"Dante is not available right now," Marcus said to Simone. "He seems to be in some kind of training with the other old man. They even look like brothers."

Simone was just as surprised as Clara when she heard about it.

"I didn't expect a man of his caliber to accept being trained after so long."

Looking at it from that perspective, it really was a bit complex. Kappz was not a city full of young people; in fact, most of the residents Clara took care of were over fifty. They couldn't help much, not even do patrols to gather minor supplies. Truth be told, after Clara and Simone took charge of allocating Clerk's projects to rebuild the lower floor, Marcus was the one doing most of the patrols.

He didn't mind. Walking alone through the streets was a personal pleasure. One he never gave up—until Dante showed up, asking stupid questions about the weather and time. For some reason, Dante always asked if it rained a lot in Kappz.

There was no need to tell anyone that, when he had time, he would walk to the suburban area. There, he would crouch behind some trees and try to breathe air fresher than what was available in the urban center.

"I also thought he would refuse, ma'am. Dante has many qualities that other men don't. Being humble is one of them," Marcus acknowledged. "And because of that, I'm heading to the Reservoir to fetch water. Do you need anything from there?"

"No. If you could bring a little more next time, we have more people. And Clerk also fixed the water tank that was leaking, remember?"

"Affirmative. It helped a lot before it was all patched up."

"Great. Bring as much as you can, okay?"

Marcus nodded silently and started walking toward the ledge when Simone called him again.

"Be careful, son. Don't get carried away by the victory you had, okay? I've lost many others who became arrogant after defeating the Felroz."

Marcus pulled the bolt of his carbine, and the metal made a sharp click.

"You can count on me, ma'am. I'll do what I always do."

I

As soon as he entered the Reservoir, Marcus stopped. The marks of what Dante and they had done to the Felroz were still fresh. It was interesting how the Felroz bodies still lay there, their skin and flesh punctured only where they had been struck. Yet, the place felt desolate.

The dark energy that pulsed from that hall, the fear Marcus once had—it had all turned into memories. He no longer remembered the fear, only the confusion. The old man had tamed the hall without even breaking a sweat. And what had he done? That was the difference between someone who knew no fear.

"It's all about intentions." Dante’s words echoed in his mind ever since they had defeated the Octopus. "If you point that at an unarmed person, you're worse than them. Much worse. The old man talks as if he knows what these people could do, but it’s not like that."

He drew his carbine pistol from his holster and aimed directly at the spot where the first Felroz had appeared. If he pulled the trigger while raising the gun, he would be faster—faster than on that day.

Then he moved quickly to another spot, aiming at a pillar where Dante had thrown another enemy. Then the ceiling, the debris. He repeated the process, pressing the trigger but hearing only the click of the bolt.

Every time he moved, every step he took, he turned his weapon. And when he pulled the ISE carbine forward, he felt the cold from the second floor. How many would he have taken down before they descended?

"Fifty-four creatures." That number haunted his thoughts. "Dante killed fifty-four before we went down. I need to kill fifty-four before I can go. I need to do this..."

For more than three hours, he aimed at specific spots, and whenever he thought he was doing well, his mind bombarded him with the image of a Felroz lunging at him. Marcus had already closed his eyes, pointing and spinning, rotating, and running while clicking the trigger.

Stolen story; please report.

When he finally stopped moving, he felt the sweat on his neck, his drenched back, and his soaked hair. Training like this wasn’t the best method, but his speed and reaction had to be faster than that creature’s. He couldn't just dodge—he had to attack.

Marcus didn’t stop. He spent another hour using his memories to aim and fire, cutting through and spinning his movements. When he stopped a third time, he bent his knee and collapsed. The weight of the entire Reservoir seemed to be pressing down on his back.

What Dante had done before his eyes—Marcus had no idea if he could replicate it. That old man had said that if he had been alone, he would have died. It was the dumbest thing he had ever heard. Dante hadn’t even taken things seriously until the final level. His words had been too dramatic, like daggers on paper.

If he couldn't kill a Felroz with a single bullet, then everything he had done so far was meaningless. Clara and Simone wouldn’t need him. The city wouldn’t feel safe with him around.

"Why should I lower my weapon?" He raised his trembling arm, completely drained. "Why wouldn’t I pull the trigger?"

"You shouldn't lower your weapon at all."

Marcus swung his arm, aiming at the wall where a hole had been made in the last fight. And Clara was there, holding a small empty water container. She tapped it twice against the stone and stepped down over the debris.

"You should have told someone you were coming here. Simone said you left, but you never came back," Clara said, choosing a spot to sit. "Do you want to talk about something, Marcus?"

"Negative." Talking about his problems wouldn't help. He simply let himself sit on the cold concrete floor and stored his weapons. "Why did you come looking for me? It's dangerous to be out at this hour—it's almost nightfall."

"You’re the one who should be coming back with the water. I was just worried, but I see it wasn’t necessary."

Marcus threw himself backward, lying down and stretching his arms to the sides. The ceiling had holes, wires, and loose pieces of metal. Clearly, this place would one day fall apart. Just like everything in this world if it wasn’t repaired.

"I don’t want to depend on the old man for anything," Marcus said, catching Clara off guard. "I want to be able to face at least one Felroz alone. But I can’t do... that."

"You’re comparing yourself to someone, Marcus. And you’re doing it with someone who hadn’t even set foot on our land until a month ago. You know better than anyone how those creatures move at night, how to hide, how to shoot from the top of a tower with heavy rain and strong winds trying to stop you," Clara tried to smile, but it came out broken. "I understand what you’re feeling, but you don’t have to be so extreme."

"If he hadn’t shown up, we wouldn’t have water or power." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "I feel like we’re doing well, but I don’t know how else to help."

"Well, throwing yourself inside the Reservoir isn’t one of those ways. I need you with me, and Dante is looking for you too. He seems really excited about something—you should clean up and go see what he wants."

"I’ll do that, ma’am."

Clara stood up and helped Marcus. They walked around the Reservoir, and as they neared the door, they heard the sound of water. Marcus had already pushed half the gate open when he saw two men standing with their hands in the massive water basin.

"The Jones brothers," Clara said, swallowing hard.

The taller one was Meliah Jones. Red-haired, fair-skinned, and with an earring in his right ear. He brought water to his mouth and stared at Clara as she entered. Marcus slowly moved his hand toward his holster but didn’t draw his weapon.

"Clara, good thing you’re here," Meliah said after wiping his mouth. "We were hoping to talk to you. This water is clean, isn’t it? We’re thinking of taking some to the forge. And that battery of yours too, if it’s not too much to ask. Can you get it ready for us as soon as possible?"

"Are you kidding? This part of the city is mine. You can’t just come and take it."

Degol Jones, the shorter one with a fat nose and freckled cheeks, filled a canteen.

"And since when is water a monopolized resource? There’s enough here to fill at least ten storage barrels so we don’t freeze this winter," he said, securing the canteen to his belt. He clapped his hands together. "Hand over the barrels—we’re taking everything. Don’t take too long. We have to go."

Marcus took a deep breath. These two were three times worse than Antton. They showed up, demanded things, and left. Just like when they found copper, and now with water.

"You don’t seem to understand," Marcus said. "Clara said you’re not taking anything. And you won’t. If you wanted the battery or the water so badly, you should have come here to clean this place up. Nothing here belongs to you—it belongs to the people trying to find a way to thrive. You’re not stealing our water."

The two brothers exchanged glances, then laughed.

"Looks like the plastic shooter has grown some confidence after clearing this place for us," Meliah chuckled. "Think you can take us on here? Do you remember what happened last time, Marcus? How you walked away all beaten up? Listen, just do what we told you. Don’t be late—chop chop."

Clara said nothing and turned her back on them.

"Let’s go. We don’t have to stay here."

"Oh," Degol’s voice reached them, "if you don’t bring us what we asked for, we’ll take the battery by force. It doesn’t matter if you found it—we’re taking it."

"Are you?" Clara laughed and kept walking. "Arrogant idiots. Keep waiting."