"Just debris falling," Professor Mills said after several tense seconds of silence. "The building took structural damage during the initial chaos."

  The collective exhale was almost audible as shoulders lowered and white-knuckled grips relaxed. But the momentary reprieve did little to dispel the Archivist's unsettling revelation. A selective apocalypse. A cosmic test. The implications spiraled through my mind like the equations I'd manipulated earlier.

  "If this is a test," Aurora said, breaking the silence, "then we need to prepare. We can't just sit here theorizing about the System's intentions."

  Mills nodded in agreement. "We should organize ourselves. Take inventory of our resources, establish watch rotations, and share knowledge about our classes and abilities."

  The survivors gathered in a loose circle in the center of the lecture hall, away from the windows and doors. The makeshift command post consisted of a professor's desk illuminated by emergency lights and personal devices. Maps of the building and surrounding area were pulled up on laptops running on precious battery power.

  "Fifteen of us total," Mills announced, surveying the group. "Ranging from one-star to five-star classes." She nodded toward me at the last part, and I felt the weight of several gazes shift in my direction.

  Aurora stepped forward, naturally assuming a leadership role that no one challenged. "We need to assess everyone's abilities and organize accordingly. Combat-capable classes should handle perimeter security. Support classes should focus on resource management and planning. Knowledge classes should analyze the System further."

  The young Engineer with the makeshift sling raised her hand. "I can strengthen the barricades with my skills. My class lets me infuse structures with lunar energy to increase durability."

  "Perfect," Aurora nodded. "Work with the Barrier Technician on that."

  A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair cleared his throat. "I'm a three-star Lunar Cartographer. I can create maps of lunar energy distribution in the area. Might help us identify safe routes or danger zones."

  One by one, survivors introduced themselves and their abilities. The scout could move undetected through lunar-infested areas. The Messenger could communicate telepathically over short distances. Each revelation painted a clearer picture of our group's capabilities—a diverse array of skills united by the System's inscrutable selection criteria.

  As night fell, the room transformed with quiet efficiency. Desks were rearranged to create sleeping areas, classroom materials repurposed as bedding. The Engineer and Barrier Technician had reinforced entry points with a shimmering lattice of lunar energy that would alert us to intrusions. The Lunar Scout established vantage points at strategic windows, monitoring the campus grounds below where silver-eyed figures still roamed in unsettling patterns.

  I sat cross-legged near one of the emergency lights, studying my stat screen while occasionally glancing at the reinforced door. The five points I'd earned from leveling up remained unallocated, a small but significant reservoir of potential improvement.

  "Still deciding where to put those?" Aurora asked, settling beside me with two packets of vending machine crackers scavenged from someone's backpack.

  I accepted the meager meal gratefully. "It feels more important now—life or death, literally."

  She nodded, her profile sharp in the blue glow of her own stat screen. "Intelligence and Cosmic Insight seem most valuable for your class. But don't neglect Constitution. Being able to rewrite reality doesn't help if you get torn apart before finishing the equation."

  "Solid advice," I said, distributing my points: two to Intelligence, two to Cosmic Insight, one to Constitution. The numbers climbed, and with them, a subtle shift in my perception—the lunar code surrounding us became marginally clearer, the equations more readable.

  Around us, others were engaged in similar activities—adjusting stats, practicing minor skills, comparing notes on the System's mechanics. The Archivist had become a focal point for questions, his one-star class surprisingly valuable for its analytical capabilities.

  Mills called for everyone's attention. "We need to establish watch rotations for the night. Four shifts, two hours each, minimum of three people per shift."

  The assignments were distributed efficiently, with combat classes spread evenly across all shifts. Aurora and I were placed on separate rotations to ensure at least one high-star class was always on duty. I drew the third shift, from 2 AM to 4 AM.

  As people settled into their makeshift beds, quiet conversations continued, fragments of normalcy in this shattered world. Two students exchanged family photos on their phones. The Security Officer taught basic self-defense moves to a nervous-looking Messenger. The Engineer tinkered with a device she claimed could detect lunar energy fluctuations.

  "Try to get some sleep," Aurora advised before heading to her position for the first watch. "Tomorrow will be harder."

  I nodded, though sleep seemed impossible with my mind racing through the day's events. Still, I lay back on my improvised bed—a desk surface padded with someone's spare sweater—and closed my eyes.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  To my surprise, exhaustion claimed me almost immediately.

  Dreams came in fragmented bursts of silver and blue— my mother's face transforming into something inhuman, my father being ripped apart by the lunar zombies. I jolted awake several times, disoriented until reality reasserted itself: the lecture hall, the survivors, the apocalypse.

  Mills shook me awake for my shift. "All quiet so far," she whispered. "The usual zombie activity outside, but nothing's approached the building."

  I took my position near the east window, joining the Barrier Technician and a quiet girl with a one-star Healer class. The campus below was bathed in moonlight—ironically beautiful despite the silver-eyed figures that wandered between buildings.

  "It's strange," the Barrier Technician murmured, a middle-aged woman who'd introduced herself as Dr. Patel from the chemistry department. "They almost seem to be... patrolling."

  She was right. The zombies weren't moving randomly or milling about aimlessly. They followed distinct paths, occasionally stopping at intersections as if checking for something before continuing on. The behavior was unsettlingly deliberate.

  "The System is controlling them," I said softly. "They're not just mindless monsters. They're extensions of whatever intelligence created all this."

  My watch passed uneventfully but tense, each sound from beyond our barricade triggering momentary alerts until identified as harmless. I used the quiet hours to practice visualizing the lunar code around me without fully invoking my quill—a kind of mental exercise that seemed to strengthen my ability to perceive the underlying equations.

  By dawn, everyone was awake, the pretense of normal sleep patterns abandoned in the face of survival demands. The Engineer's device had been completed overnight—a crude contraption of repurposed electronics that emitted soft pulses in response to lunar energy concentrations.

  "It's not perfect," she explained, adjusting a wire. "But it should give us some warning if a large cluster of those things approaches."

  Mills organized a small team to scout the building's lower floors for supplies. "We need water, food, medical supplies, anything useful. No unnecessary risks."

  Aurora volunteered immediately, as did the Scout and a surprisingly formidable-looking professor from the Athletics department with a two-star Strength Enhancement class.

  "I should go too," I said, rising from my makeshift bed. "My gravity manipulation could be useful if we encounter resistance."

  Mills considered this briefly before nodding. "Stay together. Return immediately if you encounter anything beyond basic zombies."

  We armed ourselves with improvised weapons—except for Aurora, whose silver sword materialized at will—and prepared to descend. The Scout went first, his abilities allowing him to move almost invisibly through lunar-infused areas.

  "He'll signal if the path is clear," Aurora explained as we waited by the stairwell door. "Three taps means proceed, two means wait, one means retreat."

  Three soft taps echoed from the other side of the door.

  We moved cautiously down the stairs, Aurora leading with her sword at the ready, the Athletics professor behind her, and me taking up the rear position. My quill remained unmaterialized but ready to be called forth at the first sign of danger.

  The building felt different in the morning light—shadows retreating, revealing the true extent of the destruction. Walls were stained with dark splashes of dried blood, floors littered with abandoned belongings, occasional remains too mangled to identify. We moved silently past classrooms that had become abattoirs, averting our eyes from the worst scenes.

  The cafeteria yielded unexpected bounty—vending machines full of snacks, a walk-in refrigerator still cold enough to preserve its contents, bottled water and energy drinks stockpiled for the week ahead. The Scout found the manager's office with a first-aid kit and a ring of master keys that would give us access to locked areas throughout the building.

  "More than I expected," Aurora whispered as we filled our improvised sacks with supplies. "Enough to keep everyone fed for a few days at least."

  The Athletics professor—who'd introduced himself as Coach Hayes—grunted in agreement. "The faculty lounge on the second floor should have more. Coffee, snacks, maybe some basic medical supplies."

  We were making our final sweep when the Scout returned from his forward position, face pale beneath his dark complexion. "Something's wrong," he whispered urgently. "The zombies outside—they're converging on the building."

  Aurora's sword hummed softly, responding to her tension. "How many?"

  "Dozens. Moving in formation." The Scout's voice dropped even lower. "And there's something else. Something bigger, leading them."

  Coach Hayes gripped his makeshift weapon—a table leg wrapped in barbed wire scavenged from a maintenance closet. "We should return to the others. Now."

  We abandoned the remainder of our scavenging, securing what we'd already collected and moving swiftly back toward the stairs. The Scout took point again, disappearing ahead to ensure our path remained clear.

  Three floors up, we rejoined the main group, distributing our findings and reporting what the Scout had observed. The news cast a pall over the momentary celebration of fresh supplies.

  "We should prepare for an attack," Mills stated, immediately shifting to defensive planning. "Barrier Technician, reinforce the entry points. Engineer, see if your device can give us any information about what's approaching."

  The morning light streamed through the windows, casting long shadows across the lecture hall as everyone moved with renewed urgency. The Barrier Technician's hands glowed with pale blue energy as she strengthened the lunar lattice across doors and windows. The Engineer hunched over her device, making frantic adjustments as it began emitting increasingly urgent pulses.

  "Something's definitely coming," she confirmed, her face tense with concentration. "The lunar energy signature is different from what we've seen before. More concentrated. More... organized."

  Daniel, the Archivist, was frantically swiping through transparent screens visible only to him, his eyes widening with each new insight. "The System appears to be escalating," he said, voice tight with stress. "This is consistent with game mechanics—introducing stronger enemies as players advance."

  "We're not players," someone protested. "This isn't a game!"

  "To us, no," Daniel replied grimly. "But to whatever created the System, the distinction may be meaningless."

  Aurora appeared at my side, her face set in determined lines. "How's your energy level? Ready to use that quill if needed?"

  I nodded, though uncertainty gnawed at me. I'd only successfully used my ability once, and the strain had been considerable. Against a coordinated attack by something stronger than the standard zombies, would it be enough?

  "Get everyone back from the doors," Aurora whispered, her sword materializing in her hand. "Nate, can you sense anything?"

  I concentrated, trying to extend my perception through the lunar energy that now permeated everything. I couldn't map the building like I'd suggested earlier—that skill was beyond my current capabilities—but my enhanced Intelligence and Cosmic Insight let me detect disturbances in the energy flow.

  "Something's coming up the stairs," I said, my voice low. "The lunar energy pattern is different. More... structured. Complex."

  Suddenly, a new window opened up in front of everyone.

  New Quest!