As anger simmered in his stomach, a wellspring of rage erupted. For the first time, Logan was aware that the Cursed Rope was feeding the emotion, enhancing what was already there. It was like a firestorm fed by dry kindling, about to turn uncontrollable. Logan clenched his fists, his talons creaking, hairline fractures in his armour spreading like cobwebs as his muscles bulged, veins standing out on his neck.

Bit by bit, he had to pull himself away from the edge of a cliff. On the other side was nothing but emotion. Logan wanted to rage at the world, express his anger by slamming his fists into the wall, by tearing off the counter and smashing it into pieces, but that wouldn’t help Lara.

A fight had taken place, the signs were obvious, but worst of all, he had no idea what any of it meant.

He could make a conclusion based on the available facts. There had been a struggle, someone had gotten either injured or killed. And yet, if Lara had been the one to do the damage, where was the body? Her priorities would be taking care of her kids and preparing for the journey ahead; she wouldn’t have taken the time to worry about a corpse; she would have left it to rot.

Just in case he’d missed something, Logan checked the backyard for disturbed earth or blood. Even if she’d decided to bury the evidence, there should be signs. And yet she’d locked the back door, and the backyard was pristine. It was still dark, but his perception attribute and the light of the moon let him see that much.

Okay, okay, if there was no body that meant… Logan grimaced, a wrenching sensation in his belly making him clench his fists again, sand raining down to the floor.

That meant that whoever had been dragged had either been Lara or one of the kids. And yet, unlike outside, there were no gory remains. That had to mean something.

But for fuck’s sake! Logan felt his rage surge once again. He wasn’t a frigging detective! How was he supposed to figure this out?

“That doesn’t look good,” said Ernie, staring down at the blood stain before jumping out of his pouch and onto the couch in the living room. It was beige and the cushions took on a wet spot where Ernie slouched.

For a second, Logan was worried what Lara would do when she found out—she was particular about her living room furniture—but then he blew out a breath. He’d do everything to have her here, ranting and raving about Ernie, but she wasn’t, and the furniture was the least of his concerns.

Logan scrubbed a hand through his hair and then released [Mimicry Armour], snatching the sand from the air and willing it back inside his spatial collar.

He stared down at the bloodstain and then considered.

With a frown of distaste, he crouched and examined the stain. Logan was no blood expert, but if it were fresh, surely it would be warm to the touch and wet? This stain was half dried. The edges had already crusted to the hardwood, but the middle was slightly damp.

“No, it doesn’t,” said Logan to Ernie. “It doesn’t look good at all.”

His thoughts swirled like a rushing drain, possibilities too many to count making him paralyzed with indecision. He had no idea where they were. Heading into the street in the dark would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. They could be anywhere. He had to believe they were alive; any other possibility was anathema. After his struggles, killing himself with pain and coming out of the trial a changed man… to just get back to Lara, Logan refused to believe all of that was in vain.

If only Hope’s End had electricity so he could charge his cell phone. It was possible that the answer to this was in a text message sent by Lara while Logan was stuck inside the trial dungeon.

Charge his phone.

Holy shit! Logan felt excitement surge as he crossed the living room in three strides. Grabbing a lit candle, he held it up, illuminating the dark hallway as he made his way into Lara’s office.

There was a solution. An obvious solution. Lara often went on business trips, and just like anyone, she kept portable cell phone chargers in case of emergencies. Logan didn’t know where she kept them, but it made sense to search her office first. She had—

What.

Annabelle, Lara’s quaker parrot, was missing. Lara kept Annabelle in her office so that she could keep it company when she worked from home. Even though the parrot could easily fit in Logan’s palm, Lara had gone all out with its cage. The thing was huge. A steel frame, wheels. And inside were ropes and tunnels, a jungle gym, and bowls of water, as if the damn thing were living in a parrot spa.

Logan had mixed feelings about Annabelle. The kids loved it, but Lara had inherited the bugger from a friend who had a potty mouth. Whenever Logan visited, it chirped, “Shithead, shithead,” at him, puffing its green feathers and squawking.

Lara couldn’t help giggling whenever it happened, indulging the damn thing. Although Logan and Lara were close, she’d never gotten over that teasing big sister phase. It was the little things in life that gave you enjoyment, after all.

But the parrot was missing. The massive cage was on its side, the bottom wheels in the air. Scanning the room, Logan winced as birdseed crunched underneath his feet like stepping on uncooked rice.

On the far wall just over Lara’s computer monitor, one of her arrows was stuck in the drywall. Lara had been a crack shooter before she’d prioritized work over her hobby. Unlike in the hallway, this scene of carnage was obvious. In the corner, was Annabelle. At least its remains. Blood soaked its feathers, and the parrot was the size of a racoon! Plump, full of fluffy green and white feathers, a tail full of spiky, sharp spines like green porcupine quills.

It had mutated in the Integration.

And right in its heart, was one of Lara’s arrows.

So, the parrot must have attacked them. And yet unlike in the kitchen and the living room, there was no blood other than what seeped from the parrot’s corpse. Which meant they might have fought Annabelle and survived, even used the experience to level up for the first time.

Logan opened one of the drawers in Lara’s desk, rummaging around, pushing aside stacked paper and extra cords until…

When he found it, he slumped in relief and let out a huge breath.

A portable charger.

Willing out his cell phone, Logan plugged it in, then stared at the cracked screen.

A black screen.

And yet more black screen.

Fuck. The battery had run so low it would take minutes before it had enough juice to turn on. Staring at it was like watching paint dry.

Logan uttered a soft curse and then grabbed the phone, keeping the charger attached as he climbed the stairs and went up to the second floor. Scanning the bedrooms, he made sure that he hadn’t missed anything. A clue. A sign. And yet, the upstairs rooms were untouched, no signs of struggle. The kids’ beds were made, Lara’s bedroom was tidy.

Oh well, he might as well take advantage of the wait. By this point, with only a white dress shirt and kitten patterned swim trunks in his possession, he’d gotten used to looking like a crazy person. But Lara’s ex-husband was about the same size as Logan. Although the asshole had left for Europe after the divorce, leaving his own kids behind, he was betting that Lara hadn’t gotten rid of his clothes.

The closet was full of Lara’s clothes, but at the back, boxes were gathering dust.

Logan opened one, then the other.

Jackpot. The box was full of the asshole’s belongings. Pairs of dress pants, jeans, even khaki pants and shorts. Logan threw everything inside of his spatial collar, going to town. With a sigh of relief, he changed into the khaki pants and a green t-shirt. Not soon enough. Those swim trunks had been starting to chafe.

Staring at himself in the wall mirror, Logan gaped.

Damn. Asshole and Logan had been the same size a week ago, but not anymore. The pants were tight around his upper thighs and the shirt pulled around his biceps and stretched across his stomach. Holy shit, that brought home how much he’d changed since the Integration.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“What’s this?” asked Ernie as he plopped onto Lara’s bed and looked at Logan’s discarded kitten-patterned swim trunks with sad eyes. “Logan, you’re ruining your wardrobe! No style, no fashion.” He side-eyed Logan’s pants and poked him with a tentacle, his mouth twisting with distaste. “Ugh. You’ve lost all color! You’ve… dare I say it.” He dropped his voice into a whisper. “Logan, you’ve turned ugly.”

“Yeah, I know you like orange. Ernie, fashion isn’t a priority right now. Utility wins out over appearance.” Plus, he’d feel less like an idiot while walking around without his armour.

“Humph. It’s important to look stylish while saving your brethren. How will they recognize you otherwise? I’m sure your distinct fashion style shines like a star.” A mutter, “A star amongst dull green and brown.”

His phone beeped.

Logan rushed over, his heart in his throat as the home screen turned on. The signal for cell service was there… faint, barely a bar, but there.

One after another, notifications dinged.

Tasha: checking in. how’s the journey? hope you didn’t come across anymore bad dudes.

Tasha: Logan?

Tasha: answer me, jerk. you’re making me worried.

Tasha: Logan?

Tasha: I need you to come back. things are tense here.

Tasha: you were right about Matt.

Jack: Answer Tasha’s text messages. She’s worried.

Jack: Your sister texted me saying you’re not responding. Now you’re worrying me too.

Jack: Just check-in, all right?

Jack: You better come back with a weapon.

Logan swiped through Tasha and Jack’s messages, then biting his lip, pulled up Lara’s.

Lara: The schedule is still a go. I heard more gunshots, but they’re at the opposite end of the city rather than here. How’s the journey?

Lara: Logan?

Lara: This better you being busy and not anything else. Respond when you can.

Lara: Respond.

Lara: Not digging this whole silence thing. I’m okay on my end. The kids are freaking out, but we have enough food. Is the schedule still on?

Lara: Answer me!

Lara: Logan, we might not have power here for long. Parts of the city are on fire. One of the gas stations blew up. No one can fight the fires, and the neighbour told me it’s going block by block. We might need to leave earlier than expected.

Lara: Logan????? Answer me!

Lara: Your phone better be dead. Text me back when it’s charged.

Lara: Something else is happening here. Not the fires. People are disappearing, and there are noises outside. After Annabelle, I’m not sure what to think. It doesn’t sound like people.

Lara: I’m worried. We keep having power surges. Cell service is cutting in and out.

Lara: please respond.

Shit, Lara had texted in lowercase. She was a weird texter, oddly formal in everything she did. It came from her law background. God forbid she were anything but professional. For her to send something out of character like that meant she was stressed out beyond belief.

Lara: It’s the rats. Don’t trust them, Logan. They’re taking everyone. All of the neighbours are gone. They’re scratching at the doors. They’re going to get in.

Lara: God, I hope you’re okay.

Lara: I’ll do the best I can.

Lara: they’re going to get in

Lara: don’t trust the—

The text message had cut off. That was the last message. According to the timestamp, she’d sent it yesterday morning. His heart beating out of his chest, his stomach churning, Logan rubbed the back of his neck as he dialed Lara, tapping his foot as he waited. At first, he thought the called dropped, before it went through only for him to receive nothing but a busy signal. Shit.

Trying again, he bared his teeth in a grimace when he received the same result, then tried to send a text.

Logan: Lara?? I’m at your house. Where are you?

Only to receive a red exclamation mark next to the message indicating that it hadn’t gone through. In desperation, Logan tried Tasha, then Jack, receiving more busy signals and undeliverable notifications.

That was the limit. His restraint was gone.

Screaming, a vein standing out on his forehead, his biceps bulging, Logan slammed his fist into the top of Lara’s dresser, cracking it down the middle with a massive crash. A snap wrenched through the air, dust raining down, clothes flying.

Then with a gasp, he slumped on the bed, staring sightlessly.

“Are your brethren gone?” Ernie whispered next to him, his voice gentle.

His chest felt like a vise was closing around it; his breathing shuddering as if he couldn’t get enough air. “I think they were taken. Rats. Or a monster, something took them.”

“Ah,” said Ernie, sidling up to his side and looking at him with wide, earnest eyes. “Taken is not gone, is it? Taken is somewhere else. Logan is very powerful, and so is Ernie. If someone dared to take our brethren, they will live to regret it, yes?”

Ernie jabbed Logan’s side when he didn’t respond. “Yes…?”

Trust Ernie to put things into perspective.

“No, you’re right. They’re gone. Just gone. That means we can find them. But…” Logan stared out the window at the night sky, and the orange glow of fires far off in the distance. “They could be anywhere.”

“Hmm,” mused Ernie. “The rat messages are all over the city. The people are gone. It stands to reason that they were taken to the same place, yes?”

Ernie was right. “Find the rats, then we’ll find Lara and the kids.”

“Aha! A noble cause! A quest. But first, Logan must rest. You’ll be no good to me if you’re being all emotional. An emotional siesta! Squishy human Logan needs sleep, yes?”

Logan blew out a breath. “I don’t think I can sleep.”

He wanted to charge out of here and tear the city apart until he found Lara and the kids, but Ernie had a point. It was the middle of the night, and although he had [Undead Stamina], he wouldn’t help anyone if his emotions were making him half crazed with anger from lack of sleep.

The Cursed Rope had his emotions on a hair trigger, and one push to the wrong side could cause him to explode at someone like he’d done to Lara’s dresser.

But trying to sleep with this uncertainty brimming in his stomach was like trying to sleep on a bed of glass shards.

***

[Countdown: Day 11 of Day 365 before species culling. Only the worthy survive.]

[Current rank: 2 out of 6,004,009,953.]

[You are currently in the 1%.]

This time, Logan was already awake when the System’s daily reminder passed over his eyes. Eyes that were brittle and dry from a restless night, a night of nodding off and then jerking awake, nightmares of Lara and the kids being torn apart by monsters playing out like a horror movie in his mind. Each time he’d woken up, Ernie had drifted awake, giving him a careful look before urging him to sleep once again.

All in all, it had been the worst night of his life.

But dawn was on the horizon, and Logan was ready to get out of here. Ernie had been right that he’d needed sleep; to keep control of his emotions more than anything. Worry gnawed away at his insides, but at least rage wasn’t in danger of overtaking him and washing away all sense.

“Are you ready?” he said to Ernie.

Logan was wearing his new clothes. At first, he’d been worried that it would interfere with [Mimicry Armour], but it was just like wearing swim trunks—he could sculpt his armour over whatever he wanted. The only drawback was that direct skin contact let him feel more, as if the armour were a second layer of skin. With clothes in the way, he’d no longer have that same sensitivity, but he’d have the same versatility. He could make the armour as flexible as he wanted—his Logan exoskeleton.

One of these days, he was going to have to figure out how to level up [Mimicry Armour].

That wasn’t this day.

Today, Logan was going to find Lara and the kids. He refused to believe otherwise; that way lay despair.

Right before he left, Logan did one more thing.

He cleared out the house.

His niece’s bedding, their beds, toys, all of Lara’s clothes, her books. The tools down in the basement. Everything she had; he took.

There were two considerations here. If the fire continued tearing through the city, Lara’s house could go up in flames. That was a waste of things she’d gathered throughout her life. Not to mention the baby pictures and the photo albums that Lara had kept from when they were both young.

The other reason was comfort. When he found Lara and his nieces and took them to Jack’s, he was betting they’d stay there for the long haul. Logan wanted to make sure they had everything they needed, and with his spatial collar, he had the means to do it.

“All right,” said Logan, surveying the empty house. He’d even taken the Ernie-stained couch. “Time to find them.”

Ernie made a murmur of agreement from atop his shoulder. At this point, since they hadn’t come across any people, it made no sense for him to remain within his pouch.

Logan opened the front door and walked into the street, scanning his surroundings. Garbage bags, debris, and the occasional graffiti sign, but again, no people. In the light of the day, it made the city seem more eerie. A city that housed thousands and thousands, and not one person to be found. It was nuts.

And yet, what he was looking for was a bunch of rats. Never there when you needed them, pests when you least wanted to see them.

Logan’s boots crunched over the ground as he turned a corner, glancing from side-to-side, casting his senses and—

Huh.

Although he was using his perception attribute, why didn’t he use the skill that mattered? If [Life Fabricator] was anything like [Life Cycle Master], he could cast a wide net, scanning for living things. If people, if hell, the rats, were hiding, he could dig them out.

Coming to a stop, Logan deployed [Life Fabricator]. At first, it was overwhelming. There was so much life around. From the worms in the soil underneath the asphalt, to fungi swarming around the rotting garbage on the ground. Up above, a bird soared by so fast it was like a blip on the screen, there and then gone. On his shoulder, Ernie was like a supernova, radiating life and an aura that held both darkness and light.

Logan went further, scanning the homes, looking past spiders that hadn’t yet evolved, beetles that crawled underneath floorboards, searching, searching, searching.

And all at once, he became aware of an explosion of life. Hundreds. Bright spots, some humming a low-grade aura, some glowing like a mini sun. Logan was looking for life, he was looking for rats, but he didn’t understand what he was sensing.

But it was a clue.

“There’s something down the next block.”

“People?”

Logan hesitated. “…No, I don’t think so. But I’m not sure. I’ve never sensed anything like it before. Get into the pouch just in case. I don’t know what we’re going into.”

Ernie grumbled, but he obeyed.

Logan debated taking out his sword, but then decided to reform his talons instead. Removing a fistful of sand and diamond dust, he sculpted his ten-inch-long talons, making sure they were extra sharp. Then, cracking his neck, he straightened his shoulders and powered through the rest of the block, turning onto the next street and…

What. The. Hell.