Hasan, Sarah and Chris seemed rather friendly as the convoy moved down the road. The former seemed a rather mellow man, quiet, deep voice. He spent most of his time practicing the saber after having learned it can become a passive system skill. Sarah was a little too bubbly for his liking, almost intimidatingly so as she tried to keep conversation up with all three of them the whole time. Chris mostly matched that energy, even going so far as to explain why he carried a picture of Shaq with him. Apparently an old running joke with friends from before The Light that he kept going.
They were a respectable bunch, and Sebastian tried his best to toss some words in and participate in conversations in-between attacks by the small hordes. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t having a bit of a good time, and it was a nice little escape from what was going on. They all basically acted like they were in some video game, and it seemed to help them cope with the strangeness of things a little bit; he couldn’t fault them for that.
He had summed it up to himself by now that he adapted so quickly because he liked the control the new world gave him, which honestly sounded a lot worse than what they were doing, but he wasn’t exactly the epitome of good. Sebastian was dreadfully aware of that fact, considering it was at the back of his mind at all times.
The road was almost completely empty as the convoy drove along the asphalt, the militia patrolling outside calling out for any remaining survivors. Those lucky enough to have had enough non-perishables usually hadn’t even left their homes, so the group's member count was growing steadily as people were guided from the buildings into the cars. Some people were blood covered or flinched at the slightest touch, but no one asked what happened. Most just knew. Not everyone would take the chance at the end of the world to do evil, but sinners always existed among the saints.
The only issue that worried Sebastian was that these people were unknowns. Even assuming the blood wasn’t theirs and it was self-defense, the number of people in the convoy who had taken a life had suddenly skyrocketed. They wouldn’t kick them out, but they needed to be watched out for.
“Sebastian!”
Hasan called out from the front, bringing the bladesman out of his thoughts to see the man pointing at a charred portion of the ground. A paw print the size of a tire seared into the ground. The group already knew the beast was in the area, yes, but the confirmation that it had gone the same way they needed to go wasn’t great.
Sebastian didn’t know what they would do when they met the beast. It was definitely a Tier 1, definitely many levels higher, and definitely uses fire. He himself uses Ice, and that was a pretty hard fucking counter.
He really wished he could get to level ten before reaching the city’s edge, but he wasn’t sure there were even enough beasts in the area, the majority being scared off by the big bitch or the convoy itself. Everything else simply doesn’t give more than scraps in terms of xp.
So, instead, Sebastian decided to teach Hasan what little he knew about the saber. They both had the Inferior Saber, as Rich had long gotten too good to make patchwork even with, well, patchwork. Sabers were hefty weapons with one edge and a lot of weight to them, so force and momentum meant more than dexterity, though one shouldn’t forego control completely. If you can’t control your blade, the rebound and shock from an attack can do just as much damage to you as it did to the poor thing you cut in half.
“Keep your grip tight, but not too tight. You want to let the shock disperse, and too tight of a grip will just send it all the way down your arms and make them numb. Like a baseball bat, it has a perfect amount of grip. Not too loose or you’ll drop it, but not too tight or it’ll hurt you, got it?”
Hasan nodded as he tested out different grips, wanting to find the most comfortable for himself, doing as Sebastian said. Swinging the blade around, he did notice some differences in the speed and power of his slashes, even against the air.
“You bring the power from your core, even if you swing with your arms and hands. This is why footwork and posture is important, alright? It’s a lot harder to deliver a strong slash when your body stands straight and rigid. Practicing stances in the down time could help, too.”
Sebastian smiled, pointing to different parts of the man’s posture as they walked, telling him where to focus to gain more force for a slash or where to focus for more control over the force. He didn’t mind, he was bored, and he felt talking about it helped him learn more about bladesmanship anyways.
An odd feeling came over him as he watched Hasan slash his blade through the air, prompting him to turn and face down the road. He felt the ambient mana in the air circulating slightly, like how air flows through a room. The sensation was strange, even as the surrounding environment grew denser with mana. Were they approaching something?
What could possibly make the mana flow like this, make it grow so dense? If it was a beast, that would simplify the end of their convoy entirely. But if it was a treasure..
The thought burrowed into his mind and lit aflame, quickly growing as he contemplated what it could be. What could natural treasures even be? Plants? Stones, Metals, Beasts? What even defines a treasure, what’s to say it’s not a trap instead? The fire inside his mind was quickly doused, the greed going as fast as it appeared. He looked around briefly and noticed that no one else seems to have seen the difference in mana flow and sighed in relief. They were getting closer to it as it is, no reason to jump ahead and leave the convoy for it.
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Sure, he could probably survive on his own. Properly. More often than not, however, people needed others to fulfill their own shortcomings. Sebastian wasn’t omnipotent, he couldn’t treat wounds, illness and disease. He couldn’t forge weapons and armor. Hell, his mind wasn’t even all there and he knew it. There wasn’t really a sense of urgency when it was his own life in play, but he always felt it in the group.
Otherwise he might just turn into some batshit crazy hermit living in a ruined city. Shaking his head as he felt he was dredging up too many bad memories, he turned back to Hasan as he gave the man pointers. The memories were pushed to the back of his mind where they usually resided.
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“Ken, Ken!”
Elijah approached Ken quickly from one of the buildings as they were fending off a group of Corrupted Animals, his face pale as he tried his best to not interrupt the swordsman. He had always respected Ken, and their age hardly differed.
Ken was just so much stronger though, talented. He wasn’t sure if he was always like that or if it was Sebastian’s influence, but the swordsman was decisive in a fight, and he was only faster after his affinity awakened.
So when Ken asked him to check a specific apartment in this building, he happily obliged even though he would most likely be going alone. Elijah was only Lv. 5, yes, but the beasts hardly entered buildings and the space was too small for horde tactics, so he’d be safe no matter what happened.
Opening up Room 506, the militia man was met with a blood red sight. The floor was stained red, and the smell hit him almost instantly. It was putrid like rotting eggs, yet he tasted something sickenly sweet when he opened his mouth to gasp, an action he regretted quickly. The odour was dense, refusing to lighten up even as the door opened.
Resisting the urge to gag, Elijah pulled his shirt up over his face like a mask to resist the smell as much as he could, even as the brightness in his eyes darkened. Quickly checking all the rooms like Ken asked him too, he refused to look at the ground whilst he checked the entire unit.
After checking the last room, he rushed out of the unit with all his strength, puking all of his stomach contents out into the dark hallway, the sounds echoing down the hall. Every time he stood back up thinking he was fine, the image of the living room flashed through his mind again, compelling him to empty everything he had left in his stomach onto the floor.
A few minutes later, Elijah finally managed to stand straight without vomiting, though he wasn’t sure if it was because the sight no longer disgusted him or simply because he had nothing left in him. Closing his eyes and steadying his breathing, the young man gathered his courage and placed his hands back on the door to 506.
Breathing in heavily. He opened his eyes again, swung the door open, and confirmed what he saw on the floor. His eyes widened at the sight. Bits and pieces of flesh and bone mixed within what he could only describe as a pile of mush. Dark black feathers surrounding and stuck within puddles of blood.
His eyes naturally trailed to the window, led there by the only trail of blood leading away from the mass of gore. He saw the window, including the cracked glass and the feathers by its side at the end.
The moment he saw everything and it registered within his mind, Elijah felt his stomach tighten, and he forced himself out the door. He rushed down all five flights of stairs, stumbling against the walls with every missed step, bruising and battering his body. He only felt like he needed to tell Ken what he saw.
So when he left the building and saw Ken, his face paled as he began to shout for the swordsman, even whilst trying not to distract him too much.
“Ken, Ken!”
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Slashing through the stomach of another Corrupted Animal, Ken heard his name called out with some urgency, though not enough to distract him too much. His blade quickened as the winds circled it briefly, powered by his vitality. Having been called, he decided to end the fight quickly, especially as he recognized the voice.
His heart began beating something fierce as he thought about what he could be called for, what he sent Elijah to find. Even ignoring the blood splattering across his face, he thrust the sword out once more into the last beast and immediately sped over to the other young man, startling the pale-faced Elijah somewhat.
Ken wanted to smile at first, though he quickly saw the expression on the man’s face, his pale skin, and the faint, vile smell of decay that seemed like a mix of vomit and rot. His heart beat furiously, his grip tightening around the blade. Fear flashed through his eyes, only to be quickly replaced by urgency as green winds surrounded his body abruptly, leaving a small cloud of dust in his wake as he sped towards the building. Elijah could only do his best to catch up, running behind the swordsman.
Elijah’s expression was wrong. He was alone. That was, in reality, enough to tell Ken everything he needed to know. Everything he was afraid to see personally, afraid to confirm on his own. It’s exactly why he sent someone else to check first, because he was afraid of what he might see.
An even denser scent of vomit and rot hit him in the face as he stepped onto the fifth floor and his pace didn’t slow until he reached 506. He saw the puddle of puke, and the faint trail of bloody footprints left behind unknowingly after Elijah went through the room. Closing his eyes, face paling as his body shook; he forced himself to grip the door handle, forced himself to confront what was on the other side, the sight he knew he needed to see but wished he never had to.
He opened the door, screaming out as if enraged, finding the energy only by pulling from that anger. Stepping through and finally opening his eyes, the scenery of the room filled his mind. His screams of ‘fury’ and ‘anger’ quickly turned to cries, the teen falling to his knees.