Absolute instinct

It's been a while and ten days that passed were filled with tireless work. Under the structure of the Strategy Team, all the groups functioned in unison, each refining their roles and pushing the boundaries of their potential. The team wasn't just surviving; they were evolving.

The Crafting and Building subgroup, a crucial part of the strategy team, had been hard at work. They weren't just repairing or maintaining what they had; they were creating new, more advanced weapons, tools, and improved versions of their gear. Each day brought new innovations—a sharper blade, more durable armor, and more efficient mechanisms. The work wasn't easy, but with the limited resources they had, the crafting team was able to turn scraps into useful, life-saving devices.

In parallel, the Strategist subgroup focused on mapping the new world around them. Each map was a work in progress, with notations on areas that had changed drastically due to evolution, regions where mutated animals roamed freely, and safe havens that might still be untouched by the chaos. Every morning, new coordinates were marked, and plans were drawn up for scouting missions and supply runs. The strategist team's minds were working overtime, piecing together the puzzle of this new, dangerous world.

Meanwhile, the Healing Group focused on maintaining the health of the team. With the growing risk of injuries from the increasingly dangerous mutated beasts, the healers were constantly refining their skills. Their work was indispensable, ensuring the survival of every member of the group. Herbal remedies, makeshift bandages, and quick treatment techniques were becoming more advanced as they pooled their knowledge together, preparing for whatever lay ahead.

But for Darian, it wasn't just about maintaining the status quo. He had always known that survival wasn't enough. They couldn't stay in one place forever—they needed to find others, other survivors who might have the same abilities, the same will to survive. The thought that there could be more like them out there, waiting for a chance to rebuild, filled him with resolve.

"We cannot remain stagnant," Darian had told the team two days ago, his voice cutting through the usual bustle of work. "We need to find others, if they exist. We need to see how the world is functioning. If there are survivors out there with the same abilities, we need to communicate with them. This isn't just about us—it's about humanity's future."

His words had struck a chord with everyone. They immediately began preparing for the next phase. The Crafting Team focused on constructing communication devices, tools that could possibly bridge the silence of the outside world. The Strategists began charting new paths, identifying key areas where they might find resources or other survivors. And every group, from the healers to the scouts, worked in tandem to ensure they were ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.

---

Two days later, after the team's focus on survival and constant progress, BheemZog and Rathar, the key members of the Crafting and Building subgroup, came rushing toward Darian. BheemZog's eyes were wide with excitement, and Rathar, always a man of few words, was carrying a heavy, makeshift communication device.

"We've done it!" BheemZog called out, his voice brimming with both excitement and urgency. "It's not perfect, but it's working!"

Darian's heart skipped a beat as he turned toward them. The device was far from elegant—clunky, with exposed wires and several makeshift panels—but it was functional. A result of their combined efforts.

"Let me see it," Darian commanded, his voice steady but filled with anticipation.

BheemZog hurried over, adjusting a few dials on the device. "It's picking up something," he said. "It's not a clean signal, but it's definitely not random noise either. It's like… a broadcast."

Darian leaned in closer, studying the device intently. The signal was weak, the frequencies jumping erratically, but there was a pattern in the static—a pulse, a rhythm. It wasn't just interference.

"A broadcast?" Darian repeated, his voice a low murmur. "From who?"

BheemZog adjusted the dial again. "We don't know yet. But the fact that it's a broadcast means there's someone—or something—out there. It's a sign."

Rathar, always the one who spoke less but whose actions spoke volumes, added, "There are others out there. We just need to reach them."

Darian took a step back, letting the gravity of the situation settle in. This was the breakthrough they needed. The first tangible proof that humanity wasn't entirely lost.

"That's good news," Darian said, his voice firm, "but this device is still a prototype. It won't get us far. We need more resources to refine it. We need to make sure it can withstand whatever we're about to face."

BheemZog nodded vigorously, "We need specific parts—rare components that aren't easy to find. But if we can gather what we need, we can upgrade this device. Make it more stable."

Darian's mind raced with possibilities. "We'll gather what we need. But time is of the essence. We need to be ready to move when the time comes."

He turned to the strategist team, already making mental plans. "We will find those resources. No matter what it takes. And if there are survivors out there, we'll reach them. It's time to see what this world has become."

With that, the camp sprang into action. The crafting group began scavenging for parts, and the strategist group began formulating plans to locate the most likely areas where they might find what they needed. The Healing Group and other teams continued to keep the group strong, ensuring that everyone was prepared for the next phase.

As Darian stood there, listening to the static from the device, a sense of cautious optimism took root. It wasn't much, but it was enough. A whisper of hope in a world that had fallen silent.