Chapter Fifty

Ambrose had a problem. He had freed about thirty people from caves below. A good portion were children, some of which had no parents. The other adults sheltered them, but they all looked like what they were. Broken. Hope was a dead thing in their hearts. That was only one part of the problem, however. The other part was getting them to Avalon. His boat would not fit all of these people.

He stood in front of his car, looking at the ocean, thinking about possible solutions. Finally, he rubbed a hand through his hair, turning towards the group he had brought. His heart quickened as he felt his face shift into a grimace. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and addressed the crowd.

“I know you’ve been through a lot. Trust me, I know. Even so, you all have a choice to make. I can take you somewhere safe, where you won’t have to fight monsters unless you want to. Somewhere we can rebuild. There ain’t no free lunch in this world. If you come with me, there are conditions.”

Ambrose held up a finger on one hand,

“You work. Even if it’s just gathering materials, you can all do something. We can’t afford any freeloaders. Eventually, there might come a time when we can move to a more…capitalistic system. For now, we all work to provide for each other. We will establish an economy of some kind as soon as possible. Secondly, you have to understand something. Something beyond importance.”

Ambrose’s voice became as hard frozen stone in the heart of winter.

“I have a goal. A goal I will reach no matter what or who stands in my way. The place I’m offering you? It’s mine. I paid for it in something far more important than currency. I am going to use it to fuel my agenda. Consider accepting that condition as a part of your rent, so to speak. Are we understood?”

The children didn’t say anything, most looking to the adults to speak. They shared looks with one another. A stomach rumbled.

“Is there food at this place?” A man called out.

Ambrose wasn’t sure about that. However, wildlife was on the island, now uncorrupted by Mordred’s curse.

“If there isn’t, there are ways to hunt and gather without fear of monsters.”

The man blew a strand of black hair on his face, rubbing at the red marks around his neck.

“It’s better than being a slave,” he muttered before calling out.

“Okay, I don’t know about the others, but I’m in.”

Everyone else nodded; the kids huddled closer to the adults, offering them comfort. Ambrose nodded,

“I’ll be back in less than ten minutes. Stay here, and don’t go anywhere.”

Ambrose got into his car and drove off in a flash of green-black flame. He drove just around the curve of the beach before parking and getting out. The hellcat thrummed with his power, and Ambrose had no trouble going over the sand.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

If he wanted to, he knew he could drive the vehicle over the water, the infernal mana within it allowing it such speed and burning power that the water was no obstacle. It wasn’t large enough to seat everyone. Ambrose rubbed the bridge of his nose, blowing air out of his nostrils in a snort at his next idea.

He could infuse everyone with power, go to the island, and then [Recall] them, but this would likely result in their deaths—not the solution he wanted. He could make multiple trips, but that was very inefficient, plus Ambrose couldn’t be sure some monster or person wouldn’t come along and harm the people waiting.

I need a boat. A large one, Ambrose thought, his face contorting into annoyance. In times like this, his father's voice returned to him, a ghost of a memory that would likely never leave him.

When you’re having trouble solving something, think about what you have access to. Remember, kid, we often have the answers—we don’t always think about them.

Ambrose crossed his arms, thinking about what he had access to. He had his skills, powerful skills that couldn’t help because none of them allowed him to summon a boat. He had his car, but he had already determined why that wouldn’t work. His axe wouldn’t get them across the ocean. His armor allowed him to teleport, but only on the island itself.

He had the boat, but it was barely enough for two people.

People. Ambrose’s eyebrows climbed toward his hair, and a mental light bulb flared in his brain as he opened the trunk of his car. Troy was still screaming, ropes steadily burning with black fire.

Ambrose hefted the slave merchant out of his trunk and threw him to the sand below, where he sent up a spray of the stuff. Leaning forward, Ambrose untied the rope and viciously kicked his shoulder blade. Troy cried out, hands lurching to his shoulder as he writhed.

“Ah! Fuck! Liste-”

Fire blazed around Ambrose’s axe.

“Shut up, or I’ll cover you in sand and then superheat it. Unless you want to be a glass sculptor, you’ll listen very fucking closely to what I’m about to ask. Then answer me truthfully.”

Troy nodded, his eyes filled with pain and fear.

“I need a boat. A large one. Needs to fit at least thirty people. Give me one.”

Ambrose watched Troy’s throat move as he swallowed. He stammered out,

“I don’t have a boat.”

Ambrose hefted his axe.

“I need you, but I don’t need all of you.”

Troy cursed holding up his hands,

“Jesus fucking Christ, okay, man! Hold on. Just don’t hurt me again!”

He cocked his head as Troy’s eyes shimmered, beginning to move. One shaky sigh later, and a massive boat appeared in the seas a ways away.

“It’s a yacht. I hope you’re happy, that cost the rest of my SC.”

Ambrose crossed his arms, grunting with interest.

“So, what? The System just give you access to a store page? You buy something and ‘poof’ there it is?”

Troy sat up, staring at the sand that covered him, groaning, and wincing as he held his ribs.

“Yeah. That’s pretty much it. It’s limited, though. The higher level my profession, the more I have access to.”

Ambrose shook his head, a hot coal burning in his chest.

“And you used it to harm children. You fucking degenerate.”

Before he stopped himself, Ambrose smashed a fist into Troy’s temple, knocking him out. He threw Troy back into his trunk. Then he drove back to the others. They were pointing and whispering about the huge white boat that had appeared in the sea.

Ambrose spent the next hour transferring people to and from the yacht using the small wooden boat Darren had built him. Once that was all done, he tied up Troy again. The slave merchant may have been unconscious, but Ambrose wasn’t in the business of taking risks.

He left his hellcat infused with his mana, Troy in the trunk, and went to the yacht. Climbing aboard, Ambrose stood on the deck, sea breeze ruffling his hair. He could smell the salt in the air. A seagull cried.

Ambrose reached down, touched the yacht’s deck and used [Infernal Infusion]

Before long, Ambrose and the others stood on a vessel from the sea’s of hell itself.