allowed him to reflect with clarity and increased his logical abilities, Scholar felt outright magical. It was like reasoning in folds, or thinking across multiple layers all at once. His ability to analyze, interpret, and cross-reference information had grown exponentially.
And the strange part? It wasn’t even classified as a skill or a passive trait, it was just something…it was just… him now. A change in how his mind functioned.
Still, June had a hunch he’d only just scratched the surface.
Lost in his own thoughts, he arrived at the small field he’d been trying to cultivate again over the past few days. Honestly, his hopes weren’t high. He was out of seeds, for one. And after the brutal winter, he doubted any pollinators, bees or bugs, had made it through.
His brow furrowed as his eyes flicking toward the dense wall of forest ahead. He shifted the weight of his backpack with a soft grunt.
Zoe, being an echo, didn’t need food, water, or even air. But he was still human. In the past few months, his meals had dropped to less than half his usual intake, and it was showing. He’d already lost a noticeable amount of weight. Honestly, his working theory was that echoes were essentially immortal, as long as they had a dungeon to anchor them, they could go on indefinitely.
He pushed through the tall undergrowth, knife in hand, hacking at the overgrown weeds, vines, and mossy tendrils that tangled across his path. If he had to compare this place to anything, it’d be the rainforests he’d seen in books, thick canopies, towering trees, and a surprising burst of life in every direction. Even after months of heavy snowfall, the forest was somehow thriving. The greenery was dense and fully awake.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Fifteen minutes in, June crouched beside a rotting log and plucked a mushroom from its spongy bark. He turned it over in his hand, inspecting the cap and gills, then dropped it into his bucket before scanning for more. He’d poisoned himself more than ten times from bad mushrooms over the past year, but now he could spot the edible ones with near certainty. That rare field guide he’d found buried in the school library had turned out to be quite invaluable; especially, more so than those physics and electric books which left him scratching his head more often than he cared to admit.
He spent the next few hours moving deeper into the woods, methodical and calm. He didn’t bother worrying about wild animals, there weren’t any left in the first place. The only possible danger he could think of was if he slipped and fell or drowned in some underwater patch of forest.
…
In the afternoon, June climbed a particularly large tree. It took some effort, gripping bark slick with moss, pulling himself up with trembling arms, but eventually, he reached a thick branch high enough to glimpse the horizon. He plopped down, catching his breath, then pulled off his backpack and opened it. Lunch: roasted cockroaches.
They really had survived everything, just like the books said. If anything, they were the reason he hadn’t starved to death during the brutal winter. Honestly, he wouldn’t have touched them with a ten-foot pole before all this. But the apocalypse had a way of stripping away preferences and pride alike, and no one ever asked what you wanted when survival was the only question left. At first, the idea had repulsed him, he’d gagged the first time he’d crunched down on one. Now? He raised them himself in a sanitized setup he’d rigged in the mall. The disgust was long gone. They were the only thing keeping him alive.
The roasted cockroaches, tossed in dry spices, had a nutty, crunchy flavor. Not bad, all things considered. He let the sunlight warm his skin as he ate. It was pleasant. Peaceful. But his mind instead had been growing restless lately.
There was nothing left in this town to explore or that could help him escape this world. Not that he thought much about escaping anymore. He’d explored every house, wiped out every lurking hostile entity, and now... it was just quiet. Too quiet.
Actually, part of him didn’t even want to go back. Sure, he would miss Sister Margaret’s love. Or Kevin. But if he thought deeply... would he really be happy back there? What if he became the same dumb kid again? What if this entire strange reality vanished and took everything he’d built with it? There were too many "what ifs" in his story, too many doors he didn’t want to open.
The only real bond left tying him to this town was Zoe. She was like family to him, and the fact that she couldn’t leave the bookstore micro-dungeon made his recent nights sleepless. He had brought up the idea of leaving again, and surprisingly, she’d reacted better than the last time. But the weight of it still sat heavy in his chest. Was he truly willing to leave her alone in this place? Of course, if he cleared the dungeon, there was a good chance she’d disappear, just like the orphanage. Lately, he’d been working on the idea of removing the dungeon heart, which he suspected was the bookstore’s cash register, and taking it with him. But he couldn’t risk it. The moment he stepped out with it, the dungeon would register as cleared, and Zoe might vanish.
What really kept him awake, though, was something worse: what if he left for, say, a week… and someone else showed up? Someone who came looking to level up, found the bookstore, and cleared it in the process? Would he ever forgive himself?
He didn’t think so.
June let out a deep sigh. It really was a heavy conundrum. Maybe he would’ve been better off never meeting her. Maybe if she’d shown him even a little hostility, like the other entities, or like May, then he’d have at least a reason, something to harden his heart. Something to help him justify leaving. But she hadn’t.
Instead, she was like a caring big sister. The kind he never had.
And now, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. Not when he knew how it would feel to lose his only family, again.
Sigh…
He popped another roasted cockroach in his mouth, enjoying its crunchy texture. Looking over his bag, he calculated that the mushrooms and few roots he had gathered could easily last him three or four days.
His eyes returned to the horizon, squinting against the light.
We’re worse than cockroaches, he thought. At least they survive. So where the hell did everyone else go?
…
The thought hadn’t even fully settled before he heard a whisper of sound carried on the wind. It sounded like the low, mechanical thrum of an engine, something wholly foreign in the dead quiet of this forgotten world. His breath caught…. A thin streak of smoke sliced across the pale sky, trailing something small and fast, descending in slow spirals toward the city.
Someone… from out there? A human? A Person?
June’s heart kicked up, thudding hard and fast in his chest.
Just moments ago, he’d been questioning the fate of humanity, and now, suddenly, someone had dropped out of the sky. He hastily stood upright on the tree branch, straining his eyes in the direction of the town. He’d come a long way from the bookstore. Hours on foot, even at full sprint. And if someone else had come here, if they got to town, saw the dungeon, saw Zoe, about what this could mean.
He immediately turned to climb down, the bark scraping his palms as he scrambled.
As the craft drew closer to the ground, he finally got a better look. It was… strange, a Frankenstein machine that looked like someone had strapped a massive fan to the back of a car seat with a strange mess of machinery bolted behind it. He could vaguely see an operator sitting on the seat, wearing goggles and manipulating a joystick for control. The contraption seemed to defy every law of aerodynamics June had read about in the past two years. The flying itself seemed like a miracle, and the man was operating without any safety measures whatsoever. No apparent protection, no cockpit. Just him and the open sky.
After twenty minutes of intense climbing, June's feet finally landed on the wet ground.He didn’t waste a second. He bolted through the forest, jumping over fallen trees, swinging from branches, and ducking under obstacles.
More than the joy of finally being able to see another person, he was increasingly worried that the stranger might find the only live dungeon in town and mistook Zoe for a threat, for a chance at XP, at loot… leveling up.
June gritted his teeth as the thought alone pushed him harder. His boots pounded the soft ground, lungs burning, but his thoughts stayed razor-focused.
And through it all, his layered mind began to ponder his theory of disassembling hostile entities and repurposing them into new inventions. The flying copter seat seemed to confirm some of his ideas.
It has to be. That seat… that contraption… it proved it. If hostile entities can be disassembled and repurposed…
It took him more than an hour and a half to return and as he reached the parking lot. He was glad to see the flying contraption hadn’t departed.
But then to his alarm, the strange chopper had landed precisely in front of the bookstore, causing his heart to nearly leap into his throat. Despite struggling to catch his breath, June rushed forward, finally getting a proper look at the bizarre machine. It was roughly half the size of a car, with exposed gears and what most likely appeared to be repurposed hostile entity parts welded into its framework.
He burst through the front doors, bracing for disaster, only to find a man in his late thirties. His thick brown coat looked custom-made for harsh weather, padded and built for survival. A small tin plate sat in front of him with roasted cockroaches, clearly offered as snacks, but left untouched.
June’s nerves slowly began to settle as he took in the scene: no weapons drawn, no flames, no hostile tension, just a quiet, civil conversation between the man and Zoe, though he couldn’t tell what they were talking about. The atmosphere was eerily normal.
Zoe smiled brightly when she saw him and walked over with her usual lightness, her tone casual, “June, meet Mr. Aero. He comes from sector 3.”
June stepped closer, his gaze lingering on the man’s face as he studied him, before nodding politely and introducing himself with a measured voice, “I’m June. And, as far as I know, the only human still left in this town.”
Aero returned the nod, reaching into his coat pocket to retrieve a folded letter, which he placed gently on the table and slid across to him. “I originally came to deliver the mandate to any dungeons still functioning in these old, forgotten sectors,” he said, his tone calm and efficient. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be left behind in a place like this, but the echo here told me there was still one person alive.”
June accepted the letter, unfolding it with care and reading slowly, line by line:
TERRITORIAL EXPANSION MANDATE ZONE ADMINISTRATIVE COUNCIL - ZONE 1 DOCUMENT ID: Z35-TE-04492
TO ALL INHABITANTS AND DUNGEON/ENTITIES WITHIN DESIGNATED AREA DS-11276 (FORMERLY KNOWN AS PERRY TOWNSHIP AND SURROUNDING TERRITORIES):
This document serves as OFFICIAL NOTICE that following Resolution 772 of the Zonal Administrative Council, the territorial dispute between Zone 1 (Liberty Union) and Zone 2(Northern Hold) regarding the unclaimed "Dead Sector" designated DS-11276 on the border, has been officially resolved through mutual agreement.
Effective immediately, all territories, settlements, dungeons, and resources within the boundaries of DS-11276 are hereby incorporated into Zone 1's administrative jurisdiction. All sentient entities (human, echo, or otherwise) are granted a transition period of one eighty(180) days to:
- Register at your nearest Zone 1 Administrative Office or wait for the Roll Officier
- Apply for residency permits
- Report all dungeon defeat for ranking evaluation
- Report all functional technology for resource assessment
Entities failing to comply with registration procedures will be considered hostile and dealt with accordingly.
AUTHORIZED BY COUNCILOR VERITAN ZONE 1 ADMINISTRATIVE COUNCIL DATE: 7304 DAYS POST-COLLAPSE
June quietly finished reading the letter and myriad thoughts swirled in his head. The context was understandable, but a dozen new questions had formed in the space of a breath.
“Were you perhaps born after the collapse?” Aero asked.