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A Flicker in the Ashes
The cold night wind crept through the cracks of old bones, carrying with it the scent of scorched earth and the dust of a fallen world.
Beyond a hill of ruins once called a city, a small fire flickered—its dim light reflecting on tired faces that, despite everything, refused to surrender.
Six figures sat in a circle, cloaked in robes stitched from scraps and survival. They were not generals. Not scholars. Just people—ordinary, broken souls who had chosen not to give up.
Ryon Azamura stared into the fire in silence. Flames danced in his eyes, yet his mind was chained to echoes of the past. Beside him, Raynard Grod finally spoke, his voice calm, but smoldering.
> "They call themselves gods," Raynard muttered.
"But all they've done is steal what's left of this world… like hunters playing with dying prey."
A woman with messy, tied-back hair raised her hand. Her face was streaked with dust and fatigue, but her eyes still burned with life.
> "So… what's the plan?" she asked.
"Keep hiding until they get bored of hunting us?"
Raynard looked straight at her.
> "No. We're not just going to survive.
We're going to rebuild—a new civilization."
Ryon slowly turned his head. It was the first time he'd heard those words from Raynard's mouth—not a reaction to despair, but a vision of something more.
Raynard stood, letting the firelight touch every face around the circle.
> "We're not heroes. But we're still alive. And that's enough.
From tonight onward, this group has a name.
Six Saviors in Robes."
The night wind swept past, tugging at their robes. No oath was spoken. No chant. But loyalty took root in the silence.
Raynard spread a weathered map on the ground, pointing to a location in the north.
> "We move north. To the old farming zones and protected forestlands.
If we can build a permanent base there, we'll last longer.
Grow food. Purify water. Send radio signals. Attract more survivors."
A tall, gaunt man with sharp eyes nodded. His name was Darrien.
> "There's an old radio at the rescue outpost. I can get it working again.
But we'll need fuel and solar panels."
Sava—her face scarred, her gaze as sharp as broken glass—joined in.
> "I can sneak into the military depot.
Back then… I was a professional thief."
Raynard nodded once.
> "Starting tonight, we all have roles.
We build a system. Not just instinct."
Then his eyes turned to Ryon.
> "You'll lead Division Two—Expedition and Protection.
Your mission is to find survivors and defend our territory."
Ryon nearly refused. But something stirred within him—a sense of loss, or perhaps the desire to redeem it. He nodded.
> "I accept.
But we make sure no one dies in vain again."
One by one, they raised their hands above the fire.
Six hands.
Six souls.
One resolve.
> "For a future… we won't let be destroyed again."
---
the 21 first day
They moved quickly.
Ryon led two expeditions east—into what remained of Jakarta Timur and Bekasi. Cities in name only. Crumbled stone and skeleton towers whispered stories of pain.
And yet, amidst the ruins, they found traces of light.
Children hiding in basements.
Two elderly women surviving in an abandoned supermarket.
Even an old dog they named Kyro.
Each survivor was brought back to their new sanctuary in the northern forest.
There, Vira and Darrien worked nonstop—building shelters, reviving the radio, and establishing a basic barter system.
Raynard was more than a leader.
He was the architect of a new order.
> No theft.
No internal violence.
Any violators would be exiled.
And Ryon…
He changed.
Though only eighteen, he no longer looked like a high school student. His gaze now carried the weight of responsibility—and grief.
To many survivors, he became a figure of hope.
One night, Ryon sat by the river with Raynard. The stream was calm, the sky above filled with stars… and fractures of strange light—like wounds torn across the heavens.
> "I still remember my mother's face… when that plane took off," Ryon whispered.
Raynard said nothing.
> "I thought… if I saved enough people, maybe I could… make up for it."
Raynard's reply came softly.
> "Nothing redeems the death of a loved one, Ryon.
But we can create a world… where deaths like that won't happen again."
Ryon nodded.
It wasn't a promise.
But it was… a purpose.
---
Day 21.
Survivors: 37.
Their camp had evolved.
Tents had turned into semi-permanent shelters.
The fire pit became a communal kitchen.
Children began to laugh again.
But peace… was a luxury never meant to last.
At midnight, the soft but urgent wail of Darrien's radio woke the core members.
> "Another signal," said Darrien.
"Close. But… it's not human."
Ryon's hand gripped his weapon.
> "Is it… those creatures again?"
Darrien gave a grim nod.
> "Worse.
This signal… it feels like a message. A call.
Someone—or something—is watching us."
Raynard stood. His expression hardened.
> "They know we're here.
The demons… stronger than any monsters.
They're coming."
Silence followed.
No one spoke.
But in their hearts, one truth had sunk in.
This battle… had only just begun.
And they—the Six Saviors in Robes—had to become more than symbols.
They were humanity's final bastion.
In a world reshaped by the magical radiation from the falling meteor… humans were no longer the same species they once were.
For the first time in known history—
> They began to feel something that once belonged to legends.
Magic.