Chapter 26

There weren't just Incursions or Rifts around here. The most common dangers came with simple Hordes that could decimate smaller camps if an Alpha was within them, or if numerous Rank 5 Darks and above were attending the feasting or tasting.

If some settlements did not have proper Walkers, fleeing was the obvious choice. Darks could come from the ground, sky, or land, destroying, corrupting, disallowing life to exist, and hindering dreams. It wasn't at any moment.

There were numerous signs of approaching Hordes one could see before their attacks. Dark Fog would flicker like a storm. Then, there were Drones; little or large flying blobs of fog and energy, that could send information to Hordes or worse. Those were the smallest problems on their own, but their network was not. The last thing was notable marks of space, but that was only noticeable by some Walkers, and another was calculating moves, migrations, and observing nests or Darks on a large scale.

No one should underestimate those monsters, their evolutions, minds, thrill, dark emotions, and aspects of their hunt.

From the beginning, they had their purpose, or so it was believed when the Dawn spread, and people who felt their presence afterward couldn't cope with them. People always fought against one another. More than a millennium of history proved that until it cracked like the sky itself.

There were stories and legends. They said monsters came, rose, crashed the ground and cities, and began to feast as if they never tasted anything before. Some described them as demons straight from hell, coming from religious stories, or dreams. Corruption or Fog was seen as a storm, poison, and disease. It was more like a horror, for there was no fighting back. Humans tried, but Darks were unhinged, Corruption bottomless, and Fogs were like churning madness. Right. Madness! They could not stop themselves.

Humanity lost clarity a long time ago because Darks changed in time, and history made further differences. Nowadays, few can remember what was it like before the Dawn, and anyone normal shouldn't care too much. Darks might be a little calmer, all things considered, or if one regarded their butchering that went for decades until Walkers came to be. Then, it still changed, so what possibility even mattered? It seemed like a cycle, a never-ending game when one side fought the other for advantages and losses. Walkers tested that belief, themselves, Darks, and time or history. They wanted to see some merit, a way or answer why this apocalypse even started.

No one was sure. Nothing indicated anything after humanity lost its population, pulled the nuke buttons, and years passed in blank pages. People waited for a new age. A time without Darks. It didn't come no matter what. They should make it happen.

People grow still, restless, hoping, or turning into fake hopes or core resilience. Outside was strong at that, as they were used to shit and darkness and their survival was their proud priority. They could crawl over themselves, push others, and kill for that as well.

Dann was a living example of that, as he watched previous camps, and places outside of others, seeing people with William and observing him more. Destroyed, or gone, it was the same good story. Not Corrupted. It was worse. Some were still people.

Dann watched William's back, or hands that were pushing his fearful ass out off the brink of death. At the last horror, still a young teenager, Dann was as afraid as he was younger. Terrible experiences could hardly be forgotten, including the deaths of people, let alone his family.

But with the brilliance that was William, who at least had some backbone even though he was younger, they lived.

“Nah. No. No. Danny, you have some principles too. Remember what Father used to tell. Take care of yourself first, and then the people you care about, while dreams come afterward. Live life to fulfillment, survive to tell the tale, and live for good that is yet to come. The world will be here. It won't go away, but people could. One has to move from one disaster to another. It is how it goes, while a sacrifice is as common as the pain.”

Dann recited his mantra, which was often forgotten in a heartbeat or changed, and nodded to himself. Leaning forward on his chair, he stopped himself.

A poke. A flash of light. Then a noise gripped his attention, turning his mind to the window where a bright crow stayed behind his window, looking at him.

“Oh my god...” Dann whimpered, tears leaking as if he had woken up thanks to a terrifying nightmare.

Then, the crow crawled from the window, poking its flesh from the physical realms, or it wasn't physical to begin with. Its feathers were mere fakes. Its flesh was glowy and seen like a shadow resembling a crow.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Dann almost fell from his chair. “W-what...”

“It is interesting.” a voice said, coming from the crow. It was a pleasing male voice. “What has come? What has changed with these strands? Speak, little one.”

Dann fell and crawled to his knees. “I am extremely sorry... I didn't...”

“What? The loop is perpetual. Waiting. What have you done, or not?” the crow demanded, speaking in a silvery flesh and soothing voice.

Dann begged for nothing, thinking and feeling things like shadows below him. It was watching, making a lot of whispering. It was his own shadow. “Gale... goes out. Time is tidy. Crimson ready. People. Primevals. They came and left their mark, but he was fine. Still is, I mean. Remarkable, I guess.”

“For how many times, eh...” the crow sighted, shaking its beak. “Time is waiting. You... will do.”

Dann shook and looked up, eyes blazing in silver.

The crow looked at him from above, standing beside the window. “Suggestion one. Come to me. Two. Flow like a river and make up a tide. Second plan variant. Version one-seven-six.”

“Alright.” Dann nodded, stood up, and bowed. “This one appreciated the guidance.”

“Bah. A mere tool to sizzle the time away. You won't come fast. You shouldn't. Years are tough and generations aren't waiting. So much to see. So much to crash and play with. I am leaving.” the crow turned and left, disappearing into dust the moment it moved through the window.

After that, Dann's eyes turned to normal and he sat back on his chair.

Grabbing a book from the corner of his desk, he looked at it with wild focus close to devotion. It was his secret. His little treasure.

The book was thick and rough-looking knowledge about aircraft, including theory, numerous applicable lessons, and hundreds of pages of knowledge from long ago. It wasn't a thing of the past, as some planes were still present and working. “I don't regret anything. I should regret nothing. The master will watch, and see the lines that matter. I will be of aid no matter what. Sorry, William. Don't judge me, even if you will.”

Sky fascinated Dann since he found this book in the debris of a destroyed city, along with a bunch of other things. Although it was more than a century old, its worth was outstanding. It was priceless. Time acted similarly.

“So what if William is special? I will push hard like him and forge my destiny with my own mind. Bah! Writing will wait. I will not be handed the luck of this world, seeking death and dreams. Well, the dreams are right. No. It is realistic. Needed. Who would even want to be a Walker? Not me!”

Dann cheered, turned back to his past self, and began reading this book with a blazing confidence that wouldn't disappear for numerous years.

On this day, a great pilot, an avian architect, and a great craftsman took his first steps again.

His path was starting.

***

Meanwhile, on the Roshwell's streets and around corners leading to more corners.

Roshwell had no streets fit for large machines. It was for people, but horses and bulls were useful for supplementing the strength that people lacked. There were carriages with goods and food, so Luke couldn't be crazy and ride through them or people. But people let him go, surprised and shocked to see such a machine, knowing the value of motorcycles. They weren't that burly to make riding in this place a complete nuisance.

People saw him and moved away, with a few of them seeing glimpses of a purple uniform, partially hidden under a jacket that Luke took upon riding his toy. Some understood a Walker was in a hurry, or someone from the upper hierarchy of this camp was going somewhere.

Luke rode toward the eastern entrance, where he was supposed to enter and do his missions calmly. He tried. He really did.

William saw people and blurred buildings and sky, often noticing curious bystanders who looked at them with shock, jealousy, or hatred. Luke wasn't worried about these people, and William was glad to hold onto his back.

It wouldn't take that long for this ride to end. Although the streets weren't perfect, the distance was still sizable. Roshwell was many square miles large in buildings alone, and when one counted in the farmland, it was like a large-scale city, thinly resembling the past agricultural settlements to make food for tens of thousands of people.

It wasn't possible to include too many machines like cars or motorcycles on such land. Factories were already precious and complicated enough. Most facilities needed useful machinery, talented minds to create them, and great hands to work and do them justice. People and Walkers understood it, even if it was true that this camp was more than capable of building some great machines. But when it wasn't worth it or needed, why do it?

The Federation controlled recourses, protection, and most Walkers. Camps had to adapt and people had to abide by those rules.

Engineering and machinery were important. That couldn't stop because of Darks, even if it did at some point in the past. Nowadays, people in large numbers have to rely on efficiency, and machines and factories for food out of farms worked for years.

Camps understood what mattered, while the Federation supervised it for their own sake and creation. There was a lot of upkeep to keep everything in place, care for the military, and not let the past decades be in vain. A lot of care went into normal military efforts, ranging from normal soldiers, weaponry, and even large machines.

Cars were civil. But the one equipped with missiles, cannons, or guns? What were the tanks of the past, if not great fortresses like a bigger machine? Scars of that idea were visible in many corrupted or destroyed parts of this world, either turned to dust or seen as ancient rotting war memories.

Even after a century, many residues from wars and the former world stayed, assembling wonders that humanity once mastered and created at a much larger and greater capacity. Rusted tanks became useless. Buildings either turned to nests, or rocks, while some cities seemed abandoned, still in one piece, filled with Corruption, turned to huge maze-like nests, or places full of various Fogs or utter places of dread where nothing should breathe or live.