Chapter 26: Uncle Martin

Noah froze as the barrel of a rifle pointed directly at him, his breath catching in his throat. His uncle, Martine, stood at the other end, clad in battered riot gear that bore the scars of recent battles. Dirt and blood smeared the once-polished armor, and the helmet dangling from his belt looked as though it had stopped more than just shrapnel.

For a moment, Noah couldn’t reconcile the man in front of him with the uncle he remembered. The Martin he knew was stern but warm, always armed with a quick laugh and a protective presence. This man looked like he had crawled out of the aftermath of a war—and, knowing the state of the city, Noah realized he probably had.

Martin’s bald head gleamed faintly in the dim light, a stark contrast to the grime that covered the rest of him. His sharp eyes, however, were cold and calculating, narrowing as he studied Noah like a threat.

“Noah?” Martin’s voice finally broke the tense silence.

Noah barely managed a nod, his disbelief giving way to relief as he saw recognition flicker in his uncle’s eyes. The barrel of the rifle lowered, though Martin didn’t relax completely.

“Uncle Martin...” Noah started, but the words caught in his throat.

“Kid,” Martin interrupted, his tone gruff but softer now. He slung the rifle back over his shoulder, his hardened expression giving way to something closer to concern. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

For the first time, Noah realized just how much he had missed his uncle.

Althea's voice cut through the heavy silence like a blade. “Excuse me, guys, I’d hate to break your little reunion, but we are a bit open here…”

Her words snapped Noah out of his daze, and he glanced around, suddenly acutely aware of their surroundings. They were huddled in the corner of what used to be a salon. The shattered walls and missing ceiling left them entirely exposed to the open air. Dust and debris littered the cracked floor tiles, and the faded remains of once-elegant decor hung in tatters on the edges of the room.

The expansive visibility, stretching out to the horizon, made Noah’s skin crawl. Every shadow in the distance felt like a pair of eyes watching them, every faint sound carried by the wind like an incoming threat.

He looked back at Martin, who hadn’t yet fully relaxed. The rifle still hung loosely at his side, his stance braced as if expecting an attack at any moment. Althea, on the other hand, scanned the area with sharp, practiced movements, her body tense but efficient.

“Althea’s right,” Noah said, trying to steady his voice. “We’re sitting ducks out here.”

Martin nodded, his jaw tightening. “Then let’s move. Catching up will have to wait.”

Noah straightened with determination glinting in his eyes. “I’ll lead the way,” he said firmly. “I can fly.”

Martin’s expression darkened instantly, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “No,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “Flying is a complicated skill. To use it for recon on top of being new to it? Kid, you’ve been gone for three months, maybe more, since this shit started. No way am I going to lose you again.”

Noah took a steadying breath, meeting his uncle’s gaze. “You won’t,” he said, his voice unwavering. “And trust me, Uncle... I’ve had a lot of practice flying since you last saw me.”

Before Martin could argue, Althea chimed in, her tone measured but firm. “It’s true. We just came back from a Dungeon Call, and it was bad. Really bad. In fact,” she added with a faint smirk, “we find the monsters here more tolerable and easier to fight.”

Martin’s brow furrowed, his eyes darting between Noah and Althea. “Dungeon Call?” he echoed, skepticism laced in his voice. “And you came out in one piece?”

Althea shrugged, adjusting her weapon with casual ease. “Barely. But Noah handled himself.”

Noah nodded, his expression calm but resolute. “Uncle, I’m not the same kid who disappeared three months ago. Let me do this.”

Martin hesitated, the conflict evident in his eyes. Finally, he exhaled heavily and muttered, “Fine. But you screw up, you get back down here immediately, you hear me?”

Noah smiled faintly. “Loud and clear.”

Without another word, he spread his arms, the air around him shimmering faintly as he lifted off the ground. For a moment, Martin just stared with awe and apprehension on his face, before motioning Althea to follow him as they moved toward cover.

Noah glided through the air with practiced caution, weaving between the shadows of towering buildings. He kept his flight path low, using smaller structures and high-rise shadows as cover. Flying too openly was an easy way to get spotted—a lesson he’d learned the hard way in the dungeon. Open-air combat was vastly different from skirmishes in confined caves, and the stakes felt higher here.

As he changed positions, Noah activated his [Aerial Strike], not as an attack but to propel himself swiftly between hiding spots. The burst of speed made him harder to track, though the strain of rapid movements ate at his stamina.

Mid-flight, his heart jumped as three wyverns passed ominously close. Their leathery wings cut through the air, their shadows enormous against the skyscraper where Noah pressed himself into cover. Hidden within the building's shadow, he froze, barely breathing. Wyverns were leagues above the smaller, feral creatures he’d fought in the dungeon. The memory of Pompom, the Darkness Dragon, resurfaced vividly. Noah wondered how dangerous distant relatives of dragons could be.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

Once the wyverns had passed, Noah waited a moment longer before descending back to the ground. His landing was soundless, and he quickly regrouped with Martin and Althea.

“We can’t proceed forward,” Noah reported, his voice steady but serious. “There’s a goblin nest directly ahead. On the right, there’s a sleeping pack of wyverns. And on the left side, things look peaceful at first glance, but I found signs of human activity—fecal matter, old food wrappings. My guess? Either a hidden monster is nesting there, or it’s a human ambush waiting for us.”

Martin raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “You’re handling this rather well.”

Althea crossed her arms, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “We’ve had a few days already in this post-apocalyptic Obelisk City. Let’s just say we’ve got a decent understanding of what’s changed.”

Noah nodded, his expression grim. “Still, nothing about this feels predictable.”

Martin glanced between them, gripping his rifle tighter. “Alright then, kid. What’s your call? You’re the one who’s had eyes on the situation.”

Noah hesitated for only a moment before speaking with confidence. “We take the left. If it’s humans, we negotiate or fight if we must. If it’s a monster, at least it’s not a wyvern or a goblin horde. The other two options are worse.”

Martin nodded approvingly. “Solid reasoning. Let’s move.”

Noah was leading the way as they crept through the ruined streets. Martin broke the silence with a hushed, measured tone. He kept his voice low, careful not to alert any nearby monsters.

“I just reached Level 7 yesterday…” he began, his words casual but carrying an edge of caution. His sharp eyes flicked to Noah and Althea. “What are your levels? Just making sure your confidence isn’t misplaced.”

Noah glanced back briefly, understanding the importance of sharing intelligence in their precarious situation. He didn’t hesitate to answer.

“I’m at Level 11,” he replied softly. “And I feel like I’m close to a level-up.”

Althea followed suit, her tone calm and matter-of-fact. “Currently Level 12.”

Martin raised an eyebrow, impressed but wary. “No wonder you kids are so confident,” he muttered. “But don’t get too ahead of yourselves. Human cunning has a different level of danger to it… trust me.”

Noah exchanged a glance with Althea but didn’t respond, sensing the weight behind his uncle’s words. Martin fell silent after that, his focus shifting back to their surroundings as they moved.

Noah continued to lead the group, his [Fly] skill giving him the advantage of mobility and vantage. He hovered low and darted ahead to scout, his movements smooth and deliberate to avoid detection. His flights were brief, just enough to scan the path ahead and ensure it was clear before signaling the others to follow.

They moved slowly—deliberately—like shadows blending into the broken cityscape. Every step was calculated, their pace a snail’s crawl as they worked to minimize noise and exposure. Between Noah’s aerial reconnaissance and their collective vigilance, the group navigated the dangerous terrain with practiced caution, making the best of the limited information they had.

Noah raised a hand sharply, signaling the group to halt. His voice was calm but firm as he spoke.

“Stop.”

Martin and Althea froze in place, their eyes snapping to him. Noah gestured toward the path ahead, his tone hushed but steady.

“We’re about to turn that corner, and it’ll lead us directly to the path I mentioned earlier—the one with signs of human activity,” he explained. “I’ll go first. I’ve got the best mobility out of the three of us. If it’s an ambush, I can make my escape quickly.”

Martin’s brow furrowed, his protective instincts flaring despite the logic in Noah’s reasoning. “Be careful out there,” he said, his voice low but serious.

Noah nodded with a faint, reassuring smile. “If it’s clear, I’ll call you over. But if they attack, you’ll hear me shout ‘Enemies!’ loud enough to echo back here. If that happens, I want you both to retreat. Regroup later, plan better. That shout means we’re either severely outnumbered or outleveled, and staying to fight would be suicide.”

Martin’s expression tightened, his concern evident, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he placed a firm hand on Noah’s shoulder. “Just don’t get cocky, kid. Trust us to have your back if it comes to a fight.”

Althea gave a small nod, her grip on her weapon tightening. “We’ll be ready if it comes to that,” she said evenly.

Shortly after a few cursory investigations how safe it was… Noah found himself hovering near the roof’s edge, his sharp eyes scanning the desolate landscape below.

The eerie quiet was broken only by the faint rustling of wind against shattered structures. He had already memorized the layout of this area from his earlier reconnaissance; the cracked pillars, the remnants of vehicles, and the sprawling ruin that was once a bustling street. From above, he saw no immediate danger. Confident the rooftop was unguarded, he glided smoothly along the edges, keeping close to the shadows while maintaining a vantage point.

Noah allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. His previous scouting told him this spot was unlikely to be watched, and his instincts proved correct once more. His movements were deliberate, each shift in altitude and direction calculated to minimize exposure. He hovered in a semi-open space just above the roofline, ensuring his teammates below could hear him if needed.

As Noah kept his focus on the area, his mind turned to a peculiar feeling he’d developed since the Dungeon Call. Monsters, their strength, and their intentions—he had begun to intuit these qualities with startling accuracy. He suspected it had something to do with his skill, [Good & Evil], though he still didn’t fully understand how it functioned. The skill seemed to grant him insight into the nature of his enemies, but its exact mechanics eluded him, leaving him both curious and uneasy.

With that in mind, Noah pushed forward, confident he could deduce a monster’s danger level should one appear. His bravery emboldened him to investigate more boldly this time. However, his confident flight came to an abrupt halt when he caught sight of something—or rather, someone—familiar.

His heart skipped a beat as he froze mid-air, peering intently at the figures below. At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but there was no mistaking it. Thomas. His old classmate was unmistakable, leading a small group with another familiar face, Mark, walking just behind him.

Noah's chest tightened as emotions swirled within him. Relief surged first—his friends were alive! They had somehow managed to survive the chaos and make it this far. But that relief was quickly tempered by worry. Why were they here, of all places? This area was risky, and with Thomas at the lead, were they walking into an ambush?

His mind raced back to the moment he and Althea had first arrived in this city, their initial priority being to check on their families. For Noah, that included his two best friends’ families—Thomas and Mark’s. Those attempts had yielded nothing but heartache, the powerless silence of an abandoned world. Althea had shared similar regrets, lamenting their inability to check on everyone else from their class amidst the wreckage of a broken city with no signals, no infrastructure, and no certainty.

And now, here they were. Thomas and Mark, alive and seemingly leading a group of survivors.

“Damn it, they are walking to a trap…”