Apocalyptic: My Killing System Is Too Overpowered!

Elias Carter stood frozen, his breath shallow. The radio crackled with static, its broken message barely pushing through.

"You're… not alone… get out… now."

His fingers twitched as he reached for the volume knob, cranking it up. The static swelled, drowning out the last remnants of the voice. Then—silence. The transmission was gone.

Elias swallowed hard. His isolation had been absolute. Until now. Someone else was out there. But who? And why warn him to leave?

A cold weight settled in his gut. He grabbed a flashlight, a few bottles of water, and a sidearm from an officer's locker. The gun felt foreign in his grip—heavy, dangerous. He wasn't a fighter. But he also wasn't about to be defenseless.

The city stretched before him, empty and still. The wind whispered through abandoned streets, rustling old newspapers and swaying forgotten street signs. Somewhere in the distance, a loose metal shutter banged against a wall.

He exhaled, steadying himself. There was a radio tower a few miles away. If the signal had come from there, he might find someone. Or at least answers.

With every step, unease gnawed at him. Shadows stretched long across the pavement. Parked cars stood eerily silent, their dark windows hiding whatever lay inside. He kept his grip firm on the gun, scanning each alley, each doorway.

Nothing moved.

The world felt frozen.

He passed a gas station—deserted. The pumps stood idle, digital screens still flashing half-completed transactions. A diner sat across the street, its door ajar. Elias peered inside.

Plates of half-eaten food rested on tables. Coffee cups remained filled to the brim, steam long gone. It was as if the people had vanished mid-bite.

His pulse quickened.

He turned away, forcing himself forward. Don't think. Just move.

The radio tower loomed ahead, silhouetted against the dusky sky. It stood like a silent sentinel, watching.

At the base, the control station door hung open, swaying with the breeze.

Elias hesitated. Then, gripping his flashlight, he stepped inside.

The air was thick—dust, rust, and old electronics. Monitors lined the walls, their screens flickering weakly. A single microphone rested on a desk, connected to a console. Papers were strewn across the surface, filled with frantic scribbles.

One phrase was circled over and over in red ink:

"Don't let them hear you."

His throat tightened. Who had written this? And who were they?

Elias rifled through the papers. Maps with areas crossed out. Strange symbols. Frequency codes. One note, written in shaky handwriting, sent a chill down his spine:

"If you hear them, they've already found you."

A soft thud echoed behind him.

Elias spun, gun raised.

The door had slammed shut.

His breath hitched. The room felt smaller, the air heavier. Somewhere beyond the door, a faint sound scratched against the silence.

A whisper.

Low. Indistinct.

His fingers tightened around the gun. The whispering grew, layering over itself—more voices, too many voices. The sound slithered into his ears, rising like a tide.

Elias flicked off his flashlight, crouching behind the desk. He had to stay unseen. Unheard.

The whispers stopped.

Then—

A slow, deliberate knock on the door.

Elias's pulse roared in his ears. He raised the gun, his hands trembling. Another knock. The doorknob turned.

He fired.

The shot exploded through the room, the muzzle flash illuminating the darkness for a split second. The door flung open—

Nothing was there.

The hallway stood empty.

His breath came in short gasps. He had hit something. He knew he had.

Then—

The radio crackled back to life.

Static buzzed, then shifted—morphing, twisting into something else. A voice. No, many voices.

They spoke as one.

"You heard us."

The radio cut to silence.

The air turned suffocating. Elias stumbled backward, his chest tightening. He bolted out of the control station, sprinting down the road, past the empty streets, past the forgotten city.

He wasn't just running toward answers.

He was running from something that had finally noticed him.