The cult members were walking up an abandoned street, surrounded by the remnants of a rural area that now mostly held abandoned factories and roads leading to nowhere special, with occasional stretches of woods and forest.
They were on their way to a small settlement, an old elementary school taken over by about 30-40 people, including children and the elderly. This small but up-and-coming community had so far been welcoming to newcomers, mainly refugees from a few miles east where the cataclysm had hit hard.
The cult, which called itself The Chosen, believed early on that its leader David was chosen to receive a "good book." David, however, did not reveal the contents of his book unless it was something devoid of context. All they knew was that it chose him, granting power and sometimes foreknowledge.
A mission, for example, often served as a prediction of the future. Something like, “you are going to come across a horde of monsters. Kill them…” David strategically shared these passages with his early followers, making it easy for the weak-willed or those in need of a strong leader to believe that he was chosen.
One of the main practices of the cult was to kidnap people on foraging missions from settlements or even those wandering alone. They also liked to send groups like the one of the road now to a place that couldn't defend itself.
Sometimes they would convince people to leave and come with them, especially if that particular place was struggling to sustain its people. Other times, they would take women or children to have them serve as “the family of the chosen disciples.” Supposedly an honor, as only the original members could be disciples. Regardless of what they called it these people were forced into marriages or families in everything but name only.
Those were the type of people walking up the street, flanked by pretty thick woods on two sides. There was one disciple, and since David found his HQ, he had a chest with some skill books. Each disciple member was given a skill book. The one coming here today was a pretty good swordsman with his tier 2 skill.
There were about five other decent fighters, each armed with well-made weapons. The rest comprised a mixed group of regular guys with bats, clubs, and even a tire iron. They also had two “trainees,” essentially indentured servants, forced to join but now staying willingly. They performed menial tasks, and currently, they pulled a cart and carried bags to hold the supplies they would steal.
The couple of minutes that passed until they came into view were a strange period for Clyde. He had seen Travis be mostly decisive but definitely cerebral in his decisions and actions. Now, though, he looked like a man possessed. The only thing he told Clyde was to stand next to him looking meek, not appearing threatening in any way.
It took Clyde most of the few minutes to realize why, but once he did, it was obvious: Travis wanted these men to attack them. The more Clyde watched his leader, the more he saw that Travis desperately wanted it.
Fortunately, Clyde was a perceptive guy, he knew and trusted Travis. Most people, like Gary, for example, would have assumed that Travis had snapped and was suddenly bloodthirsty. Clyde figured differently, though.
He knew that Travis had been developing a very strong sense of perception, so strong, in fact, that he could tell people were coming before they became known by either sight or sound. Clyde also paid attention to the words that were said: “They have ill intent” and “we can beat them.” Obviously, Travis was getting a vibe on the type of people these were, and Clyde was going to trust that until shown otherwise.
The men came into view now, Clyde just stood there as he was. He had grown and wasn't ‘meek’ per se, but he also wasn't intimidating. Travis, on the other hand, had his hands grasped behind his back with his sword sheathed and his gun holstered.
The men saw them standing in the middle of the road and for a few seconds seemed to hesitate. The leader of them wasn't a complete idiot, and sent two of the ‘slaves’ to check the surrounding trees on either side for hidden enemies. It's important to remember that these men had no reason to think anyone considered them hostile.
Obviously, a group of 15 men with weapons in this new world would never not be a threat, but the leader decided to play it like they were just passing through. He was playing for time until his men came back with news. Travis could read it as clearly as you or I read a book.
“Why hello there. What brings you gentlemen to the middle of an abandoned street?”
Clyde was worried that Travis wouldn't say anything, but after just a small uncomfortable pause, he answered, “we are looking to clean up any trash that comes down this road.”
It was so deadpan that the man wasn't positive it was meant towards him.
“Is that so, quite an odd job for just two men, no?”
“Not at all. It's quite easy to sweep garbage off the road, no matter how much of it there is in relation to us.”
He couldn't miss the meaning in that. At the same time, his two messenger boys came back to tell him they didn't see anyone else. Travis was aware the entire time that they weren't close to Omar's hiding spot. He also could tell that the boy stayed calm even with hostiles out on search in his general vicinity.
“Is that a fact, friend?”
“It is, and I ain't your friend, chief.”
This was so surreal to Clyde. Travis seemed to have been taken over by someone else; it was a wild sight to see. What Clyde couldn't have known, and what Travis wasn't even quite aware of at this point, was how for the first time, the main character was fully embracing all the power he had received.
It's like the scene from a movie when a reluctant hero punches a bad guy not thinking much of it but shatters the guy's face. This state had been unlocked by just one conversation with Sophie. There was so much bottled-up tension that held him back from embracing his powers. It was a credit to Travis that he still achieved as much as he did to start the game.
But now the chains were off; he felt every inch of his 8 levels and double-digit attributes. Combine his unique perception power, and you had a force unleashed.
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“Okay, enough games,” the leader said with a sneer. “Normally I would give you a choice to become a follower of David or not, and not is bad for your health. But our chosen makes no place for headstrong blowhards such as yourselves.”
“Come to think of it, you seem like you'd be a good trainee of the chosen,” the man said as he pointed to Clyde. “How about you come over here, so you don't have to die for your friend's arrogance.”
Travis didn't think for a minute that Clyde would turncoat; that said, he felt the derision in Clyde's aura. The very offer made him feel a level of disdain above what he already felt for this man.
In his most affronted voice, Clyde said, “how about you go fuck yourself.”
That was it right there, the fate of the cult members was sealed. Men like the leader of this ragtag group cannot ever let an insult like that go unpunished. The only thing the man forgot to think about is who would be getting the punishment.
It's not that these men had much of a chance; regardless, though, any shot they did have started to whittle away as their leader pointed at just five of his number, “kill them.”
These were five lower-level members who really wanted to make a name for themselves. One of them carried a spiked club; it still had remnants of someone's head on it. The inside of some poor sap's head, to be precise. The other four used a variety of crude weapons.
As the five started to walk up, one of the members closest to the leader leaned in, “that guy does not look scared in the slightest. Maybe because he has a bag like our chosen.”
The group leader looked at him with a smug expression, “why do you think I sent those five in first. Then we will know what we are dealing with.”
Travis watched as the men came towards him. They all wore tattered clothes and didn't appear to have cleaned themselves in some time. He could tell that these men were desperate, at the bottom of the barrel in whatever gang or cult they found themselves; killing Travis and Clyde right here would boost them up the ranks.
In another time, Travis might have felt pity for these men. He also knew he could take out his gun and, with his improved reflexes and perception, kill each and every one of them with one shot each. Actually, it could be a fun exercise. Nah, he thought, these men live by the sword and are going to die by the sword.
About 25 feet away now, Travis made his move. His first step put him near his max speed; he took five more full-length strides, which happened so fast it was literally a blur. He cut the distance to a few feet and pulled his sword. "This is where the fun begins," Travis thought.
The men were spread across the street, and he was on the first before the others even raised their weapons. Travis came in towards the two in the middle who were almost the same height; he also noticed the faces change from nervous confidence to outright terror. This was happening almost instantly, but Travis' brain could now process information at a tremendously fast rate.
He came in with his sword, and from left to right, cut across the throat of one man, then faster than the guy next to him could even move, cut his throat on the same plane as the other. They both held their hands to their neck trying unsuccessfully to stop the bleeding.
Finally, the strongest of the bunch lifted his weapon. Things happened too fast, and he was too dumb to be really scared. Travis moved in between the two he had just sliced and came around from the back. He turned in a sweeping motion and swiped at the knee of the one standing next over, attempting to cut his leg off. The only time Travis would feel frustration in this fight was when the sword failed to cut through the knee bone. As things continued around him, Travis thought about how he needed to upgrade his sword.
He could feel the man with the club coming at him but was in no real danger. As the spiked club flew through the air towards Travis's head, he ducked to the side. His skill book-learned sword talent kicked in as he straightened his arm in a way that would make a samurai happy. With a simple pressing forward of his elbows, the sword stabbed into that target's side under the armpit.
The last two had thought about running but still held reverence for their current group leader; instead, they went for Clyde, hoping for easier prey. Travis called out, asking if he was good, and Clyde gave an affirmative.
The leader of this group of bullies and punks felt uncertainty for the first time since joining the cult. It only lasted a short time; success had been his so often that he quickly decided he could talk his way out of this.
"So, you are chosen, just under our great leader most likely. You fight very well, and we have no qualms with you. Come to ou—” His words were cut off as a bullet went through his forehead.
The rest of the group looked at Travis in abject terror. Guns did not work; how the hell does this guy, who looks like a sword master to these morons, also have a working firearm?
Travis gazed at them with disdain, “If you run, I will gun each and every one of you down. Those that wish to continue fighting hand to hand, come at me. For everyone else, sit on the ground and wait to be judged.”
The former Army Major, who would have been described as pretty vanilla, was now talking like a bad action movie anti-hero. For someone who hadn't seen many movies, it was quite impressive.
Across the way, the remaining men steeled themselves for action, but not before Travis felt trouble behind him. Clyde was fighting the two poorly trained cult members off, even getting a deep cut on one of them, but he slipped on a wet part of the pavement. As he was falling backward, one of his attackers started to take advantage of it.
This was happening behind Travis; he had his eyes focused on the group in front. Without even recognizing the instinct to act, he spun around. The power flowing through him dictated a blind fire into the man starting to bash Clyde in the head with a bat. Yet Travis didn't fully trust that instinct, not enough to risk potentially shooting Clyde.
From the perspective of the other men, it still appeared superhuman what happened next. As Travis was halfway through his spin, he caught the scene out of the corner of his eye. That, combined with his perception, gave him all the information he needed.
Before even finishing the spin, he fired off four rounds. Two hit the assailant above Clyde, one in each shoulder blade as his momentum carried him from right to left. The other two bullets hit the second attacker in the back of his head. This was another moment when he didn't fully trust his seemingly newfound instincts. One shot would have been enough, but he pulled the trigger twice to be sure.
The group behind him, besides three of them, were shitting in their pants. The three ‘brave’ members had coveted the leader's position and saw this as an opportunity. They wanted to charge forward but were nervous about getting shot. They were shocked when the man with the gun threw it off the side of the road and turned around, staring at them.
Pierre had been relegated to a third-tier member. He had vied for becoming a leader of the recruitment groups but lost out to this yahoo, the same yahoo lying dead on the ground. In order to even join the group, Pierre had to leave his sister and her disabled husband behind. With that sacrifice, this was now his entire existence for better or worse.
Someone would have had to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to realize that the man they encountered was a killing machine, but he was still a man. If he could get a few of these idiots to join in a charge, they could cut him down, and then he could finally get his just due higher up with the Chosen.
That was the thought in the man's mind as he and four others ran towards Travis. It was hard to see, but the smirk that tugged at the corner of the MCs mouth may have scared them straight. As it was though the men came on, Travis wielded his blade like an acclaimed artist, while his opponents were like children playing in paint. The blood that ran down the street was his favorite color. The fight not last long as the body count had five more added to it.
Clyde had come over by now and tried to get his leader's attention, “Travis, you okay?” He obviously was, physically at least, but he didn't know what else to say.
Travis seemed to decompress a little as he turned towards Clyde, “Yeah, I'm good. How about you, any injuries?”
“No, no, thanks to you, boss. But listen, what are you going to do with them?” He leaned in a little and lowered his voice, “you're not going to execute them, are you?”
The thought had crossed his mind, but now that he had a period of inaction, his mind had calmed.
“No, I'm not. What do you think we should do with them?”
“Let's go over and find out.”