By the time I finished spamming my Ultimate spell, my Mana had run completely dry.

But more importantly, I had killed Cirrus.

With my Eye of Odin metal scanner, I watched him crumble in snapshots. After the first hit, he ran and hid in an underground bunker. Finding him in his subterranean shelter was no trouble for me. He must've been wondering who even attacked him, and how. After my second and third Ultimates, I could tell he was desperate. He scoured cabinets, dug through metal flasks, probably looking for something, anything, to restore his HP. And perhaps he found a potion or two. It wasn't enough, however. My next couple casts of Maw of Levithan crushed him to a pulp.

My last metal-scan caught his equipment disintegrating. Just like Saber's equipment, and her body, did as she passed away.

I wished I could've seen Cirrus' death with my own eyes. Hear his last words, his screams. Was he afraid of me? Did he despair? Beg for forgiveness? I wondered what it was like, to face your destruction, knowing there was nothing you could do.

My stomach grumbled. I was hungry.

I had run out of food. Instead of looking around for supplies, I had used up all my energy killing Cirrus. What for? Revenge would be my first guess, but I didn't know for sure. I had been stuck in a stupor for days, weeks now, and more often than not I had no real reasons for doing anything I did. I had Cirrus and his Bounty Hall to thank for that.

Perhaps they were going to trace me back here, if anyone noticed the thin magical line that connected Cirrus to me, when I casted Maw of Leviathan on him. No matter. I'd be leaving this house soon anyways.

Once my Mana regenerated a bit, I used the metal scanner once more, this time in a direction away from the Bounty Hall. Hundreds of houses showed up, or at least their metallic parts did. Most of the houses were empty. Some had supplies, and what seemed to be people inside, judging by pieces of armors or zippers or buttons. But I found a couple houses with trash – bottle caps, discarded aluminum cans, and batteries – and no people inside. And among them, I found a few with what seemed like unused supplies, such as cans in the fridge. The nearest such house was around two miles away.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

I gathered my belongings and set out.

As I left my house, the light outside stung my eyes. Even the dim light of the foggy suburbs made me squint. I hadn't been outside the house for ages. It felt weird. Everything was bright, and the air outside felt different too.

I had to be on guard, in case enemies hid nearby.

I abandoned the area without seeing anyone, thankfully.

A brisk and tense walk later, I arrived at the house with cans in the fridge. I had no idea who the owner was, or where they were, but I hoped they wouldn't mind me borrowing a bit of their food to survive.

Borrowing? More like stealing, I supposed. But considering the sheer amount of murder that went on around these parts, I doubted stealing food to survive made me the villain here. Right?

Eh. Whatever.

I walked up to the door and shot out the lock. The force blew the door swinging open.

Inside was dim and silent, and smelled faintly of decay. As far as I could tell, no one was there. I entered cautiously.

The interior was unremarkable: boring white walls, and carpets of the most nondescript shade of gray. A row of trash bags lined one corner of the living room, and I could tell that's where the odor came from. I jogged to the fridge to check what was inside.

Bingo. That thing was packed full.

Bags of granola, canned spam, whole packs of Mountain Dew, spinach spreads, blocks of cheese, packs of saltine crackers, white bread…the list went on. There were some fruits and vegetables in bags, but those had already gone moldy.

I wondered why anyone would put canned food into a fridge. But I had seen weirder things since arriving in this world. After a moment of deliberation, I decided to take a block of cheese, the saltine crackers, a bag of granola, and two cans of spam. Those were probably the most energy-dense foods.

I could probably take more, but my selection ought to last me a while. If I was going to steal food to survive, I should take only the bare minimum I needed, I thought. Which seemed like an odd thought to have, right after killing someone in cold blood.

Eh. Whatever.

Hunger got the better of me, and I opened and ate a pack of crackers on the spot. Perhaps the sugars were feeding my famished brain, but as I ate, an idea suddenly came to me.

How did I not think of it earlier? Had I been so blinded by spite, that I'd forget about even my own teammates?

I picked up my railgun, aimed, and fired a radar pulse towards the horizon. All metal objects in that direction registered to me as blobs of cobalt light. I concentrated. I needed to find someone, or rather something very specific that belonged to them. Thankfully, I remembered its shape well.

Mr. Atlas' oversized axe.