7.

“They’re six miles down the road in an old farmhouse. Big group of them, about fifty or so. They’ve taken over a couple of barns and have tents and camping gear everywhere. Lots of wounded,” Daniel gave his report in the early morning. The sun had barely crested the horizon when Daniel had trotted into camp.

Santi hadn’t managed to sleep at all after his late night encounter and had perched in front of the bar waiting silently for the scout to come back. He had a lot to think about after all. The Infernal shook him. Something that powerful and intelligent here already, even if it was restrained, wasn’t a good sign.

His plans to wait to do his evolution until he was perfectly ready and had practiced with others had gone right out the window. His own original evolutions had been performed by others who had done it many times by then. He needed to find a wind treasure or something similar before he let his advantages slip out of his grasp. He had left a list of things to look for with some of his scouts and could only hope they’d found something worthwhile when they returned.

With his title providing him a huge boost in stats he could currently fight up a few levels, especially with his years of experience. The Primus Alpha hadn’t given him low level Acolyte vibes. It was an experienced monster, either a rapidly evolved beast or a rift monster that had abandoned its rift. He would need the qualitative boost from the evolution to fight it.

First he had to bring his family home. To relative safety and his guidance. The thought of seeing them all again made him want to pace back and forth, to bounce around in utter joy, yet at the same time, sink to his knees in anxiety. How could he face them again after he had abandoned them?

Daniel’s arrival had been timely, stopping his spiral and helping him balance himself. That they were less than an hour’s ride away was amazing news. He just needed to be ready for the rest of the group’s reaction. Daniel trusted him and Chloe knew something was different about him. The others though? Trickier situation.

“Take a break, get some water and food. I’ll let the others know,” Santi told Daniel, patting the other man on his shoulder. Daniel nodded and walked off without another word to slump into some shade and pull a granola bar out of his pack.

The others were groggily waking up and gathering themselves. Bathrooms had been made quasi-usable. A sink had been repurposed for a bird bath set-up and they were trying to be as hygienic as possible. It wasn’t very hygienic, but they were trying.

“Hey, Daniel found a group of people just a little ways down the road. We’re moving in ten!” Santi shouted. He decided to punt the decision that it was his family for later in the morning once he confirmed they were there.

A chorus of grunts, growls, and curses were all he got. Santi ducked as something was thrown at him. Not morning people. Noted.

Santi retreated back outside and hung out with Daniel while everyone trudged outside with their bikes and wagons loaded up. Twenty minutes... after the ten minute deadline.

Santi had to consciously control himself from jumping from foot to foot in his anxiety. He wanted to snap at them, yell and scream and pour all of these emotions that were curled in his chest and gut out in a vitriolic stream. The boost to willpower kept that from happening, but he was tempted.

They got on the road, each pump of his legs getting him closer to his family. They were moving at speeds that would put professionals to shame, limited by the poor materials of the bikes. Santi had to restrain himself from pushing harder, a single hard push of his legs would twist the frame, shatter the pedals, break the chain. What he would do for a couple of System enhanced crafters.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

The miles flew by. The trip took forever. It ended instantly. All of those were true and false at the same time. Sweat beaded down his face and back, his palms slick with perspiration that had nothing to do from the light exercise he was doing.

In one moment, there was nothing. Just fields of browning, limp, vegetation that stretched out all around them. Then there was a large farmstead. White two story house, picket fence, three red barns in a line off to the side. Fine gravel road led off the paved county road and to the house. Santi saw the multiple tents scattered about. The people walking about.

His sister.

Yesi was sitting on the top of the roof with a crossbow in her arms. He saw her stand up and cover her eyes with her hand. The smile bloomed across her face as she yelled something to someone. His eyesight was good enough to see her reactions, but he couldn’t hear her words.

Santi started to push harder. His legs churned as his strength began to exert itself without his conscious thought. Something snapped and his leg smacked the earth, digging a furrow in it. He didn’t care, he was up and off, leaving his broken bike and the wagon he had been dragging for miles behind him.

There was something liberating about sprinting. About putting your all into just going as fast as possible. An exhilaration as you pushed past your limits, to straining your muscles and every breath was fire.

Yesi crawled down the top of the roof, shouting and crying as she did it. The doors to the house were thrown open and he saw Mom. Santi’s vision disappeared in a watery diffraction. Dad was behind her, but he couldn’t make him out through the tears.

He couldn’t say anything, a lump in his throat as he ran. He couldn’t say their names, he couldn’t breathe. Santi felt arms wrap around him and his legs gave way. The familiar scent of home, of comfort and safety.

“Mi hijo” the words came like a rushing river as he felt more arms wrap around him. His mother’s voice, his father’s strength, the warmth of his sisters. It was everything he hadn’t felt in years. He sobbed and said things that didn’t make sense, words of incomprehensible grief, of agony, of a decade of loneliness.

Santi didn’t hear the others pull up. There were words around him, but for a moment, just a moment, he was somewhere else. Somewhere not bloodstained. A place where kill or be killed wasn’t the way of the world. A safe place. The arms loosened around him and with a few sniffling repressed sobs, Santi cleared his eyes and saw his family for the first time in eight years.

Mom looked at him with her emerald green eyes, her black hair streaked with iron gray, crows-eyes creasing the corner of eyes. There was a new scar, still violently angry, on her cheek that stretched down and to her neck. Still his mother.

Her eyes were red shot and tears streamed down her face as her smile stretched from ear to ear as she clung to his shoulders with strength that far surpassed what she should have. She was whispering words to herself, to faint for even him to hear.

Dad stood next to her. His small frame had thinned down over the last week. His potbelly dissolving in the stress and exertion of the apocalypse. His black hair was still thick and unblemished by age. His hazel eyes were warm and welcoming and he too had the largest smile that Santi had ever seen him wear.

Bianca was off to the side, hands over her mouth as she cried silently. She was their mother, but younger and with black eyes. Older than him by a few years, she had just graduated college and came back home while she started to look for a new job. It had been a blessing this time around, his entire family under one roof.

Yessenia was the baby, only seventeen, and was the most exuberant of them. She was hopping from foot to foot as tears poured down her face as she hugged herself. She was the shortest of the family, barely clearing five feet tall, and had broad, strong shoulders.

Santi couldn’t speak. He tried but the words couldn’t come out. A motion behind them turned his gaze to his best friend. Cameron was leaning against the doorframe with a faint grin. Santi couldn’t have torn himself away from them if he tried, but he gave Cam a smile and a nod, before he was pulled into another family hug.

There would be for a few minutes of not having to worry about it all. That he could just stand here and feel the love of his family without worry. In a few minutes he’d surface and continue on with his plans of bloodshed and death. Of growing beyond whatever limits there had been on him before. Of lifting the others with him as he did so.

But that could be for later.